#his love interest eyeing up his icy fingers like *smacks lips* “can i have some”

[mogwaei]

Lost in the Western Approach or something and Solas ran out of mana for his sun-protection spell

(For that twitter "Heatstroke" art trend lol)

[spiicii]

jimmy uso / exhibitionist

x fem!reader  word count → 1.5k summary → jimmy’s got you bent over the couch of his shared hotel room with jey. what happens when jey walks in on the two of you?  tags → daddy kink, dirty talk, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, crying, some spanking, slight orgasm denial, not beta read, Jimmy is mean (but you love it), does it count as exhibition if it’s just your twin brother?

There would be bruises on your hips, you knew. Finger-shaped bruises from Jimmy’s unforgiving grip as he pounded into you from behind, your muscles aching from the position he’d kept you in for what felt like hours now. 

Your mouth parted and another moan spilled out, your eyes rolling back as his cock dragged across your g-spot. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged, your voice hoarse, as if you’d been screaming. Maybe you had. Ever since he’d bent you over the side of the couch, you’d made all sorts of noises that you would have been embarrassed about had he not been fucking you so good. “Please, I can’t…” 

“Shut up,” he snarled, landing a particularly vicious smack against your ass. “You gon’ take this dick and you gon’ thank me for it.” 

He aimed another thrust at that little bundle of nerves inside of you and you let out another moan, stars exploding across your vision. “Thank you,” you breathed, your knees shaking from exhaustion as he kept you bent over the couch. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Jimmy grunted in response, his pace steady as he pumped into you. “So spoiled, aren’t you, girl?” He growled, his blunt nails digging into your hips. “But I always give you what you want, don’t I?” 

He didn’t seem particularly interested in your answer, but it’s not like you had one to give him anyways. Not when his dick was splitting you open like this, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine at his filthy words. 

“Fucking cock-drunk, slut,” Jimmy spat, smacking your ass again just to hear more moans spill from your pretty mouth. “You just take whatever I have to give you, huh? Nothin’ but a whore.” 

Your pussy spasmed at his words, constricting Jimmy’s cock as it was buried deep inside you, and he groaned in appreciation. 

“Good girl,” he panted, picking up the pace, his grip on your hips punishing. “Good fucking girl.” 

Pleasure was licking across your body like wildfire, Jimmy’s cock ramming into your g-spot with each powerful thrust of his hips. You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t hear the creak of the door opening, your eyes glazed over as Jimmy drilled into you over and over again. 

“Hey, man, I- Jesus, what the fuck, uce?” Jey’s voice was like an icy shock to your system, your eyes flying open with panic at getting caught in the act. Jimmy’s thrusts faltered, but only for a second, his tight grip on your hips keeping you still. 

“What? Ain’t nobody sleeping on the couch.” Jimmy’s voice sounded steady, even as he was balls-deep inside you, his thrusts slowing, but not stopping. 

“Come on, man.” Jey scowled. “You got your own bed. Why can’t you use that?” 

You shifted, as if to move, but Jimmy’s grip on you tightened and you realized with horror that he wasn’t stopping, his cock still rock hard inside you. 

“You don’t move unless I say so, slut,” he snarled down at you and your cheeks flushed red at his words, beyond embarrassed at how aroused you still were, even as his twin brother looked on. “You got a safeword. That’s the only thing I wanna hear if you want this to stop.” 

He dragged his cock across your g-spot again, his pace now torturously slow, and another embarrassing moan fell from your lips, your entire body flushed red beneath your audience. You still hadn’t met Jey in the eye and weren’t sure if you could. Not like this. Despite how embarrassed you felt, your safeword was the last thing on your mind. 

“Dude, are you serious right now?” Jey sounded annoyed. “We got a million things to do and this is what you doin’?” 

Jimmy let out a huff of laughter. “Can you blame me? Look at her. Don’t she look pretty like this?” 

Before you realized what was happening, Jimmy had fisted his hand in your hair, yanking your head up from where you’d been hiding. He pulled you back against his chest, your back still arched as he kept you speared on his cock. Your eyes met Jey’s, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment, Jimmy still holding you tightly as he kept you on display for his twin brother. 

“Come on, uce. Admit it. You’re jealous.” 

Jey’s eye scanned across your naked body in what you thought was appreciation, watching as your tits bounced as Jimmy continued to thrust into you from the back. 

“She is pretty,” Jey admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “But we got shit to do, uce. So can you wrap this up?” 

“What could possibly be so important you gotta interrupt this?” Jimmy sounded bored, releasing the grip on your hair to wrap his fingers around your neck instead, pressing a kiss behind your ear as he picked up the pace. 

The twins were talking, but you weren’t hearing any of it. All you could feel was the pleasure curling at the base of your spine, the humiliation of being presented like Jimmy’s trophy to his own brother sending you hurtling towards the edge of your orgasm.

You threw your head back against Jimmy’s chest and felt him press a burning kiss against your temple, the touch surprisingly gentle after hours of manhandling you. 

“You gonna cum in front of my brother, little girl?” he growled in your ear, too low for Jey to hear. “You like it when I treat you like a whore in front of him?” 

You whimpered, your head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton, your body trembling in Jimmy’s hold. 

“Daddy, please, please,” your voice was barely a whisper, your eyelids fluttering as Jimmy pressed another kiss to your face. “I need…I need to…” You couldn’t finish the thought, your words completely gone as he continued to pound into you. He let out a mocking laugh, his fingers tightening around your throat. Your pussy spasmed in response and Jimmy groaned.

“Jesus, she’s strangling my cock, Jey. You see how good she is for me?” 

You heard Jey speaking, but you couldn’t register any of his words, your eyes rolling back in your head as Jimmy continued to hammer into your g-spot with devastating accuracy. 

“You’d better ask for permission, slut,” Jimmy snarled in your ear, his pace unrelenting. “Or else you won’t get to cum again for a week.” 

He kept the one hand on your neck, using the other one to reach around you and pinch your clit, causing you to cry out. 

“What’s that, little girl? Didn’t catch that.” 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, the pleasure so good you felt like you were levitating. “Please, Daddy. Can I cum? Please?” 

Jimmy laughed cruelly, the soft pads of his fingers now rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of friction. You felt your orgasm rapidly approaching, but he hadn’t given you permission yet. The tears were falling now, your muscles trembling as you struggled to hold off. The last thing you wanted was for him to follow through on his threat. 

“I can’t hold it,” you sobbed. “Please, Daddy. Please, let me cum.” 

“Whatchu think, uce?” Jimmy asked his brother, his voice somehow remaining steady even as you felt his thrusts stutter inside you, indicating that he was close too. “Does she sound pathetic enough?” 

You couldn’t see Jey, not with Jimmy’s fingers wrapped around your neck as he kept you pressed against him, but you heard his next words. “I think she’s deserved it, uce. Ain’t you tortured her enough?” 

God, you could have kissed Jey right then and there in gratitude, but it still wasn’t enough. You knew you couldn’t cum yet, not until Jimmy allowed it. 

“Please, please,” you begged again, your core tightening. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last. “Daddy, please. Let me cum.” 

Jimmy pressed another kiss to your temple. “Cum, slut.” 

Your vision went white as pleasure ravaged your body, muscles jerking as your mouth parted into a silent scream. Your pussy spasmed and convulsed, milking Jimmy’s cock as he continued to slam into you, punching the air from your lungs.

Jimmy wasn’t far behind, his grip tightening around your throat. “What a good whore,” he snarled, his thrusts becoming harder and more erratic. “Gonna fill you up, pretty girl.” 

With one final thrust he did, painting your walls white with his seed as he came inside you. You whimpered at the feeling, already feeling some of it leak out and begin to drip down your thigh. You made a pitiful sound as he released your throat, your head falling back against Jimmy’s chest. You tried to remember to breathe, to think…but things were too hazy, too drunk on cock to feel anything else. Your insides felt gooey, muscles shaking as Jimmy wrapped his arms around you to keep you from collapsing. 

When he pulled out you felt your mind short-circuit as his softening cock dragged across your g-spot one last time, overstimulation wracking your body. “Shhh,” Jimmy soothed, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead. “Just relax, baby. I got you.” 

Before you realized what was happening, he was hooking his arm beneath your knees and lifting you up, carrying you bridal style into one of the nearby bedrooms. You leaned against Jimmy's strong chest, your eyes already beginning to close from exhaustion. As Jimmy laid you down on the bed, pressing chaste kisses against your exposed skin, you distantly heard Jey ask "Damn, uce. You gonna charge me for that show?"

Jimmy's laughter was the last thing you heard before finally drifting off to sleep.

[missgeniality]

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonna​for hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again.  Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids. 

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.” 

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want. 

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink. 

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’ 

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand. 

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it. 

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all. 

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in. 

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation. 

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek. 

“Sooo I was watching Filter…” 

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through. 

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away. 

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces. 

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way. 

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come. 

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe. 

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup. 

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly. 

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast. 

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions. 

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance. 

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge. 

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs. 

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word. 

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time. 

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him. 

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up. 

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. ���Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in. 

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks. 

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!” 

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.” 

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him. 

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line. 

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up. 

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either. 

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed. 

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition. 

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost. 

But you’re not done being an idiot. 

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient. 

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!” 

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one. 

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral. 

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go. 

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night. 

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow. 

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams. 

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder. 

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now. 

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone. 

So there is no reason for you to be able to move. 

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too. 

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known. 

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise. 

You were a sucker for the whole man. 

But the sucking will probably have to wait. 

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.” 

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this. 

“You know my favorite part?” 

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body. 

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream. 

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward. 

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm. 

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general. 

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work. 

Well, you must get to work. 

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties. 

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard.  Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack! 

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness. 

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes. 

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him. 

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips. 

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.” 

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down. 

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result. 

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth. 

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines. 

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering. 

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs. 

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away. 

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you. 

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him. 

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you. 

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now. 

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you. 

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion. 

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside. 

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue. 

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want. 

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either. 

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon. 

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.” 

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech. 

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish. 

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole. 

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans. 

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well. 

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours. 

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot. 

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable. 

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping. 

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down. 

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do. 

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

[wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts]

Chapter III: Only You

A/N: Some of the dating protocols in this story are tweaked, but let's be honest, teenagers have been sneaking around and having sex for years, even back then. But aside from that, Royce and Emily have been friend's since they were babies, so her parents don't really bat an eye at them being alone together. Even after they start dating.

Also, a few small hints of Emily's witch ability are in this chapter. So, read carefully.

Small note, while Witches in this story - and there are many - can use general magic like spells, potions, and the like, most of them have one ability that is particular to them. And it always seems to fit an aspect of their personality.

Only you Can make this world seem right Only you Can make the darkness bright Only you and you alone Can thrill me like you do And fill my heart with love for only you

Only you Can make this change in me For it's true You are my destiny When you hold my hand, I understand The magic that you do You're my dream come true My one and only you, only you

"Only You (And You Alone)" Platter 1955

Crescent Valley Elementary School March 1944

Four-year-old Royce Clayton patted the sand in front of him into a semi structure as his best friend, Emily March worked on a castle beside him, humming quietly to herself. While most boys his age were off to the side, horse playing and wrestling, Royce preferred Emily's more quiet company. It was easier to control his tantrums around someone that didn't make him angry all the time.

Plus, even when he did get angry, Emily could usually calm him down easily.

Miss Marigold observed Royce and Emily for a moment before switching her eyes over to the other side of the enclosed playground where Emily's rotten half, Emilia, sat with Johnny Sullivan and his best friend Ricky Sanchez. Emilia was sporting an unpleasant grin as she eyes her fraternal twin while whispering to Ricky. Dread struck her hard like a punch to the gut when Ricky rose from his seat and crossed over to the sandbox, making a beeline straight for Emily.

Unfortunately for Ricky, however, Royce spotted him before he even got within sniffing distance of Emily, easily catching the foot that was no doubt aiming to kick sand into the little girl's moss green eyes.

"Don't."

The word was full of menace, Royce's pale blue eyes glinting like sheets of ice as they peered up at Ricky from his seated position, grip still firm on his foot. Ricky merely glared back at him, showing petulant bravery even in the face of the richer boys quickly escalating fury.

Miss Marigold sighed, already knowing based upon the look on Emilia's face, that she had put Ricky up to it. The little girl had it out for her sister and no one was sure why.

When it became apparent to Royce that Ricky was not going to back down, the blue-eyed boy gave a quick yank to the foot in his hand, making Ricky lose his balance, the back of his head smacking hard into the ground. Emily chose that moment to look up, watching as the pain registered in Ricky's brain, and he dissolved into tears. She glanced at Royce, who merely quirked his lips up at her, intertwining their fingers, and went back to patting the sand in front of him with his free hand.

Crescent Valley, Ohio Pauly's Diner Valentine's Day, 1955

Emily observed Royce from the safety of the counter. Anyone with eyes could see how attractive he was with his black hair and icy blue eyes. Girls flocked to him like moths to light, but he was dismissive of all of them. Not cruel, just not interested. In fact, now that she was thinking about it, the only girl he ever paid attention to was her.

Could Becky be right?

Was Royce Clayton, her best friend for as long as she could remember, in love with her? The thought had never occurred to her. Royce had always been around. And she had never really noticed anything particular about his behavior until now. It was always her. Even when they were little. It had always been her he paid attention to. Her he would walk to and from school. Her who was always invited to his house for dinner.

And when her sister had ambushed him into a relationship, he had used it as an excuse to visit Emily in her home. Which she had enjoyed immensely. She couldn't really name when her feelings for her best friend had changed. But change they had. She often found herself dreaming about him when she was awake. He haunted her dreams when she was asleep. And forbidden thoughts crept into her head when she lay in bed at night, her fingers sliding down her abdomen, and dipping between her thighs until she was writhing on her sheets.

Heat spread down her neck as those thoughts swarmed to the forefront of her mind and Becky appeared beside her, poking her lightly in the forehead.

"Are you and the slugger just going to keep staring at each other or are you going to communicate?"

She snapped back to reality at Becky's words and realized that, at some point during her internal monologue, Royce had turned to look at her. She broke their stare down and turned to look at Becky instead.

"What am I supposed to say to him, Bex?" she laid her head upon her folded arms on the counter. "I don't know how to be a normal girl."

Becky shrugged.

"I don't think Royce knows how to be a normal guy, either, Em," she looked over at the boy in question, who was still staring at Emily. "So, maybe you guys figure it out together."

After a moment, she lifted Emily's chin with a finger.

"Seriously, it is obvious to everyone that you two are head over heels," she shook her head. "Don't let your evil bitch sister get in the way of that. She didn't even have real feelings for him. Not like you do."

Emily was quiet for a moment before the sound of a familiar thumping met her ears. It was the steady thrum of Royce's heart. Her hearing was getting sharper every day and she could easily tell his heartbeat over everyone else's in the diner. She lifted her head to see him standing on the other side of the counter.

"Hey Kitten," he gave her a smile, Becky excusing herself to a table that was trying to get her attention. "Can we talk?"

She stood up straight, dusting an invisible crumb off her white apron. "About what?"

"I think you know, Emily," he leveled her with a look that sent a pleasant thrill down her spine. "I think you've known for a while how I feel about you." Her lips parted but she said nothing, allowing him to continue. "And I'm positive you feel the same way about me."

After a moment, she walked around the counter and stood in front of him, playing with his fingers.

"You sure you don't want to go outside to talk about this?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"Why?" she cocked her head in her sister's direction, making him roll his eyes. "I'm not ashamed of what I feel for you, Emily. And I could care less about your sister's feelings."

A small gasp escaped her lips when Royce took her face gently in his hands. People were looking at them and for the first time in her life, Emily did not care that she was the center of attention. Royce's heartbeat was steady but hers was hammering away in her chest, like it was trying to break through her ribcage. She felt his thumb sweep across her cheekbone, and her tongue slipped out to moisten her bottom lip.

"I'm in love with you, Emily March," despite her recent revelation of his feelings, her heart still stuttered at his words, an unknown joy leaping to life and filling her with warmth. "I love you."

She wasn't sure why he repeated it, but he could say it as many times as he wanted. She would listen.

"I love you, too, Royce."

He smiled that sweet, breathtaking smile and lowered his head, nudging her nose with his, before pressing their lips together. It was as soft as a butterfly's wings, cautious. He was requesting, not demanding. A soft sound escaped his throat when she kissed him back, her fingers intertwining into the collar of his jacket.

A screech, that in the back of her mind, she knew to be Emilia, echoed through the diner, but for once in her life, Emily did not care. She was tired of backing down from things just because Emilia would be mad.

She was going to let herself be happy.

[hoodedguitarist]

Think you can Hide from Me? Part 3

Once again, Gif aint mine I just REALLY LOVE IT. It’s one of my favorite scenes of him.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: You infiltrated, the plan fell into chaos, Boba is mad at you, you’re catching feels, lots of time skips and some ANGST.

Warnings? None... Really not yet at least. Slight DinxReader if you squint. This just got a lot more feelsy and I got a whole lot more invested in this than I expected to. Which honestly seems to happen a lot to me. NO SHAME.

I really want to thank everyone who has liked, favorited, reblogged, and followed! You’re all amazing and make me feel amazing too. It means a lot to me that everyone is enjoying my writing. My inbox is open and I’ll even make a Tag List if anyone is interested!

Part 1: The Infiltrator

Part 2: The Distraction

Part 4: The Reunion

--

Part 3: The Regret

You should have known that plan was going to go off the rails. What you didn’t know, however, was that Boba was going to end up being a casualty of it all as well, and by complete accident.

Sure, you’d been caught with the others, sure you’d been sentenced to death with the others… And oh yes Boba was pissed… Very pissed. You didn’t need to see his face to tell that he was because instead of riding in the barge, he was there to personally bind you and hold you on the way to the Sarlaac pit.

Standing next to Han and Luke was going to make this conversation very awkward, but it needed to be said.

“Ok… So you’re mad at me, right?” You said out loud. Both of them glanced over at you, but you felt Boba’s hand tighten around your shoulder and yank you backwards into him. “Ah!”

“Mad is an understatement, sweetheart,” his modulated voice hissed.

“Ok, that’s fair… I’m sorry I lied to you about the whole work thing. Really, I am.”

“Uh… (Y/N)?” Han questioned.

“Stay out of it Han,” you snapped quickly. “You too, Luke. Mind your business, both of you.”

The two backed off and tried their best not to pay attention to whatever you could possibly be talking about with the bounty hunter, someone they considered an enemy.

“Was fucking me a distraction too?” Boba growled. Now the boys were really trying not to pay attention.

“No, actually, that part was real,” you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. “I was telling the truth when I said I’d wanted to do that ever since I saw you, and still do, if you’ll have me.”

“I think that was your last roll in the sheets, princess. If you manage to make it out of this alive somehow, I’ll know and I’ll find you,” he threatened.

“Hm, sounds fun,” you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. “If you make it out of this alive, I’ll come back and find you too. Do we have a deal?”

Boba scoffed and you figured he felt pretty confident that this was it and you were going to die some horrible death inside the belly of this beast.

“Deal,” he finally answered. 

Han and Luke both cut their eyes over at you and you shrugged. “I told you two to mind your own business.”

~*~

Things had happened so fast. One minute you were about to be shoved into the pit, the next Luke is jumping around doing Jedi stuff and mildly impressing you. You didn’t have time to admire, though, because you were struggling with one of Jabba’s guards while Han and Chewie were getting into it with Boba.

Somehow, you were trying to manage not getting killed but also trying to watch Han’s back because he was still blind, and now Chewie who had been shot… But also Boba because you really didn’t want him dying on you either. It was a weird situation all around.

You struggled with the guard and managed to land a hit, but then a blaster fired out of nowhere and hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and into the pit. You were startled and turned to look where the shot came from, and sure enough you saw Boba’s blaster smoking. Your heart jumped into your throat and he simply nodded to you… Until he turned his sights on Luke.

You heard Chewie howl something out, heard Han get jumpy.

“Boba Fett?? Where??” He whipped around and smacked the bounty hunter right in his jetpack, which malfunctioned and sent him flying.

“Han what the hell??” You yelled over the chaos.

“I didn’t know he was right there! I can’t see!” He yelled back. You looked over the railing rather desperately, just in time to see the bounty hunter roll into the Sarlaac pit.

Well… That was a damn shame...

~*~

Five years had passed, and the Empire was defeated. Ghosts and whispers still lingered, but the Rebellion no longer needed you. It was now the New Republic and you didn’t really have any interest in politics. You said your goodbyes to your friends, the true heroes, and went back to being on your own.

You weren’t on your own for long, however, seeing as how you got caught up in chaos with another Mandalorian. This one was different, however. He had a kid with him. You didn’t mind babysitting during the really dangerous stuff but at the same time you sort of missed the chaos. After a while, the kid wanted to be everywhere his dad was so you were able to tag along.

Being with them led you back to Tatooine, to a small place known as Mos Pelgo. You wanted to help Din get the kid back with his own kind and when they spoke of another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo, you couldn’t help it as your heart jumped and your hopes spiked…

Especially when a ghost appeared in the doorway wearing Boba Fett’s armor.

You tensed beside Din, and he glanced at you briefly. 

“Boba…?” You questioned carefully, letting your eyes run down the person in front of you. He was tall, much more thin. There was no way…

“ ‘Fraid not, darlin’,” the ghost answered. 

First, you felt the icy cold stab of regret and loss all over again, then you felt the heat of anger bloom in you. Both you and Din were ready to throw down with the Marshal for entirely different reasons.

“Take it off,” Din ordered.

“Or I will,” your voice was a low warning, surprising all parties involved.

“I think I wouldn’t mind that,” the ghost now known as Cobb Vanth smirked at you.

“Yeah you say that now until you’ve got a knife in your back. Where the hell did you get that? And don’t say Jawas. That armor belonged to someone. Someone I knew!” You snapped. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, honey. Anything else would be a lie. I did get it from the Jawas.”

A growl slipped your lips and you took a step forward, but Din grabbed you first. In the end, everything worked out in your favor. Cobb gave up the armor in exchange for help against the Dragon that plagued Mos Pelgo. When the two of you and the child were back safely on the Razor Crest, there were several times when Din would catch you gazing at the old armor, running your fingers across it, leaning your head against the empty helm.

He even thought he saw tears…

Finally, one night, he managed to carefully edge the story out of you. It was a little difficult, but you managed well enough.

“It was just supposed to be a fling, you know? No strings attached, just to say I did it. But there was just something about him, something else that drew me to him. I wanted him to live, I tried to protect him but so many things happened that day, and so many things went wrong way too quickly…” Your voice caught in your throat, but you laughed despite yourself. “I ended up catching feelings for this fucking bounty hunter after he supposedly died.”

“It’s possible those feelings grew from guilt,” Din said calmly. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me with this. I’m sorry this is bringing you so much pain.”

“Oh they most definitely grew from guilt, but then when I saw his armor, hope grew. He had to have come out of it. He’s got to be somewhere, I just don’t know where… And I don’t know if he’ll kill me on sight, so you might want to get ready for that too.”

“(Y/N) when are we not almost killed on sight?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice, and it made you smile. “I think we can manage,” he assured you.

“Yeah… Let’s hope…”

~*~

Seeing the armor hit you hard, but being on top of that mountain with Din and Grogu and seeing Slave 1 come out of the atmosphere and into the sky really did a number on you.

“Oh shit… Oh shit…”  You muttered.

“What? Who is that?” Din looked over at you.

“I… I don’t know. It used to be Boba’s ship but there’s no damn telling now. I haven’t seen that thing in years. Somebody could have scavenged it or something.”

“Well we need to figure it out, come on,” he waved for you to follow, and you did so, trying your best not to seem too eager.

Unfortunately, that eagerness faded with the blaster fire, and the both of you took cover behind a rock.

“I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.”

That voice… It made your heart thunder in your chest. Masked by a modulator or not, you could tell it was him. You tensed and Din noticed. He looked over at you and you looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You gave a quick nod.

“It’s him… It’s Boba…”

“So not a Jedi… Great,” he whispered. The both of you eased out from behind the rock and you got your first good look at him. He was dressed in black robes, the hood thrown over his head, weapons strapped to his back.

“Boba??” You couldn’t stop yourself as you called out to him. He reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing a scarred face. It did nothing to deter you, however. He was older, but you were still just as attracted to him as you had been years ago. He stepped forward and moved closer, his eyes never leaving your face. It made you a little nervous. “If you’re going to kill me then ok, just do it, but I want you to know that I’m sorry first,” you said quickly holding your hands up. “I’m sorry for what happened that day.”

“Surprised to see me alive?” It was a simple question. No dark tone or anger.

“Relieved is more like,” you admitted. “I looked for you, for any sign of you after the war was over, but I never found anything. I knew somehow, though. I knew you’d survived, but I didn’t know if you’d want to kill me or not.”

“You know me well enough, girl. If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it right after I crawled out of that pit,” his eyes roved down you and you felt that old familiar rush, that feeling of playing with fire again. “It’s good to see you, princess, and we’ll talk later. For now, we need to talk about my armor that your man made off with.”

@pinkiemme @chadillacboseman​ If you need me I’ll be in the trash compactor thanks.

[nautiscarader]

Marichat 1

Smutember day 1 - Strip Poker, Marichat (ML)

(Ao3)

With apologies to anyone, who knows how to play poker.

Also I hope you will apprciate all the ice puns. You will soon see why.

What killed the dinosaurs? THE ICE AGE

===========

At this point, Marinette thought she'd be used to having a boyfriend with a slightly unusual method of dropping by. She heard the scratching on the trapdoor, and when she opened it, she was welcomed with an upside-down face of her feline companion.

With his trademark agility he indeed dropped in, landing on all fours and jumped back up, his tail coiling around her waist to bring her into his arms.

- Quite a bold move, kitty. - she smiled. - Well, you know me. - How did you know I'd be free tonight, though? College is forcing me to stay a lot in the libraries, even in the evening... I was about to hit the hay... - she pointed to her rather skimpy clothing. - I guess it was a bluff.

His hands slid up and down her thighs, while her legs gently parted his. It was true, her university did embark a toll on her private life, giving the two way less time to spend together.

And as the two were about to kiss, a word from him gave Marinette an idea.

- How about strip poker? - Marinette asked, raising her eyebrow - If you think your bluff game is so strong... - Sounds like a slightly more complicated way of getting you out your clothes, princess... - Chat replied cockily.

Marinette gave him a gentle kiss and jumped onto her back. She straightened the sheets, took the deck, shuffled it, and shot Chat with a smile.

- I assume an alley cat like you-you know how to play poker? - she added with just a tinge of hesitation. - Ah, of course - he replied with a similar moment of worry - Were you thinking of some other, simpler game? - Well...

Marinette began, and she lost control of her deck, temporarily scattering cards all over her laps.

- There-there is this card mini game in this, uh, app game called Mister... - Penguino! - Chat finished, and coughed, sounding a bit too excited - I heard, I mean. We can, uh play that simplified version, just to humour you. - Yeah, I mean, even pros need a break once in a while.

The two shared a long, silent connection, as Marinette shuffled and dealt the cards. She hid her face behind them, wishing she could have seen the tooltips that automatically suggested the desired highest combo...

She sneaked a quick look at Chat, but she was used to him hiding his thoughts, and it seemed for once he might have an upper hand, or claw...

She repositioned a few cards, and with a firm move, she put two of them down, sending her opponent a faint smile.

- I've got... one pair of snowshoes! - and she proudly uncovered two queens. Chat smiled back. - Guess I've invited you to ice-skate ring for a date.

And revealed four cards from his hand.

- Two pairs.

Marinette's smile faded, and knowing he wouldn't look away, she undid her ponytails, tossing away her hair ties.

- Come on, that barely counts as clothing. - Chat protested. - Be glad I undid them both at the time. - she smiled and took more cards.

This time, the pause did not last as long, as Marinette didn't even wait for Chat.

- Four of a kindle! - Eh, pass.

And with that, Marinette watched as he ditched his gloves. After a few ties, her winning streak returned, as she got a regular Strait, followed by Icy Strait, much to Chat's surprise.

- In hindsight, I should have thought this through, wearing one-piece outfit isn't the best strategy...

Marinette just nodded, watching as he lost his shoes and Chat Noir-themed socks. And she had to restrain herself from giggling when she looked at her next hand.

- Full Igloo! in your face!

Chat Noir swallowed, and knowing that she will watch every move of his slowly pulled down the golden bell, revealing his lean, but muscular chest, and, as he let his costume fell to the floor, Marinette's eyes fixated on his...

- Boxers!? - Marinette protested - What? - they were bundled with socks - And he pointed to his pawprints his boxers were dotted with.

Marinette grumbled. It seemed her luck has ran out temporarily. Two Snowmen and one Ho-Ho later, she found herself without her jacket and pants. She suddenly found herself wished she had worn socks...

But then, with a triumphant smile, she laid down five cards down.

- Slushy Strait.

She spoke, looking at four cards Chat put down that were nowhere close to topping hers.

And with a faint smile, Chat stood up and reached to his boxers, where a faint trace of his erection was visible. Marinette bit her lip, and watched as the dark material slides down, until his biology performed an admirable jolt, when his cock sprung to life once he was freed.

- Well, looks like you've won. - Chat sat down, and was about to shuffle the cards back when Marinette stopped him. - Not yet. You still have your mask.

Adrien swallowed loudly, as Marinette's smile widened to an almost Cheshire-cat length.

- My... My princess... - Deal the cards. - she cut him off quickly, trying not to have her mind clouded with the image of his cock.

But the smile faded away equally quickly. Next turn forced Marinette to take her top, and in two more, she found herself whether to choose her bra, or her panties, which have revealed her readiness already. And knowing that, she opted for them, hoping the sight of her sex would throw her opponent off.

Chat smiled, watching as Marinette lifted her legs into the air and undid her panties, pretending to hide her puffy lips from him, when in reality she made sure that her night lamp would show a few droplets of her arousal.

The two stared at each other and reached for more cards. This time, her face remained frozen and motionless, and she put down five cards.

Chat Noir, with equally stoic demeanour, did the same.

At the same time, they both revealed them.

- Icy Slushy Strait! - Marinette howled - Finally, I will know the identity of my boyfriend... - Five of a kindle. - What?!

Marinette watched, as Chat flipped each card, one ace at a time, finishing with a comedic depiction of a medieval jester.

She looked up, unable to believe his luck. Instead of any explanation, she just saw a glimmer in his green eyes.

She reached her hand behind her back and undid her bra, rendering her completely naked, while Chat licked his lips at the sight of her breasts.

- Can we stop pretending? - Yeah, I guess.

Marinette grumbled, and she welcomed the feeling of his lips on hers, as he jumped onto her, pinning her naked body to her comfy bed.

But he wasn't interested in immobilising her, as Chat was clearly drawn to her sex, now positively glistening with her juices, and a single lick of his made Marinette howl, as her legs flailed around his head.

Chat drove her insane for a couple of minutes, knowing she wasn't even trying to hide her oncoming climax. The feeling of his fingers, instead of claws brought a much needed comfort and tenderness to his foreplay, especially when he traced her clit.

And just as with the final hand, this one brought Marinette to her loss. She buried her face in a pillow, while she soaked her lover with her arousal, thrashing around him, much yo his pleasure.

Adrien thought she would remain like that for long, but her shaking arms were soon around his neck, as she brought him onto her.

She let out a moan under his pleasant, heavenly weight, but when his aggressive behaviour drove him between her legs, she had to stop him.

- Ah, ah, ah - Marinette spoke, as Chat looked at her, stumped - Forgot about something?

She reached to her nightstand, and to his surprise, she produced a condom in a black package depicting a handsome man with green eyes and cat ears, clearly from the same set as his underwear.

- I feel I should file for copyright claim. - They make ones with Ladybug as well... - Marinette added with a mixture of annoyance and odd bit of pride in her voice - I know we were stripping down, but this will suit you.

She let out a giggle when his cock twitched in her hand, as she coiled her fingers around him and slid the condom on, feeing each of his vein under her fingertips.

- Sorry kitty, but I'm not ready for your kittens yet... maybe next month...

She joked and gasped, as Chat positioned himself between her legs, feeling his tip brushed her wet opening.

Spoiled by his delicate treatment before, it was time for Chat to utilise his pent-up energy, as he slid inside her with ease, earning another languorous moan from his lover, as she dug her nails into his back.

With each thrust, she spilled his name into his ear, feeling his cock spreading and tearing her in half, as buried himself deeper and deeper.

- Chat... Chat... Chaton!

She knew he was on the edge of his climax too, brought by their shared taunting, and though she preferred long, slow love-making, she would gladly welcome another "little death", as it was called in her language.

She listened to his guttural, low groans, and when his back arched, so did hers, almost as if to give him chance to reach her depths, while he filled his condom with seed, and her ears with her name.

The two joined bodies pulsed and shuddered, as Chat delivered his potency into the rubber, her body milking him for more in a futile attempts at executive the biological imperative Marinette protected herself from.

Their groans and moans subsided, as their lips met, and with that, the gentle creaking of the bed stopped as well, replaced by smacking sound of their hungry mouths.

- Well, looks like I won, Chat huffed, lifting himself from his position, marvelling at the sight of Marinette's slightly sweaty body and her ruffled hair. - Are-are you sure?

Marinette's lips curled in a cocky smile and she showed him her hand, holding four aces and a joker she must have picked up when they were basking in their shared afterglow.

- But... - But what kitty? Look, my sleeves are empty - she raised her arms to mock him further - My princess, that's cheating! - All's fair in love and war - she spoke without missing a beat - Your mask, Chaton

Cold sweat rushed down his spine, strengthened by her piercing gaze and a sly smile. For quite a while neither of them spoke, each fixated at their partner's face.

- Although, I can accept this as alternative.

Marinette spoke and grabbed his cock, sliding underneath it, until it hovered over her face. Her fingers pinched the tip of the condom, filed with his seed and she stuck her tongue out, waiting for her reward as she slid it from his length.

Inch by inch, as Marinette disrobed her lover, globs of his potent spunk landed in her mouth, guided by her skilled tongue that traced his undercock, causing him to shudder and twitch.

And even after the condom was off, Marinette squeezed it to ensure that none of his hard and tasty work would be wasted, letting out loud and unabashed sounds of satisfaction as she tasted her salty treat, making sure to not look away from Chat's enamoured face.

Despite being disrobed, Marinette won, proudly wearing a smile and his cum on her face.

- That... that was quite a move, Marinette. - Chat admitted and bowed gently, sneaking a kiss to her ankle, as he helped her collect her clothes. - Always pleasure to win with someone, who knows how to lose. - she giggled in return. - Next time you will be the one begging for mercy. - Oh, I sure hope so.

Marinette raised her arms and put her wrists next to the headboard of her bed, as if she was tied. She watched, as his cock twitched again through his latex clothes.

- Oh, and by the way... I'd still win. - he said as he climber up - I still had my tail.

He closed the door, and only after a while Marinette let out a gasp when she realised how his tail could have been attached to his naked body once he got out of his suit...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄3

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (sexual intercourse); tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: I’m having fun with this and hoping to be able to re-center on my other work as well. We will take it a day at a time. You guys are awesome, thanks for all the asks and comments!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

That morning was spent in an unbroken silence. You kept your nose in your ledger as Loki went about his own business, much of his time spent outside the office. When he was there, you felt his glances, his taunting smirks, but he said nothing. It was as if he was waiting for you to crack.

Just after three, he strode in and his lithe fingers unbuttoned his sleek jacket. He hung it from his chair and tugged his vest straight above his belt. He walked his fingers along the edge of his desk as he rounded it and neared yours. His hands framed your ledger as he loomed over you and his eyes skimmed the margins.

You didn’t bother to set down your phone as you remained reclined in your chair. His head quorked and his large hand covered your screen. You lowered it slowly and peered up at him. You fought to keep your irritation beneath the surface. His eyes sparked with knowing.

“Barnes will be here soon,” He announced. “Lose the stuffy little blazer, darling. I want him to see what’s mine.”

You scowled and pulled your phone away. You turned in your chair and went back to scrolling. He slapped it out of your hand before slamming his fist on your desk.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” He sneered. “Or I’ll have you greet him with much less than the blazer.”

You looked at him and pursed your lips. You stood, your eyes boring into his, and shed the blazer. You slung it over the desk before you bent to retrieve your phone. As you stood, he came around your small desk and kept you from sitting, his hands on your shoulders.

“Wait,” His hands slid down your sleeves. His eyes followed. He reached just beneath your chin and unhooked the top button, then the next, and the next. He pulled your collar open, the vee’s point just along your cleavage. “Hmm…” His thumbs trailed along the pressed fabric. “Not bad.”

“Are you done?” You asked.

“I don’t pay you pennies,” He mused as he drew away. “You should invest in some skirts, maybe a dress or two.”

“You really think he cares? I have no doubt he was not lonely last night. Nor will he be in those to come.” 

You sat and dropped your phone on your desk as he lifted your blazer. He shoved the tweed in his desk drawer as he sat.

“I’ll make him care,” Loki slithered. “He will expect his cut so please, I would have it ready for his arrival.”

He didn’t move as he leaned back with a metallic groan of the chair. You rolled your eyes and stood. You went to the safe and spun the dial without looking. You bent to grab a bundle of bills and Loki hummed. As you stood, he bent one leg over the other.

“If you can bend over just like that when he’s here,” He remarked. “Those trousers aren’t so bad.”

“Ugh,” You crossed the office to the machine and divided the stack in two. 

You dropped in half and listened to the flutter. You added a few more and returned the spare bills to the safe. A knock sounded as you collected the final take.

“In here,” Loki called but Lopez did not appear. 

Bucky pushed the door open himself and paused in the doorway as he peered inside. His henchman accompanied him but as before, did not break the threshold. He stepped further in and nodded at you as he neared Loki’s desk. He carefully sat in the empty chair, an elbow on the wooden arm.

“I heard you and Diablo had a little chat,” Bucky barely seemed bothered by your presence.

“And you as well,” Loki returned. “He is a sociable host.”

“Is that what you’d call him?” Bucky picked at the grooved curve of the arm with his thumb. “This little business you’re carrying on down at the docks., you know I have rights.”

“Oh yes, indeed I am aware,” Loki beckoned to you with two fingers. “You see that my… secretary has accounted for that in your cut.”

You neared and held out the money to Bucky. He glanced at you and his eyes strayed to your open collar. He made no effort to hide his wandering gaze as he reached for the bills. His fingers brushed yours and his lips curved slightly. He righted himself and began to count.

“Very well but if you are going to discuss matters which affect me, I’d like to be involved in said conversations,” Bucky intoned. “I know you think you’re big shit but your name don’t mean shit down in Brooklyn, you understand? You know what we do to Manhattan… types?”

“Oh, I imagine it’s similar to our own treatment of your type,” Loki grinned. “But I thought we were past all these petty threats.”

“Not a threat. You will know it when I am threatening you and you won’t be so arrogant,” Bucky warned. “I only want what I am owed. I have been polite to you. To your…” Bucky peeked over at you. “People.”

“If this is you being polite, I’d hate to see what you would deem as coarse,” Loki said. “I will have a copy of the expenses made for you…” He curled his finger as he motioned you over. You slipped around his desk and neared him. “When my bookkeeper has the chance.”

His hand went to the small of your back and you resisted a growl. You kept your face placid as Bucky took note of the touch. He chuckled softly and set the money on the desk.

“I am certain she has the time now to recount this,” He said. “It’s short.”

“Short?” Loki’s fingers hooked in your belt.

“Diablo showed me the figures. You’ve given me my share of the smack but the rest is unaccounted for.” 

“The rest?” Loki challenged.

“Don’t tell me I know your business better than you,” Bucky said.

Loki’s fingers slipped from your back and he brushed your ass as he leaned back.

“An oversight,” Loki said. “Do factor in the rest.”

You stepped away and went to your ledger. He had bid you to only tally the smack and not the other assortment of goods which had been secreted in. You hit the loud buttons of your calculator and fixed the margins. You lifted the book and presented it to Bucky. He took it and read it over, a small nod before he handed it back.

“Darling,” Loki waved you away.

You set the book on your desk and went to the safe. You hid the dial as you opened it once more and retrieved the rest of the stack. You heard a low, whispered breath as you bent. You glanced over and Loki smirked at you before you shot up straight. Shit.

You slammed the safe and crossed to Bucky again. You began to count allowed as you added the bills to his stack on the desk. His eyes followed your fingers and grew more and more intent. When you finished, he held out his hand expectantly. You gritted your teeth and moved the bills from the desk to his hand.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” He said and stood so suddenly your ankle wobbled as you retreated. “Sorted.”

“I hope so,” Loki smoothed his hand over his black hair.

“I like the digs,” Bucky hid the money inside his jacket as he looked around. “Manhattan’s not bad when there aren’t bullets flying but…” He buttoned his jacket. “I’d like to return the gesture. I would have our next meeting down at The She-Wolf.”

“The She-Wolf?” Loki almost recoiled at the word. “Forgive me, but it is not really a place I’d deign to frequent.”

“Not asking you to frequent, just asking for a little give in our accord.” Bucky pushed his shoulders back. “Even the playing field, meet me on my turf.”

“I suppose,” Loki said sharply.

“You might just see something you like,” Bucky said. “And you can bring the secretary along. Get her out of this damned stuffy place.”

“Until then, Barnes,” Loki intoned.

“‘Til then,” Bucky smirked and spun around, a wink sent your way before he left.

You waited, quietly, as the men departed. Loki rubbed his chin pensively and motioned for you to close the door. You did and turned back to him.

“You can’t go down to a place like that in a pantsuit,” Loki stood and swept his jacket off his chair. “And if you’ve shown me anything, it’s that you cannot follow orders.”

“Wha--”

“Come on,” He checked his watch as he came around the desk. “I’m as eager as you to have this done with.”

👄

You had grown used to Loki’s presence long ago; the silence, the iciness. What you’d never dealt with before was a tense car ride in which you floundered between confusion and irritation. He was a man to do as he pleased without explanation and so it was that he didn’t offer you one as he ushered you out of the antique store.

Only his smirk betrayed his content. This game he was playing amused him very much. He liked toying with you, more he enjoyed the reaction he’d drawn from his former enemy. Bucky had let just enough show for Loki to feel triumphant. And you had added to his zeal as you grumbled at him in turn.

You didn’t mind shopping. You were precise in your taste; clean cut; professional. Perhaps you were making up for your father’s reputation, or your mother’s, or perhaps you were acting as your own person. Whatever it was, you had little interest in the boutique which had no trace of a trouser or blazer in sight.

Loki strutted ahead of you and greeted the woman in the black turtleneck, a clunky golden necklace at her throat. Even if she didn’t recognize him, his attire betrayed a man of wealth, one of presume prestige. He looked over his shoulder and waved you forward.

“I hope you might help my… acquaintance,” He measured the word deliberately. “You see, we would like a more womanly look. Something which would actually suggest her to be a woman. More than suggest.”

“Loki,” You breathed. “Is this really--”

“Money is no issue,” He ignored you for the boutique associate who perked up at his statement. “I do expect a wardrobe’s worth. Within reason. She hasn’t a very big closet.”

You growled and shook your head. You looked around the place and cringed at the panoply of colours; of sparkle and sheen; of rich velvet and flowing silks. 

“I would prefer you could be finished within the hour but I would allow you longer if needed,” He took out his wallet and flipped a crisp hundred from the leather pocket. He slipped it to her swiftly before he turned his attention to you. “Darling, behave. Remember the price which has already been paid.”

Your heart sank and you nodded. You could have snarled at him but you averted your eyes. You hadn’t truly thought of yourself as being genuinely valuable to the man but to know he had bought you like some asset was vile. He touched our arm and left you with the woman.

“I am Ana,” She introduced herself. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to look for?”

“No,” You uttered. “Unless you have some tweed hidden in here? Perhaps some wool?”

“We have a lovely cashmere beret,” She offered. “You have a lovely complexion for rose, which is on trend. And lilac.”

“I prefer simplicity,” You said dully.

“Well, the simplest looks can be the most stylish,” She flitted past you and lifted a grey camisole with a hint of fur along the hem. “This would go well with a fitted skirt. And the colour, dainty but draws the eye.”

“Mmm,” You looked at it and touched the stringy strap. “I work in… an office, not a club.”

“You must at least try it on,” She grabbed a pencil skirt and lined it up beneath the top. “There is a powder blue dress, the most intricate work along the back. You would do wonderfully in it.” She led you around the shop and grabbed another hanger. “And I believe that generous man is not so concerned about office attire.”

“Generous?” You echoed. “That generous man, should you not do as he wishes, would break you fingers to get that little tip back in his pocket. It is the only reason I am going along with this ridiculous affair.”

Her eyes widened as she stopped beside a display of bell sleeved blouses. “Excuse me?”

You arched a brow and tilted your head.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing quite well. I do think you’ll go home with a healthy pocketbook.” You taunted. “Now, I will allow you to treat me as the doll he wishes me to be but this,” You touched a skirt beside you. “Nothing like it, you hear me? I like my ass to be covered.”

“Of course,” She hesitated but turned back to her course. 

She added to her armful as you left her and neared the little placard that read ‘fitting rooms’. You tucked your hands in your pockets and slipped through the curtain. The room was pristine; gentle pink walls and a rich fuschia carpet ;long white benches in the centre as booth lined the walls, mirrors on each door.

You sat and stared at your reflection. Your blouse was still undone and you buttoned it back to your chin. You listened to the metallic chime of hangers and the click of the sales associates heels. You leaned on your knee and fished your phone out of your pocket. You lit the screen up and a text from an unknown number topped your notifications.

‘See you soon, sweetheart.’

It wasn’t hard to guess who it was from and you didn’t trouble yourself to wonder how he’d gotten your number. You suspected the man had ways to get most things. That’s exactly what he wanted you to think. You sent it to your trash and tucked your phone away. Ana entered with an array of clothing.

“Whichever room you prefer,” She sang. 

You rose and sighed. You checked your watch. Fifteen minutes gone. Ana had a tall order to fill in a short time, but this wasn’t her fault. You went to the first stall and pulled open the door.

“Thank you,” You reached for the hangers. “I think I can handle it from here.”

[jacksons-goddess-gaia]

Demons Sonata~ Chapter 1

❖ EXO, tba idol x oc

❖ Series, fluff, supernatural au, angst, alternate universe au, ceo au

❖ Warnings: being followed, fear of the unknown, hinted death.

❖ wc: 2010

❖ Tag List: @queen-of-himbos @kimnamshiks @wonderland-obsession @gettin-a-lil-hanse @not-majestic-bluenicorn 

❖ Masterlist ❖

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Welcome into a different world~ Discover it-or more discover them and all the spooks, hijinks, light, and darkness along the way!  I’d love to know what you think!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Feet clicked against cobblestone. Heels digging into sore ankles, blisters stinging with every movement. A harsh wind was blowing through the city streets, the icy bite of winter frost chilling her down to the bone within minutes. Despite this, she forged on, bright eyes squinting, straining to see the sign that marked her end goal.

Cars rattled past, the strangers within the windows of shops and cafes hardly taking notice of this oddly dressed traveler hurrying through the night filled streets. Nor did she blame them, they were all focused upon their own lives, the happy bubbles of people unbothered by the darkness plaguing her. The lady shook her head in an attempt to banish the terrifying images, dark, yet rich scarlet locks breaking free from their restraints to dance like flames in the night behind her.

“Come on!” She urged herself, frustration bleeding into her fear, hands clutching the thin black peacoat tighter around her. The far off sound of a siren wailing urgent and mournfully set her pounding heart on edge. If only she had listened to her instincts, if she had stayed home and ignored the snide remarks of her coworkers, she wouldn’t be in this mess! Cursing her all too human ‘want’ to be accepted, and her damned curiosity in the mysterious men who headed the company she worked for.

Their faces flashed before her eyes even now, dark eyes glittering, their curved lips and pride-filled powerful frames outlined in the glowing lights of the club. How stupid had she been, lured in by the forbidden fruit, that she had become blind to all the warning signs around her. Moments before it had all fallen apart she had wondered what her coworkers had meant when admiringly yet with a hint of something she now realized had been fear, called her brave for mingling with them. Like a fly drawn to honey, a rabbit awed by the beauty of the wolves den, she had been drawn into their trap.

As the shadows lengthened around her, the street lights burning, headlights of taxis flying past, she felt her blood grow cold once again. They had told her, had they not? Warned her that it was too late to turn back, too late to run, for now, the dark things she once believed were stories she knew to be real. And as she grew aware of them, they had become aware of her as well. Drawn to her they seemed to be, and even as she wished she did not, she glimpsed the shadow moving along the street across from her. Chewing on curved lips, painted a color akin to the blood surging through her pounding heart, she broke into a run. The small pools of that afternoon's rain splashing softly wetting her feet, however the promise of safety, however hollow and false it might be, drove her to pay the cold moisture no mind.

With an overwhelming surge of relief the neon sign, a beacon of light upon this smaller side street came into view. Had she paused for even a moment, stopped to greet the night guard as she usually would, Rosalina might have noticed the dazed and unseeing eyes upon the guards slack face. Then again had the wave of relief not distracted her, she might have felt the ice leave her veins. Or perhaps she might have noticed how as she neared the entrance she moved out of the unnaturally dark street into a bright beam of fiercest moonlight.

Feet pounding up the steps so quickly she appeared to fly, Rosalina had the door of her apartment unlocked and open before she fully stopped moving. As if to mark the end of her luck as she raced across the threshold, the stiletto of her heel snapped. A quiet gasp escaped her throat as she fell backwards, hands flying out into the shadows of the room for a hold. However, before she could fall back out the entrance from which she came, a set of strong arms wrapped around her.

“Careful.” Warned a husked voice beside her ear, the fear from which she had fled, flooding back the air leaving her lungs in a shriek.

“I forget how slowly you humans move.” Remarked another voice as Rosalina attempted to balance upon her now broken heels, the door swinging closed behind her with a click. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness within the room. Glancing around with wide eyes her heart leapt into her throat, nine figures slowly loomed out of the darkness, their silhouettes basking in the moonlight streaming from her open balcony doors.

“How?” as she stumbled back from the all too familiar man who had stopped her from falling. One of the men snorted at her legs trembling, she collapsed against the door.

“Really Rose, I’m disappointed. After what you saw did you really think a mere lock and chain would stop us?”

With the snap of his fingers all the lights came on at once, illuminating them fully before her eyes for the first time. As the folly of her actions and her last prayer that this was all one horrible dream, vanished like smoke before a hurricane. Rose was forced to realize the men who she had been so eager to befriend and learn about weren’t men at all.

“Don’t scare her.” Rebuked a man she recognized with ease, his stoic face a mask as usual. Sehun's eyes left her speechless as he leveled his gaze with the scarlet haired man sitting astride the arm of her couch. His gentle but raspy voice seemed to ease her nerves as she hesitantly kicked off her heels, if she needed to run-not that she believed now would help her in any way-she wasn’t about to break her ankle.

“Chill Sehun, he's being honest.” An impishly smiling Baekhyun was watching her with some amusement. Had she been less shocked and more angry, Rose might have told him to wipe that stupid grin off his face. It had been his interaction with her that had first piqued her interest, working under the funny man who had first invited her out. Dangling the fact that she could shut her snobby coworkers up if she came to the latest party to celebrate the successful buyout of their rival corporation. In fact she was angry enough, and as the grumbled words left her lips, the young man's eyebrows shot up to hide beneath his blonde bangs. While Chen choked on the tea he had seemingly helped himself to in her favorite mug no less, a rather irritating laugh left her bosses lips.

“See I told you she’s not a sheep like the others!” Baekhyun seemed delighted rather than insulted that his subordinate had just mouthed off to him in front of his own boss and colleagues.

“I guess there's still hope for humans.” Conceded Kyungsoo rolling his eyes as Kai beside him burst into hysterics, smacking his arm repeatedly in his mirth.

“Only some.” Agreed Xiumin grinning like the cheshire cat from story books.

“What do you want from me?” She demanded tired of this pandering and the uncomfortable feeling of those intense eyes burning into her skin. Pulling her coat tight around herself once again, Rose fervently wished she had worn a dress that was less revealing.

“Want?” Lay, who had stopped her from a crash landing in the hallway, cocked his head to the side puzzled.

“How do you feel about a promotion?” Chanyeol's cocky smirk said he knew all too well of how she would respond, a strong dislike forming within her at smugness.

“How would anyone feel about a promotion?” She scoffed, if she was going to be forced to play this game, she was going to play it her way, not theirs.

“Fair enough. Well, Rose-”

“Rosalina, only friends call me Rose.” She corrected Suho, for a second his pitch eyes darkened before he relaxed.

“I’d hoped we were. You didn’t seem to have a problem with being a friend earlier tonight,” he recalled with unnerving calm.

“That was before you claimed to be demons, and admitted to dooming me and everything else.” Rose reminded him with a scowl.

“Doom?” Sehun asked, looking affronted by the statement.

“You exaggerate.” Chuckled Chen not seeing the glare she shot in his direction,

“Exaggerate? Let me tell you mister big bad demon, humans are not used to seeing shadowy beasts moving and following them down streets!” Her snarl took the amusement out of the room, even Baekhyun sobered.

“They’re following her already?” Demanded Chanyeol, instantly moving to the window and looking outside before growling low in his throat, an inhuman sound that set the hair of her arms and head on end.

“Are you telling me you can see them?” Suho’s voice was deathly serious, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward, winged red hair standing out against the white of the couch.

“Yeah, those weird smoke shadow things.” She gestured back out the window, her bravery faltering as Xiumin joining Chanyeol at the window swore under his breath before he and the much taller man disappeared evaporating into billowing tendrils of black smoke.

"We need to leave. Now! She's awakening too quickly." Suho's words were directed at Sehun, the younger boy nodding face a mask as he seized her wrist.

"Let's grab your things, it's not safe until we know who is following."

"Not safe-You're the ones who-" 

But her protest was cut off as a shadow flashed across the room from the open window. Before it could take shape, Sehun's eyes flashed and with a burst of heat and flash of light it exploded into smoke. A dense smell of sulfur lingering in the air, the feel of a slimy phantom hand closing around your neck dissipating with it.

"Bogarts, no...its goblins. They love to prey on those at the beginning of their awakening, especially strong ones." Chen's eyes flitted to the window as a group of shadows raced away. "You must be especially tasty and powerful for them to dare enter the established zone. They must think you're worth the risk of dying since soon enough even you would be able to destroy them."

"They are notoriously dumb but to dare enter here..." Suho seemed enraged and equally disgusted, turning his eyes back upon Rosalina. "For now it'd be best if you came with us, not that we're really giving you the option. I doubt Baekhyun or Sehun would be thrilled if the goblins devoured your soul in order to transcend."

"Only grab the things you desperately need. Anything irreplaceable, otherwise we will supply whatever you need." Sehun's voice was quiet but left no room for negotiations. And that's how Rose found herself, scrambling to pack a suitcase of all her worldly and sentimental belongings.

"Really?" Sehun's eyebrow rose as she shoved a rather old and well-loved kitten plushie into the suitcase. However, as she glared at him, he held up his hands in surrender. Despite the calls from the living room to hurry it up, Rosalina took her time to pack, a mixture of rebellion and disbelief slowing her pace, praying that at any moment someone might jump out and shout cut, or that this might all dissolve away like the shadows. Sadly by the time she had finished packing however no such miracle had occurred. Taking her hand in his Sehun pulled her back out into the living room sparing her a sympathetic look as he felt the way her hands trembled, the tears of frustration and confusion welling in her eyes.

"Finally, get ready to go. It might feel odd, but bear with it, it'll all be over in a moment." Instructed Chen with a smile taking the suitcase as Sehun suddenly pulled her into his arms, wrapping himself around her from behind.

"Close your eyes." He whispered, the only warning she would receive before the world turned sideways, her stomach twisting as her feet left the ground; Everything whipping and warping around her before blinking out of existence.

[madmadmilk]

No Knock Knocks (FULL) | Tom Holland x Reader

!!!This is the full completed version!!!

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom, your sweetie pie stupid roommate, has a bad habit of walking into your room unannounced.

Warning: Language, Smut, Masturbation & a PSA to fucking KNOCK

Word Count: 7K bad puns

Originally based off of this blurb :) Enjoy!

-

Whew.

Tom wasn't at home. Finally. He has a busy schedule today, consisting of meeting with friends, work, gym, and whatever else it is he does without you.

“Hmm~” you hum yourself as you enter your shared apartment with little expectation.

You pause in your doorway, listening for familiar sounds and looking for that lived-in disarray.

But there’s none. You’re alone. :)

[//MORE]

You drop your bag with a heavy thud to the floor and raise your arms up and out in glee. You could see stars behind your lids from this the stretch, effectively loosening your weary body.

Ahh...

Wasting no time, you kick off your shoes and beeline towards your room with some bags in tow.

Good!

You love the guy, you really, genuinely, honestlydo. And you love his constant company, no question about that.

But a girl’s gotta have some time alone, you know?

You flop onto your bed, closing your eyes for a second. A hazy image of his face enters your mind.

He’s the perfect roommate, hits every mark. He cleans up after himself, pretty tidy, and isn’t too loud on the weekdays–– without you, at least. He makes you tea, maybe more than you’d like, but also always picks you up something sweet at the store.

He’s great.

No complaints here.

It feels like your mattress is ready to swallow you whole, sinking deeper and deeper into your comforter and sleep–– but not yet.

You smile to yourself sheepishly, this is yourtime.

Mine.

And more than a roommate, Tom is your best friend. Sweetest guy you’ve ever known, always has your back, your best interest in mind, always makes you ugly laugh and pretty sob. He’s there for you; sometimes whether you like it or not.

But it means a lot for him to be there at all.

You roll over and fish for yourothertrusty friend in the drawer by your bed. You find it with ease, shimmying out of your pants and scooting up your bed to get into a comfortable position. Your shirt crumples up beneath your bust and a little over your belly as you arch your back.

You open your phone, finding your savory secret stash of photos.

Of Tom.

Obviously.

And with the click of a button and swift fingers, you get back to work.

And you know what? With all his strengths and charm and wit, there is one thing you absolutely hate about your roommate and best friend, Tom Holland.

Just one.

“––Oohh, ah, Tom,” you throatily groan to yourself, aroused by the echo of your own voice in this supposedly empty apartment,

Supposedly.

“Tom, hah, no, please, Tom–– I ca–!”

Your fingers tremble, guiding your vibrator as you bite your lip. You look over your cracked screen with blurry eyes to see your coveted man––

CHHH–CLACK.

“Wha–” you stutter, eyes fluttering open to refocus.

…

The one fucking thing you fucking hate about Tom fucking Holland is that he doesn’t fucking knock.

“Oh, uhm, you’re busy––” he stammers, dumbstruck while his hand rests on the doorknob, big brown eyes looking nowhere but at you.

Bold.

“... Tom……….. .. … .. .. .”

And you don’t know what the worst part of all of this is, the fact that he found you legs spread on your bed moaning hisname, or that the sight of his realface made you come?

God fucking dammit.

-

Nothing has really changed between you after that–– albeit it’s only been like 3 days after The Incident.

After walking in on you, and freezing both in your tracks, Tom just coughed. He stared at you, suggestively displayed on your bed and then looked hard at the ground, opening and closing his mouth like he was going to say something.

But he didn’t.

And you didn’t either, couldn’t, actually. A delayed gasp caught in your throat.

He didn’t even say sorry, or excuse himself. He just nodded, back peddled and shut the door.

You sat in a dull shock, toes curled while the vibrator was still doing it’s thing.

Fuck,you thought to yourself while blinking your dry eyes. The room felt much brighter, clearer and suddenly too fucking real.

You lean your head back, accidentally hitting yourself against the headboard with a low thud. You groan and press off your toy, laying still for a second. You comforter falls and folds over your shoulders.

You really wish that the world, or at least your bed, would swallow you whole.

But it doesn’t, just leaving you heaving and blinking in disbelief.

God.

You smack your lips because your whole body was still vibrating, exhilarated. Your thighs and cheeks felt like they were on fire after the weight of Tom’s surprised stare.

…. Tom.

And you were still in the fucking mood.

Your mind was yelling to put out the flames quickly before it spreads. Before this becomes something irreversible, something deadly, something taboo–– as if masturbating to your roommate and longtime friend wasn’t alreadya forbidden feeling.

Ha ha ha.

So, you remedy this with all you know how: a brisk, cold shower.

Icy water pelts your back and makes you shiver back to your senses. You shut your eyes and wash off your tingling skin, trying to feel the calm and cool––

Please.

But all you can think about is how red Tom’s ears had turned, how pink his cheeks were, how his jaw had bit and clenched as he trailed down your exposed body, and how it was you. You.Who made him that way.

“AHH!”

-

Tom hasn’t barged in since then–– but you jump when you see his shadow pass under the door, or hear the familiar creak in the floor. There’s always a pause, then the padding of feet away and away and away.

It feels a little... lonely? Maybe?

You sigh in relief but also smoldering disappointment, Tom coming and going as he pleased was not a severe complaint mostof the time. Just something annoying, when you werebusy.

But you’re never busy.

Hmm.

You did see each other in those 3 days though, about as much as you would regularly.

You passed each other during breakfast where he handed you coffee on your way out the door and he didn’t say anything unusual. Just his silly pressed smile and wild bedhead. You didn’t reach out to fix it as you usually did, too aware of your actions towards him––

Thinking about combing your fingers through his hair might be too much stimulation for the both of you on a fine Monday morning, so you settle with words.

“Catch you later, Holland.”

“Yeah.”

The pause was undeniable.

You’d come home and he wasn’t in, or fast asleep or whatever he usually does in his evenings. You didn’t really worry about it before, but there’s so much implication now. Is he avoiding you? Is he giving you space? Is he in shock? Is he interested?

Does he care?

And then you’re faced with that awful 50/50 split.

If doescare, what does that mean for you? If he didn’t care, well, that might hurt your ego a bit.

The possibilities split and branch off into wild overthinking and create a tangle so knotted that you don’t know how to function.

Where do we go from here?

The beginning of the answer is met when Tom is set up and sprawled out on the couch when you got home. He has some fast food tossed on the table, picking at some fries. His head perks up when you shut the door.

“You’re out late,” he hums, waving a fry towards you. His head is turned towards you, rimmed by the blue glow of the tv.

You smile, sighing a bit in relief. Normalcy. You slip off your shoes and bound over, biting the snack from his hand. He wipes his fingers on his shirt as you laugh,

“Sorry, mom.”

He sits up on the couch to make room for you as you wander around putting your things away. You call to him from your room, making conversation,

“So, whatcha watchin’?”

“I dunno, some old movies,” Tom sounds tired, sleepy, “There’s some food here for you; cold though.”

Sweet.

You come out changed into some whatever shorts and a hoodie, plopping yourself beside him. It was nice to spend a little bit of downtime together. It’s only been a few days but you missed it. You missed nodding off next to Tom, resting your feet in his lap or those late night vent sessions. The little pieces of him that only yougot to see as his roommate.

Did he miss it too?

The movie played without much talking, without much touching. You were just sitting in the same space, enjoying the same air. It was nice, you suppose. But it was silent.

Maybe you were just paying too much attention to it, but–– it wasn’t the same.

“... are we good?” you ask softly, murmuring into your sleeve.

Tom takes a moment to answer, shifting up from a stiff position, and groggily gives you,

“Yeah. Of course.”

Hm.

He blinks hard, rubbing his eyes and sets his hand down, accidentally touching your thigh and moving it away. He exhales,

“We’re fine, good. I– I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“Oh,” you pucker, “Yeah, me too.”

You both get up in a sleepy shuffling, careful not to bump into one another as you clean up the area. You reach your bedroom doors at the same time, pausing in unison.

Tom looks at you deeply for what feels like the first time in a long time. You watch him unguarded, hair framing his forehead and hood pulled over his shoulder. He was messy and pretty and soft and warm and––

“Good night, Y/N,” he greets you, rubbing his nose. His eyes catch on yours.

“Good night, Tom?” you giggle.

It was weird to say this all so ceremoniously–– gotta be a bad sign right?

Like it means he’s totally thinking what we’re all thinking; he’ll be up all night listening for his name through the thin walls or a light mechanical buzz or hell, a creak in the bed.

You could see it in his face, all the questions and answers you didn’t even know how to start to give. You only knew you would really like for this to be resolved. Like sooner than later, cos...

You really like Tom.

And it would be a shame to have anything irreversible come between you. But you’re sure that neither of your would ever let that happen.

Ever.

He bumps his shoulder on the doorway on his way in, hearing a soft thud and “ow.”

You laugh to yourself, shutting your door with a silly thought.

Tom’s clumsy concern iskinda endearing…. and honestly?

You could deal with a little bit of this nervous excitement between you two.

Right?

-

And you definitely would have spoken too soon if you had actually voiced that opinion, because here he is. The familiar crank of the doorknob, but then a hesitant… knock?

CA–CLACK.

“Yeah?” you call out, hoodie half over your head. You pull it off to smooth out your shirt.

There’s a pause.

“Uhh... can I come in?”

“I’m decent,” you scoff, half nervous but mildly amused.

What could he want at this hour?

“Oh, thank god,” he mumbles as he steps into your room, a laugh tickling his throat. He shuts the door behind him to lean on it and slowly scans the room.

There’s some clothes on the floor, a vanilla scented candle burning, and the airy bounce of music. It’s nothing he recognizes. Your window is shut with the curtains drawn, your bed is half made and closet door left slightly ajar. Tom took in these details with a soft and ginger focus, both avoiding looking at you but also building up to it.

He looks at you with downturned eyes, his brows stiff.

You raise a brow in question, moving towards your laptop on the bed. You sit with one leg on the mattress, swinging the other while you continue to scroll through your email. After a few seconds of silence you muse,

“Sooo, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just––” Tom leans against your dresser and looks at you again in that crumpled, hole-y white t-shirt and those gray threadbare sweats he never takes off. His dark hair is wildly ruffled and he has an arm crossed over his chest to hold his shoulder as he continues to mumble,

“–– wanna talk to you about some… things.”

Oh.

You blanche, and giggle with a contorted face. This feels so formal, like when your parents try to ask you about your dating life, your sexlife. You tuck some hair behind your ear as you keep yourself calm,

“... Okay, and?”

Tom gulps, visibly, and readjusts his grip on his shoulder. It makes his shirt lift to show you a sliver of skin. He starts slowly,

“Do you like… do thatlike all the time?”

You can only laugh,

“Don’t you?”

He turns bright red, more out of shame for asking at all, rather than innocence. But he has to push through with the questioning to smother his boyish curiosity.

Tom wonders if this feeling is about all women or just you.

The sight of you has him itching to know more. The memory of you makes him impatient.

He tilts his head side to side,

“So like, even when I’m home and stuff?”

And you repeat,

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I uh, and you–– you just? I don’t know–– uh, why?” he blubbering, and puts a fist to his mouth, looking down at the floor. His hair flops forward and he chuckles,

“Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so shocked right now.”

You nod slowly, moving your laptop off your lap and lean back on your hands.

Maybe that was a visual he’s never seen before, or never thought of youdoing before. Maybe he remembers the way you looked, the way your hands touched yourself, or the way your voice sounded as you cooed his name.

Maybe he was remembering something like that.

“Augh,” he groans, shaking his head.

You only nod, unsure of what to say. Are you supposed to comfort him? You don’t know.

But his motions slow, and he pauses. There’s a moment where you hear his ragged inhale, not realizing that he’s met his resolve. He’s found his answer, the next step.

“Tom, uhm, it’s okay––?”

He perks up at your voice, red faded to a boyish pink. He moves towards you, making you jump at the sudden shift in confidence, but he reaches for your bedside table. He pulls open the drawer before you realize what was up.

He’s found the goods.

“HEY!” you yelp, jumping up to grab his wrist, and pull him to your side. He jokingly stumbles back with you, but he’s already seen.You feel an unfair heat climb to your face.

You look at him with your cheeks puffed up and pout. You’re incredibly embarrassed… but not enough to stop yourself from playing along. You repeat in a low whine,

“Hey.”

Tom’s leg lines up with your knee and he swings back and forth, you sway with him. There’s a shit-eating grin on his smug face as he sighs, looking into the still open drawer,

“Really, y/n? Leaving these right next to a bible??”

What?!

“That’s my diary, asshole–– ah, hey!” you stand up as he grabs it quickly.

He holds it up above you both, and even though you can reach it with ease,  you swat at him. Tom looks up teasingly opening and shutting it. His laugh is comfortable and easy, and it makes you feel warm.

You can’t stop yourself from thinking, despite the situation, that, hey,“this is nice.”

You climb your hands up his arm as you return his laughter. You pull it free from his grasp and huff. He smiles back at you, hands falling to his side. His fingers twitch, hesitating, and he grabs his shoulder. He rests his cheek on it, musing,

“Write anything about me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you quip, smacking your lips as you let your eyes fall on his pointed smile. You turn your cheek from him to put it back into your drawer.

“Only good things, I hope,” he continues, coming to your side.

Your cheeks burn as you look into the drawer together. Everything is out in the open.

Your drawer. Your thoughts. Your heart.

Be careful, okay?

Tom brazenly points at one of your three vibrators, quietly sitting amongst your personal items. You can’t bring yourself to look directly at him, unsure of what face you would make under the pressure. You gulp and so does he as he begins to speak,

“... Why… why do you have more than one?”

You shrug, deciding to just be candid, “Feels different.”

He nods and you feel a burning stare on your cheek. He’s waiting for you to explain.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you poke at a dark purple bullet. It’s small and cute, and you take it out, making it stand atop your dresser,

“This was my first one.”

Tom nods again, urging you to continue.

You pull out a gray vibrator with ridges by the tip. You feel that fatal flush roll up your body, thinking about how this onewas The Onethat you were using when he unceremoniously came in. You prop it up on the table,

“That is the one I use most.”

And then there’s a pause. You felt yourself pause for you long and scream internally, not in any particular shame other than the fact that BOTH of you knowthat THIS IS THE ONE!

You segway with a short and curt cough, pulling out the last bright orange vibrator, just laying it on it’s side,

“And this one is too big… and loud.”

Tom sputters an awkward chuckle, “Oh, ahem.”

You try to laugh, starting to put them away as you mumble,

“Okay, bud. Show and tell is over–– kinda expect you to share something personal about yourself now.”

He straightens up his posture only to lean back on one leg. Then, so brazenly, he grabs your gray toy making you yelp. He looks at it as your mouth open and shuts to speak, but when he presses the button to start it your breath gets caught in your throat. He proposes,

“Nothing to share, I always tell you everything.”

Always.

You sit back on your bed in defeat, nothing to hide and nowhereto hide. You hold your cheeks as you squeeze your thigh together tightly.

The silence literally vibrates between you.

“And…. what are you thinking about… right now?”

Everything.

The look on his face registers as pain to you, but with his words you quickly understand.

“About how… I want to know how youuse this.”

“Oh, well, there’s plentyof videos out there, Tom,” you gulp, “Lots of, uhm, stuff out there.”

“Yeah, plenty–– but I’ve never seen it in reallife,” he looks at the toy in his hands, unsure of its devastating power and potential. He flips over his wrist and presses it against his skin.

Those dark brown eyes flicker back to you and you sit awfully still.  You stare at the veins crawling up his arm and he continues,

“... you.”

Hm?

“I won’t tell anybody. But I want to see it.  Seeyou.”

God, this room feels humid, heavy with the implication. The expectation. The what-ifs. The why-nots.

You scrunch your nose, still playing at the “cute and obtuse” angle. You innocently ask,

“And… what would Ibe getting out of this?”

And you know, maybe that was a misstep. Cos it implies that you arethinking about it, that you are thinkingabout showing him what he’s asked for. That you would be somewhat serious about setting up the situation again, letting some convoluted fanfiction scenario play out in real life. YOUR life.

But this is an opportunity anyone would want, right? A chance to say, “yes,” to a cute boy literally begging you to seduce him?

Yeah.

Tom lets out a husky laugh, the sound of sleep scraping his throat,

“Trust? Team building? I’ll buy you ice cream.”

You let out a shrill laugh, falling backwards into your bed. You curl up on your side and mumble into your sheets,

“Oh, ice cream.”

Haha.

But you’re trying so hard to pretend that you aren’t wet and wondering.

“Anything you want, as much as you want,” his voice is calm and cool.

“Is that even a fair trade?”

“Well… I can’t sleep because–– I can’t. It would be for science.”

You scoff, taking the vibrator from his hand and switching it off. You hold it against the bed, tilting your head to look up at him with a little more responsibility,

“Isn’t this… weird? Like, this is weird, right? We… wedon’t just do this. Not for anyone.”

Tom walks up, and leans on knee against your bed, pinning you to your spot,

“No, I don’t think it’s weird. Not at all.”

“That’s cos you’re notthe one doing it.”

He sucks in his cheeks, rationalizing,

“Yeah, but, I’m the one asking to see it. I’m the one losing sleep over it, I’m–– This… this can be ours. Our secret, or something.”

A small smile graces your lips at his fumbling, and it makes him smile too. You absolutely have to  say the cliche thing that mustbe said, just for the sake of it being out there. A disclaimer.

“You… you can’t say you’ll never be able to see me any way other than this. You have to promise you won’t be weird about it later.”

Tom doesn’t say anything.

And maybe that is confirmation enough. That maybe it wasthe worst thing that he saw you doing it in the first place, because now you can’t hide anything from him anymore. The little crush and the little mannerisms and all the little things are now magnified. It’s all grown so big that he’s too curious about it to ignore.

He’s looking at you.

And he wants you to do it again.

“You can’t laugh at me,” you say quietly. The honesty is sickly sweet. And so is the insecurity.

You can’t laugh at the way I’ll look or the sounds I’ll make or how this means so much to me. That this…. This is the admission that I think about you.

A little bit.

“I won’t,” he whispers sincerely, crossing his arms.

Tom gives you a soft smile and crinkled eyes that say, “You can trust me.”

And you look back at him, with all your experiences, your trust and your own curiosity,

“Okay.”

You hang onto the bright look on his eyes for a second, searching for any sign of hesitation. But there isn’t any.

Is that a relief?

You turn towards you laptop, playing the music louder. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter because the sound of you shifting on your bed makes you both shiver.

You look down at yourself, your legs that are already exposed. You pull down your shorts slowly, and toss them lightly to the corner of the bed. You shoot him a look, and he’s scanning up your legs. Nerve wracking.

A laugh bubbles up your throat as you mutter to yourself. You lean back into your pillows and stare up at the ceiling for a moment.

“Don’t you need this?” you look up to see Tom handing you your phone, to look for inspiration.

You hum in response, taking it and pretending to look through.

Would now be a good time to tell him that all the visuals you needed are right in front of you already? Or would thatbe too far.

You blink down hard.

I can do this.

Your clammy hand smoothes over your abdomen, pass the soft space of your hip and under your panties, which were spectacularly unremarkable today. You stroke yourself softly, because you were already sopping.

The brunette looms over you, standing with his legs apart and arms crossed tight. He watches you with trained eyes.

You take the time to ask,

“W-why do you want to see this again?”

He pauses, before groggily answering, “I just need to know.”

Know what?

You nod, eyebrows pinching at the sound of his deepened voice. You reach for your gray vibrator, knowing that Tom had a tight stare over your every move. You shimmy it into your panties, rubbing to find that sweet, sweet spot. Then turn it to the lowest setting.

You let it rest there and feel the shiver radiate upwards. Your head tilts back.

You open your blurring eyes to catch him. He’s marvelling–– he’s never see you like this before. Not exactly defenseless, not exactly overwhelming. Just powerful and plain sexy.

You bite your lip as you eyes flow down the side of his cheek to his open pink lips, down his cheek to the space by his neck. You swallow at the sight of his goddamn arms and the fist he holds so tight underneath them–– the phone falls face down on the bed.

You wonder if you should just up the settings to get it over with––

“I can’t see,” he says suddenly, warm hands on your hips. His palms touch your waist and smooth down over to the hem, expertly hooking his thumbs through the bottom. He looks for your approval.

“Nothing to see,” you plead coy. You lift your hips a bit.

“Lotsto see,” he corrects. He swiftly pulls them out from under you, off of your left leg first. Then he holds your right leg up as he pulls it off, making it nearly straighten in the air as he sits nearly between your legs. Now he has the best view.

You bite back a breathy moan as you instinctively press it to the next setting. The vibration is stronger now, and you feel that lovely pulse. You can stop the throaty gasps and moans now.

Tom runs his hands through his wavy curls as he sets your legs back down, “You changed it?”

“Mhm.”

“Getting close?”

“Maybe,” you manage to laugh, your face contorted in pleasure.

Tom smiles so brightly, his eyes half lidded in lust with your wad of panties held in his fist. His thumb strokes your shin.

And maybe all of that is what gets you because your tilting your chin up and away from his face as you reach your first soft orgasm. Your breath hitches, as you move your vibrator around your slickness and feel the warm pleasure.

It’s still a bit strained because you’re afraid to show it allto him. You breathe in sharp, and accidentally let out a luscious groan.

“Oh, oh,” he murmurs, “That’s it, y/n.” it’s soothing, and you can see the pink emerge on the apples of his cheeks again.

You let out another laugh, rollling your eyes as you lean your face to the side, half buried in your comforter. Your legs slack as you come off your first high, but don’t move the vibrator away, “Ha ha.”

“... You’re going to stop?” he asks.

You give him a look that says, “you want me to keep going?”

And he answers you verbally,

“You can keep… going. ‘Looks like it felt good.”

“Tom…” he stiffens at his name, but doesn’t say anything. And he doesn’t need to plead his case much more because you were already continuing.

You roll the toy up and around your slit, expertly hitting all the spots. And in the fever of searching for your next high you can’t stop yourself from looking at him. You see his clenched jaw, his pecs through the shirt, the really obviousbulge in his pants. You can’t stop.

He opens and closes his hands and you change the position, getting his attention

There’s a haughty smile spreading across his lips.

Tom drops your underwear on your bed, and leans forward,

“Did I hear you say my name the other day? While you were… like this?”

You should stop touching yourself to answer this seriously, but you can’t, “What?”

Tom puts his warm hands around your ankles, pulling you close to him. You shriek as you slid across your comforter. Those hands rub up your thighs, squeezing them and then start rubbing circles with his thumbs.

Oooh.

“I want to hear you say it again.”

What?!

You pout, ready to talk while your eyes go out of focus. You felt a soft wave of new pleasure from the stakes. Damn.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confesses.

You blink at him, feeling your abdomen get tight with his pretty words.

“I needto hear you say it again.”

You can barely think over the sound of his confession, the warm, sticky heat between your legs, the sound of the vibrator competing with the thundering in your heart.

“I’m––” you start to say. The words are caught as you share a look. And then a nod.

We’re on the same page now, right?

“Makeme.”

Tom breathes in at your challenge, taking the bait with relief. You see his shoulders roll back and the naughty, naughty smirk. Is that a dimple you see?

“Oh, I will.”

His hands smooth up your thighs, closer and rougher. His thumbs through your lips making your toes curl at the contact. Then with the side of his finger he slides up your slit, bumping the bottom of your vibrator. He’s pleased to see that you’re dripping.

And you’re frustrated that that single touch was enough to set you off, moaning audibly. You feel yourself reaching that pointagain, tilting your head back.

Then he does it.

While you hold the vibrator steady, he slows sticks a finger in, while his thumbs strokes you up and down. You squeal as he squeezes you, the stars of delight pricking your eyes.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shhhhit––

“Tom!” you stumble over his short name, begging for him already.

He fingers you roughly, pumping in and out of you as you ride this orgasm, fully stimulated. Your back arches as you bounce back on him and focus on this feeling.

His name mixes with profanities and groans–– you’re both in so deep.

“Oh, fuck me,” he mumbles as he leans over you, finger hard at work. He tugs up at your shirt, showing more of your belly. He grins with his brows pulled,

“Look at this pretty girl.”

And now you’re kissing.

You drop the toy, his fingers still inside you. It jumps around, hitting your hip as you throw your arms around his neck. You can’t stop the jittery motion though, urging him closer and closer to you.

You can’t even open your eyes, and maybe that’s why you’re holding him so fiercely. You need to know that he’s right fucking here, and that he’s not going to leave you.

You suck on his bottom lip, then his tongue makes it’s grand entrance, swiping across the edge of your teeth. You let out a giggle at his needy frustration, and how you’re still twitching on a high. You could go on and on like this.

His fingers slow their pace as he feels your body loosen. He slides out and his thumb rolls about your sensitive clit.

With your lips still so close together, he apologizes suddenly,

“Sorry I made you do all this.”

It’s a lure.

“I’ve… wanted to do this,” you try to breeze over, taking the bait. You lean up and kiss him gently, adjusting your hand to hold his shoulders.

He touches your cheek with the back of hand, slowing,

“In general?” he smiles, coaxing you for more, “Not with me?”

You let out a whimper, letting your legs go up and hug around his waist. You steady him and speak with a shy clarity,

“I’ve wanted it to be you. For a while”

Tom kisses your forehead making you giggle, and then he rubs his whole face against his cheek and into your neck. You laugh out his name as he hugs your whole, shaking as his full weight comes on top of you. He murmurs into your shirt,

“Don’t… don’t say that. I forced you to do this whole thing.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did–– I was being pushy, and you were being nice and––”

“Tom,”  you grope around the bed to find your phone, swiping through as you embrace him. You wiggle free enough to show him your secret and savory folder. You show him a picture of him that he had sent you that one time he was at a beach, and swiped to another one of his face looking away from you and another one––

“I’ve… been like this. For a little while, you didn’t… you didn’t have to do much.”

This is too much, actually.

He grumbles, looking at his own face on your screen before burying himself into your chest again. You hug him gently, and he lightly pounds his fists against the bed,

“Fuck, that’s so cute.”

Hm?

You smile, burying your face at the top of his head. His shampoo smells like honey, something you’ve already known but get to know intimately now. You squeeze his waist with your thighs, but are conscious not to get any of yourselfonto him. He’s still kinda got you spread wide open right now.

“I’ve… wanted you all to myself for a longtime.”

Liar.

You blink, pushing him off to see his face.

He’s got a boyish blush swept across his cheeks and over his nose, and up to his ears. His eye are turned away but shift back to you.

You know that look.

It’s the same one you’ve given him over and over again.

“Noooo, shut up. Stop. this is so gross,” you laugh, shaking your head, “Tom!”

Your feelings are mutual.

No take backs.

Tom smiles warmly, with the eye crinkle that you love so much. You reach up and smooth down his crazy brow, and it doesn’t budge. And you don’t mind, you’ve just always wanted to try.

He leans down again and kisses you and you kiss back with both hands on his cheeks. You feel his cheeks widen into a smile as you smooch, swirling in these summer-y feelings in a room that smells like sex.

In true cheeky Tom nature, he grabs the still vibrating vibrator and presses it against you, making you squeak. You bite his lip as you fall into laughter together–– yours is a little slow cos, god damn, he actually hit the spot you liked most.

He whispers by your ear in deep growl,

“Got any condoms in that magicaldrawer of yours?”

You play back by whisper in his ear, then licking the side of his lobe,

“In the bathroom, asshole.”

“Got it, got it, babe.”

It’s only been like 2 seconds and he’s already assigning you a pet name. How lovely is that?

He takes your hand and places it over his, telling you to take over for him. You hold your vibrator close, sloshing around your excitement.

“Stay wet for me, okay?”

Ha ha.

Tom hops off the bed, and takes his shirt of in an overconfident manner, tossing it to the floor with a soft pat. You can only see his tanned back, but those muscles make you weak. You want to rub your whole body against him.

Like you could just finish right now, but you hold tight for him.

He comes back quickly sans pants, already rolling on a condom. It’s happening so naturally, no fuss. Not even out of experience, but something about your relationship with Tom has been so easy and free of judgement.

Meant to be?

Your eyes fall on his hands wrapped over his dick, surprisingly unsurprisingly the first time you’ve see it. You bit your lip unconsciously as you wait for him, your heart racing.

Tom catches you look and poses for you a bit, flexing his abs tight and making you swoon. You’re able to giggle like this is any regular ass night. Who knew fucking your best friend would be this easy, huh?

He opens that fateful drawer to find some lube and applies it, laughing, “I saw this in there too.”

You pout, but aren’t able to hold it long as you begin to moan softly. You’re calling him, telling him you need him now.

You’re still using the toy as he lines up over you. He holds your cheek and you kiss his thumb as his dark brown eyes fawn over you. Precious.

“Be rough, okay?” you confirm, kissing his thumb again, “Please.”

“Baby,” he groans, “Oh my god.”

Tom props himself up over you as your legs go up. You rub your toy against yourself  and he pushes himself in with strain. You coo as you get use to his size, and he tilts his head back to deliver,

“God, this is so much better than my fucking dreams…”

“Cheesy…” you breathe as you hold his neck weakly.

Tom grunts, winking at you as he begins to pump in and out of you. He’s slow at first, making sure that you’re okay, then quickens. You hold the toy harder against yourself, and grind into him. His eyes are shut,

“... And we’ve wasted so much time.”

It’s okay.

“We have tomorrow,” you affirm.

And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

You can fuck me senseless all you like.

You’re not sure if you said that aloud or not because he pounding into you so much harder, and his hands are snaking up your shirt, ripping it up roughly. He rolls your nipple in his hand, excited at the mere sight of your breasts.

“Ahhh…” he moans, a sound that makes your shoulders pull up.

God, that’s gorgeous.

You angle your vibrator to intensify your feeling, get you to where he is. And you’re seeing those stars again.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he looks down to see the work you’re both putting in, to feel your body so close to his. He pins your shoulder down with a heavy hand and you turn to kiss his inner forearm.

“Fuck.”

You start to laugh, happy to see him struggling above you. It’s about damn time. And your high is coming close again. You feel that familiar tension again, saying his name softly in forewarning,

“Tom.”

You look at him sweetly, hugging his neck and pushing your breasts together. You’re aiming for all the weak spots.

He’s ramming into you now, the hand that’s holding your shoulder will surely leave a lovely bruise. His brown hair curls with sweat against his forehead and he’s perfect and beautiful.

The feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you is indescribable, but more than anything, you want his lips so bad. To take his moans in your mouth and to whisper the words, “I like you” into his.

Your breath hitches as you realize your wildest fantasies have literally come true. All cos of an unlocked door and bad, arguably good, timing.

Your breasts bounce in rhythm as you move with him, daring him to split you in two. You’re urging him to slam into you and show you how badly he wants you. Please, please, give you beautiful orgasm number three.

Your nail dig into his broad back and you kiss the side of his neck and collar, leaving marks that will fade only for you to claim again.

For as long as you’ll have me.

Your head falls back as you arch towards him, so, so close to the edge.

“Hey, ‘knock, knock,’”

Tom whispers to you messily.

You can barely register what he’s saying, unsure if you’re even on this plane of existence,

“What?”

Tom smiles so prettily, his teeth poking over his lip as he bends down to kiss your cheek with a smack and sings,

“Can I ‘come’ inside?”

-

A/N: king of bad jokes. And bad timing. And everything so bad it’s good. Hope this was worth waiting for!! Thank you guys for being so patient and lovely and checking up on me and giving me so much support and advice! I don’t have any other way to say it other than, thank you! I appreciate it so much!

Read, reblog, comment, send asks, and i’ll see you guys very soon.

Love you, and have a wonderful day/night!

Much love,

Madmadmilk

[bakamoonshine]

A Surprise Encounter

(reposting in a different format!)

Summary: Trans male reader is experiencing gender dysphoria, and Draco comforts them. (D/N is deadname in this fic)

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Dysphoria, potential transphobia, a little slut-shaming?, OOC, swearing, a little bit of fluff at the end

A/N: I tried my best for you @vampirthedarkone, but as I am not a trans man, I don’t have exactly the right perspective for this one! I hope I did it justice and you enjoy this fic, even if it’s not 100% accurate. I’m sorry if anything I included is explicitly wrong! Xx 

 Y/N’s POV

           “Psst, Y/n,” Draco pokes me in the side, trying to get my attention in the middle of Transfiguration class. I shake my head and look at him, realizing I had been daydreaming.

           “What?” I respond, eyes wide in concern that something had happened while I wasn’t paying attention. Draco shrugs at me.

           “I saw that you weren’t paying attention, and I know that you struggle in this subject. Just wanted to make sure you get all the notes down,” he smiles at me, nodding his head toward my blank parchment. ���Also, if you need some help, I’d be more than happy. Meet at the library after dinner?” Draco looked at me earnestly, his icy grey eyes looking bright with anticipation. My mouth went dry suddenly, nervous. I had never anticipated Draco Malfoy showing any interest in being friends with me, but now here he was offering to tutor me in Transfiguration.

           “Did McGonagall put you up to this?” I ask, raising one of my eyebrows. Draco just smirks and lets out a small chuckle.

           “No. Let’s just say I think we have a common interest in one another,” he winks at me, picking up his quill and directing his attention back to the front of the room. I find myself nodding, agreeing to meet him at the library that evening even though he wasn’t looking at me anymore. Nobody knew this, but Draco always had me transfixed – his beautiful white-blonde locks, his storm grey eyes, and the rings that adorned his fingers were just little details that I couldn’t help but notice every time my eyes passed over him. I had assumed he would never be interested in me because well…I’m a guy. Draco Malfoy has never struck me as anything other than strictly heterosexual – but maybe I’m wrong. The insinuation behind his words led me to believe that maybe he did want more.

           I start to pack up my supplies, have daydreamed the rest of class instead of paying attention, and accidentally drop my quill while packing. I reach to pick up the feathered pen, but before I can get to it, my quill is smashed to pieces by someone’s foot coming down on it, hard. I look up to see Pansy Parkinson, my ex-roommate, smiling down at me, the smile stretching across her face so taught that I couldn’t help but wonder if she was okay.

           “What do you want, Daffodil?” I sigh up at her, not in the mood for her games. I had moved out of our dorm when I transitioned and found her unsupportive nature loathsome and trite. I’d had enough of her treatment to know that although she didn’t bother me much anymore, words can still hurt. She smoothed down her shirt and shot me a glare.

           “Oh, D/N. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t planning on trying anything with Draco. We’re practically dating at this point, and I don’t want any half-blood sluts messing that up for me.” She smiled at me again, a sickly smile that made me want to vomit.

           “Pansy, everybody knows that Malfoy despises you. Also, my name is Y/N, and I’d appreciate it if you called me that like everybody else. You know the rules, Dumbledore bound you to secrecy so you can’t out me before I’m ready.” ‘Not like it’s some huge secret anymore, but it should still be my decision when I choose to explicitly tell everybody’ I think to myself. I smack her shin, making her move her foot off of my broken quill, and pick it up. I grab the rest of my supplies, and get up, leaving Pansy alone in the Transfiguration classroom, steam practically rising off her cheeks they were so red with anger.

           As I walk toward the Slytherin common room, I start to feel the familiar feeling just under my skin, like an un-scratchable itch coursing through my body – dysphoria. Pansy doesn’t get on my nerves like she used to when I first moved dorms, but she still has a way of making me feel low. I push the feelings down, determined to make it through the rest of the day, and drop my bag in my dormitory before going down to the Great Hall for some supper. I make my way through the aisles towards my friends sitting at the Slytherin table. I sit down and huff, starting to tell them about my encounters with Draco and Pansy, noticing while I talk that Draco’s eyes never leave me. I finish talking, digging into my food, and eventually finishing my dinner completely. I stand up to leave, waving goodbye to my friends, and start to walk out of the Great Hall and back towards the Slytherin common room. I just made it out of the Great Hall when I hear footsteps swiftly behind me. I turn my head to see who it is, a little surprised when I find Draco following me out of the hall.

           “Do you mind if I walk with you Y/N?” he asks, eyebrows knit together in a look of questioning hope. I nod my head, turning silently and starting to walk again. The blonde boy next to me sighs in content, seeming happy that I said yes. “You know…we don’t have to study tonight if you don’t want to.” I stop again, looking at him with wide eyes.

           “Do you not want to?” I ask him, internally cringing and waiting for his answer to be no. My anxiety is rising by the second, and I can feel my cheeks heating up.

           “Of course, I want to, Y/N, I just didn’t know if maybe you wanted to do something less…school related? We could go down to the kitchens and find some kind of dessert, or we could-” I cut him off with a swift wave of my hand.

           “Draco, are you asking me on a date?” His grey eyes snap to mine, mischief in them.

           “Would you say yes if I was?” He takes a step towards me, and I suck in a breath.

           “Maybe” I say devilishly, smirk playing across my lips. “But you do realize I paid absolutely no attention in Transfiguration and have no hope of passing the exam next week, right? I could actually use the help.” Draco laughed, gesturing towards the ever-changing staircases we were stood beside.

           “Well then lead the way to the dorm, I need to grab my stuff to teach you everything you need to know.” Before I can even take half a step towards the dorm, Pansy emerges from the corridor we had just left.

           “Dray, you promised me we’d study together tonight. Why are you with D/N?” I felt myself cringe at the use of my deadname, praying that Draco didn’t notice. He scoffed, obviously irritated by her intrusion.

           “You came up with that plan, and I immediately said no. Don’t pretend like you heard otherwise. I’m hanging out with Y/N tonight, he really needs help with Transfiguration. Go bother Blaise or something,” he waved his hand in the other direction, hoping Pansy would get the idea and just leave. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Pansy looked at me with pure venom in her eyes. She continued to look directly at me while speaking to Draco.

“You realize that D/N is a girl right? If you’re looking to get with a guy, I’d look somewhere else.” My breath immediately stopped as I glare at Pansy.

“You bitch,” I throw the words her way before fast walking in the opposite direction, not staying to see Draco’s reaction. I didn’t realize I was crying as I almost sprint towards the dorms until I reach my hand up and feel moisture on my cheeks. ‘Damn it, I was so close to making it through the day.’ I think to myself, hurriedly making my way into the common room and up to my dorm. I sit down on my bed, pulling the curtains around me so if anybody comes in they won’t notice me crying. My heart rate picks up, my breathing ragged and uneven. It feels like my skin is on fire, and I feel myself descending into the endless depths of self-loathing. I hear the door open hastily and I stifle a sob, my breathing still extremely uneven. I wait for the door to open again, signaling someone leaving, but it doesn’t. My curtain is flung open, and there stands Draco Malfoy, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie loose around his neck. His hair, once neat and tidy, is now draped around his face, his cheeks flushed and breath coming in pants.

“Y/N…are you…okay?” he pants heavily, a look of intense concern on his face. I look up at Draco, taking in his entire being, from the hand pressed against his bedframe, to his foot tapping on the floor anxiously.

“Did you run here?” I ask, shocked enough to stop crying for a moment, though it didn’t last long.

“Well…yeah. I was worried about you. Pansy was being as ass and I had to make sure that you’re okay.”

“But…” Draco cuts me off, sitting down on the bed next to me.

“Y/N you think I didn’t know that you’re transgender? Pansy never leaves me alone and she mentioned you at least 20 times just today. You somehow really get under her skin. Anyway, why would I care? You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on. I don’t care what anybody else thinks, I want you all to myself. Pansy can go fuck herself if she thinks we were ever going to get together. My type is much more…you.” He pulls me in close, my breathing finally evening out, and places a soft kiss to the top of my head – he’s so tall, I fit right under his chin, at the perfect height to bury my head in his neck. I grab onto the sides of his robes, pulling him as close as he could possibly get to me, and his arms wrap around me, enveloping me in warmth. “So how about tonight we skip the library and go get some ice cream from the kitchens, and I will help you all day tomorrow with the Transfiguration homework? Does that sound okay, love?” I look up at him and nod my head, feeling incredibly grateful for the Slytherin prince. He nods his head back in my direction, places a kiss on my forehead, another kiss on the tip of my nose, and a soft kiss on my lips. He grabs my hand and leads me out of the dorm and toward the kitchens.

As Draco tickles the pear in the fruit painting, I look down at our hands intertwined. I can’t help but smile at the turn of events, knowing this wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t so bad at Transfiguration, suddenly feeling extremely grateful that I had no idea how to turn a mouse into a teacup.

[let-it-show]

And Their Hearts Began to Glow

WHEW HERE WE ARE. It’s like, 2 am, but I have a little fic for Anna’s birthday. I wish I could write this lovely little spitfire something incredible, but alas I’ll have to settle for something loaded with fluff and sap. Anna asks Elsa a question, prompted by this line from the graphic novel.

"How did you KNOW?"

Anna rolled on her side and looked at Elsa, eyes full of questions. She was happy, comfy on the thick blanket laid over the grass, and drunk off of delicious wine. The sky above them was clear and full of stars. All that could be heard around them was the crackling sound of the little campfire. Anna was cozily wrapped in a thin pair of black pants and a little light green nightgown. Elsa had decorated it with little icy hearts all along the bottom and a light blue ribbon tied around her waist.

Elsa stared back at her, clad in a simple light blue gown with white, snowy flowers on the chest and in her hair. She smiled as Anna reached for her hand. "What do you mean?"

"Every year you've told me when you first saw me, you loved me. How did you know though!?" Anna repeated, studying her. Elsa was three, how on earth did she know that? When Anna was three, aside from loving her sister she also loved flowers, chocolate, funny hats and sheep. While the love she had for Elsa was different than the other things, she never knew the depth of it. Apparently Elsa sensed differently.

"Oh Anna." Elsa laughed and squeezed her hand, propping herself up on one elbow. "I can't explain I just...knew. I walked into that room with some idea I was meeting someone special. Mother showed you to me and I looked at your face with you sleepy eyes, your cute little nose, I looked at your hands grabbing the blanket and your tiny, tiny feet...." She nudged Anna's foot with her own, bare against feet in little pink slippers.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Everyone loves BABIES. How did you know, how did you know how MUCH you loved me? I wanna hear it from your lips," she said, knocking her own feet against Elsa's.

"Where else would you hear it from?"

"I don't know..." Anna thought hard about that question. She started to say Elsa's tongue or her hips, but she knew where that would go but she was too drunk and giggly to focus on where she might want to kiss or be kissed. "Ummm...your...uh..."

"It-it wasn't that serious a question," Elsa answered with a laugh. She released Anna's hand to poke her nose. "You really want details, huh? Can't you just be content knowing you've always been loved?" she teased. A little breeze cruised through and Anna shivered only slightly in the otherwise warm air. "No! I want to know-I want to know stuff!" she demanded, smacking the blanket for emphasis. "Everything! How'd you still know when we couldn't see each other? When you said hi to me at your coronation party, was it because you knew? Story story story!"

"...." Elsa shook her head and then pulled herself up to a sitting position. She pointed her finger over her own shoulder and made herself a sturdy little ice column to prop her back up against.

"Woah," Anna gasped, lifitng her head from the blanket. "Sometimes I forget you can do that."

Elsa stopped suddenly and gave her an incredulous look. "How!?"

"I dunno. Sometimes I just think about how pretty you are and forget," Anna blurted. That was not at all how she meant to explain herself but she had immediately forgotten what she initially would have said. That have been some strong wine...

Elsa's braided hair did glisten under the moonlight, her features highlighted and her beauty more striking than ever. Anna not only couldn't believe she was in love with someone so beautiful, but that she even KNEW someone so beautiful. Her curves, from her lips to her legs, made Anna melt. A minute ago she had felt silly and then she wanted to run her palms over all that skin.

"-what I'll do with you. Besides, I'll tell you again and again how gorgeous you are," Elsa had been saying.

"Wait, what?" Anna snapped to attention. She's been lost in her thoughts.

"You weren't paying attention at all." Elsa shrugged and laughed, patting her thighs. "Come here."

With a big smile Anna crawled over and flopped down on her back with her head on Elsa's legs. She looked right up at Elsa's flawless face, blue eyes connecting with her own. Anna couldn't think of what to say for a minute and simply hummed when Elsa took her hand and held it on her stomach. Her other hand played in Anna's loose hair. It felt amazing.

"How did I know...how did I know," Elsa mused, watching her for a minute before taking a breath and looking to the stars. "I entered that room and laid eyes on you. Something seemed to take a hold of my heart, but not in a bad way. I remember feeling such warmth inside of me. I remember my fingers tingling, little sprinkles of snow falling from them. I was incredibly happy. That was the main part. I felt like...like some space in me I didn't know existed had been filled with exactly what it needed. This feeling surrounded me and welcomed me, and I welcomed it. All I knew was love."

Anna had been gazing at the sky above them as well when she noticed little fuzzy white flakes forming in the sky below the stars. They sparkled blue, pink and green as they formed little Elsa and baby Anna. "Wow!" Anna whispered. In little Elsa's chest an icy blue diamond began to shine, beating like a heart. So did a light purple one in Anna. Pink sparkly snow sprouted from the light purple diamond and flowed across the small space between the girls before touching Elsa and bursting into a glimmering cloud that surrounded her. Elsa hurried toward baby Anna and when they met...

Elsa pulled her hand from Anna's hair and raised it, palm up. She suddenly made a fist. The sky exploded with multicolored snow above them, falling down around them on their blanket. Behind the snow stars continued to glow brightly against the deep blue sky. Anna wore a big grin as the cool flakes kissed her face. "That feeling has always been there," Elsa continued softly. "Every day spent with you, and even those long years behind the door. I would know you were there even when you were quiet as a mouse," she said.

"Mouses-mice...aren't quiet. They squeak an-ooh. Sorry," Anna sheepishly smiled when Elsa stared at her and lowered her hand back down to her hair.

"Don't be. I love hearing you talk. Those days in my room, it brought me such joy to hear you ramble through the door. Sometimes you got tongue-tied in what you were saying or went off on tangents, or forgot what your point was entirely. I didn't dare laugh but I'd be covering my mouth and trying to control little spirals of ice flowing around the room and glowing pink and purple. I'm sure if my heart could literally glow I'd have blinded by the light you gave it." Elsa continued to look down at her with adoration. "I may not have actually realized what it all meant, but I did know I loved you deeply then."

Anna blinked up at her. "You...I wish I had broken down the door! I would have loved the ice and I would have hugged you so so tight!" Elsa constantly blew her mind with the wonderful things she said and Anna could hardly take it. After speaking she turned her head and tried to hide it in Elsa's stomach. Her face was burning red from a blush and the wine and her head swam with hearts of all the soft icy colors she could think of.

And to think some years ago she had dared think she would always feel lonely, think she was some spare that even her sister wasn't particularly interested in. She was just a princess who existed within the confines of a castle, her only escape the books that filled the library. Even knowing there would be a day when she could meet people, Anna had wondered if anyone would want her company. She had felt so isolated...

"Oh Anna." Elsa's stomach vibrated wonderfully as she giggled down at her and Anna tried to press her face closer to it. She loved hearing her laugh. "When I saw you at my coronation I didn't just want to hug you, I wanted to take you across the dance floor. I wanted to tell you thank you for never giving up on me, wanted to tell you I only loved you more each day. I wanted to tell you everything, but I was so scared."

"Powerful ice spirit, scared of what I might think," Anna murmured against her. It still surprised her.

"Scared too, of hurting you again." Elsa squeezed her hand. "But none of that now. I've answered what you asked me, and I don't want to revisit the fear and pain of being ripped away from you. Just let me spoil you, let me give you this moon and this sky and soon, the sun."

Anna slowly turned her head to look up at Elsa again. "You know you don't have to give me anything. Maybe more wine? But nothing else. Ummm...your presence I mean. So you and wine, but nothing else!" she rambled out, and then stopped and laughed at herself. What the heck was she even saying?

"I give you more wine and I'll soon be carrying you to the tent," Elsa pointed out. "If that's what you'd like however? Anything you ask Anna, anything you ask and I'll give it to you."

That, Anna knew, was the truth. It was the complete truth. Anna could ask for treasure from a far away land and Elsa would prepare herself to track it down for her. Anna could ask for the ocean, and Elsa would summon Nokk to help her wrangle it.

Anna didn't want any of that, though. It all sounded like too much effort and time away from Elsa. She was content playing tag with her through the castle hallways and tickling her when she did catch her. "Anything I ask..." Anna found herself repeating.

"Anything."

"Is there any ice cream cake left?" Anna asked eagerly.

Elsa laughed gently as she brought Anna's hand to her lips for a gentle kiss. "Of course there is. Ice cream cake, wine, and cuddles?" she asked hopefully. "Or you know, whatever you want."

Anna smirked and wiggled her hand free from Elsa's so she could pinch her cheek. "You are so, so cute, I love your cute everything," she told her. It wasn't terribly eloquent. She didn't care. "I'm so lucky that you are so cute." Who would have ever known that the icy queen of Arendelle was such a cuddlemonster? Anna was grateful for it every day.

She was rewarded by a blush from Elsa. "I'm...Anna you..." she faltered and just sighed. "I love your everything too," she finally managed.

Anna giggled then and pet the cheek she had pinched before. Another thought occurred to her. "Before anymore wine, will you make us in the sky again? Can we burst into color again? I want to see it over and over," she said shyly.

She saw Elsa's eyes light up at the request and immediately the snow began to form again. Above them there were two women with diamonds for hearts, and Elsa began to raise her hand once again. "As you wish, my love."

[goldgalaxytea-fanfics]

The Little Jellyfish (Asra) - Chapter 1: So hold my hand

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Multi, Other

Fandom: The Arcana

Relationship: Asra Alnazar x Reader

Characters: Asra Alnazar, Reader, You

Additional Tags: MerMay, MerMay 2020, Mer AU, mermaid au, Alternate Universe, AU, Mer Asra, Jellyfish Asra, Merperson Asra (The Arcana), human reader, Reader-Insert, x Reader, gender neutral reader, male reader - Freeform, Female Reader, no specific pronouns used for reader, Frozen (Disney Movies) References, First Meetings, Movie Night, Frozen movie marathon, Sleepy Cuddles, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, One (1) forehead kiss, Mer Asra learns about the human world, Little Mermaid Elements, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex

Words: 1,949

Summary:

Merpeople weren’t real, they were simply stories told throughout the centuries to entertain people. They were myths, legends, folklore, or at least, that’s what you thought. So when you saw a person in his birthday suit stumbling around the beach near your house, your first thought "wasn’t omg what if that’s a merperson that just got legs and that’s why he’s falling over like a toddler?" No, it was "holy shit is he drunk out of his mind?"

Notes:

This is the first part of a series for MerMay 2020! Each part will be a separate story featuring a mer!love interest x human!reader. There will be 6 stories in total, one for each LI! Full disclosure, each one will end in fishy horizontal tangos👀

(Chapter title from "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men)

Chapter 2 ▶️

Series Masterlist

Merpeople weren’t real, they were simply stories told throughout the centuries to entertain people. They were myths, legends, folklore, or at least, that’s what you thought. So when you saw a person in his birthday suit stumbling around the beach near your house, your first thought wasn’t omg what if that’s a merperson that just got legs and that’s why he’s falling over like a toddler? No, it was holy shit is he drunk out of his mind? Though since it was the middle of the day and there hadn’t been any parties nearby last night it quickly shifted to oh my god he’s either on drugs or bat shit crazy. You tried ignoring him, but it was difficult watching him stumble around like a newborn foal, especially with the adorable pout he had every time he tumbled back down onto the sand. You sighed, grabbing a towel and heading outside, silently praying that you wouldn’t grow to regret this decision.

“Hey…” Vibrant purple eyes snapped to yours, the pure wonder and awe swimming in them surprised you, he looked like a kid set loose in a candy shop. If this was a cartoon he’d have literal stars in his eyes. Seriously what the hell is up with this person? You took in the rest of his appearance, pointedly avoiding anywhere below his waist. A white tattoo of an unfamiliar symbol rested right above his heart, a stark contrast to his golden brown skin. The sun shining favorably upon him almost gave him the illusion of actual gold. White fluffy curls danced around his head in every direction, almost like a cloud had descended from the sky just to rest upon his head. He was so gorgeous he couldn’t possibly be real. What the literal fuck. This was just getting weirder and weirder.

“Um… are you okay?” Your eyes finally drifted back to his, shocked to find he had been checking you out as well. Your cheeks grew warm, but you couldn’t blame it on the warm weather. Clearing your throat and avoiding his intense gaze you hold the towel out to him. He tilted his head curiously. “You, uh, you should cover yourself. This isn’t a nude beach so you’ll probably get in trouble.” His soft lips parted as he finally spoke.

“Oh, right, forgot about that.” His voice itself sounded like the world’s most beautiful song, yet what he said was the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard. Who in their right mind forgets they can’t be nude in public? Your heart sank. Maybe he wasn’t in his right mind… You swept your doubt under the rug, he obviously needed assistance and you were determined to see this through. Besides he seemed harmless. He took the towel, long slender fingers brushing against yours. You jumped, his fingers were freezing. Worry settled heavily in your chest. You were no doctor, but it was definitely not a good sign he was cold in the middle of one of the hottest days of the summer. “Would you like to go to my house?” You spoke before you could even weigh the pros and cons of that kind of offer. He blinked. “I could give you some proper clothes to wear until you can get your own.” You offered your hand to him. He stared at you for a moment, thinking over your offer. His curious expression broke into a wide smile as he took your hand. You helped him up but refused to let go of his hand, trying your best to transfer some heat into the icy limb. He did his confused little head tilt again and your heart skipped a beat. It's not fair that he's so other worldly hot and so goddamn adorable. “Your hands are cold, I’m just trying to warm them up.”

“Thank you.” He flashed his blinding smile again. Yeah, he’s definitely going to be the death of you. The both of you walked in silence, it was quite peaceful really. Until cold arms wrapped around you. You shrieked and jumped away from him. His eyes were wide, but he refused to look at you. Instead choosing to stare sadly at his hands, like they were at fault. “I apologize-”

“It’s okay!” You quickly cut him off, not being able to stand him looking like a kicked puppy for another second. “You just surprised me.” You opened your arms in invitation. It only took a second for him to throw himself into your arms, practically tackling you. The force nearly toppled you over but you managed to keep the both of you on your feet. He nuzzled his head against yours.

“So warm…” He whispered. You laughed, trying to suppress your shivers. It felt like hugging a block of ice, this definitely isn’t normal. You speed walked back to your home as fast as you could with a half naked person clinging to you. As soon as you got in the door you freed yourself from the handsome stranger’s embrace, a soft whine escaping him as you hurried to get him clothes and blankets. You returned to him with the large pile, dumping it on the couch as he watched you with curious eyes. He hadn’t moved from where you left him. You gestured him over and he came immediately, nearly tripping over the end table.

“I got some warm pajamas for you and some blankets so you can keep warm. Do you feel sick?” You inquired. He merely shook his head and went to grab the clothes from the couch. “Wait! You’re still covered in sand.” You smacked your head, how could you forget that so easily? “My bathroom’s down the hall so you can rinse off.” You pointed in the direction. He didn’t move, just staring at you. “Do you... do you need help with the shower?”

“Yes…” He sheepishly mumbled. You grabbed the pjs and then his wrist, guiding him down the hallway.

“It’s okay! I’ll show you how to work it.” You set the clothes on the counter and showed him the shower, demonstrating how to turn it on and off and how to change the temperature. He paid full attention to your mini lesson, very interested in the shower and how it worked. Once you felt confident he knew what he was doing you left him to his own devices. Making your way back to the couch you took a glance at the time. Oh it was 6 PM already. You headed towards the kitchen, deciding to make some Chicken Noodle Soup. It would quickly warm the mysterious stranger up and hopefully help with whatever was wrong with him.

As soon as you poured the soup into two bowls soft footsteps came down the hallway. You turned to smile at him as he entered the kitchen, trying to hold back a laugh. His hair was somehow even puffier now. Without thinking you reached out to feel how soft it was. Your hand gently drifted through what you swore could’ve been a real life cloud. A pleased sigh broke you from your trance. Embarrassed you pulled your hand back as if you'd been burned. He pouted while you quickly changed subjects.

“I made us some lunch." You carried the bowls over to the couch, setting them down on the table. You patted the other side of the couch, motioning him to sit next to you. As he sat down you realized the irony of what he was wearing. You had grabbed the first pajamas you could reach, which just so happened to be Frozen themed pajamas. You laughed, earning another curious stare from your beautiful companion.

"Why are you laughing?" He was confused but your good mood must have been infectious, for he was smiling along with you.

"Your skin is ice cold and I gave you Frozen themed pajamas." You snorted at the sight of blue snowflakes and Olaf scattered all over the white fabric while his brows furrowed.

"But… those clothes are not made of ice?" He questioned. He can't be serious. You observed his lost expression. Holy shit he's serious.

"Frozen is a movie about-"

"What's a movie?" He asked. You blinked, processing what he had said.

"You're… you're not from around here are you?" You wondered aloud. That would explain why he didn't seem to understand anything. It was a flimsy excuse but it was the best you could think of. A musical laugh brought your attention back to your guest. His eyes were mischievous, like he knew something you didn't.

"That is correct. I'm from a very different place than here." He didn't elaborate.

"Okay. Well it's probably better to just show you instead then." You turned on the TV and put the movie on. His violet eyes were glued to the screen as soon as the opening sequence started playing. He paid no mind to you as you wrapped the both of you up in a large fluffy blanket. His eyes only strayed when you handed him his bowl of soup. His eyes stayed on you, observing how you ate your soup before copying what you did. He hummed pleasantly as he devoured the warm food. You tried your best to focus on the movie but it was honestly more entertaining to watch him and his reactions to it instead.

The farther you got into the film, the closer the two of you got. By the end he was pressed up against your side as he cried onto your shoulder. You held him and patted his curls in comfort. As the credits rolled you were both practically cuddling.

"It's over?" He asked, disappointment laced through his voice.

"Yeah it's over. But there's a second movie!" He perked up at that.

"Can we watch that movie too?" He gave you puppy eyes. Even if you wanted to it felt impossible to say no to that face.

"Of course! It wouldn't be a Frozen marathon without the second one!" He happily hugged you. You hid your blush by starting the next film. His attention immediately focused back on the screen, but his arms stayed wrapped around you. You didn't complain, settling your head on his shoulder. You noticed he had grown warmer. He wasn't as warm as a person normally should be, but he wasn't freezing anymore. He felt more lukewarm than anything. Despite that though he felt so comfy. You imagined this is what cuddling a cloud felt like. The softness of him against you was like a siren's song lulling you to sleep. The events of the movie faded away as you succumbed to the gentle lullaby. Soft white locks tickled your face as you realized you were hearing a lullaby. Your new friend was quietly singing along to the movie, voice soft and sweet as you felt his song pull you deeper into the inky abyss of sleep. The last thing you could recall was something soft pressing gently against your forehead.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿🐚‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You awoke slowly, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you remembered the events of yesterday. You searched for the gorgeous stranger but he was nowhere to be found. The only trace of him was a conch shell left where he had been sitting the night before. It was as white as his hair with the same strange symbol as his tattoo carved into the smooth surface. You examined the shell’s beauty, wondering if you'd ever see him again. Your heart sank as you realized you never got his name, let alone a way to contact him. So it was not likely. It seemed that the movie night would be your only encounter with the mysterious person.

Oh how wrong you were.

Notes:

Fun fact! The Frozen pjammies in the fic are based on pjs I have irl😂

Also Frozen is one of my favorite movies so ofc I'm going to put it in a fic if given the opportunity🥰

Chapter 2 ▶️

Series Masterlist

[random-mha-thoughts]

Teddy (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Fluff!!! Periodt!!

Summary: You’re walking back to Shinsou’s place to help him pack after a party with the Heroes, but he doesn’t seem to want to.

Word count: 1,542

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: Help I think I just devastated myself into wanting Shinsou as my boyfriend hhhhh you have been warned

This might be my favorite of the 3 so far.  Some of you might think Shinsou as ooc here, but this is my note that you’ve been dating for a loooong time and (as it says in the story) he wasn’t always like that, he needed to work at it.  He’s just a giant who loves lazing around and cuddling okay shut up

Shinsou is my 2nd fave boy in MHA so I hope I did him justice.  I agree he deserves so much more love and attention because he’s secretly soft babe.  Not much spice here, but 12 cavities worth of fluff uwu.  

I’m finally done with everyone I wanted to do this scenario for! (If this is your first time here, I’ve also done Bakugou and Todoroki)  I have a huge list of ideas and no clue what order to write them in, plus Icy Hot’s birthday is in 2 days, so I’m obligated to do something special for him.  

Okay I’m done talking now, enjoy!

"Did you have a good time?"

My purple haired boyfriend shrugs.  "You know I don't really care about parties.  I only went because you were going."

I frown at his avoidance of the question.  "Okay, but were you miserable being there?"

"Miserable isn't the word I'd use."

"Hitoshi!" I groan.  It's like pulling teeth with him sometimes.

He chuckles at my frustration before wrapping an arm around my waist and placing a kiss on my temple.  "Just messin' with you.  Of course I had fun, I was with you."

"Is that why you were practically glued to my side the whole night?"  I poke his firm stomach teasingly.

"Not the whole time.  I talked to Midoriya, Todoroki, had a drink with Kaminari-"

"-While you were still within 10 feet of me."

He huffs a stubborn breath and plops his large hand on top of my head to ruffle my hair.  "You're my favorite person there, why would I stray from you?"

I lean into his touch, almost like a pet cat.  "To make friends?  Socialize?  Mingle?  Something to that effect maybe?"  Not that I'm the most extroverted person either, but at least I try to make an effort for friends.

"Yea- No, I'd rather be home sleeping next to you," he dismisses lazily, rejoining our hands together.

I chuckle at his predictable answer.  "Can't say I don't agr-EEH!"

Shinsou suddenly hoists me into his arms bridal style and continues walking down the dimly lit road as if it's the most natural thing.  "Now that I have the thought in my head, I wanna hurry and get home to cuddle with you, kitty."

My arms instinctively cling around his neck.  "Don't you have to pack first?"

He groans in annoyance and picks up his pace.  "Then we really need to hurry."

His overt display of need is amusing.  As I lean against his chest, I'm reminded of when we first started dating.  Shinsou barely even wanted to hold hands in the beginning because he would get flustered, and now here he is carrying me down the street in public.  Even the first time we cuddled, as soon as I leaned on him, his body was stiffer than a board in confusion.  After a while, he's grown into an oversized teddy bear hungry for cuddles.  If that isn't growth, I don't know what is.

"What did you and Todoroki talk about?" I draw circles on his chest absentmindedly, the steady rhythm of his steps rocking my body back and forth.

"Nothing really.  Just hero stuff."

"I always thought you guys would've been good friends, since you're both alike," I think out loud.

"You don't say?"  I can tell I've piqued his interest.

"Yeah, both of you took a while to come out of your shell, you both took a while to trust and befriend people even though both you claimed you didn't come to UA to make friends, you both had your walls broken down by Broccoli boy."  He snorts at my stupid nickname for Midoriya.  "Both of you are touch-starved babies-"

"Hold on," he stops dead in his tracks and eyes me warily.  "How do you know Todoroki's touch-starved?"

"Because every Sunday I go to his place to pet him and rub his tummy," I retort sarcastically.  When Shinsou continues glaring at me, I kiss his nose cheekily.  "Obviously, Midoriya talks about it all the time.  Not to mention Todoroki clings to Midoriya the same way you cling to me."

"I don't appreciate the attitude, Tiny."  A smirk spreads across his face, and I know I'm dead.  Before I can protest, he flings my body over his shoulder.  "You deserve this!"

I smack his back defiantly, my face heating up in embarrassment.  "Hitoshi!"

Shinsou makes a point to skip the elevator and climb all 3 flights of stairs up to his floor with me still slung over his back.  When we reach his apartment, he flings me down onto his couch and looks down at me like a disappointed parent.  "Did you learn your lesson now?"

I nod in earnest.  "I won't tickle Todoroki's tummy without your permission again."

His face turns red and he growls out loud before attacking me in a frenzy of tickles.  "What did you say, kitty?!"

"Stop!" I struggle against him, but he's too giant for me to push him off through my laughing fits.  "You know...I'm sensitive!"

"Try again!"

"O-Okay!  I won't...taunt you...again!"

He finally stops his attack, pinning me under his massive body, my wrists next to my head as I gasp for air.  Shinsou bursts out into a fit of his own laughter.  "You should see how red your face is."

"Shut up."

He collapses on top of me, his head nuzzling into the crook of my neck and his arms caging me against him.  "You're mine, kitty.  I love you."

I smile to myself, playing with his hair.  "I love you too, you giant bear."  He's come such a long way.  I wouldn't have imagined him to anything like this almost a year ago.  It sobering that all this time, we've grown and changed together.  I bask in the nostalgia, hearing his steady breathing against my skin.

And then I start running out of air.  "Babe, I can't breathe anymore, get off."

"Hmm."

"Babe, you're smothering me."  I attempt prying his arms from his tight grasp.

"Five more minutes."

"Hitoshi, you still need to pack!"  I finally kick him off the couch, sending him tumbling onto the floor.  "Come on you big lug, we can cuddle later.  Let's go."

After a few minutes of struggling to get him off the floor, Shinsou finally trudges into his room and pulls out his bag, lazily surveying the clothes in his closet and drawers.  He messily throws his them into his duffel, not caring where everything ends up, leaving me the responsibility of folding them up and neatly packing them away.

I pick up a printed black hoodie he threw into the pile to pack.  "Can I keep this for the week, babe?"

He looks over his shoulder and chuckles.  "If you go out in public with that, send me a photo.  You'll look like a tiny child."

While he goes back to throwing stuff in the pile, I strip off my top and replace it with his hoodie, letting his natural musk envelop me in a hug.  I snort when I see myself in his mirror.  Shinsou's hoodie comes halfway down my thigh, swallowing up my entire frame in black.  Moments like this remind me how much larger he is than me, not just his hands.

My boyfriend snickers when he sees me.  "I told you you're tiny."  His arms slither around my torso and he rests his chin on top of my head.

I play with the shoelace strings dangling from the hood.  "It smells just like you," I admit softly, staring at him through the reflection.

His head descends to place a chaste kiss at the base of my jaw, sending warm tingles down my spine.  "I'll be back for you, I won't be gone too long.  And I'll be thinking of you the whole time."

"You better," I pout, not even trying to sound threatening from my tiny appearance.  I hold his chin to place a kiss on his cheek.  "I'll send you a morning text every day."

His cheeks blush faint rose.  "I look forward to it," he mutters before collapsing his head into my neck.

"Hey hey, go finish packing."  I try pushing his giant weight off me to no avail.

He wraps his arms tighter around me.  "I can finish in the morning, my flight isn't until the afternoon," he drawls his breath into my skin, picking me up easily.  "Let's go to bed, kitty."

I have no choice except to obey as he lays me down on one side.  "Someone's very needy today."

Shinsou jumps onto the other side of the bed, removing his shirt in the process.  "I need to store up for all the cuddles I'll miss when I'm away."  He reaches over to pull his purple and black comforter over us, engulfing me in his warmth once again.

My head rests against his bare chest, the gentle thump of his heart in my ear.  "Stay safe on your trip.  I want you back here in one piece."

He hums in response, the noise reverberating against my face.

"And don't skip your meals.  And get enough sleep for once."

Fingers tilt my chin up to face, dark purple eyes boring into mine.  "How will I sleep well when my kitty's not with me?"

I plant a kiss on his lips.  "Think of me next to you.  Or call me."

His smile warms my heart as he clings closer to me and presses his lips against mine in a lazy, slow kiss.  "You always know just what to say."

I move myself up so I can play with his hair, entwining my fingers in his hand at my waist.  We lay there peacefully, hearing each other breathe, feeling each other's warmth, smelling each other's scent.

"You'll miss me, right?" he pokes open an eye to stare at me.

I squeeze him harder.  "Yes teddy bear, I'll miss you."

[knjoodles]

oneshot | hoseok x reader

finally finished it. for you, my babies! want to request? find them prompts here.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: just a bunch of ANGST with a lil treat at the end ;)

word count: 2.8K

request: 12, 18. “tell me a story” + “i'm no good for you, baby. i'm not a good man."

lowercase intended

   today was supposed to be your date night. note the wording. was.

   you were alone in the house, the only thing accompanying you being the sound of pasta boiling next to you. it was a new recipe you’d decided to try, knowing how much hoseok loved pasta. scurrying across the kitchen, you prepped diligently, practically flying between the cupboard, stove, and dinner table. you wanted it to be perfect. you needed it to be perfect.

   hoseok hadn’t been around lately. you understood that as a hiring consultant working for large-scale companies that his work was more often than not demanding, as he constantly needed to get on flights to fly across the world to assist separate firms, but his absences began to hang on to your daily mood. him being gone made you question your worth at times; you knew that the two of you were both equally important to each other and neither of you relied on each other for everything, but could you blame someone for missing their loved ones?

   you had doubts. doubt clouded your mind like warm breath in a cold, winter morning. it grew slowly and collapsed on you all at once. you grew suspicious of hoseok — why would your boyfriend need two weeks to help someone hire someone else? what could possibly pull him away from you all the time for no reason? his late-night appearances, the way he’d drift through your shared spacious apartment like a translucent ghost, how it felt like he’d come and go like seconds on a clock… it didn’t make sense to you.

   so here you are tonight, hastily plating the dishes you made for the two of you at the promise hoseok would be there. you found it kind of stupid, honestly. as a boyfriend, isn’t it his obligation to be here? placing the two dishes on either side of the table with a large bowl in the middle holding a couple more servings of pasta, you felt content with yourself. he had to enjoy something like this, he had to! the two of you hadn’t had a date night, hadn’t had sex in the longest time. nodding confidently, you promised yourself that would change into something fitting tonight. you left the dining room, glancing at the clock to see how much time you had to get ready. "hoseok said he’d be here in forty minutes.” you sighed, thinking aloud as you grabbed the black heels waiting for you in your closet. you foraged through your closet, moving shirts and blouses across the clothing rack until you finally found your sleek black dress, a matte style which fit snug against your body. slipping into it in your unlit bedroom, you shuffled into your master bathroom, the click of your heels louder than usual against the floor. you adjusted your hair, letting your fingers graze against your locks until it gracefully fell the way you wanted. applying some light makeup and eyeliner to match the black dress and shoes, you admired yourself in the mirror, a new feeling of confidence bursting through your chest. you looked sexy, and you knew it.

   making your way back to your dining room, you heard the faint sound of heavy footsteps walking towards your front door, excitement flowing through your veins. this is it, you thought, adjusting your dress in anticipation. he’s finally here. you heard each of his keys jingle in the keyhole, the doorknob finally turning when he found the right one. hoseok’s form appeared before you, his hair and clothes damp from the rainy night outside. your eyes lit up, swiftly walking towards him, excited to finally see him after so long. “hoseok!” you beamed, your body electric with exhilaration, arms wide open to hold him after what felt like years.

   he darted past your open arms, throwing his jacket onto the maroon couch and throwing his body against the wall, lightly panting, head thrown back, obviously exhausted from something. eyes glossed over, he stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning and scanning you from top to bottom, licking his lips. “hey,” he suspired, pushing himself off the side of the wall to walk towards you. he held your arms and kissed your forehead quickly, lips lingering over your skin. “i missed you.” you stood there together for a moment, his hands falling from holding your arms to loosely wrap around your waist. his warm breath contrasted from his cold body, the feel of his icy fingertips still fresh against your skin.

   “i missed you, too,” you replied, pulling away from him to get a better look at his face. his face was more gaunt than when he’d left, which was only weeks ago. his skin appeared to have gotten paler, his eyes seemingly the most lively feature of his face, his nose still handsome and his lips chapped. “i made dinner. why don’t you sit down and eat and we can talk?” you suggested, taking his hand and leading him towards the dinner table, pulling back his chair for him to sit. once he was seated, you walked to the other side of the table, sitting in your own chair and crossing your legs comfortably.

   “so, how was your business trip?” you asked, serving some of the tagliatelle you’d made — a new recipe you’d found months ago and instantly thought of hoseok at the sight of it. you dug your fork into the pasta on your plate, mixing it with the sauce you’d half made, half bought. you could feel the atmosphere grow thicker just by asking that question, and you despised it. why is a conversation with your boyfriend this awkward? your boyfriend of three years, for that matter?    

   “it was fine,” he muttered, stirring the pasta on his plate as you did. as you questioned him more and more, trying to start some form of conversation, he grew more and more distant and vague. it was as though he was hiding something, or purposefully dodging your questions and trying to introduce new topics to distract you.

   growing increasingly suspicious by the second, you scrutinized your boyfriend sitting in front of you, toying with his pasta. taking a closer look, you realized his overall body language spelled out ‘preoccupied’. from his repetitive foot tapping under the table to his eyes refusing to make eye contact with you, you understood very easily that he’d done something, and couldn’t bring himself to look at you because of it. studying what you could see of his torso and up, you noticed a bandage wrapped around him under his shirt sleeve and bruises scattered across his collar and chest, badly clouded with concealer.

   feeling a lump grow in your throat, you understood what was going on. suddenly, everything clicked in your mind: the nervous body language, the so-called ‘bruises’ dotting his chest, the dismissive way he entered your apartment which now became how he’s talking to you. you didn’t know who they were and what business they had with your boyfriend, but the nearly month-long trips of little to no contact and the midnight disappearances suddenly started making sense. because you were so hellbent on believing your boyfriend was a good man who would never want to hurt his girlfriend, you completely disdained any possible evidence that he was cheating on you, even though it was all right in front of you.

   “hoseok,” you shuddered, voice shaking from the fear that your thoughts held truth. “where have you been going on your business trips?” there was no more food on your plate to toy with. the attention you’d scattered to ignore the monster that was infidelity sitting right in front of you was all attached to hoseok. you had nowhere to run, and neither did he.

   “i told you, already. it’s more than one place.” he groaned passively, chewing on the last bit of tagliatelle.

   “what’s ‘more than one place’?” you asked, raising your voice and your elbows to rest on the table, rubbing your finger against the fabric of the dinner table. “what do you even do? who are you ‘consulting’? who are you ‘helping’?” you scoffed, finding it laughable that after all you’ve been through together, he couldn’t just grow some fucking balls and own up to his mistake. his irreversible mistake.

   “why are you so interested in what i do?” his tone grew visibly more annoyed, his back slumping against the chair as he pushed the plate away, now finished. “how does it help you, anyway?”

   “i just want to know what the hell kind of place needs you to take three fucking weeks away from your girlfriend and your personal life; what the hell kind of job doesn’t let you answer your phone calls when it’s late at night when i know damn well you’re awake? what fucking job makes you leave your bed at midnight and not return for days without warning?” you spat, dropping your fork passive-aggressively onto the tablecloth, the white fabric stained red from the remnants of sauce still on the utensil.

   “what are you insinuating?” his eyes narrow, body leaning forwards as his jaw tightens. “what are you trying to fucking say, (y/n)?” he stands up, voice stern and angry, but not yelling.

   “what i’m trying to fucking say,” you mocked, standing up, hands on the table. “is that it’s obvious that you’ve been cheating on me for the past, what? a fucking year?” you cackled, hysterical from his get up. “what do you think i am, hoseok? an idiot? a stupid bitch?” you rose completely, hands smacking the table in anger.

   “are you fucking serious?” he cried, face twisting to a look of outrage and bewilderment. “you think i’m cheating on you?”

   “have you ignored me for so long you’ve forgotten what i sound like when i'm angry?” you grit your teeth, fists balling in anger. “all i’ve ever done is love you, listen to you, comfort you, be there for you. and this?” you shrieked, voice cracking from the pain staining your heart and mind. “this, is what you’ve done to thank me?” tears began to pour down your cheeks, forming small puddles on the hardwood floor in between the two of you. “what have you done?” you howled, voice soaked in agony.

   hoseok bit his lip, trying his hardest to stop salty tears from running down his face; he heard the misery in your voice and understood all the hidden heartache you’d been experiencing: he had barely talked to you for a year. “i can’t tell you what i’ve done.” he moaned, adam’s apple bobbing to try and swallow the lump forming in his throat. “i can’t tell you, i can’t fucking tell you—“

   “why not?” you sobbed, shoulders falling. “what have you done, hoseok?” you walked weakly towards him, now just centimeters away from him. “just tell me what you’ve done. tell me what you’ve done so i don’t have to hurt like this anymore.” you wept, tears now falling on his leather shoes.

   “i’m your boyfriend, (y/n), i didn’t do anything!” he whimpered, shaking his hands to motion to himself. “you have to believe me, i just can’t tell you what i’ve done—”

   “ah, so you think this is a fairy tale!” you laughed painfully. you’d had enough. “a fucking fairy tale, where a man can fuck up as many things as he’d like, claim he’s a good man because he benefits in the long run, and women will run to him from every direction?” you waltzed over to the couch, throwing his jacket to the floor and collapsing against it. you’d physically had enough of all of this. all of the pain, all of the doubt, all of the silence. you were on the very edge.

   “no, i don’t.” he turned, bending his knees and trying to reason with you. he followed you to the couch until you raised your hand, asking him to back away. he listened.

   “great, i'm glad we’re on the same page.” you rubbed your face and pulled back your hair, noticing smudged eyeliner on your palm once you removed your hand. turning your head to him, you glanced, defeated. “then tell me the fucking story, hoseok. who she is,  where you met her, where the fuck you’ve been for the past year. tell me a story.”

   hoseok’s eyes, once filled with fiery anger, now showed emotions you’d barely even think to pair him with. regret, torment, fear.

    hurt. 

   he crouched in front of you, swallowing and touching his hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears cascading down your face. “i'm no good for you, baby.” he trembled, hand now shaking against your wet cheek. “i'm not a good man.”

   “what do you mean?” you stammered, voice weak from the yelling and the intimacy of this moment, something you hadn’t had in a long time. tears began to fall down your face once more, hoseok now letting your tears roll over his fingertips instead of wiping them away.

  he lowered his head, eyes staring at the wooden floors. “fuck, (y/n). i’m not a consultant. i’m,” he pauses, sighing deeply and taking another shaky breath. “i’m a drug dealer. i’ve been smuggling heroin internationally for five years now.”

   “a drug dealer?” you gasped quietly, shocked. jung hoseok, your once innocent and loving boyfriend, had been consumed by his job of breaking the law, every single day whittling down to a weaker and weaker self.

   he raised his head, eyes now locked with yours. “it started off as something small, but all of a sudden i got promoted, and now, this is my life.” he choked, shaking his head. “i didn’t want to hurt you, i didn’t want to get you involved, but while i was so caught up handling my life inside and outside my job, i completely neglected you.” he reached forwards to your sides to hold your hands, pulling them into your lap and squeezing them. “i'm not a good person, (y/n). people i work with have slaughtered, and i’ve just stood back and pretended it hasn’t happened for the sake of my own sanity. i'm a bad man.”

   a moment of silence between you, the only sound being the cars outside finding their way home and the tick of the clock in the living room.

   “you’re not a bad man.” you whispered, letting go of his hands to cup his face. “you’re a good man who’s found himself in a bad place.”

   “(y/n),” he cried, letting heavy, previously held back tears run down his face. “please, i understand if you want to leave me, but you’re the only person, the only thing in my life i know i have. i feel as though my life is a game of russian roulette.”

   “i—“ you sighed, not knowing what to say. “hoseok, look at me.” you ordered, rubbing his eyes to dry them of tears. “you’re right, this is a risky game. will i be safe?”

   “i promise you, (y/n). you have the world’s strongest and smartest men and women protecting you. you’ll be in no danger, you’ll be no one’s target.” he ensured you. “you don’t know how much i fucking love you.”

   you looked down, trying to make a decision that you knew would change your life forever. now hearing hoseok’s side, you recognized his intentions have been the same all along: to protect you and shelter you from any pain. even though he didn’t quite get it right, even though you’ve heard his voice shake at any doubt, you never heard any uncertainty when he said those three small words with a meaning bigger than any celestial body you could find: i love you. “i’m in.” you decided, voice firm and clear. “but you have to promise me, no more secrets, no more lies. we’re a team.”

   “i promise.” he replied, bringing his lips so close to yours, you could feel his breath scatter across your cheeks, drying what was left of your tears. “can i, can i please—“ you cut him off, connecting your lips and clutching the fabric of his collar. he slowly rose, arms snaking around your hips and patting, asking you to straddle him standing. you jumped, wrapping your legs around his torso, lips still connected, hoseok’s hands feeling up and down your back as he made his way towards the bedroom.

   he lay you on the bed, the two of you quickly undressing to nothing but your underwear. he crawled towards you, his form dominating yours and shading your nearly naked form from the bedroom lights. “love me hoseok, please,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you. “make love tonight. i want you to love me.”

   he dipped his lips towards you, kissing you briskly. “i already have, (y/n). i have for a long, long time."

[inkstaineddove]

Fleeting Serenity

Ships: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Hungary; mentioned Germany, Austria, France, and Britain

Summary: Gilbert has doubts and Erzsébet has answers.

Potsdam, 1845.

It was a cool night with the wind gently blowing through the trees. Owls hooted their songs off in the distance, met with the crickets’ rival symphonies. The clouds completed nature’s scene by permitting the moon’s splendor to be on full display.

The peace would’ve been kept if not for the shuffling of feet over wood. Gilbert was pacing the length of his balcony, unable to stop had he wanted to. He was gripped with the kind of frenzy born of illogical anxiety. The icy tendrils of ceaseless worry constricted his heart, squeezing it to the point where he felt it shake within its casing. Instead of his normal rigid posture, he was collapsed inward with his arms wrapped around his bare chest.

The more he searched for what was wrong with him, the more lost he felt. He had never had such leisure and freedom. His responsibilities to his state were executed with ease, with what little resistance he faced feeling no more annoying than persistent gnats. His relationships with all he cared about were stable and, while Bavaria and Saxony didn’t appreciate the method he and Austria used to create Ludwig, they certainly weren’t outraged. Life had never so closely matched fantasy.

And, yet, here he was, working himself up over nothing like a lunatic. He forced himself to stop his marching and latched onto the guardrail to prevent himself from further pacing. A war could rage within his mind, but he wouldn’t let any unfortunate passersby observe it. He needed to maintain some baselevel of composure.

“God help me,” he muttered, his voice husky with exhaustion.

He ran his hands through his hair, sighing. How late was it now? He had gone to bed hours ago with all intention of sleep, but he knew that wouldn’t come tonight. A particularly hard gust of wind burst through, causing him to shiver. In his hurry to get outside, he’d completely forgotten to grab something to keep him warm. He looked at the bed in the window. Erzsébet was sound asleep, twisted up in all their blankets. He didn’t want to risk having his stirring disturb her and debated against going in.

Another harsh wind came through and decided for him. Gilbert shuffled in, moving the door painfully slow to prevent any squeak or slam. While he crept to get a shirt, he heard her mumble something like ‘Gilbert’ in her sleep. He remained frozen in place, hoping that he had misheard her.

“Gil?” She rolled over, blinking her eyes open. “Why you…there?”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be quieter.” He smiled, trying to look reassuring so she wouldn’t grow suspicious.

“Is something the matter?” Erzsébet pushed herself up on her elbows. Not quite awake, she wobbled as she moved. She patted the empty bed besides her. “Sit down.”

He accepted his fate and complied. He pushed himself back to lean against the bedrest. At the confusion coming to knit together her brows, he smiled. There was something cute in how she worried. “I’m just a bit on edge. It’s fine, I don’t want to keep you up.”

Gilbert should’ve known saying that would invite her complete interest. She was now fully conscious of the world and staring at him expectantly. “On edge how? What’s bothering you?”

How the hell could he phrase it? ‘Nothing’s bothering me and that’s why I’m so bothered’ or ‘I can’t sleep because my heart feels like it’s about to explode, but how are you?’ Gilbert stared in her eyes, searching for divine intervention on how to explain himself. Instead, inspiration struck. So what if he couldn’t state how he was feeling in emotional terms? A little creativity was all it would take.

“You know when you’re out in the forest and you swear you hear a bear or a wolf, but it never shows up? So you say, ‘fuck it’ and keep moving? And then the bear starts causing shit again, but it’s still nowhere to be found and you start thinking you’re losing it and-”

She yawned, nuzzling into the pillow beneath her. “Could you be more straightforward? I’m not awake enough for one of your long stories.”

“Well this one had a point,” he grumbled. “I don’t know why, but it feels like something’s chasing me. I know there’s nothing there – well, at least I think it’s nothing – but it’s like something’s going to appear out of thin air and ruin everything.”

That was strange for him. She couldn’t recall ever knowing of a time when he had felt like this before. She tried remembering all their recent conversations, searching for a clue as to what was causing this. She couldn’t find a single one. “Do you have any idea why?”

“No! That’s what’s killing me! There’s no reason for me to be feeling this way. Everything’s been perfect! I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life, which is what makes this so bizarre.” He paused, studying her. He was seeing her, seeing her so clearly, and it was like a revelation. “You! It’s you, that’s what’s wrong with me!”

Erzsébet crossed her arms, scowling at him. “You better rephrase that.”

He laughed, relieved to have finally achieved some personal enlightenment. “Not like that. Let me explain myself.” He knelt down and kissed the top of her head. “It’s been so long since I haven’t had to march myself off to war or prepare for the next one. This is the most time I’ve had to spend with you in so long without having some bullshit gnawing at the back of my mind.” He twirled a few strands of her hair around his fingers.

When he reached the area by her chin, she kissed his hand. “Hasn’t it been wonderful? Even if we can’t share all our days, giving you my weekends has been amazing.” She smirked against his skin. “I know there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there, so spit it out.”

Gilbert snorted, unbothered at being so predictable. “But I know this kind of quiet doesn’t last long. Something will come and will shatter it all and that’ll be that. Isn’t all joy in life fleeting?” His voice became hushed the more serious he became. “And then what? I’ll be off again, trying not to get shot by France on battlefields that all look the same.”

There was something she’d never heard him talk about in such a negative light. “But that’s how your life has always been.” She smiled, wanting nothing more than to cut through some of his tension. “What happened? Did my fearsome knight lose his purpose?”

“Less lost one and more found another.” He let the strand of her hair drop from around his finger and, instead, slipped his hand in hers. “Erzsi, you deserve all the best in the world. And I can give it to you now, but for how much longer?”

She hid her mouth with her free hand. Laughing at him, after such a vulnerable confession, would do her no good. “You really think I’ll forget you over the course of one little war? Gil, how many have we gone through? And look where I wound up!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about you leaving me. Are you kidding? I haven’t had that worry in years.” He shifted so he was facing her completely, desperately needing her full attention. “My life is hell, it always has been. And I know yours has been too, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have better. How things are now, that’s the kind of life you deserve and that God! I’ve dreamt about giving you for years, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to speak where his mind was going in case it manifested into reality.

“All calm means a storm is bound to blow in soon?” He could hear Erzsébet’s smirk in her voice.

“Yes! And then-” he was silenced by the feel of her index finger against his lips.

“Along the way, did you ever stop to maybe ask yourself what I might want? Or have you just been listening to your paranoia this entire time?” Now was a good time to laugh at him, at his dumb expression as he tried to figure out what she meant. “Really, you must be in love with another woman. If you were in love with me, you wouldn’t be worrying about that nonsense.”

“You’re telling me my greatest fears are wrong?”

He really was a strange man. Anyone else and they would’ve been relieved to hear such a thing. But Gilbert always had to be different she supposed.

“Well, yes. They’re entirely wrong.” She moved so she was laying down with their chests against each other. Erzsébet held his gaze steady, making sure he understood every word of what she said. “If I wanted boring, I wouldn’t leave Vienna or, honestly, would’ve tried my chances with Arthur.” She cradled his cheek with one hand, smiling at him with familiar tenderness. “I don’t want boring; I want you.”

He didn’t quite smile, but it gave her hope that what she was saying was getting through to him. “Boring has stability. I know the life I’m partial to and, while it comes with such great highs, the lows are steep.” She watched the shift of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I don’t want the consequences of my recklessness to come back at you.”

How could she forget? He was a fool. “You spend too much energy worrying about me. Gilbert, seriously. When haven’t I been fine? Why would I choose to be with you, for all this time, if I thought anything you did would hurt me? If I trust you, why can’t you trust yourself?”

He sighed. He didn’t have any sound argument against that. Gilbert looked down at her hand, doubt filling him with shame. “How ridiculous would it be if I said I sometimes think I’m not good enough for you?”

“Not ridiculous at all. You probably won’t believe it, but I do the same thing.”

Gilbert scoffed. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

Erzsébet gently smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “I would never do that! Sometimes, especially when I see you with Ludwig, I’m surprised at how good of a person you are. Or on days where you’ve been so sweet and attentive, I start thinking that maybe I’m not the worthy one. And you know what gets me out of that?” She paused for dramatic effect, wanting to hook him in. “I’ll catch you staring at me with such a lovestruck look on your face or, if I’m really lucky, I’ll overhear you say something about me to Ivan or Antonio and all the doubts go away. Because if you’re worthy of me than I’m worthy of you.”

“Am I an idiot?” He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. His smile came natural and easy now. He felt himself able to breathe again and was thankful for it.

“My God, the biggest! Denser than a mountain! But that’s okay,” she kissed him, a comforting little peck. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He kissed her again, this one much longer and slower. As soon as his arms were wrapped around her waist, she began wiggling free. He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You could just say no like a normal person without all the dramatics.”

She was rolling onto her side, searching for the most comfortable position. At last, she found it and, with it, the certainty that sleep would be hers again. “I’m still tired. I don’t want to do anything that will keep me up.” She smiled at the wall, giggling. “Try your luck another night when you don’t wake me up insanely early.”

The wave of exhaustion he had been fighting off finally hit him. Erzsébet had made the right call. He laid down, snuggling up against the crook of her neck. With his anxieties quelled, at least for the moment, treasured rest became a natural fit.

[yehet-me-up]

Frozen North ~ Night Four

PAIRING: Chanyeol x reader

GENRE: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

WORD COUNT: 2,164

RATING: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

SUMMARY: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. One night, a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it, you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

You and Yoora agree to meet up for coffee on campus before your first class of the day. The winter morning is icy cold and you bundle yourself up in your North Face parka, knit beanie, and gloves and head off for the cafe at Suzzallo.

She looks almost exactly like her photos - perfectly groomed bob of shiny black hair, high cheekbones. A nervous smile plays on her lips as she looks around the room, clutching her mug of coffee. You give her a small wave and thread your way through the mass of students and she sags with relief.

'Thank you so much for meeting me,' she starts before you've even sat down.

You take off your hat and gloves and shove them in your bag, pulling out your phone and placing it face up. There's not been a second in the last few hours that you haven't had it close. Sleep didn't come easy, in fits and spurts. Wild dreams tormented you, of Chanyeol and what he was going through. 

How you wished you could reach through the phone and pull him into the warmth and safety of your bed.

The thought makes you blush in the heat of the cafe. 'Of course, I want to help.'

Yoora pulls out her own phone and shows you the call log. 'I've been trying him for days. We just had lunch on Sunday. Monday he didn't answer which, knowing how he works like a man possessed, isn't unusual. By Tuesday I was worried and by Wednesday I knew something was wrong.'

You nod in agreement. 'The first call on Tuesday sounded almost like a joke or, I don't know, a new twist on a story. It would hardly be the strangest thing that's happened on my show.' You unlock your phone and look through the call log. 'He called me before that, actually. But I didn't think anything of it.'

Her brows pull together. 'Really?'

Turning it so she can see you point out the FaceTime call that came through just before you started on Tuesday. 'Yeah, it's weird - I don't know Chanyeol. Even though we both go to U dub we've never crossed paths.'

'Why on earth would he be calling from an Alaska number?' she asks, distraught. 'What is going on here?'

You sigh and rub your forehead. 'I could try calling him, see if it goes through? I've tried a lot over the last few days. It seems there's no predicting when he'll call. He never answers.'

Yoora nods. 'You go first, with your Alaska number. Then I'll try his cell. If neither go through, I'm going to the police.'

Dread curdles in your stomach and you agree. Hitting the call button, you squeeze your eyes together and pray that this is all some sort of horrible dream. But it rings, endlessly like always, before giving the same message about a voicemail box.

With a shake of your head you watch Yoora do the same. She chews on her lip, looking as haunted and sad as you feel. After a minute she hangs up. Looking resolved, she slides her phone back into her purse. 

'I'll let you know what happens. Thank you, for letting me know. The recordings will help I'm sure.' She reaches across the table and rests her hands on top of yours. 

'The show is on at eight. I'll have my phone with me the whole time. If something happens, I'll be there.'

With a nod she grabs her still-full coffee and strides off. 

For long minutes you sit there, spinning your phone around on the table. The noise in the cafe is endless but you don’t hear it. All you can think about is this man who came into your life, who feels connected to you by the thinnest of ropes. But it matters. Even if you don’t know why, he matters more than anything.

Determined, you stand up. With a grunt you knock into someone standing right behind you. A male voice curses softly. When you turn to apologize you gasp, embarrassment turning your cheeks red.

‘Professor Langford? I’m so sorry,’ you start.

He gives you a friendly wave and shakes his head, gesturing to the coffee spilled across his wool coat. ‘It’s nothing, truly. I should have been looking where I was going.’

You grab some napkins from the condiments station and hand them to him. He good-naturedly blots at it and gives you a reassuring smile. But there’s something off. Tension radiates off him, a nervous energy that makes you step back, bumping the back of your chair.

‘What are you doing in this fine cafe today?’ he asks, a hungry look in his eye.

Swallowing, you try to not let your confusion show. ‘Just meeting a friend for coffee.’

He scans you up and down, assessing. ‘You seem upset, is everything alright? Is this thing with Chanyeol getting to you?’

Something dangerous hovers in the air, an unease you can almost taste. ‘Why do you ask?’

Professor Langford blinks, coming back to himself. He coughs and dabs the coffee once more before balling the napkins and depositing them in the trash can next to him. When he faces you again he seems almost like himself. 

‘Just curious, that’s all. It is my area of interest, after all,’ he says with a half smile.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’

He gives you an awkward nod. ‘Well, see you in class.’

You stand there and watch as he hurries out of the cafe, pushing out into the light snow that falls in Red Square. With a shake of your head you carry on with your day.

The text you’re hoping for finally comes in while you’re walking to your last class of the day.

Yoora 3:47PM: the police won’t do anything You 3:47PM: oh my god, really? Did you play them the recordings? Yoora 3:47PM: yes, i was there for hours. They say it’s nothing conclusive. That he’s 27 years old and there’s nothing but our word to say there’s something wrong with him You 3:48PM: unbelievable Yoora 3:48PM: hopefully he’ll call in tonight. I can’t take much more of this. You 3:48PM: he will. I know it. We’re going to figure this out

An anxious energy eats away at you as you bustle into the station. Plans, questions, anything you think might help all swirl in your mind. Maybe someone will call in who knows him? Maybe he’ll be able to tell you where he is?

Suse gives you a sympathetic hug when you swap out at the turn of the hour. ‘No luck?’

You sigh and run your hand through your hair. ‘Nothing. His sister and I met up and tried calling again. No answer. She took everything to the police and they refuse to help. They said there’s not enough evidence.’

‘What the fuck.’ She looks to the ceiling, hesitating and chewing her lip. ‘Okay I have an idea. It might be nuts but-’

‘I’m desperate Suse,’ you say, holding her shoulders. ‘I’ll do anything. I know in my gut this is real.’

Something she sees in your face convinces her and she nods, pulling out her phone. After shooting off a text she slips it back in her purse. ‘He’ll be here in twenty.’

‘Who will?’

She leans in and whispers. ‘Jimmy’s sister had this sketchy ass boyfriend who kept calling and harassing her so he downloaded this program that traces calls. It’s not exactly… legal. But I think if your Chanyeol calls in tonight we should be able to get it hooked up to the computer and figure out where he is.’

You nearly crush her you hug her so tight. ‘Oh my god, Suse. I don’t even - that would be incredible.’

She hugs you back before smacking your butt padded by your parka. ‘Don’t thank me until we find him. Now get in there, you have a show to run.’

It takes some convincing before Daniel allows Jimmy to set up his laptop in the listening booth, but eventually he caves. He wants this resolved as badly as any of you. For over an hour you and Jimmy wait anxiously while you attempt to carry on your show as normally as possible.

Several people call in saying they wish they could help with Chanyeol. A few people know him - from class, from the underground rock scene in Seattle, from various jobs over the years. No one has a bad thing to say about him and you wish over and over that you could hear his voice again. That you could see him in person. You wonder if he lives up to the hype, something within you says that he will exceed it.

When the calls taper off you transition to your prepared content. Two people call in with snippets from stories they’re working on. You do a piece on the rumored Thirteen Steps to Hell in Maltby, Washington’s cemetery. When you wrote it you felt the familiar thrill in your veins. Of excitement. Of wonder. Of fear, licking up your spine and reminding you of the terrifying and unknown myths and legends of the world.

But now, in the cold studio with your cell phone clutched in your hand, it doesn’t feel anything like you’d planned. The only thing you feel is afraid and full of want. For relief and for this to be over and for him to be safe.

Through intermission and on into the usual Friday open hour discussion on favorite international urban legends your phone is deadly silent and you want to scream and throw it at the wall. Suse and Daniel in the booth give you tight-lipped smiles and nods of encouragement whenever you turn to them, dread inhabiting your stiff movements.

But just before the end of the night, at 11:45, your phone buzzes.

CHANYEOL WOULD LIKE TO FACETIME

‘Fuck -’ you say on the air, trying to hit the accept button with frozen shaking fingers.

Jimmy does his best to recover as well, unplugging his link from the computer and pulling out an iphone cord from his bag. Frantically you lift the phone to your ear and motion for someone to come take over the mic while you answer. Suse bustles into the room and says something about taking a break.

You hardly hear her. Every atom of your being leans towards the phone, grasping for a sound - his voice, wind, wolves, anything.

‘Chanyeol? Are you there?’

A scuffling comes through and then: ‘I’m here.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ you practically sob.

Hands brush against yours where it holds the phone and then Jimmy sits back, giving you a thumbs up. He types frantically on his computer and Suse breathes against your other ear, resting a reassuring arm over your shoulder.

‘How are you?’

He grunts. ‘It’s so cold here. I feel like I’m losing myself. It’s so dark and I just - all I dream about is ice. And wolves. Red eyes. Blood. I just want to be warm.’

You ask him the first question that comes to mind, anything to keep him on longer, to bring him back to himself. ‘What’s your favorite Radiohead song?’

‘Radiohead...? How did you know I like them?’

‘It’s a long story, Chanyeol,’ you sigh. ‘Tell me, please.’

‘I guess… Creep. Definitely my favorite.’

You smile. It’s yours as well. That spark of energy in your chest ignites again. Something like fate and just as insistent. ‘Why do you like it?’

More shuffling. ‘I like how I feel when I sing it. I need words, lyrics, to know how I feel. It’s the only language that makes sense to me sometimes.’

‘I know what you mean,’ you says softly, looking around that the booth. In the cocoon you’ve built from the world over the past few years.

‘What’s your favorite?’ he asks, the low rumble of his voice crossing your skin all the way through the phone, wherever he is.

‘Mine is-’ you start, but your words are interrupted.

‘Enough!’ someone says near the phone. A female voice this time.

Chanyeol grunts and you hear a crash. The line goes dead and you want to scream. The silence in the room is so pervasive and heavy you can feel the air vibrating. Jimmy next to you is still and you nervously look at him.

‘Anything?’ Suse asks, saying the words you can’t bring yourself to.

He nods, unable to look away from the computer. ‘You’re not going to believe this. It’s coming from fucking Seattle. Three blocks from here.’

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging @yeoldontknow​ @enthusiastt​ @itskindofafairything​ @gogh-suck-it​@nshitae​ <3