#hot bitch summer: need some air

[hyunsvngs]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 - seo changbin x gn!afab reader

wc: 6.3k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: sex with no strings attached, sexy changbin, changbin’s tummy (deserves a warning because it is so overwhelming), bin is cocky and cute, mentions of body hair, smut (specific warnings under the cut, minors please do not interact!)

synopsis: your situationship - the man of your dreams - gives you full, explicit permission to fuck his frat brothers in your effort of a hot bitch summer. who’s next, after you ruined your best friend in bed?

a/n: part three of the fratboy series, hot bitch summer!:D fratboy bin is on my mind… so sexy. also enjoy the build up of more lore in this one!! this part is really integral to the series :) 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: strength kink, size kink, public sex (they fuck in a gym room but it’s locked), pet names (little bunny), a LOT of dirty talk, fingering, spitting, a very brief blowjob, seo changbin has a THICK COCK like SO THICK, maybe d/s dynamics a bit? dom!bin then sub!bin at the end?, creampie, brief cockwarming

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Waking up in Minho’s bed after a night of unadulterated pleasure had become a regular occurrence in your life. The man just knew exactly how to push your buttons in exactly the right way, and you more often than not even found yourself staying over in his bed after parties too. Even slightly intoxicated, you had the best sex you’d ever had with him.

His words were still lingering on your mind, though. Could you truly tick off every member of the frat? The SKZ frat itself had only eight members, with frat president Chan being extremely selective in who he let join. Jisung and Changbin were allowed in because they all loved music production, with it being both Chan and Jisung’s major. Changbin simply had an affinity for it and had done it as a side course with his sports and exercise science degree.

Minho, you believed, had formed the fraternity with Chan initially, and he was elected vice president. Hyunjin and Felix were accepted instantly because of their involvement in Minho’s dance society. Jeongin was Minho’s adopted baby that he met through Felix, because the both of them played video games together regularly. Jeongin took it a lot less seriously than Felix did.

Interestingly, Seungmin was accepted because he was rumoured to be the author of the Gossip Girl-esque blog in the university, titled Hall of Fame. This fact had never been confirmed by Seungmin himself, but rumours ran rampant around the school. You often wondered if the anonymous posts were actually him, since they never seemed to include members of his frat. It was as if they’d been selective, only ever about people from other fraternities or sororities. You’d been lucky enough to not have one about you, and that got you thinking - you were a relatively well known figure on campus due to the people you choose to surround yourself with. If it was Seungmin, had you been excluded from the posts because you were friends with Jisung and Felix?

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the home into your nose and invaded your senses. You quite literally heard your stomach grumble, needing food after yet another long night of partying, and you stretched before pushing your legs off of the bed to stand up. They felt so weak these days, due to you being fucked by Minho so often. You didn’t even know how to remedy it. You sure as hell weren’t going to stop fucking him.

Hobbling downstairs slowly, you entered the kitchen to be met with the sound of Seungmin and Minho bickering. From what you could gather in your still slightly sleepy haze, Seungmin was angry because Minho had decided to cook for you, him and Jisung, and he refused to give Seungmin any. You blinked through the fog, feeling Jisung place his head on your shoulder. The touch was a welcome one, comforting and by your best friend. Felix sat next to Seungmin across from you, giggling at something Hyunjin had whispered into his ear. 

“Y/N, my baby,” Jisung chirped happily, rubbing his round cheek against your shoulder. You sighed, letting your head loll on top of his. “Good morning. How are you?” 

“Mm, I’ve felt better. My legs feel really weak and tired.”

Seungmin choked on a laugh while eating a spoonful of the bowl of cereal he’d had to make due to the fact Minho refused to cook for him. He pointed his spoon at you vindictively. “Maybe because you’re trying to fuck the whole frat?” A drop of milk dribbled off the end of the spoon and splashed back into the bowl, taunting and slow. Even the milk was roasting you.

It was Hyunjin’s turn to giggle. “Hey, they’re pretty. They’re allowed to fuck us all.”

You groaned, nuzzling your cheek against Jisung’s soft hair. Jeongin had since entered the room, hair sticking up everywhere and a loose t-shirt hanging off of his slender frame. He’d quickly thrown himself onto a chair and placed his head in Jisung’s lap. You noticed Minho adding extra bacon to the pan automatically upon Jeongin’s arrival. Seungmin looked like he was about to have a breakdown, shoving more Frosties into his mouth and chewing angrily. His eyes were narrowed at Minho, yet Minho didn’t even grace him with a glance, simply smirking to himself over the pan. 

Jisung carded his fingers through Jeongin’s hair, making Jeongin flutter his eyes shut and let out a pleased hum. “You know, you could go to Binnie. He works out a lot. He could stretch you out so your legs aren’t as weak.”

Binnie. Changbin. Stretching you out. Oh yeah. Now that sounded good. You turned to Minho, seeing him plating up four plates of food. 

Changbin was probably the man of your wet dreams if Minho didn’t exist. He was a beefcake, to put it simply. You often found yourself ogling his muscles in sleeveless shirts and wishing nothing more than to leave bite marks all over his tan skin. You wanted him to press his full weight to you, feel that delightful sexy fucking tummy against your back as he pounded you with his undeniably thick cock.

Going to the gym with Changbin sounded amazing. Minho brought the plates over quickly, sitting down on your other side. He looked at you, sending a subtle wink. “I think that sounds amazing. He’s coaching the weightlifting society tomorrow. You can grab him after practice.”

Oh, you planned on grabbing him alright.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You arrived at the training room Changbin was supposed to be in around ten minutes after his weightlifting class had been expected to end. It was the morning, sunlight glaring through the window. You’d dressed comfortably, tight gym leggings and a loose t-shirt adorning your figure and a simple pair of old trainers that had probably seen better days. They were stained with droplets of bright paint from the time you and Felix had tried to redecorate your room - it hadn’t gone well, and you’d actually been staring bemusedly at the random patches of different colours before you left the house.

He was situated on the bench press when you walked in, effortlessly pumping out reps of 50 kg as if it was nothing. He didn’t have a spotter, so this was clearly lightweight for him. You thought you could die, heart racing, just standing in the doorway and staring at him. He hadn’t even noticed you yet.

Once Changbin had re-racked the bar, he turned to you, blinking confusedly. It took him a second before a cute toothy smile appeared on his face. “Oh, Y/N! Hi! Sorry, I kinda lost track of time.”

“It’s okay, Changbin,” you smiled, walking further into the room. You made sure to close the door behind you, subtly locking it while he was retying his laces. He was wearing a tight black vest top, a face mask pulled down under his chin and his hair natural, dark and curly. His legs were clad in loose basketball shorts, showing off that he does, in fact, attend leg day. You were shamelessly ogling him, and he brought your attention back to his face with a laugh.

“Bin is fine, or even Binnie,” Changbin grinned. He stood up from his laces and clapped his hands together triumphantly. “Okay, so Sungie mentioned something about your legs. You wanna strengthen them, yeah?”

You blanched. Okay, so Jisung had told Changbin your purpose for being there, but had he told him why? You doubted Changbin would have no idea. He knew, but at least he was being friendly about it. Changbin ushered you over to a mat on the floor, and you obediently walked over to sit down cross-legged on it. He sat next to you, pulling the face mask off altogether and throwing it aside.

“Erm, yeah. I guess so. They’re just really, um, shaky? Weak? I’m not sure,” You mumbled, fingers smoothing down your leggings awkwardly. Could you have less finesse, ever? You’d been awkward with Minho, given he’d walked straight out of your wet dreams after plaguing them like a demon for months, but you surely didn’t have to be like that around Changbin. Changbin hummed, nodding at your explanation. “I don’t think weights would be best. Maybe I just need to-“ Be stretched out. “Stretch. I need to stretch.”

Changbin nodded. “Sounds good. Can I touch you?”

Please. “Yeah, of course.” 

He reached over, his hands pressing at your calves. His hands were wide, with thick, manly fingers that weren’t too long but looked like they’d be such a fucking good stretch. His fingertips were slightly calloused from the overuse of barbells. You wondered what he’d be like in bed - would he put his muscles to good use, pinning you down and making you take it, or would he let you take control like Jisung did?

You sighed, almost inaudibly. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Okay,” Changbin mused. “They are kinda weak, I can feel it. The muscles are spasming when I touch them. Could you stand up, and touch your toes? It’s a yoga pose, I just wanna see how weak they actually are.”

Yoga? Okay. You had flashbacks to Felix trying to teach you how to do yoga, some random shit he’d learnt from Hyunjin. You’d both done one pose before falling over cackling. Standing up immediately, you bent over to touch your toes. He came behind you, humming again. You tried not to think about how he was now standing behind you, grabbing your hips to correct your position and making you arch your back a little. As if he was going to push into you from behind, slow and thick, quite literally stretching you out-

You were speaking before you could even control it. “Oh, fucking hell.” 

Changbin’s hands paused on your hips. A beat passed, and then two. Then he was laughing.

“Hey, did you seriously just come here because you wanted to tick me off of your sexy bucket list, or did you come here to actually fix your legs?” You shot up, turning around to face him. He put his hands on his hips, still letting out loud giggles. You couldn’t help but let out a scoff and laugh with him.

“Well. I actually do need help,” you rubbed your temples, still laughing in disbelief. Changbin shook his head, rolling his eyes playfully. “Hey, I’m serious!”

“No, no, I believe you. But you wanted to fuck me later, didn’t you?” Changbin accused, pointing a finger. “Maybe I will fuck you. You’re stretching first, though. Bending over for Minho so many times does horrible things to the body.”

You grinned, resuming your position of touching your toes. “Oh, you’d know, would you?”

Changbin flicked your thigh, still giggling slightly. “Shut up, would you? So fucking sassy, heh. I’m going to massage your legs now.”

You felt his hands pushing you into a position where you were laying down on your front. The strong hands on your back and right shoulder made your cunt pool with heat, but you tried to ignore it. Unsuccessfully, because you were instantly thinking of him manhandling you into other positions when you had finally pliantly dropped to the mat. When did you become like this? You were the horniest you’d ever been.

His strong palms began to knead against your calves. The feeling was delicious, actually - he knew what he was doing. You felt instantly relaxed, letting him ease the ache out of your muscles. When he moved up to your thighs though, you felt that incessant need in your core return and you wanted to scream in frustration. He was taking his time, working out every knot in your legs and you just laid there, arms crossed beneath your head for you to rest on. 

All of a sudden, Changbin’s hands were pushing up against the seam where your asscheek met your thigh. You jumped in surprise. “Huh?!”

Changbin smirked, that same cocky smirk you’d got earlier on. “Feeling tense here, you know? Better stretch you out.” You blinked. They’d definitely had a conversation, either him and Minho or him and Jisung - you weren’t sure which you’d prefer.

Fuck it. You squirmed onto your back, looking up at Changbin. He cocked an eyebrow at you, a mischievous smile still on his full lips. “You gonna fuck me now, Binnie?”

Changbin shook his head again, fondly. “You’re insatiable.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe I do,” he spoke, before diving down to capture your lips in his. He quickly had you pinned to the soft mat underneath you, tongue sliding across your bottom lip before caressing into your mouth with intricacy. You moaned, running your fingers through the soft curls on his head. You tried to wrap your legs around his slim waist, but he was quick to shift you, pressing your legs back into the mat with a firm hand. “No.”

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” you pulled away from the kiss and huffed, hips squirming. Changbin looked appalled.

“I fucking am! Just- you’ll get hurt again. Your legs are sore, remember?” He pressed another peck to your lips, spreading your legs himself manually. He positioned in between them, a promising bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. 

You sighed with pleasure when he started rutting the bulge into you, kissing your neck softly. “There’s no sex position that won’t hurt my legs, Bin.”

“Mm, sure there is. I’ll show you.” 

Well, colour you intrigued. You gripped onto his biceps, fingernails digging into the large muscles when he pressed a kiss to the neckline of your t-shirt. You were quick to push him up slightly to rip your t-shirt off impatiently. He must’ve moved himself, because there was absolutely no chance you’d managed to shift a man of that stature with one hand. Your sports bra was very much less than sexy, and you screwed your face up with embarrassment when you remembered you were wearing it. Changbin didn’t seem to care, because with a quick movement behind your back the bra was unclipped and thrown to the side. 

He immediately latched onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around your areola. You whimpered, pushing your chest into his mouth. He hummed against the peaked bud before moving to the other one, using his thick fingers to tweak your already lathered with spit nipple. He was still rutting into you, although the movement had gone slightly lower with his ongoing mouth efforts. 

“Mm- Binnie, wanna see you too. Please.”

Changbin pulled back, his mouth wet with spit and his hair all messed up from your hands running through it with passion. He quickly shucked his vest top off, revealing a delightful set of sculpted pecs and a sexy fucking tummy. You wanted to clench your teeth into his tan skin and leave your mark there. This was made worse when you noticed the delectable looking snail trail of hair at the bottom of his tummy, leading down into something you needed to see very soon.

“Oh my God,” you murmured. Changbin tilted his head in confusion. “Your tits.”

Changbin burst out laughing, before clenching each one in a rhythm. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him back down for another heated kiss. Your bare chests rubbed against each other, his full weight pressed against your frame to hold you down against the yoga mat. You whined into the kiss at the stimulation on your nipples, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth in a filthy kiss of swapping spit. His biceps were curled around you, his body pressed tightly on top of you, almost crushing - but you loved it. He was just so much bigger than you.

“You like that, don’t you? Feeling me crushing you,” Changbin muttered into the kiss, stealing little pecks between each word. “I bet you’re fuckin’ soaking. Gonna let me take a look at your pussy, little bunny?”

You moaned, nodding, the pandering to your size kink making your brain blur with arousement. He was pulling off your trainers quickly then, yanking your gym leggings down and leaving your underwear covering your core. He groaned, pushing your legs open softly. You could feel the wet patch on your underwear, slick sticking the fabric back to your cunt everytime you moved. He was no doubt staring at it with lust when one of his hands went to palm his erection through his shorts. 

“Fucking hell, you liked that, didn’t you? You like me calling you my little bunny? You like being smaller than me?”

You nodded eagerly, squirming while he spoke. He was still staring at your pussy, wet patch expanding the more he’d spoken. “Take ‘em off, Binnie. Have a good look,” Changbin sighed, scrunching his eyes shut before nodding. He looked like he could barely control himself. Good. You didn’t want him to. 

His fingers were latching into your underwear then, pulling them down and revealing your pussy, folds sopping wet with your arousal. He gazed down at it, eyes blown wide with lust and his breathing heavy. 

“Fuckin’- Jesus,” Changbin swiped two fingers in between your folds, collecting slick on his fingers. He pushed them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. “So fucking sweet. Look at Binnie’s little bunny making a mess, huh? Do you want a taste?” 

You let your tongue loll out of your mouth, expecting him to push his fingers past your tongue. Instead, he crouched down quickly, swiping his tongue over your core in one thick swipe. He swirled the tip of his tongue around your clit quickly before he was moving just as quick back up to you, gripping your jaw between his thumb and index finger. You didn’t even have time to feel his plush, doll-like lips on your clit, which slightly disappointed you before you realised what he was doing.

Made to open your mouth wide like this, you moaned out unabashedly and loudly when Changbin let your arousal drip from his mouth and into yours. He was watching it enter your mouth. Before you could even swallow it, his tongue was back in your mouth, swiping around the wet cavern and trying to get more of the taste for himself. You let him kiss you for another few seconds, feeling him rutting into your now bare core as he whined into the kiss. He liked it dirty then, you mused.

You pulled away, trying to catch your breath. “Gimme,” you mumbled, thumbs hooking into his loose shorts to try and catch a glimpse at his erection. He pushed your hands away, mumbling incoherently about you being impatient. You huffed, shifting up onto your hands to watch as he pulled the two layers of fabric down altogether. Your jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Changbin looked at you cockily as you took in his length. It was shorter, not as long as Minho’s but he did make up for it more than enough in girth. You thought your jaw would break if you tried to suck him off, and you weren’t entirely sure your hand would even fit around it. Your pussy was going to cry. You wanted it so fucking badly.

A rivulet of precum was leaking from his flushed cockhead, travelling down the veiny shaft and landing in a pleasant thatch of curly, dark hair at the base, wetting the hair. His balls were heavy, full, and you wanted them in your mouth. You wanted it all in your mouth, actually, even if it would kill you trying.

“Pleased?” Changbin quipped. You looked back up at his stupid confident smirk, grabbing him by the wrist and throwing him on the mat beside you. It took all of your strength, but you managed it. He squeaked with surprise, but you ignored him. You were quick to push up onto your knees, shuffling down to be face to face with one of the best cocks you’d ever seen in your life. You needed it, right there in that gym, where you’d probably end up smelling like sweat from a different kind of workout. You were more than glad that you’d locked the door.

You stared at it. “This is going to kill my jaw.”

“You really don’t have to- oh God-“ Changbin was cut off by you sinking your wet mouth onto the tip of his cock. You could already feel the uncomfortable stretch on your jaw, but you were determined, suckling the precum into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the head like it was a lollipop. You let your spit dribble out of your mouth and onto his thick cock, feeling amused when he let out a loud, rather high-pitched moan.

Focusing on the cockhead, you let your tongue dip into his slit to swallow the tiny bit of precum that he’d blessed you with. He looked gorgeous, laying back against the mat with his thick thighs spread and a just-as-thick cock hanging between them. One arm was behind his head, massive biceps tensed as you stared up at him and swallowed the tip of his cock repeatedly. You wanted to see him ruined, but you had a feeling his cock was going to ruin you. His jaw was dropped, plush lips letting out deep sighs.

You tried to bob your head and get more of his dick in your mouth, but you were unsuccessful. It seemed it was just too fucking thick, and you were scrunching your face up in disappointment when you suckled on the cockhead one more time before pulling up. Pumping it absentmindedly, you stared up at Changbin. “Too thick.”

Changbin laughed, pulling you up to lay on top of him with ease. “‘S okay, little bunny. I want to take care of you, if that’s okay?” 

Well, how could you say no to that? You smiled, giving him a quick nod, and then you felt his finger reach down and press against your entrance. It was filling you before you knew it, his thick digit stretching your hole open. Eyes rolling back into your head, you moaned and writhed on top of him, grinding your clit into his tummy. 

“Bin- don’t need prep, fucking-!” He ignored you, pushing another finger in alongside the first one.

“Minho warned me you were impatient,” He scoffed, pumping his fingers steadily. He was scissoring them inside of you, trying to stretch your hole out further than it could possibly go. “I should’ve believed him. I don’t know if you saw, but my dick is really fucking thick. Little bunny can’t take it without prep, okay?”

You didn’t argue, like you had with Minho. You had argued with Minho and ended up feeling like your pussy was being split open by Minho’s thick cock, and Changbin was even thicker. Also, you knew that if you’d tried to argue he would’ve just laughed at you and told you not to argue with him, so being a brat was futile. Bouncing on his fingers, you resorted to trying to relax your hole and let it stretch enough to take him. Taking this dick may kill you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try your fucking hardest.

Changbin cooed at you, brushing your hair out of your face with his free hand. “That’s promising, little bunny. You’re taking my fingers so well, huh? I think I’ll put a third one in, okay?”

“Mm, yeah, can take three,” Your eyes fluttered shut when yet another finger went up to your hole, pushing up slowly. He moaned when your pussy clenched tight around the three digits, not wanting to stretch further. He was no doubt imagining the tightness your cunt would give him when his cock got inside of it, and you couldn’t blame him - you were imagining the fucking stretch you were going to get. 

“I think I’ll curl them up, yeah? Just like this?” Changbin questioned you, curling his thick fingers up to reach your g-spot. You immediately keened, and Changbin giggled, continuing to hammer his fingertips into the spongy spot inside of you. “Oh, yeah, like that, huh? I know what you’re thinking. Will I make you cum before I fuck you?”

Well, you weren’t thinking anything, fucked dumb on his fingers - but now you were thinking that. Will he make you cum before he fucks you? You weren’t sure if you wanted to or not, being impatient and wanting his dick inside of you, but he seemed to be playing the long game. You bounced on his fingers again, wanting just a bit of stimulation on the bundle of nerves between your legs in a hope that you could cum quickly and get his dick inside you, like, yesterday.

“B-Bin, I need your cock, you can’t make me cum before, need it-”

Changbin let out an ear ringing laugh again, flipping you over so your ass was flat against the mat. He continued fucking his fingers into you immediately, thudding into your g-spot over and over in a fast rhythm. “I can, and I fucking will, little bunny,” You simply nodded, accepting your fate. “Nothing to make you relax like a world-shattering orgasm, right?”

You scoffed. “Well, I’m not gonna cum if you don’t touch my clit, Bin.” He stopped the movement of his fingers, staring at you with a nonchalant expression.

“I’m not going to touch your clit, and you are gonna cum. G-spot orgasm. Heard of it?”

You blinked. He didn’t mean…? “You’re gonna try to make me squirt?!”

Changbin shrugged, pinning one of your legs down to spread you wider. “You may not squirt, but it’ll feel really fucking good. Squirting is an added benefit for me, to be honest,” He looked cocky, a boyish smile on his face. Oh yeah, he liked it messy. You let out a squeak when his fingers started hammering into your g-spot again, fast and rough, making you want to squirm away from the pleasure. When you tried to, his hand was quick to push your hips back down and just make you take it. It didn’t feel like a dominant move, more a petty, playful move than anything, and you found yourself panting and your head rolling back onto the mat.

“Shit, I can’t, Bin,” You whined, fingernails digging into the mat. You were sure you’d leave little crescent moon shaped indents afterwards. You could feel yourself getting close, never having experienced such intense solo stimulation to your g-spot before - fingers could move in different ways to what a dick could. “Bin, Bin, Binnie- Bin, pleasepleaseplease, hnng-”

Changbin leaned next to you, kissing your neck softly. “No need to beg me, little bunny. Cum whenever you want.”

You gasped out, feeling his palm go to press down on your belly. It made the fingers feel even deeper, and before you knew it, your thighs were shaking in one of the best orgasms you’d ever had in your life. 

“That’s it, there you go,” Changbin whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your ear. You didn’t think you were squirting, but Changbin was completely right, you’d never felt anything like this before. The ecstasy started at your pussy and felt like it was busting out all over your body, making your body shake and your eyes flutter shut. You were whining, moaning, possibly even close to screaming - all just from a few fingers. You came to, your chest flushed and your breathing heavy as you tried to calm down. Changbin was looking straight at you, smiling in that boyish way again and actually looking a bit bashful. “Do you, uh… do you still want more?”

Your eyes flickered down to his erection, still painfully thick and hard. His cockhead was red, leaking. “That’s not even a question, Bin. Gimme.”

Changbin giggled again, letting his fingers slide from your dripping hole. You grimaced at the loss, trying to move your legs back together, but you were shocked when Changbin grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up into his arms. 

“W-What? What are you-?”

He held onto your hips, waiting until your arms were wrapped around his neck securely to stand up. You were suddenly in the air, jaw still dropped while you stared at him in disbelief. He’d really just lifted you up like you were nothing. Your pussy was throbbing again. “Not using your legs, remember? I’m gonna hold you.”

“Y-You- oh.” You gasped when he was holding you close to him, letting one hand drop to position his cock at your entrance. You were being held up completely, one hand at the small of your back to hold you close and not let you fall while his other was finally allowing himself to have some release. Instead of pushing his dick in, his hands went back to your hips, staring into your eyes as he simply let you drop onto his cock, taking it in all at once. “Oh- oh shit, Changbin, it’s so fucking thick!”

Changbin simply grunted, giving you next to no time to adjust before he was grabbing your hips, bouncing you onto his cock. “G-Gonna just fucking use you like my little fucktoy. That… Is that okay, bunny?” He was struggling to get his words out, hands on your hips tightly while he moved you up and down on his cock. Your eyes rolled back into your head, fingers gripping onto his neck tightly. It was such a big fucking stretch, feeling like you were being ripped apart but you loved it, your hole leaking more slick the quicker he bounced you.

“Yeah, yeah, love it, fucking- use me like your fleshlight, Binnie,” You whined, letting your head drop into the crook of his neck. You could smell his sweat, the odour of manliness filling your senses and just proving to turn you on more. He was so manly, made up entirely of thick muscle and a thick fucking cock with a cheerful, loveable personality. The man fucking giggles, for God’s sake. You put your hands on his shoulders for purchase, trying to squirm to ride him yourself, but his tight grip was not one to be matched. 

“I’m not like Minho or Jisung, little bunny, I want to cum inside you and have you - fucking shit -  full of me,” Changbin groaned, pumping you quicker. You could feel his heavy balls slapping against your asscheeks, making you whine. You wish you’d got them in your mouth first. “C-Can I do that? Can I creampie this little pussy, get you to leak me out all day?”

You keened, nodding, eyes blurry. “Mm, yeah, want your cum Binnie. Gonna fill me up? Please, please,” You were babbling, feeling your cunt clench around him tighter at the mention of him filling you up with his cum. Thank God for birth control.

“Told you you don’t need to beg with me. You want me to cream inside of you? This pussy’s so tight, little bunny, it- it’ll be fucking- oh- overflowing, dripping out,” You clenched harder at that, eyes rolling back into your head. You were sure you were drooling on his shoulder. “So tight, so small. Feel so good around my cock, bunny. You’re so small, I can just pick you up like this and bounce you like a toy.”

“‘M not small, Binnie, you’re just fucking strong,” You whimpered. Changbin moaned loudly at this, walking you over to pin you against the wall. You could feel your back slide around on it with the sweat accumulating on your spine, but you really couldn’t give a fuck, focusing on the cock pistoning in and out of your dripping hole. His body against yours would keep you upright if you slid around, his chest nice and sturdy. “So strong, Binnie, shit- you’re so- your arms, your tits, fucking-”

“Yeah? Y-You like them?” Changbin asked, his biceps flexing with the effort of holding your hips up. His cock pumped steadily into you, him almost sounding insecure - you knew it was just the effect of the pleasure you were both feeling.

“Mm, love them. You’re so fucking sexy, Binnie, knew I had to have you,” You tightened your hand on his shoulder to let your other hand go down and rub your clit, rubbing steady circles around the small button. Changbin groaned, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing against yours to gaze down at you touching yourself. You let out loud moans and whines, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your peak. “Binnie, fuck- getting close, oh…”

Changbin nodded against your head, pulling your hips even closer to him to hit you deeper while he bounced you on his cock. You could feel the slick slide of his cock in and out of you, and he didn’t even look anything close to tired despite ramming you up and down on his cock for this long. He had some amazing stamina. “C’mon, pretty bunny. Cream all over my cock, c’mon. Feels good, yeah?”

“Yeah, f-feels so good, Binnie, ah-“ You jolted at a particularly hard thrust, fingers rubbing quicker against your bundle of nerves. “Yeah, yeah, gonna cum!”

“That’s it, you’re so- so fucking good for me. Binnie’s bunny is so good, h-huh? C’mon, let me feel you make a mess on my cock,” Your jaw dropped in a silent scream as your orgasm hit, making a mess of Changbin in a gushing orgasm. He moaned, encouraging you with little coos as you let the pleasure bloom from your pussy and all over your body. 

Changbin didn’t stop thrusting, something that alarmed you a bit, but you could handle it. You let him push you against the wall sharply and start to thrust into you instead, his hips moving on autopilot. You whined through the sensitivity, your walls still fluttering around him as he fucked up into your g-spot. 

You looked down at his cock stretching your hole, seeing the hair at the bottom of his tummy and his pubes wet with your juices. The sight was erotic, primal - it made you wonder if you could cum again. Without thinking too much into it, you dipped your fingers down to collect some of your cum that had amassed in the hair and pressed them into Changbin’s mouth.

He promptly keened into your mouth, tongue swirling around the digits. He let his jaw drop open, your wet fingers dropping out onto his chin. “Mm- gonna c-cum, please, please!” What was with these frat boys and begging you? You were still trying to ignore the sensitivity of your pussy and focus on the pleasure, but you nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah? Cum for me Binnie, come on. Breed me nice and full, yeah?” Changbin whined loudly, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. He was drooling all over your skin, pressing wet, messy kisses into your neck. All of a sudden, his hips halted, and you could feel a new warmth filling you up. He let out one singular whimper, his breath coming in heavy pants as he filled you up. 

You gripped his shoulders, letting him pull his head up to look at you. He gazed at you with watery eyes, before blinking at you and laughing in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, bunny. Fuck!”

You giggled, fingers dancing over his skin affectionately. “Good?” Changbin rewarded you with a scoff, still keeping his arms around you. He carried you over to a bench and promptly sat down, his softening cock still inside you. It was rather comforting. 

“Good? I don’t think I’ve ever behaved like that in my life. I’m normally a bit… softer,” Changbin admitted, his cheeks burning. You cooed, squishing his cheeks in your fingers and making him swat your hands away. “Hey, no!”

“Sorry, Binnie. You’re just super cute.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, timid and bashful. “Anyway, we should get you cleaned up and dressed. Minho’s gonna be here in about-“

A knock on the door interrupted you both, making you shoot up and off his lap. You clearly over judged your own stability though, because you immediately fell to the floor from how weak your legs were. You squeaked, face planting the ground.

Changbin burst out in hysterical giggles, barely managing to pull himself together to tug his boxers back on and go to unlock the door. You briefly wondered what was going on, why he was so ready to answer the door in so little clothes, and… had he said Minho was coming? Oh. The lock was slid open by Changbin’s deft fingers and then the door followed afterwards, opened just enough to allow a body to enter.

“Um. Are they okay? Did you kill them?” You looked up at the familiar voice, seeing Minho standing there in front of your eyes. You blinked.

“What… why are you here?” You managed to get out. Minho simply laughed mirthlessly. 

“Well, someone’s got to take responsibility for you and take you home when you’re fucked boneless, right?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You laid on Minho’s chest later that day, watching some random anime on his laptop perched on his lap. You weren’t even paying attention, thoughts running rampant. “Minho, is it weird you’re… um, letting me fuck your frat brothers?”

“Letting is the right word,” Minho hummed, fingers scratching over your scalp softly. “You make me feel good. Who would I be to deny my brothers the same pleasure?”

You nodded. It made sense, you supposed. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. But… are we…?”

Minho was brief, a monotone statement. “No more questions. You know what we are.”

You blinked. You nodded again, turning your attention back to the screen.

Whatever you and Minho were, your situationship that you had going on, you were content for the time being. You got to fuck around, live your hot bitch summer, and then go home to the one you wanted the most.

What could be more perfect, really?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[trashmouth-richie]

this comes from @serasvictoria with this ask the prompt words were: pillow, caught, crush

18+ no minors, angst leading to smut, vulgar, eddie talks about his dick and steve’s 😌

2.1k // eddie x fem reader

your ex hears you’ve moved on; is he ready to let you go?

send me a prompt!

“Don’t be a dumbass.” 

Ringed hands were folded together, glistening from the makeshift dramatic lighting in Gareth’s basement. 

In the summer, Hellfire moved locations from one member's place to another, rotating every Friday to a different place. A new aroma to tickle one’s nostrils upon entering whichever home was the designated spot for the evening, to host Hawkins very own hell bound teens. 

Some homes were kept nicer than others, while Eddie’s trailer smelled like stale cigarettes and bong water, the Sinclair’s living room was pristine with updated furniture, smelling of warm vanilla and the smell of dinner still lingering in the air. 

Gareth takes another gulp of Mountain Dew, wiping the lime colored beverage from his lips. Belching on the spot. 

“Why would I lie about that?” 

Eddie shifts in the folding chair leaning forward— the chain from his waist clinking on the metal, “whatever man, don’t fuck with me.” 

Gareth grins, hands up in surrender, “listen dude, I’m just telling you what we saw,  no need to shoot the messenger.”

What Gareth and Jeff had seen weighed heavy on their minds. They had even contemplated on keeping it secret. The two couldn’t decide if Eddie should know or if it would hurt him— in the end Gareth opened his big mouth and blurted it out, in the most repugnant way imaginable. 

The painted tin container used to hold dice was crushed under the weight of Eddie’s fist as he hammered it onto the table. 

Jeff shook his head, sucking in a breath between his braced teeth, looking away from the soon to be manic Munson. 

Eddie’s temper ran hot when it came to one thing—and one thing only, you. 

Raking his fingers through his scalp, he kicks the back of his chair upon standing, ragged breaths in and out, eyes to the ceiling. You still had a hold on him, it had been months—and the only one who seemed to not be able to move on was him. 

He chuckled, pinching the inner corner of his eyes and shaking his head, “one of you take over as DM, I gotta go.” 

Bounding up the stairs before he could hear any bitching from his two longest standing friends, the carpeted steps squished under his quickened boot steps. Stealing a cookie from an iridescent colored decorative plate on the kitchen counter, Eddie stomped out the front door and to the paved driveway, starting his van with a flick of his wrist, pedal to the floor as he reversed onto the street, running over flower beds in his wake.

—

The daffodil warmth of the sun was high in the sky, a small stitch of wind blew the blades of grass gently, feathering the soft pages of your book every so often. 

It was a perfect summer day as you laid out on your driveway, ass parked in a tiny kiddie pool from your youth, blue in color, the flimsy plastic circle was filled with cool water straight from the hose. 

A few shots of spiced whiskey danced on your tongue and tangoed with the carbonated bubbles of the mixed in Coke, fizzing with each slurp from your straw, you don’t have a care in the world. 

Admiring your freshly painted nails in the pastel bubble gum shade he had picked out— it was a stark contrast to the ruby reds you had been accustomed to— but those days were long gone, and things were finally starting to look up for you. 

It had been four months since Eddie broke things off, claiming he needed ‘space to find himself’ and although you spent a majority of that time wallowing in ice cream containers and mopping up tears when you saw a brown set of curls, or heard the jingle of a chain wallet— you moved on. 

He wasn’t from Hawkins. Didn’t know of Eddie at all, and you preferred to keep it that way. You were never ashamed of the boy you loved for so many years, the only embarrassment you felt was the night he ended things like someone would end a call after placing an order for pizza. 

Like it meant nothing to him, like you meant nothing to him. But that was then, and you were happier now.

So when you looked up to see Gareth’s wide eyes staring in shock was not at all how you imagined your date would go. You had been caught red handed by his best friends, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he found out. 

Toes twirling in the water you bobbed your head along to the music playing on the portable radio, sunglasses perched on your nose— not a single care in the world. 

Until the music turned to something more familiar.. the screech of guitars and aggressive tempos, you could practically feel the warmth leave your skin as the dark cloud of Eddie’s van cast its shadow on your skin, parked in your driveway like he belonged here. 

By the way he tore around the corner and through the stop sign— you knew he was pissed. The clunk of his rings scraped against the paint as he reached through the window to open the door—still broken. 

“I don’t smoke anymore Munson, but if you’re offering freeb—”

“Who is he?” he interjected, in no mood for your joking tone. 

Sucking your drink until the ice clinks together at the bottom—whiskey making you ballsier than you ever had been—you finally answer, “Who is who?” 

He crosses his arms, trying to stay calm, although all he wanted to do was scream, “the guy, cmon princess, don't play dumb with me.” 

Staring at him you can’t believe the audacity of the boy standing in front of you, coming here, demanding to know what’s going on in your life when he’s the one who practically skipped on his way out of it. 

instead of stomping around and causing you a scene, you simply ignore him, “you’re in the way.” 

“Huh?” 

Pointing with a lazy finger to the sky you watch as his eyes follow, “don’t tell me you came here to bitch me out, you’re wasting your time.”

He leans in over your body so close that you can see the chocolate color of his eyes, eyes that you'd lose count of the times you’d stare into them. 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me who he is.” 

“Okay.” You say nonchalantly, unbothered. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah go ahead, stay. ‘s long as you want,” you push yourself up from the pool, standing in a string bikini that matched your nails, “I’ll be the bigger person here, and I’ll leave.” 

Water dripped down your thighs as you walked to the front porch and pushed the door open, ready to slam it shut and twist the lock upon entry—but a dark boot prevents your dismissal.

Rolling your eyes you try to kick his knee to get him to move but he wouldn’t budge, and you huff in annoyance. 

“Pretty sure this is harassment.” 

You ignore the way he walks in your house like he knew his way around, even though he did, your house was a second home to him for years.

Shutting the door with dramatic flair, Eddie leans into your space, inches from your nose, “just answer my question sweetheart— and I’ll be on my happy little way.” 

“You’re deranged if you think I’m telling you anything.”

He cocks his head and laughs like a jerk, mocking you.

“Thata more than likely, but I know better than anyone,” his eyes undress you, fingernails skating across your thighs, “how much you like it.”

You turn and shout over your shoulder, “go home Eddie— I’m not in the mood for this!” 

He barrels around you, demanding your attention. 

“Aww you’re not in the mood?” his voice dipped to a gravelly bite of anger as he put his hand over his heart, “my sincerest apologies to your feelings baby…but I somehow don’t give a fuck about your little feelings when I find out from Gareth that you were sucking some guy’s dick in the Starcourt parking lot.” 

Your face heats in embarrassment and Eddie’s eyes are glassy, coated with pain. You never wanted to hurt him, never wanted him to look at you the way he is right now. 

“Ed—” 

He smirks.

“I think it’s cute…honestly, still doing the same shit you did with me…” he moves to brush your cheek with his thumb, “I’m flattered.”

“Get out,” you bite back, making to shove him to the door but you’re no match for him. 

“D’dya swallow for him like you did for me?” 

“Get..” 

“He bigger than me?” 

“…out!” your shoves are fruitless against his broad shoulders.

“Last I checked Harrington was the only one who had me beat… unless you’re fucking him too.”

The slap startled him, but he knew he deserved it. The torment in your eyes was fueled by his words and he fucking hated himself for making you feel that way. 

He was hurting too, body shaking with rage and swallowing tears the whole drive here. But, when your tears fell on the apples of your cheeks— all his pain turned to gloom. 

“I’m sorry— I— That was a dick thing to say.” 

“Do you think getting over you was easy for me?”

“I don’t know.” 

“It wasn’t.. and truthfully I don’t think I am yet, but what fucking choice did I have?!”

“Babe—.” 

“I loved you, Eddie… I still fucking love you. Why isn’t that—”

His large hands clutch your cheeks, warm lips press into yours with a magnetic force you had forgotten about. Eddie’s tongue tasted like the tobacco spice of a camel, and a subtle hint of mint, and you devoured it like you were starved. 

He whispers and groans how he was so stupid, a real dumb mother fucker, and that he never should have ended it. 

Accepting his apology—for now—you pull him towards the couch, heels rocking on the carpet until they hit firm on the plush sectional, still lip locked with the man you swore, that you hated to your friends but your pillow heard a different plea ever since he broke your heart.

His arms wrap around your waist, fingers daintily pulling the string from your bikini bottoms until the soft fabric hits the floor.  His Hellfire shirt joins them before you both collapse into one another on the cushions, Eddie’s hair draped into your face hiding you both away from consequences and the reality of bad decisions. 

He breaks away from your lips to lick up the slope of your neck, and your head angles back in ecstasy. His body temperature was like fire against your skin, curling your legs around his back you couldn’t get enough of him. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Eddie grooaned, grinding into your naked cunt, his tongue kitten licking around your neck, working his signature hickey into your skin, “my angel.”

You moan feather light in his ear, fingers twisted into his curls. His hand works down your front, sliding between your slick folds with skills you swore only he possessed. 

He played your body like a guitar, knew how to tune you up, the proper way to hold you. A true expert of his craft— your pretty little noises would harmonize from the simple touch of his fingers, your sweet cunt clinching onto him like vice. 

“Missed that sound,” he chuckled, his bangs pushed up from the angle on your neck as you came undone, “so pretty like this… drunk on how I’m making you feel.” 

Your eyes were pinched shut, chest heaving from the breath shattering orgasm you haven’t had since you got dumped by him. Nobody came close to the way Eddie could do it.

Kissing him square on the mouth, you twist your tongue with his, massaging them together as if a flame could spark from the pink wet muscles.

Intimacy with Eddie felt like home, like a warm blanket straight from the dryer when you were freezing. A cup of soup to soothe an itchy throat. 

He melted into you, collecting each gasp you choked out with a kiss from his lips, doing a poor job of hiding the smirk on his face when your breath was stolen from his pistoning hips. 

New— but entirely the same, your bodies fell back into each other like no time had passed and he made up for what was lost, twice. Each time your cries rang out like music to his ears— his favorite song. 

You slept now, adjusting to his arm wrapped around you, a kiss to your forehead, and a new plea in your pillowcase— for Eddie to stay, forever. 

[visceravalentines]

fever dream

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

7.6k words. dubcon ofc. reader is absolutely mentally bankrupt. stockholm is where we live, it's where we are, it's where we'll die. sporadic smut, pnv, fingering, and oral (fem!rec). blood and sweat everywhere. Bo calls reader a bitch a couple times but like, it's out of love or some shit. somno. alcohol use. nightmares. ghosts. swamp things. the ever-looming threat of death and depersonalization.

welcome back to my youtube channel. I have been. working on this fic. since May of last year. and it's finally done(?) it is long and weird and maybe bad and meant for you to get lost in. a journey with no destination. a haunted house only you are the haunted and the haunt and the house. tbqh I'm rewatching HoW today for the first time in months and months and I had to get this out of my drafts so I can check back into the sanitarium with minimal baggage, y'know?? I hope it makes you feel some type of way.

The summer heat is in your blood and the swamp is in your lungs and he is under your skin. 

You’ve never known an August like this, like a blister. You go to bed sticky and wake up drenched in sweat. The ceiling fan is a hurricane agent that offers no respite, just blows the humidity in vicious cycles. There’s no air conditioning in the house; it’s too old. Instead you wrap ice cubes in dish towels and press them to the back of your neck. 

A storm’s been hanging on the horizon for days. Thunder rolls out of a wall of iron gray, an idle threat. The air is soupy and super-charged. No rain comes. 

The nights are delirium. You go to bed on opposite sides of the mattress, oil and water. He sleeps naked, sprawled out like a water skeeter. The quilt sits scrunched at the foot of the bed for the season and he kicks the sheets off around midnight like something forcing its way out of a soft-shelled egg. 

You lie awake, listening to the cicadas and waiting. Just when you’ve started to cool down and drift off he reaches over and fumbles at your leg, grabs your arm. He pulls you on top of him, hands on your body beneath his old t-shirt. You ride him with your eyes closed and your breath hot on your lips. It’s a fever, the sweating, the shaking. 

You wake every morning suffocating under his arm in the center of the mattress with honey between your thighs. 

.

He drinks his coffee hot even though the steam can barely rise above the rim of the mug in the humidity. You pour yours over ice and savor the feeling as it seeps down your throat and into your stomach. You curl your toes on the linoleum and almost smile at him across the table. He’s golden from all his time in the sun. You can trace the lines of his wifebeater over his shoulders, across his chest. You stare at him across the table and think about the taste of his skin. You want to run your tongue along that tan line. 

He catches you staring. “What?” he says flatly. 

You redirect your gaze to your hands. Shake your head. Wait for him to move on so you can resume your perusal of his body.

When he looks away, out the window, the sun catches those eyes and turns them to sea glass. He needs a haircut; walnut curls crest over his ears like kudzu. When you get up to clear the table your skin peels from the vinyl seat cushion with a sting that makes you wrinkle your nose. 

“Be good,” he tells you before he leaves. You wonder what he means, what he thinks you might get up to in this house full of dust and guns and ghosts. You know better than to ask, and you nod and kiss him goodbye and feel his lips on your lips for hours afterwards. 

The day languishes. They all do. You kill a thousand flies. You mop the floor and track your own footprints across it before it dries. You hang his shirts on the clothesline in the side yard and feel like an insect trapped in the sap of time. You shave your legs in a cold bath and examine your skin:  sunburn, bug bites, bite marks. 

When he pulls into the driveway you’re on the front step eating a popsicle and counting the minutes. He saunters across the gravel like John Wayne, shoulders exposed, hair plastered to his neck. You meet his eyes and wrap your lips around the cherry-flavored mess dripping onto your fingers. He spits into the weeds and eyes you through his lashes. 

“What’s for supper?” 

You suck on your sticky thumb. There’s a full spread on the dining room table, ready and waiting. “Whatever you want.” 

He licks his lips. 

Supper gets cold. 

.

He brings home a bag of saltwater taffy, all raspberry. 

“Thought of you,” he says when he hands it to you. To your recollection, you have never mentioned taffy or raspberries or anything of the sort. You wonder who he thinks you are, whether he has you confused with someone else. 

You sit on the porch steps and amass a pile of wax paper wrappers beside you. It’s soft and melty, peels out of the wrapper with a sticky crackling sound. It’s salty and sour and tastes like cheap sugar. Like a memory of summer that may be real, or maybe not. Could be yours, or could be someone else’s.

You eat more than you want, until your teeth hurt and you can feel the hot spot on your tongue where a canker sore will form. You rake that spot back and forth across your incisors. You can’t help it. Sometimes it feels like things have to have a hurt to them. 

“You ever been to the fair?” you ask him over your shoulder.

He grunts from the porch swing. “Used to go when Vince ‘n me were little. Took Les a couple times when he was old enough.”

“You ever take a girl?”

“Nah.” His boot thumps on the porch, an offhand punctuation mark. “Couldn’t find one to go with me.”

You doubt that; you’ve seen his yearbook photos. But then again, maybe he was off-putting as a teenager. Spooky. Hadn’t quite learned how to camouflage yet. Came on too strong, wore too much cologne, used too many teeth.

You survey the vast swath of woods that surrounds Ambrose and try to imagine a ferris wheel, red and blue and blinking, rising from the green like the hump of a whale.  “I’d go with you.”

He snorts. “Yeah?”

You look down at the piece of taffy in your fingers. You don’t really want it. You unwrap it anyway. “Yeah.” You gnaw on the candy like a dog savoring a scrap. “Be like a date,” you say thickly.

“What, you wanna skip down the midway holdin’ hands? Makin’ out in the Tunnel of Love?”

You can picture it, sunset and a sundress. He’s laughing. You’re laughing. The crowd is made of wax. “You could win me a stuffed animal.”

He scoffs again, but then he asks you, “What kinda stuffed animal you want?”

You think for a second, unstick the taffy from your molars and push it around your mouth with your tongue. “A Louisiana crocodile.” A souvenir from your time in the South. Maybe it’ll be wearing a little trucker hat and a smile that doesn’t reach its eyes.

“Ain’t got crocodiles here, sugar. ‘S all alligators.”

“Fine, an alligator then.”

You run your hands over your shins, sticky with the humidity. The chains of the porch swing creak rhythmically behind you. The sea of trees is dark and still and endless.

“Fair don’t come ‘round here anymore,” he says finally.

You force the taffy down your throat, swallow hard, and reach for another one.

“Figures.”

.

You’re buzzed and reckless, sucked down a pair of beers too fast just because they were frosty. The shears snick like some needy, nipping thing. You found them upstairs under the bathroom sink once upon a time and you always put them back when you’re done. They’ve been there longer than you’ve been alive. You comb your fingers across his scalp and loose locks drift onto your clean floor. 

“Don’t take it too short,” he admonishes into the mouth of his beer bottle. “You butcher me, I butcher you.” 

You roll your eyes behind his back. “Have I ever?” 

He grunts in acquiescence. That’s as close to a win as you’ll get. 

The windows are open; the thunder presses against the frayed screens. A gigantic moth flings its feathery body repeatedly at the ceiling light. You run your hand through his hair slow just to feel it between your fingers, thick and soft. Your thumb glances off the scar on the left side of his skull and comes back for another pass. 

He jerks his head, puts a stop to that. “You done?” 

“Almost.” 

You’re particularly fond of the curls at the nape of his neck, always save them for last. You coil one around your finger. You want to ask him if you can keep it, but you’re afraid he’ll say no or worse, that he’ll say yes. He’ll ask for something in return. You’ll give it to him, no matter what it is. You give him anything he wants, everything he wants. It’s the least you can do, the most you can do. 

You snip them one by one, bittersweet. 

“Done.” 

He leans over in the chair to examine his reflection in the window. “Good enough.” 

He stands up and drains the dregs of his beer. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you in and you bend like a reed, peering up at him, inspecting your work. He smells like sweat and sun. You grip his shirt in your fists and move with him as he sways lazily side-to-side. 

He gives you the gift of a smile, half-cocked and handsome. “You wanna dance, mama?”

Your fingers spider-creep up the shield of his chest and lock behind his neck. His skin is hot and sticky against your wrists, clipped hairs poking and itching. Your hips bump against his like a car on a back road, lost, no cell service. You wish there was music playing. 

He tilts his head towards you and you get caught in the trap of his mouth. The thunder moans. You can feel the sweat beading on your upper lip, in the pit of your elbows. His hands are heavy on your bones. 

His jaw scrapes along your temple like a razor blade and a fever chill rolls over your skin, hot-cold. “G’on upstairs, get those clothes off.” 

Have you always been such a good listener? 

.

He comes home drunk and fucks you on the table, in the midst of supper left cold and waiting for him. You knew he’d be hungry. You are right about some things and wrong about others.

You wince every time a dish topples off the table and shatters on the faded linoleum. He doesn't look at you, not once.

Afterwards, he disappears for a while and leaves you to clean up the kitchen. You are dazed, legs unsteady, leaning on the counter like an old friend. It’s been a bad day. Dinner has soaked through the back of your shirt and so you take it off, hang it over the back of a chair for later, and set to work on the mess.

You cannot puzzle out how he managed to get blood on every dish you are trying to wash until finally you realize it is yours, seeping quietly from a slice on your palm. When he comes up behind you your spine stiffens, arching like a snake making a final stand. He puts his hands on your bare waist and his lips against the back of your head like a sweetheart, like a husband, like a different person.

“Leave it, darlin’. Come sit on the porch with me.”

You bite your lip, lift your palm so he can see it, watch the world blur with saline. “I cut myself,” you say, and only then does the sting set in, so sharp you can feel it in your teeth.

He makes a sympathetic noise and cups your hand in his. “Now why’d y’go and do that?”

You open your mouth to answer but only a moan comes out as he lifts your arm and seals his lips over the cut. He sucks, gently at first and then harder, hard enough you feel the seam of skin separate and your fingers jerk like puppets to the pain. He lets you go and you cradle your hand to your chest as he laps your blood off his lip.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, takes your arm, tugs you from the sink. “C’mon. I need a smoke.”

You follow him onto the porch, curl up in his lap with a dishrag pressed to your palm and watch smoke and moths float around the light.

Your blood dries on the dishes with the gravy.

.

The clouds boom a reminder that they are still hanging above the house, but you are already awake in the split second beforehand. You are cocooned in the sheets and panic for a moment, arms pinned to your chest, bedroom black as a coffin. When you claw free, gasping, the air is like moss draped spongey and damp across your face. 

You worm out of the bed, out of the room, stagger into the hallway and down the stairs in the dark. You are mere steps ahead of some emaciated beast, its breath muggy on your cheeks and the back of your neck. You twist your shirt off and throw it on the floor of the den before it can strangle you, wrench the front door open and slam through the screen with both hands. 

The night is wet in your nose. One hundred million insects scream to God. In the back of your mind you think about joining them. Your toes scuff to a stop on the precipice of the porch and you peer into the darkness with round eyes, bare chest heaving for more air than you can hold. You are drowning here, surrounded by trees, surrounded by more green than you ever knew existed in the world. 

Somewhere out there, someone is mourning you. You can feel it tonight, crackling in the ozone like the storm that won’t break. 

You wrap your arms around yourself and sink to the ground, sit perched on the top stair in your panties and sweat-drenched skin. The nail of your index finger rips apart the cuticle of your thumb. Mosquitos float open-armed to your legs like swamp angels. It’s too hot to cry. 

The yellow porchlight struggles to life. The screen door bangs flatly behind you. He can’t ever pick up his feet, scuffing through the dust you haven’t swept. 

His fingers brush the bone of your shoulder. You don’t flinch nowadays, usually. “Y’alright?”

You don’t have to answer that. Let him wrap his hand around your throat and fishhook his fingers into your mouth to pull your jaw open, you don’t have to answer that. You grit your teeth and dig crescent moons into your thighs with all ten fingernails.

Your silence doesn’t bother him. He leans on the railing to your left, curling his toes on the concrete, looking out into the night. Sleep has mussed his hair to one side and left imprints of the sheet fanning across his chest. There’s a hickey in the shape of your mouth in the curve of his neck. Lightning flutters shy among the clouds and the thunder reprimands it. There’s something stuck in your throat, something you can’t swallow down no matter how hard you try. Moths flock to the porchlight. If anyone was alive in the town to look up the hill, they’d see you haloed, and him too. 

“‘S late. Come back to bed.”

You can’t remember your home address. You can picture the house, the sidewalk in front of it, cracks in the driveway. The rest is like a dream. The house behind you doesn’t have an address. No number, no mailbox. You can feel it sucking at the base of your spine like a leech, coaxing you in, tipping you backwards all wrong like a gravity hill. You feel eyes on you, all the time, no matter what room you’re in. 

“You listenin’ to me? Let’s go.”

You can’t go back inside. You can’t go back inside. Something in you doesn’t line up right. Someone is holding a pillow over your face.

“No,” you think you say out loud. The word flutters off into the night. You watch a mosquito drift beyond the reach of the porchlight and disappear. The stars bow gracefully into the arms of the clouds. 

After a beat, he shuffles out of your periphery. The screen door slams. Maybe this time. When you least expect it. Maybe he's sick of you at last. You pick at a scab on your knee until it comes loose and flakes off, and then you pinch the skin around the wound and squeeze until a bead of blood, scarlet-black, mounds and breaks and gets all over your fingers. You raise them to your mouth and suck them clean and it tastes familiar. Safe. 

He doesn’t come back with a knife, or a gun. He comes back with the quilt and sheet from the bed, a pillow stuffed under his arm. He unfurls the quilt on the porch. The pillow flops to the ground like something hunted to extinction. He follows suit. 

“C’mere.” He wrestles with the sheet, props himself up on an elbow and punches the pillow into place. “C’mon.” 

You breathe, just for a minute, watching him. You want to hate him so bad it hurts. You want him to hit you so you’d have a reason to hit back. You want to fight for your life because you can feel it slipping away, waning, evaporating in the heat. Already you’ve found shreds of yourself under the couch, covered in dust. You are drowning. You are thirsty. He is water, cold and brackish. 

You rise from the stairs and come to him because you need him, because he is all you have. 

“Get the light,” he says. 

You go and come back and his hand finds your calf in the dark, slides up the back of your knee, guides you to the ground. The quilt is a mockery of softness, the porch unyielding beneath. You curl up with him at your back and he folds his arm around you, thumb worrying aimlessly at your nipple. His breath is hot on the nape of your neck. 

The air roils in your lungs. The night surges in. You are alone, so alone, aching with loneliness, now and always. You close your fingers around his wrist and guide his hand between your legs. He rubs the cotton of your panties with something like pity and you let a moan seep from your throat. 

Your face lolls into the pillow and it smells like fever dreams and cold-sweat nightmares. The fabric of your underwear catches on your clit and you gasp, arching against his chest.

“Easy,” he murmurs as his fingers drag back and forth. He hooks his foot around your ankle, forces your legs open. You asked for this. You’ll take it and thank him. 

Lightning silhouettes the world beyond the porch in black and purple. When you close your eyes, you see the rooftops of the town in the colors of heaven. You rock against his hand and pretend you’re someone else somewhere else. You feel the thunder in your teeth and wish with all your heart the rain would fall. 

He puts an abrupt end to the friction and cups you in his palm, wide and warm. You make a plaintive sound and wiggle your hips, push your ass against him. You need to feel something. You need him to help you. Otherwise, you might disappear beneath the horrible blanket of the night. 

“Please,” you moan. 

He presses his lips to the back of your neck, whispers into the shell of your ear like a lover. “You love me?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes.” 

His teeth graze your skin as he slips his fingers past the waistband of your panties. 

“Good.” 

You wonder if he knows he keeps saving your life. 

.

The house is a midden of family misery. There’s barely space for you between heaps of clothing and glassware and mass market paperbacks. You live sideways amid the boxes and bottles and beer cans. He refuses to let you throw anything away. No matter how much you sweep and dust and tidy, the clutter seems to crawl right back across the carpet like morning glory. 

Late morning finds you in the master bedroom. It’s sweltering up here. The air sticks to your face like tattered gauze. The junk in here is of a particular breed, more meaningful—photo albums, baby clothes. Much of it has been stacked high just inside the door like a battlement. A fortification between this room and the rest of the house. You’re not allowed in here. 

Neither is he. 

Beyond the wall, everything sits untouched. A layer of dust rests primly on the bedside tables, the vanity, the yellow quilt still neatly made up on the bed. The art on the wall is sun-bleached in evenly spaced lines from the half-open blinds. The silence crowds your ears. It feels like standing in a tomb, the family crypt. 

With courage paper-thin, you've decided you'd like to confront the heart of the horror. Like shoving your fingers down the throat of the beast trying to bite you. Like making a home in its mouth, a bed in its bed. You want to eat me so bad, you’ll have to savor every scrap. 

It’s eerie in here. This room is brighter than the rest of the house by far. You can feel that parasitic presence all around you, cajoling you with hands that are soft and dry. There is a faint, floating smell of faded flowers. You breathe slowly to keep yourself from sprinting back downstairs.

You gaze at yourself in the vanity mirror. The dust almost erases you from sight, almost. You reach a finger out and draw a single streak across the silvery surface. You’re in there, somewhere. Sometimes you forget. 

The front of the vanity holds a trio of slim drawers with tiny gold handles. You catch one with the tips of your fingers and tug, just slightly. It creeps open without resistance. The inside is lined with green velvet. You pull it open all the way and search through the contents with your eyes. Blush, lipstick. Eyeshadow in seven shades of blue. You slide the drawer closed and move on to the next one, the widest one in the middle. 

This one holds a treasure trove of golden baubles:  a jumble of earrings, half a dozen hairpins, a long, thin cigarette holder. A string of pearls that look too chipped and dull to be real. And a locket, oval-shaped and decorated with a halo of tiny vines. You pick it up and the chain slips over your fingers like a thin, shining snake. 

You dig your nail into the seam and pop it open. To your muted disappointment, it is empty. No husband. No children. 

It’s yours, you decide suddenly. You want it. You've earned it. A prize, a consolation for the hell you’ve been through. For the fact that you have survived him, and she has not. You wonder if he’ll recognize it. Part of you hopes that he does. You imagine the look on his face and his hands on you afterwards. Your mouth is wet. 

This might be her house, will always be her house. But you do not belong to her. You have been spoken for again and again, and perhaps you should thank him for that. 

In the daylight you remember that you aren’t scared of ghosts, and that you have nothing left to give. Plenty of dead women have laid claim to you already. This one cannot have you, and for that matter, she can’t have him either. 

You hear the rumble of his truck out front and the thrill of fear that shoots down your spine is so cold it’s almost welcome in the stuffy room. You shove the locket into the pocket of your shorts and fling the drawer shut. It closes with a soft, complicit thunk. 

You pick your way back through the boxes and slip through the door like a reptile into water; smooth, silent. You make sure it latches behind you before you hurry to the top of the stairs. 

Out of the corner of your eye, just before you dip out of sight below the banister, you see something bend the light that reaches through the crack beneath the door. You freeze, turn your head only slightly. You see nothing. Only sunlight. Certainly no feet, dainty and bare, padding across the carpet with red-lacquered toenails. 

Panic, delayed, breaks loose. You gallop down the stairs so quickly you forget to skip the ones that creak. 

By the time he comes inside, slamming the door fit to shake the frame of the house, you are hunched over the dishes in the sink like you’ve been there all morning. If you are unduly quiet, he doesn’t seem to notice, and if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care. 

.

“I think I love you.”

You say it half-casual, half-pronouncement, the way you might tell your mom you’re dropping out of college. Tell your boyfriend you’re over him. Tell your boss you’re moving to Louisiana. “I mean it this time.”

Bo snorts, lifts his beer to his lips. “That so?”

You shoo a bee from the rim of your glass and suck down the last of your drink. You just might be drunk. “Yup.”

“Think that’s the bourbon talkin’.”

You roll your eyes, shimmy a little in an effort to make the busted lawn chair more comfortable. You thought he’d be more excited. “Why don’t you ever believe me?”

He smacks his lips like he’s considering his answer. The sunlight shifts through the trees and you close your eyes, blissful. “Lemme ask you this. You ever set a snare, baby?”

You can feel it in your blood:  the sun, the breeze, the brook bubbling over your toes. It’s not so bad, you think. Sometimes. It’s not so bad.

“Hey.” He leans over in his chair and snaps his fingers, splintering your peace. “I asked you a question.”

“Nah. Never set a snare. Some of us were normal kids.”

He ignores this and you feel like you’ve gotten away with something. “Well, sometimes you catch a critter, but it don’t strangle to death like it’s s’posed to.” 

You frown. 

“So you gotta do somethin’ about it, right? But you gotta be real careful. Can’t get caught up by the sufferin’. Gotta keep your head about you, y’know?” He’s not looking at you, but you can picture his lips, twisted in something like a smile. “‘Cause it don’t matter what it is…raccoon, possum, bunny rabbit…that sucker’ll take your hand off if y’let it.”

Your throat is sensitive all of the sudden, feels closed off. Maybe you swallowed a bee. “What are you even talking about?”

His head lolls lazy to the left and he stares at you for a second in a way that makes your hair stand on end. Then he chuckles, winks at you, turns away and leans back in his chair. 

“Nothin’, sugar. You’re awful cute.”

.

The heat wreaks havoc on the lifeless inhabitants of the town. You trail behind him like a listless kite as he makes the rounds, checking for damage, hauling the worst afflicted home to Vincent. It baffles you how much he seems to care about them. How much investment he has in keeping the rot contained beneath a pristine cosmetic veneer. For what? For who?

You don’t tell him it’s all rot, all of it, the people, the buildings. The trees. The air. Him. You. 

Some days, most days, you can’t quite look them in their faces. It’s guilt, you suppose. Guilt and acknowledgement of a fear so pervasive you no longer notice the way it clings like a second skin. You’ve convinced yourself if you meet their eyes you’ll find them glaring at you, envious and accusatory. Or worse–you’ll see the future, suspended in the flat, glass pupils of a dead game animal.

Occasionally you punish yourself by looking too closely. You note the receding hairlines, where the skin beneath the wax has dried and pulled taut and shifted the scalp along with it. You observe the way the light shines through plump round fingertips that are only hollow shells of wax, all that soft flesh desiccated and shriveled to a skeletal wedge underneath. You wonder, sometimes, whether Vincent smoothed over any flaws–scars, moles, asymmetrical lips. You touch your face subconsciously and think about the things he might fix for you.

It makes you feel like you are tiptoeing on the precipice of sanity, arms wide, just waiting to topple.

You take a particular interest in their clothing, wonder whether it belonged to them or to someone from the town. You never ask Bo, although you know he could tell you. You ignore the obvious parallels like a badly stitched seam. None of the clothes you wear belong to you either.

There are more residents than you ever imagined, half the houses not as empty as you assumed. Ten years, three brothers, three hundred and forty-nine holes to fill. You were decent at math in a past life, but nowadays, you try your hardest not to solve problems, no matter how they howl and scratch at the door. You’ve become adept at avoidance of the obvious in favor of learning how to assimilate into the cobwebs and shadows. No one can kill you if you’re already dead. You believe that so hard sometimes you can’t see your own reflection.

You believe it so hard that when you find it, on a girl in a house on a street you’ve only been down once or twice, you can’t make sense of it for several long seconds, staring dumbstruck and stupid while the static subsumes your brain.

“Let’s go,” he barks from the sitting room. The couches are pink and floral and faded.

You cannot move. You are made of wax.

“You deaf? Come on.”

She’s wearing cutoff jeans and the t-shirt you bought on a trip two years ago, or maybe three. There’s blood, brown and faded from half-hearted washing, streaking the collar and left sleeve.

Her hair is lighter than yours, and shorter. Her feet are smaller. Her nose is bigger. But the shirt is yours, and so is the blood, and for a second, you know you are a ghost.

“Hey.” He grabs your arm and turns you around. You think maybe she’ll move, now that you’re not looking. “You got a problem?”

You cannot answer him, because you do not have a voice. Because your lips have been glued together and painted the perfect pink. His gaze flicks from you to the girl and back and you wonder if he kissed her the way he kisses you. You hope he can see it, the way you are withering under the wax. You hope he will pick you up, cradle you in his arms, take you home and take care of you, make you whole, make you human.

Isn’t that all you’ve ever asked for?

He snaps his fingers in front of your face and you flinch, because you are real after all.

“Let’s go.”

You let him push you towards the door, hear him close it behind you, feel the floorboards shiver as he follows you down the hall. He puts his hand on the small of your back and ushers you out of the house, down the sidewalk cracked and stuffed with weeds keeling over in the heat. You can feel your feet melting to the concrete, skin crawling, sagging. You try not to stumble. You don’t want him to leave you behind.

“She ain’t you,” he mutters at the end of the street, so low you barely hear him over the buzz of the cicadas.

You aren’t sure if he’s lying, now or ever. You don’t ask him where her clothes are and he doesn’t offer. She might not be you, but you might be her. And you both might be someone else.

Either way, the shape of her is burned into your vision in blue and green, and she shakes her head at you when you close your eyes.

.

You wake to the sound of rain on the roof and it pulls you immediately from bed, stumbling sightless over your feet to get to the window. You yank on the mangled cord to raise the blinds and sure enough, the dust of summer is melting down the window in waves.

“Bo,” you say hoarsely. “Bo, look.”

It is then that the silence of the room seeps into your brain, the conspicuous lack of snoring. Your heart sinks into your wringing stomach. 

In a perfect world, he’d be taking a leak. He’d stumble back to bed and wrap you in his arms, press a kiss to your temple, and you’d drift back to sleep in the bliss of air conditioning. 

Your world is a few dirt road miles south of perfect.

You have to go find him. Find him and haul him out of whatever dark place he’s waded into, before he comes back worse than he went in.

The hall is a throat you have to fight against to get to the stairs, black and humid with walls that breathe. You feel cobwebs on your face and slap them away only to realize it’s your own hair caught on your lashes. The glow of the TV laps at the bottom step like floodwater, makes the carpet undulate like something just sank below the surface. You hesitate, for just a second, before you step down and feel solid ground beneath your feet.

He sits slouched on the couch in front of a screen full of static, deadeyed, jaw clenched. He doesn’t seem to notice you, quiet, creeping thing that you are. The static sounds like rushing water. Mangroves rise from the shadows in the corner of your eye. Lilypads part around your feet. If you turn your head just right, his eyes flash red in the light.

You stop halfway between the stairs and the couch, unsure what kind of animal you’re approaching. Your hands float up like a shield, like a bridge. “Bo,” you say softly, and it echoes in the night. “Are you okay?” 

He blinks, like a person. You notice a bite mark, a purple half moon in the meat of his forearm. Your skin is well acquainted with the shape of his teeth. 

“Bo,” you whisper. You don’t want to get closer. “Come back to bed.”

You hear a splash in the kitchen. The carpet squishes between your toes. Something brushes your ankle and wriggles away. You need to get out of here. You can’t leave without him. 

“Baby…please.” You step towards him and freeze as he lurches forward, sits up straight. His hands dangle between his knees, his gaze still locked on the fuzz of the television. 

“I killed my mama, y’know.” 

His voice is pitched, low and dull. A sheen of sweat glistens on his upper lip and cheekbones. The color is gone from his face and here, in this place, he looks almost green.

You fight to form breath into words. “I…I know.”

He’s speaking again as though he didn’t hear you. You can see in his eyes he is far, far away. “I watched her die. Took a real long time. But I stayed…waited. Had to make sure.”

The water is rising, cold and slick, over your ankles and up your calves. Panic rises with it, packs into your throat like silt. “You were real brave, baby. You did it. You made sure.” Your voice is thin as a reed. 

A terrible, empty grin cracks his face and then vanishes without a ripple, and now he looks at you for the first time and his eyes are hollow and blue as marbles and he whispers, “Then why ain’t she dead?”

The water surges to your knees like it’s been displaced by something large, something prowling. You teeter forward, heart hammering, splashing as you regain your balance. Too loud, too loud. Do alligators eat each other?

“She’s dead, Bo. She is.”

“Don’t lie to me, bitch!” He rises to his feet so fast you lose your balance again, flinching back from him. “She ain’t and you know it. You’ve seen her, she’s here! In this fuckin’ house!”

You shake your head quickly and in your periphery something ducks beneath the surface of the water. “No. She’s not.” Convince him, convince yourself, make it true.

His chest is heaving, his gaze darting around the room, searching. You can picture a shadow in shadow, curled up and waiting in the corner of the ceiling like a fat black spider, fingers splayed wide and tipped sharp and red. 

Bo grips the back of his head and moans and it echoes off the trees, too loud, too loud. “Fuckin’...everywhere.”

Faded flowers. Blush, lipstick. A trick of the light. A locket wrapped in vines. Something hunting, just below the surface. If you let it rip him apart, would it come for you next?

“She’s everywhere…in my goddamn head….” He sways on his feet like he might fall and if he does, if the swamp swallows him, you’ll die here in this place.

“Hey.” You close the distance, push through the muck, brush his elbow. “Hey!”

He smacks you away, snaps his jaws closed. “Don’t touch me!”

You cringe and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Something groans in the dark. Something moves near the ceiling. 

His eyes on you are predatory, cold and empty, and his brow furrows. “Who are you?” he demands.

Wide-eyed, you open your mouth to answer him, but there is nothing on your tongue but moss. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

He leans toward you. “Who the fuck are you?”

You hold your hands up in front of you, backing away, mud between your toes. Your fingers are skeletal. Your nails are painted red. “I don’t know!”

A terribly low, vibrating sound is rising from the water, sending ripples in all directions, freezing your heart in your chest. He moves towards you and the swamp parts around him, allows him to pass like he is a part of it.

“You ain’t leavin’, baby.”

His teeth are sharp.

He lunges.

You scream.

The sound gets caught in your throat like a wad of feathers and bones and you choke, twisting, coming to in your bed. In his bed. Disoriented, you gasp for breath and release the death grip you have on the sheet. Your brow is so sweat-soaked your eyes are beginning to sting. The air is dry on your skin; the blanket is gone. The lower half of your body is tingling.

His head lifts from between your thighs and he looks at you with eyebrows raised. “Easy, sugar. Ain’t done with you yet.”

“Wh…what?” You rub at your eyes, trying to shake the sensation of water closing over your face. Somewhere, some version of you is bleeding in the silt.

His tongue makes another pass and you whimper, arms shaking with the effort of holding yourself up, of treading water, of fighting the maw of a monster. “Relax, baby. Go back to sleep.”

It’s all so insurmountable, the weight of it on your chest, and you sink back into the mattress without a ripple. His mouth is wet and warm. His dark hair is disheveled and you wonder absently if he misses it, that lock you stole. The room is silent save for the sound of your drowning.

“Is it raining?” you whisper, and hate yourself for the hope behind it.

He pauses, meets your gaze over the watery surface of your body. All you can see are his eyes and you could swear, for a second, they reflect neon red. “No.”

You let your head drop back onto the pillow, let him devour you, feel a tear slip over the brim of your lashes and disappear into your hair.

.

The storm breaks on a Wednesday. 

At first, you don’t register the rain on the roof. You don’t even take note of the thunder anymore, after weeks of torment. It’s become a fixture like the dust, like the pervasive smell of decay.

It starts slow, cautious, rolling into town like a tourist with a busted GPS. You mistake the patter for the familiar buzz of TV static even though that makes no sense, even though you’re the only one in the house, even though the TV is off in the next room. All you can hear is the rough swish of the scrub brush on the hardwood floor, coaxing flecks of blood from the gaps between the boards. It’s already beginning to reek in the heat.

You wanted to clean it up last night when it was fresh but he wouldn’t let you, strongarmed you up the stairs and pinned you to the mattress. You’d never admit it to him, to God, or to yourself—and really, is there a difference in Ambrose—but he fucks so good when he’s riled up like that, when it feels like he can’t get enough of the killing so he’s going to take it out on you, take everything you have to offer him plus a little bit more.

The cut on your palm is half-healed and hurts when you put your weight on it. There’s something about that—familiar, comfortable, not grounding, not really, but like static. Stable. Buoyant. Like the bruises on your knees. A constant that cradles you and takes you up and out of here, not too high, just above the trees.

A stair creaks behind you and you freeze like a hare in the shadow of a hawk. It could be Vincent, but he’s busy with last night’s batch. It’s not Bo.

You ease yourself up onto your knees, rock back, stand up, and creep to the foot of the stairs. They are empty. You are alone with the sense that someone has just disappeared out of sight, retreating up into the aching cranium of the house, skirt swishing.

You are never alone, not really.

It’s only then that the sound of the rain seeps into your brain, soothes the hair standing up on the back of your neck. A weight you have been holding on your shoulders since the end of July dissolves like sugar and your spine lengthens by inches. You drop the brush, forget the ghost, walk barefoot through the bloodstain on your way to fling open the front door.

It rains.

It rains even though the clouds are thin, the sun forcing its way through in places like it just can’t bear to admit defeat. It rains and pools in the potholes of the driveway that have been waiting open-mouthed to be filled. It rains and the grass and weeds release a sigh of bliss, stop begging for mercy.

You step down from the porch in a trance, palms up and open, trailing pink-tinged footprints that melt across the concrete like raspberry taffy. You walk across the lawn, scuff your feet in the grass, wonder if maybe you’re dreaming and decide you don’t care.

You sink to the ground, sprawl on your back, feel the damp soak into your clothes and your skin and it makes you whole, makes you new, makes its apologies for taking so long. You are floating, only eyes above the water, surrounded by salvinia and duckweed.

You hear his footsteps just before he calls to you. “The fuck you doin’, girl?” he shouts, but when you open your eyes, he’s losing a fight with a grin, picking his way up the slippery hill.

You sit up halfway. “It’s raining.”

“Y’don’t say.” He drops to his knees beside you, slumped with relief.

His wifebeater is splattered with blood and water but you grab it with both fists and pull him to you, catch his mouth and coax him to the ground.

“Crazy bitch,” he mutters, but he guides your hands to his belt and grips your ass with both hands as you fuss with the buckle, even rolls onto his back to ease your way and lifts his hips so you can tug down his jeans. “Right here, huh?”

“Yes.”

“In the front goddamn yard.”

“Yes!”

“It’s fuckin’ rainin’!”

“I know!”

He laughs and the heavens giftwrap it with a roll of thunder. You're giddy, beaming at him, and he traces your smile with the pad of his finger and something akin to admiration.

You're brand-new, him too, and both of you together. Like it's the first time, a better first, another universe. His hands are on your thighs and his shirt rides up above his stomach. Water drips off your nose and onto his lips and he licks it off like it might save him and maybe it just might. Maybe it’ll save you both.

Exhausted, exalted, you wash the sweat and grime off each other with filthy hands and thirsty mouths. You wrap your fingers around his bare shoulders and ride him with your eyes open and your breath hot on your lips. It’s a fever breaking, the panting, the shaking.

The locket taps against your chest, the lock of his hair tucked inside it. He cups your face, slips his thumb in your mouth, and there’s blood beneath his fingernail. You suck it clean with greed and obedience, savor it, turn your face to the sky and let the crocodile tears run down your cheeks.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, and you bask in the rare and wondrous glow of his approval.

You come apart in splashes like raindrops, small, staccato swells in your core while he kisses the rain off your skin. His hands find the bruises they’ve left on your hips and squeeze and it’s all you could ever ask for, to be held. To be hurt. To be his.

Maybe it’s not so bad, you think. Sometimes. It’s not so bad.

“Y'know, girl, maybe you're right,” he says. "Just this once."

You’re confused until you realize you’ve spoken out loud. You look down at him, cold skin, wet curls, a smudge on his jaw that could be mud or blood, his or yours or someone else’s. He looks back like he sees you.

“You love me?” you ask him before you can think better of it. Before the rain stops.

The corner of his mouth twitches. His gaze slides past you, goes somewhere else, above the sea of trees. The sky is in his eyes. “Sometimes.”

You don’t smile, don’t sigh, just push the hair off his brow and sink slow and gentle beneath the surface and into the green, not a ripple made in your wake.

“Good.”

[oneforthemunny]

since @lesservillain moodboard, i’ve been thinking about summerween with eddie with very careful thought.

eddie gets an itch, a craving, an incessant need to dig out halloween decorations in the middle of the summer- during a heatwave, for whatever reason. you’re terribly confused on why he’d open the attic, bitching at him for letting all that hot air in. the air conditioner unit was hanging on by a thread as it is, and the small attic space just amplified the already sweltering room.

“babe, i’ve got a really good idea.” eddie comes out grinning, holding the plastic tub labeled ‘spooky shit’ in eddie’s scribbled writing on top. his eyes are wide, smile even wider and more erratic. you know he’s got a wild hair, an idea that has you both excited and a little apprehensive.

halloween movies in the late june seemed odd. the season was close enough, why rush it? eddie was beyond excited. excited to rig up an old sheet, snag a projector from some buddy at work. how he’s convinced gareth’s mom to let them use the backyard (after the bonfire incident of ‘85) you weren’t sure, but you’d helped him set up. sweating and placing the faux gravestones into the ground in the hot temperatures.

eddie had scrounged together a line up, a mix of classics and slashers, all ones you’d watch in the later months of fall. when the leaves were changing and days got shorter, normally cuddled on eddie’s couch to stay warm. for now, you laid on the blankets over the ground, knees touching his, sharing popcorn out of the plastic halloween bowl with all his friends.

“i gotta admit,” you hummed, looking back at eddie, the dull light of the projector illuminating over your features. “this was a pretty good idea.”

eddie grinned proudly. “yeah? i think everyone likes it.” he looked around at all his friends, some chatting, others locked in on the screen.

“they definitely are.” you smiled back, knocking your shoulder to his gently. “i am too.”

“good. ‘m glad you are.” eddie beamed, leaning closer to you. “i’ll put beetlejuice on next, just for you.” he pecked your lips gently, a sweet kiss that left you swooning.

[cultofdixon]

You made it, dumbass

Daryl Dixon [ROMANTIC] | Glenn Rhee [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Even when the illness was starting to take the lives of those within the prison. These two were keeping it together, even if death tried taking them. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Illness / Anxiety / Hallucinations

Requested by: Anon

The prison was starting to feel like home

Then Patrick started eating people…

“Locking up people like animals. Where have I seen that before” Y/N scoffs as she was being updated by Glenn on the illness situation in the prison fields.

“…We live in a prison. Are you referring to a prison?”

“I don’t think I like what I was implying and you saying an obvious answer”

“There’s more than one??” Glenn looks at his best friend confused watching her deadpan expression burn a hole into him. “Yeah okay so there is. Anyway, we just need to be careful. We’ve already been exposed by taking care of the outbreak. We don’t need another one happening”

“If I get sick it’d be obvious.”

“You are a baby when you’re sick” Glenn states only for Y/N to punch him in the arm making him laugh while she tried hard not to.

The mood changed slightly when Glenn noticed Y/N looking over at Daryl while he talked to Rick. She always knew how to keep a blank expression to avoid people questioning how she felt in the moment through body language. But there was a sadness and worry in her eyes that Glenn always noticed.

“He’s an ox, Y/N. I don’t believe he’ll get sick”

“It’s…never too early to worry for your partner no matter how new the relationship is right?” She frowns looking to Glenn as he shook his head.

“I wasn’t even anything with Maggie yet and I still worried for her.” and that led to Glenn thinking about his wife. They just had a scare. Now there’s this whole new threat.

Both of them thought

If it had to get to them, they’d rather die than have their partners face it.

“You’ve seen Y/N?” Daryl approaches Glenn knowing that she’s either with him or alone but given she wasn’t in her cell, he was the next choice.

“Uhm. Last I checked she was working on the fence since we are overloading again…hey if you run into Maggie can you tell her to meet me in our cell?” He frowns slightly given to how he was currently feeling inside as Daryl nods before letting him go and heading outside.

If I could fight the sun I fucking would right now Y/N frowns leaning against her spear as she gripped it for dear life.

It was a normal hot summer. But to Y/N, she felt like she was experiencing all the different levels of hell.

As she pulled the bandana down from her face hoping to get some air. Y/N’s senses got the best of her resulting in an immediate headache as she currently was fighting the thought of ‘don’t collapse’ over and over again. It felt like a trigger clicked in Daryl’s mind to go check on his girl and when he did, Y/N was on her knees in the gravel trying not to let the weight take her fully.

“Y/N…SUNSHINE!” Daryl yells as he went to a full on sprint over to his girl quickly tossing the spear away and carefully picking her up. “Hey stay awake alright?”

“It’s too hot to…” Y/N groans when she was lifted off the ground, weakly returning the bandana over her nose and mouth to avoid the spread to Daryl.

Not like the man cared as he was currently speed walking to A-Block. Halfway there the two ran into Maggie helping Glenn to the block with one of his arms draped around her shoulders.

The two healthy individuals shared an anxious expression until that anxiety subsided only for a second.

Glenn flinched hearing Y/N cough for like an hour within a few seconds. Sounded like she coughed up a lung and the lung actually ejected from her.

“Holy fuck—Don’t die!”

Y/N immediately glared at the man as they were now walking in a group to A-Block. “Don’t tell me what to do bitch”

Daryl couldn’t help his annoyed groan that escape. “I swear—y’all only have one braincell and it’s shared between yea”

“Seriously” Maggie agreed before being pulled back when Glenn didn’t pay attention to where they were going and slammed himself into one of the prison pillars. “Jesus Christ—-“

The archer tightened his grip on Y/N listening to her laugh at what happened as his anxiety started to get worse thinking this could be the last time he hears that. But the way her expression instantly changed when looking up at him. Oh she always knew when he worried.

Once the two were in the block safely, Maggie and Daryl were kicked out. Given they were healthy still and Hershel didn’t want to risk losing 2 of his kids along with someone he considers family.

Not that their significant others being sick lead to this plan—-but it heavily influenced Hershel’s urgency.

“Maggie”

The worried Rhee quickly turned to Daryl who shared the same level of concern she was enduring. He was about to leave to get the medicine when part of him needed to ask Maggie for a favor. But the words weren’t coming out.

“What is it Daryl?”

“…if she dies, don’t sugarcoat it for me” Daryl spoke through a whole lot of pain he was pushing down into the earth as he didn’t want it to happen. He was afraid the second he leaves something bad would happen.

But with the way Maggie was looking at him. She had the amount of hope to carry them both.

“It won’t happen. I’ll do whatever I can to prevent it from happening” so will Hershel.

The two who were suffering from the illness laid on either side of the conjoined wall. Y/N did her best to keep herself awake even if her body was fighting against her. She felt as if she closed her eyes, that it would be over. Glenn was a bit healthier than her and without exposing her more to the illness he did his best to help.

Just by talking.

“You remember that house that collapsed before we reached the prison?”

“Mhm…”

“Yeah, that was me.” Glenn laughs slightly, holding his ribs because his lungs were straining. “Maggie and I wanted to be alone for a moment while we were house hopping for those months. But the house we were trying to yknow…was on its last legs. That when we left, I shut the door. And the whole thing came crashing down”

“Remind me when we get a house that you ain’t closing the door” Y/N laughs weakly as she listens to Glenn laugh from the other side while she slouches slightly. “When Daryl and I…first got together we were being very sneaky about it around the prison since we technically gotten together at the farm…we were in one of the watch towers minding our business”

“Oh no” Glenn smiles a bit listening to Y/N struggle to laugh and compose herself.

“I was on shift. He wasn’t. Nothing was happening so we thought…yknow. Then time went by and I forgot my shift was over…and good ol Rick came up and wished out loud that he never see what he saw again” Y/N smiles from the other side pressing herself firmly against the wall as she gripped tightly onto her shirt feeling the tears form.

“At least you didn’t have Daryl yelling at you from the yards while you and your girl were…yeah” Glenn laughs remembering that moment fondly, but when he didn’t hear a reply back. His tired overwhelmed body as quick as it could got up from the bed tiredly making his way to Y/N’s.

His anxiety started screaming.

“HERSHEL!” Glenn yells out even if it ended in a coughing fit afterward as he sat on the edge of Y/N’s bed holding her head up shaking her slightly. “You can’t die. You can’t die. You can’t die” he kept repeating until Hershel arrived quickly approaching and checking her pulse.

Weak, but there.

“No!”

“Yer sick too Glenn, and we don’t—-“

“I-I’m not leavin’ Y/N unless I f-fucking have to” Glenn covered his mouth in his elbow coughing up a lung.

“Son, I can’t—-“

“NO!” He snaps through tears not leaving her side despite everything Hershel was telling him. “She was the first person I saved when all hell broke loose…she became my fucking best friend within days. Days! Before the quarry group we would talk about the past and what we feared most…she feared dying. Dying alone and having no one love her. Well she’s my best friend. My family and I love her! And I know Daryl does too even if his stubborn ass won’t say it out loud. I’m not f-fucking leaving her” he sobbed as he was glued to Y/N’s side not budging even with Hershel’s protesting. But Hershel wasn’t leaving either.

________

“You think they’ll find a cure?” Glenn questions Y/N as they were sat on top of the building part of their group was held up in.

“I don’t know. It got out of hand, kind of”

“Mm…”

“But I hope so. Or at least a way to save those who’ve gotten bitten yknow?” Y/N shot Glenn a reassuring smile. “The world has always worked weirdly. Maybe something will happen. Maybe not. Just as long as I’m not facing it alone, I’m good to wait it out”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“Huh?”

“Being alone in this?”

“Who wouldn’t…but I was afraid of that even before the outbreak happened.” Y/N kicked her feet on the edge of the roof looking down at the sea of walkers. “I hate being alone”

“Welp! You got me!” Glenn smiles wrapping his arm around her shoulders getting a laugh out of her. “And maybe even…the guy you like back at the camp?” He teased watching her face turn red. “I’ve seen how he looks at you”

“Glenn Rhee! Shut the fuck up!” Y/N laughs elbowing him gently.

“What! The Dixons scare the fuck out of me but the youngest one always has his eye on yea and…” He leans into his best friend. “Vise versa” and that led to her contemplating pushing him off the building.

At least they were feeling better about it all…

________

At least they were feeling better.

Glenn suddenly woke to a tube down his throat and both Greenes towering over him to get it out. And to also rejoice that he made it through this hell. Daryl’s group returned with the medicine and everything was going fine. Then his anxiety got the best of him making him weakly get up.

“No Glenn—-“

“Son, you’ve gotta lay down and rest”

“You’ve been out cold for a a day—-“

“A day?!” Glenn panicked as he quickly brought his body up, and immediately fell to the floor once he did. His body isn’t caught up with him yet.

The panic coursed through him enough to give him the adrenaline boost to get up off the ground, with some help, and to slowly but quick enough to the other cell. Expecting that since he was in another room…that…the unspeakable happened.

But when Glenn reached the cell with both Maggie and Hershel trailing behind him…all his worry washed away.

Daryl slowly looks up from the woman that comfortably laid in his protective embrace after returning from the medicine run. Y/N tiredly looks over to the three standing at the cell doors giving a weak smile.

“You made it dumbass” Her voice was hoarse from all the coughing she had done while the illness almost took her. “You almost died on me…”

“You almost died on me” Glenn frowns feeling the tears roll off his cheeks as he slowly approaches the two watching Daryl tighten his grasp on her resulting in Rhee holding his hands up slightly to show he wasn’t going to move her. He brought himself to sit on the ground by the bed as Maggie followed suit bringing herself close to her husband. “You didn’t wake up…you stopped talking and it freaked me out”

“Mm…I was just resting” Y/N jokes knowing damn well her body was giving up on her. The joke didn’t sit well with Daryl as his grasp on her made that clear. “I woke up when I needed to” and that brought out a bit of confusion to Glenn.

________

Her unconscious body laid there for what felt like days as Glenn did his best to stay awake even if his lungs were starting to fight him. Inevitably giving out.

The man toppled over and started coughing like a mad man. But he wasn’t coughing up air, it was phlegm and blood. Making him choke on it.

That felt like a trigger for Y/N as she weakly opened her eyes turning toward the display. She did her best to be quick and drag herself out of the bed resulting in a painful thud to the ground…bringing herself close enough to Glenn to roll him on his side so he doesn’t aspirate.

“Hershel!”

Oh thank god. Is what the doc thought initially until he came to the cell to see what was happening.

When he left then came back with the endotracheal tube and bag, Hershel got Glenn intubated and Y/N bagged him up until she couldn’t anymore. Hershel knew Sasha was strong enough to help as he called out for the girl to keep bagging Glenn while he took Y/N to another cell to check her. He was thankful her body would shut down only to protect herself, and not flood her lungs…

Or only one of them would be alive.

________

Thank god they both were

“No more almost dying for the both of yea” Maggie states, more so threatens. Making them both laugh as Daryl couldn’t agree more. “Now come on. You gotta rest too…and preferably on a bed”

Once Maggie helped Glenn up and out of the cell to his own bed. Y/N looked up at Daryl from the position she was in, knowing he’s been awfully quiet ever since she woke up.

“You okay, love?”

Daryl locks eyes with her brushing away the stray hair that covered her face keeping his hand placed on her cheek. Her smile slowly breaking out and always warming his heart.

“I am now”

“You know I’m not going anywhere…”

“Yeah, and I’ll make sure of it”

[cressidagrey]

New Pursuits - Chapter 2: Bathing

Summary:

The shadows decide that Azriel needs a hobby.

5 times when said hobby-related shenanigans didn’t end so well…and the one time where it may end up better than Azriel could ever have imagined.

Warnings:

Rhys bashing, the shadows steal some wine

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

If you want me to try another hobby, please do it another day , he requested under his breath, feeling about ready to splinter apart. The only thing I want is a bath and then my bed . 

Bath and then bed and then sleep…and then he didn’t need to think about today anymore. 

Summer had officially reached Velaris, leaving the city glowing in Sunlight…making Feyre think that having dinner outside as a picnic was a grand idea…

Quite frankly it had been lovely at the River Estate. 

If Feyre hadn’t invited Lucien along. And if Elain hadn’t for the very first time been hesitant but happy to accept his invitation for dinner. 

But Azriel could have dealt with that. It was fine. It was.  Until Rhys decided that he didn’t trust Azriel enough to do nothing and had instead slithered into his mind and kept the equivalent of a leash on him.

Maybe it should have amused him…it only pissed him off. 

Like he would have done anything. Like he…

Elain could make her own fucking decisions and clearly , he didn’t factor into them. Not anymore. 

And that was fine. 

Rhys didn’t need to…Rhys didn’t need to fight her battles for her.

So he kept an iron grip on his temper. And even more adamantium control of his shadows so they weren’t going to lash out and start an outright war, right there in Feyre’s garden.

The roses had just started to bloom, he didn’t want to destroy them. 

And then after dessert, he said his goodbyes, he forced a smile on his face and then he got to go to the House of Wind, closed the door behind himself…and let the shadows go, swarming around himself. 

Azriel was fucking done . 

He could hear a few wayward tendrils bitch to themselves like they were prone to be doing if they were furious about something… but Azriel didn’t even have it in himself to defend Rhys right now. 

So instead, he let the shadows help as he got rid of his shirt and unlaced his boots and rubbed a hand through his hair. 

Bath. Then bed. Then sleep. And for a few glorious hours, he wouldn’t need to talk to anybody. 

What if you don’t need to move from the bathtub? The shadows suggested suddenly. 

His eyebrows rose. He only had a few ideas of what kind of hobbies one could have in a bathtub and unless the shadows were going to give him a couple of rubber ducks to play with…they also weren’t in the habit of outright kidnapping people unless ordered. So…

Not that, Master. A trace of amusement in their voices. Well, you can do that too if you want to. You haven’t since…

Since Solstice probably. 

But he hadn’t…hadn’t really wanted to. 

He could hear the shadows start the water and he dragged himself into the bathing chamber only so that they wouldn’t start badgering him. 

The faint smell of lavender hung in the air. 

The bathtub was surrounded by candles. Azriel didn’t even want to know where the shadows had gotten these from. Or whatever they were pouring into the water that resulted in plenty of foam and bubbles. 

All in all, it was very…much not the baths he usually took. Then it was an in-and-out kind of thing, scrubbing himself down with whatever soap bar happened to be in the bathroom. 

This…This was… luxuriating. 

Still, he couldn’t help himself to ask: Not even a rubber duck? 

Seconds later, a bright yellow duck hit the water and Azriel couldn’t help but grin. Why not. 

So he slid into that hot water, hissing slightly when it touched his sensitive wings and took a deep breath as the shadows poured some lilac-coloured concoction into the water. 

The Morrigan takes baths, they told him excitedly. Years ago, that simple mention of Mor would have been enough to make him…happy. To make something warm and bright glow in his chest and to make him start to make ridiculous plans about how to seduce her that he had never acted on. He had known that…He had known that that wasn’t going to happen. 

But he hadn’t been able to tell that heart that. 

That’s nice for her, he responded softly. It was. Mor should have all the good things in the world. Mor should be happy. Even when that wasn't with him.

And then when he had finally gotten over it…of course, he needed to go for the next unavailable female. The next one of which he knew Rhys wasn’t going to be pleased with his feelings. 

Elain. 

Why did he even bother anymore?

Did you steal it from Mor? he asked, not really interested in the answer.

Sometimes his shadows could be…a bit…prickly. He still remembered a time, centuries ago, when after an especially bad fight with Cassian, they had made sure to hide Cassian’s favourite knife from him for the better part of a year . Cassian had laid it next to himself before falling asleep and the shadows had picked it up and hidden it every night in more and more ridiculous places. 

So if they stole it from Morrigan, it was the shadow's idea of a useless sort of punishment for some way that they thought Mor had wronged him. 

She won’t notice it missing. They responded easily. She doesn’t use anything lavender-scented anymore. 

Right. 

He had half a mind to admonish them because they couldn’t just go around stealing stuff they thought he would like…Which they had also done on more than one occasion. 

And then they appeared to put a crystal wine glass on the edge of the bathtub, decorated with Rhys’ Cypher and poured Azriel a glass of red wine. 

Now they were just being petty. 

He couldn’t help but start snorting with laughter at the whole situation.

There he was, in a bathtub, together with a rubber duck, surrounded by lavender-scented bubbles, candles, and a glass of wine the shadows had stolen from Rhysand’s wine cellar. 

The High Lord has more than enough wine, they responded defensively. Yeah, he did. Still. 

Azriel just snorted another time, before he took that crystal glass, taking a deep sip. 

Oh, even a nice vintage. One of the most expensive wines. Only used for special occasions. 

Love you too, he told the shadows that seemed pleased with their work and he leaned back in the tub, letting the warmth seep into tired muscles. 

Another sip of wine…A taste of sweetness…the scent of lavender…

It was nearly sensual. 

He thought back to the shadow's words…

For just a moment, he wondered if he should. He could. He wasn’t beholden to anybody. 

If he wanted to go out and fuck half of Velaris…he could. If he wanted to pleasure himself…he could do that. 

And then he thought back to these words on Solstice, still engraved in his brain…and any want evaporated like it had never been there in the first place. 

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to touch himself and think of Mor or Elain or any other female. He didn’t want to go to Rita’s and find himself somebody to share his bed for a night. He didn't want to go to a Pleasure Hall and pay to fuck a willing female. He didn’t want to be touched by anybody. 

You are supposed to relax, not brood, Master, the shadows said quietly.  One tendril came to wrap itself around his shoulder and he relaxed. He could deal with their touch. They weren’t out to hurt him. He knew that. That touch was just simple comfort...they just tried to make it better. 

And he was craving that. 

I’m sorry, he apologised. They were just trying to take care of him. In their own way. 

The shadows huffed but dropped a jar in his hands. 

What’s that? 

A Mud Mask. You are supposed to put that on your face.

Oh, fuck it. Why not. So he screwed it open and took the grey, slimy mud in there to put it all over his face. If the shadows thought he should do it…what could go wrong? 

What else? He asked next and quickly enough they offered him a whole range of tonics for his hair. 

Did you steal that from Mor as well? He asked drily as he selected one of them to pour over his unruly dark waves. He never usually bothered with it. But then, he had also been known to cut his own hair when it got too long for his liking…or he went to Rosehall and visited his mother and let her do it. 

She liked it when she got to dote on him when they both could pretend his childhood hadn’t been ripped from both of them.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty every time he went to visit, that he couldn’t be a better son to her, that he couldn't stand her hugs for longer than a few minutes, that he couldn't tell her how much she meant to him. 

But it stuck in the back of his throat. 

And so he wrote her letters and had the shadows deliver them to her, and he made sure that she always had enough money and he went there in the winter and hacked up all the wood for her stove so that she didn’t need to worry about that…he tried to take care off her. As well as he could. 

As well as she let him. 

No.  The General, the shadows responded easily. He has a lot of those…More than even Lady Death. 

He couldn’t help but bite back a grin at that little tidbit of information. He had lines that he didn’t cross for his family and friends, secrets that shadows found out about but never talked to him about unless he asked…but sometimes he did find out something about one of them that was so charming and silly and innocuous that he couldn’t help but laugh about it to himself. 

He washed out that tonic and the mud from his face and washed himself with the bar of soap the shadows provided…

You know what? Definitely one of your better ideas. My skin and my hair have never been so soft, he told them.  Though I don’t think I want to do this every evening. 

Still, maybe once every few months…The wine itself made it worth it. 

Granted, he may lost every bit of his dignity, when he nearly face-planted on the floor, slipping on the wet tiles and if the shadows hadn’t rushed out to steady him, he would have gotten a broken nose and a black eye for his trouble

Master!

I really hope you never tell anybody about that. 

[sorreysorren]

shoulder angels don't exist

the cause of your misery at ungodly hours.

you hate (love) him for it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“ –what the hell! you said this was a date!”

you hadn’t been paying attention to the scene in front of you until you heard the sound of a slap. you’d been standing behind isagi when you chose to look up. 

“don’t touch me, you cheater!”

“aiku?” isagi and his friends questioned out loud.

“huh? oh, hey guys.” this ‘aiku’ spoke casually, while rubbing his cheek.

you remember giving the hardest side-eye. it was instinct, really.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

that was the first you ever heard and knew of oliver aiku.

due to that, of course, your first impression of him was sour. so sour you think of a green apple. you even visualize a green apple considering his hair dye choice– that stupid yellowish-green shade he was so passionate about. 

you tried to push the thoughts of aiku away as you tied the laces on your boots. you deemed it pointless as the thoughts would soon resurge since you were getting ready to pick him up, after all. it was a disturbance of your precious time. 

he calls, you answer. he asks you for a favor, but can you refuse?

…maybe. 

but it’s hard to do so when it’s oliver. not because hearing him plead tugged on your heartstrings, but because he’s your friend. you knew what you were getting yourself into by including aiku in your life. those other girls didn't. which is why you knew not to date him. 

you grabbed your keys and shut the door, texting aiku that you were on your way.

it was a 20-minute drive to the house party and the music could be heard down the neighboring street. you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. you checked your social media, but there was nothing new. you checked the weather app– summer always had the worst weather. 

sighing in frustration, you waited in your car another 5 minutes hoping he’d finally see the <come outside> text you’d sent. you didn’t think you’d actually have to go inside.

inside the house, it was loud, not hot– but warm, and humid. the smell of alcohol, weed, and sweat mixed in the air. it was disgusting. you’ll never understand how he enjoys going to these things. 

you tried avoiding any sort of contact with anyone but ended up having to push past people anyway. some random chick had even spilled some of her drink on you. sure, she apologized hastily, but you ignored her and continued looking for aiku.

and there he was.

standing on a table, being the life of the party.

he didn't drink much.

but when he did, he drank like it was his last day on earth. 

you reluctantly walked up to the table, holding on to your keys as tightly as you could, as if they were the one thing grounding you.

“aiku.” you called.

he continued his conversation with the people in front of him. you assumed he didn’t hear you, so you began preparing yourself to call his name a little louder. 

as if on cue, you heard him yell out, “y/n!”

the people around him turned to look at you.

“aiku, get down.” you spoke through lightly clenched teeth. 

you thought this would be a quick and easy ‘let's go!’ and ‘ok!’, but you now knew it wouldn't be. it never had been before, so you don’t know why you’d been expecting any different this time. you needed to stop assuming.

at least he did get down. he walked up to you with a funny expression on his face. “have you been drinking?” he asked.

it was then that you noticed you reeked of alcohol. “no, there was–”

you were cut off by the music suddenly stopping and screams filling the room.

“some bitch called the cops!” a voice yelled.

you took a deep breath. “fuck,” you muttered, “aiku, we have to leave now . you can’t be caught here.” 

if he were to be caught at some stupid party like this, drinking underage, it could ruin his future. 

the both of you looked around the house. an officer stood at the front door calling for backup, as the back exit was crowded with people trying to leave. 

you pulled aiku’s arm, rushing upstairs. you stopped at the first window at the end of the hallway. you opened it. 

“okay. i know this is pretty high, but just…” you trailed off. you don’t know how to use words of encouragement.

“chill. i’m not afraid of heights” he leaned on the wall.

“stop acting so casual! hurry! and i know you aren’t, just don’t be an idiot and fall. you have to be extra careful considering your state.”

“yeah yeah” he climbed out of the window. 

it was slightly quiet. you turned around once you heard footsteps rushing up the stairs, along with the static of a walkie-talkie. 

i can’t believe i’m doing this, you thought as you took a deep breath and quickly turned back around to shut the window. i’m gonna kill him if he fucking falls.

when you turn around again, you’re met with the face of an officer. 

you were sure you heard a thud from outside. you visualized aiku rolling down the roof in continuous thumps, and then landing on the grass with a final, softer thud. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you'd imagined going to jail before for many different reasons and you'd be lying if you said it never crossed your mind that you'd have to go to jail because of aiku.

if you could kill him, you would.

in the cop car, you thought of elaborate plans to murder him in the cruelest ways possible. again, not that you actually would. it's aiku.  

and, you know. you had to re-emphasize that in your head just in case this cop happened to be a mind reader and was hearing every thought you had.

you kept looking out of the window. at the moment, it was funny seeing the cop lights flash red and blue and seeing hordes of people in the street run from whatever they were doing, though you were also hoping none of them would get arrested since you didn’t want to spend the car ride seated next to a stranger.

---

you had to spend the night in a little cell and god, you had to pee but there was no way you were going to piss in a place with a free for all view. more than one is a crowd and this was not an orgy.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

community service. court-ordered community service.

you got inside aiku’s car.

just a few days ago, he’d shown up at your door during an ungodly hour of the night, apologizing profoundly over a dozen times until you finally said you forgave him. (you’d already forgiven him the night of the incident, while you were in the jail cell.)

he was driving you to the facility where you were supposed to… do service to your community? you don’t even know what the place is. aiku, out of pure “generosity” (more like guilt), had decided to sign up along with you. 

the first floor was the dressmaking section. it was filled with dressmaker's dummies and naked mannequins. you cast a look at him, already knowing the vulgar jokes he’d make before he even began speaking.

“hey, i didn’t say anything”

“but you thought it.”

the both of you took the elevator to get to floor c, as instructed by the sticky note in your pocket. the smell of burnt food immediately met your nostrils as you stepped out of the elevator.

the entire room was built like a large kitchen, 

you turned to look at aiku, but he’d already been looking at you, equally as confused. 

“you must be the new people!” a man with a chef hat exclaimed once he noticed you and aiku.

---

you were stuck washing dishes, or as aiku liked to call it, “busboy duty.”

at least gloves were given to you.

you died inside a little at the thought of touching dirty dishwater.

the good news, though, is that as soon as you’re done with the dishes, you get to join aiku and the others out in the kitchen, cooking actual food.

the bad news? you weren’t sure if the good news was actually good news because you’re a terrible cook.

---

you were next to aiku, watching him knead the remaining dough. he told you to cut the pork while he focused on getting the dough right. 

he was surprisingly good at cooking.

you know, considering most of the time he’s eating spicy ramen. cup noodles, to be specific.

“if you take a picture, it’ll last longer” he teased.

you scoffed, but you didn’t say anything. you only continued to chop away.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the past 2 months passed by quicker than you realized and you finally completed your 100 hours of community service.

you were just about to sleep when as if on cue, you received a call. of course, you already knew who it was, and by the time you knew it, you were already out the front door.

---

sometimes it genuinely pisses you off. not just because you’re the one he calls– (and you’re always the one he calls) – but because when he drinks, you’re always the one who has to take care of the mess. and you’d also thought he learned his lesson after last time, but of course he hadn't.

he stumbled into your car, without a word.

you had the radio playing at a low volume, making up for the silence in the car.

“you know, throughout the entirety of these 2 months, i haven’t slept with anyone” he blurted. as if he just had to clarify that. 

“i know, oliver.”

the car was silent for a while until he spoke up again. 

“i’m hungry.”

“great, what do you want me to do about it? i’m dropping you off straight home”

“can we get food?” he asks, “please?”

fine. fine. you answer only in your head.

you stay silent, but he hums happily, knowing you gave in.

---

you stop at the first food truck you see. 

you walked while he followed behind and the both of you waited in line.

once it was your turn, you turned to oliver to ask him what he wanted. 

first, you had expected him to make some sort of move on the lady, but he didn’t– which if you had to admit, weirded you out.

second, usually, he would order, but right now, the only thing you wanted to do was get this over with and go home. 

third, you might as well order something for yourself. 

you turned back to the lady taking the order and said, “two pizza pretzels, and two dr.peppers.”

“alrighty, cash or card?” 

“card,” oliver answered for you while taking out his wallet.

the woman told both to wait by the side. 

“excuse me?” the concession lady called for your attention, “we only have one pizza pretzel left. i’m sorry about that, but is there anything else you’d be interested in getting? or would you like a refund?”

“a refund is fine.”

the lady handed you the drinks and the single pizza pretzel, “have a nice day, the two of you!”

“man, that sucks. here” he extended his hand, offering you the pretzel.

“no, you paid. you can have it”

“but i owe you”

“you don’t”

he did want the pizza pretzel a lot , but he also wanted you to have it. so he did the next best thing. he split the pizza pretzel in half, “okay then still, i want you to have it.”

you happily took the other half of the pretzel, “thanks.”

once inside the car, you changed the radio station. then again. and again.

“you could just connect your phone instead” 

“don’t feel like it.”

you finally stopped at some random classic rock station, having vaguely recognized the song.

you heard a tap, then another beside you, and another above you, and then multiple in all directions. you realize it started to rain. the rain quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you were initially going to deny oliver’s request.

but your apartment was pretty far and the rain was supposed to worsen.

he suggested you stay at his place, just in the meantime. 

“just… just until the rain stops” you tell him. 

---

“it’s surprisingly clean in here” you observed out loud.

oliver crashed on the sofa as soon as he stepped inside. “yeah, had to” his voice was muffled by the pillows, “my family visited. birthday stuff. higher flight prices in the summer and stuff.”

“hm.” you took off your boots, shivering slightly, due to the cool air conditioning. 

“you can change if you want. you know where my stuff is.” he yawned.

“ you should change too. you’ll get sick or something.”

you changed first.  you took the first clothes you grabbed, and by the time you were back, he was sitting up on the sofa. he went to his room to change, but he didn’t return.

you knocked on his door, unsure of whether you should open the door without notice or not. 

when he didn’t reply, you slowly pushed the door open, and you found him sleeping soundly in his bed. he was snoring lightly, but you found it (endearing? amusing? you weren’t even sure of the right word yourself.) you quickly snapped a picture, then went back to the living room.

you checked the time on your phone: < 2 am>

it was still raining. not as heavy as before, but still.

you were unsure of whether to go home or not. you stood up and paced around the living room in a circle. you made a beeline to the pantry. it was stacked with spicy ramen cups which didn’t surprise you in the slightest. 

you put water in the cup and microwave it for 3 minutes. to be fair, thinking on an empty stomach wasn’t ideal. you sat on the counter, listening to the tv play in the background. 

*BEEPBEEPBEEP*

you rushed to the microwave, quickly pressing the ‘stop’ button. you’d meant to stop it when there were still a few seconds left, but you ended up forgetting. 

at least oliver was a heavy sleeper.

you skipped through random channels on the tv, yawning, and eventually stopping at one playing some wild kratts episode about snakes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you opened your eyes, suddenly sitting up after you remembered where you were. 

you didn’t remember falling asleep– you didn’t even remember being too tired (tired enough to fall asleep.) the tv was off, the cup of noodles was gone, and there was a blanket covering you. 

you took notice of the sticky note placed on the tv remote on the small table in front of you.

you grabbed it, squinting at the terrible handwriting. it read:

“thanks for helping (again). i meant it. i owe you (again). i’ll be at practice by the time you see this, so make sure you lock the door. "

you snickered as you noticed the handwriting getting smaller. he started running out of space because he wrote too big at first. you continued reading:

“p.s. i made you breakfast (even though i was running late) i added a shit ton of chocolate chips, you’re welcome. 

p.p.s. i love you, but don’t eat my ramen again.”

the pancakes were cold, but you ate them with a smile on your face.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

fratboy!stray kids x reader

synopsis: a night where you reveal your most intense desires to your best friend lands you in the hot seat. you quickly find yourself in the heart of frat party central - will you embrace the connections you make in your hot bitch summer?

status: completed

total wc: 45.6k

[please view specific chapters for warnings! this work is 18+ MDNI]

makes me dizzy [lee minho x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

2. wanna be your favourite boy [han jisung x gn!afab reader, side lee minho x reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ after spending a night with the man of your dreams, your best friend won’t look you in the eyes or reply to your texts. what did you do wrong? nothing - he just wants you.

3. need some air [seo changbin x gn!afab reader, side lee minho x reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ your situationship - the man of your dreams - gives you full, explicit permission to fuck his frat brothers in your effort of a hot bitch summer. who’s next, after you ruined your best friend in bed?

4. drunk on rose water [hwang hyunjin x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

5. 5-star [lee felix x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ your best friend is pissed he hasn’t had his turn yet. the only problem is, his turn begins to take place in a room with three other people present.

6. go ahead and cry [kim seungmin x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ following the events of your almost-orgy, you can’t stop thinking about a certain someone and the way he behaved in bed.

7. drive [bang chan x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ the party was boring. thankfully, the frat president who you hadn’t spoken to for a while offers you to go on a drive.

8. to be yours [yang jeongin x gn!afab reader, 18+ smut]

⇢ you and your favourite boy have planned to take apart the youngest member of the frat - but the question is, what has developed along the way? your hot bitch summer has a high chance of being fully successful, albeit with some new feelings.

© hyunsvngs, est 2023. all rights reserved.

[honeyedmiller]

Tailgate | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, very little fluff, 8-year age gap. use of y/n (i’m sorry ik lmao). 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 4.2k

synopsis: your best friend drags you to a tailgate party, and you end up being introduced to one very attractive Miller brother.

-

"Y/n, come on," Y/b/f/n whined at you, nudging your leg with her knee. You were sprawled across the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, and you groaned in protest.

"Why do I have to go? It's too hot to tailgate." Texas summer heat was no joke. You'd much rather be cooped up in your humble abode with the air conditioning on full blast while you mindlessly flipped through the cable channels.

"Because," She points a bright-red manicured finger at you, "You need to have some fun. Plus, I really want you to meet Tommy." Tommy was y/b/f/n's boyfriend of five months, whom you've yet to meet. Guess this would be a good opportunity to do so.

"Fine." You groan, rolling your eyes. You knew you'd give in eventually, but you needed to add the dramatics just for the hell of it. Y/b/f/n squealed in delight, jumping up a couple of times before reaching her arms out to you to drag you up from your lazed position on the couch.

She ushered you to your room so you could change out of your gym shorts and sports bra. You ended up wearing some distressed daisy dukes with a white tank top that buttoned down in the front, leaving the top two buttons undone. You put on your brown leather belt with a gold buckle, slipped on your cowgirl boots, and lazily put your hair in a low style.

You emerged from your room truthfully ready to get this night over with. You weren't much of a party person— anymore, that is. Those wild child party days ended the day you got your college degree.

"Well damn, hot mama," Y/b/f/n called out to you. You tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't help but crack a smile. "You're missin' just one thing." She places your cowgirl hat on top of your head, and you immediately felt the most country you've ever been since you moved to Austin.

-

You headed to the tailgate, sitting passenger in y/b/f/n's truck. Your feet were kicked up and sticking out of the window, summer breeze whipping through the cab of the truck as you drove down a dirt road. The sun was barely setting even though it was nearing 7 p.m., but you let the warm rays soak into your skin regardless.

The summer heat may've been a bitch, but you couldn't help but love the season regardless. You loved the long days and feeling of freedom.

You pulled up to the tailgate not even ten minutes later, setting sight on quite a few people already here. Country music was blasting through a speaker, multiple trucks parked in a big circle with the tailgates of their trucks facing a bonfire pit that was smack in the middle. Lots of ice chests lay on the ground, and many people already had a beer in their hands. Some were singing along to the song, some were dancing, and some were chatting amongst themselves without a care in the world.

The sight before you made you slightly smile. Y/b/f/n backed her truck up to fit into the circle, next to a black four-door truck with its tailgate already open.

You bring your legs back into the truck as y/b/f/n kills the engine, and you hop out. You help y/b/f/n unload the ice chest from the back of her truck onto the ground, only for her to be greeted by someone right after.

"Babe! There you are," A tall man with slicked back black hair approaches y/b/f/n, giving her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Tommy, this is y/n, my best friend I've been telling you about. Y/n, this is Tommy." Y/b/f/n introduced you both, and you shake each other's hands.

"Nice to finally meet you." You smile up at him, letting go of his firm grip shortly after you greet him.

"Likewise. Y/b/f/n talks about you all the time, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name," Tommy chuckles, then quickly looks up behind the black truck you were standing by. "'Scuse me just a moment." He puts his cowboy hat back on and walks away.

You raise your eyebrow at y/b/f/n. "Wow, you go girl. He's cute." You laugh, and she nudges you.

"I know, right?" You two had a small fit of laughter, but was cut short when Tommy approached you two once more with someone else by his side.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the man standing before you. He was tall, muscular, and quite literally one of the most handsome men you've ever laid your eyes on. He was wearing a gray shirt with dark blue jeans and black boots. He had a black cowboy hat atop his head, just like Tommy, except dark brown locks were peaking out of the sides instead of black.

His dark brown eyes seemed gentle and kind, but they were scanning your body just as yours were doing to him. He didn't fail to notice the incredibly short shorts you were wearing that made your legs look like they went on for miles, or the way the setting sun made your skin absolutely glow. You quite literally took his breath away with your beauty.

"Y/n, I'd like you to meet my older brother Joel." Tommy smiled, and a blush swept its way across your cheeks.

Why didn't y/b/f/n tell you Tommy had an insanely gorgeous older brother?

"It's nice to meet you, darlin'." Joel tips his hat down to you, and you muster up the best smile you could. You didn't want to seem too smitten by this beautiful man, but god, how could you not?

"You too." You say almost inaudibly. You felt slightly annoyed with yourself, because no man had ever made you shy like this. Why now? You shook the feeling off for now, not wanting it to ruin your mood.

As the night went on, more people showed and the bonfire started up. Soon enough the sky looked nearly pitch black but the air still carried a small, warm breeze. You were babysitting the beer Tommy had opened for you— not that you didn't like it, but you weren't really in the mood to drink.

You took another swig of the half-full bottle anyhow, figuring you'd at least have the means to finish it... slowly. You were perched up on the back of y/b/f/n's open tailgate, legs swinging back and forth over the edge. Your left arm was extended behind you to hold yourself up.

Y/b/f/n was mingling with Tommy and some of his friends in the distance, and the sight made you smile. You loved seeing her happy.

You heard dirt crunching under heavy boots next to you that pulled you from your thoughts, so you shifted your gaze until you met Joel's eyes. He gave you a lipped half-smile, standing next to you. He had a beer in one of his hands as well, but it didn't seem like he was drunk.

"Hey there, darlin'," He leans against y/b/f/n's truck, eyes never leaving yours. "Why're ya all alone?" The glow of the fire brought out the warmth in Joel's skin tone, illuminating half of his features.

You shrug your shoulders. "Just waitin' for someone like you to keep me company." You teased, earning a deep, guttural chuckle from him.

"Oh yeah? Well I hope I'm good company." He sits onto the tailgate next to you, and you offer him a smile.

"So, you and Tommy are brothers? You two seem like total opposites from what I've seen." You sit straight up, moving one of your legs up to your chest as you take another sip of the now semi-warm beer. You grimace at the taste, but swallow it anyway.

Joel chuckles softly, "Yeah, we are. I guess it's the true older brother-younger brother dynamic. He's always been the trouble maker and I'm the one that always saves his ass." Joel rolls his eyes, finding his brother's antics to be preposterous at times.

"What, like he hasn't had to drag you off of a few guys you've gotten into fights with?" You challenge, cocking an eyebrow up as you eye him wearily.

"How did you— who told you that?" He was shocked that you even knew that about him, because he sure as hell didn't go around telling people his business like that.

"Tommy's a little drunk, and apparently gets mouthy when he's on a good one," You laugh, nudging Joel in the shoulder. "Besides, I'm just messin' with you. I think that's kinda hot." The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even comprehend what you were saying, and a look of pure desire flashed across Joel's eyes.

His grip got a smidge tighter around the beer bottle he was holding, but you were too busy having the most naughty thoughts about the man sitting inches from you to notice. You felt your panties dampen at the way he looked at you, and just couldn't help but imagine what you two were capable of if you were left alone with each other.

"Okay then, what about you little miss innocent?" He tilts his head, his eyes giving your body a once-over.

"Who said I was innocent?" Your words suddenly brewed something deep inside you, and Joel's stare on you wasn't helping. It made you want to squirm.

"Are you not?" Joel provoked, moving noticeably closer to you. His left knee was touching your right one now, and the tension grew so thick in the moment that you felt like you could choke any second.

It was so fucking hard to breathe.

"Wouldn't you love to find out." You leaned in to him, your faces dangerously close. A couple inches more and you'd be kissing the man.

"Yeah," Joel was almost breathless, "I would." You looked around after he responded, noticing a house only a couple hundred feet away.

You nodded your head to the nice home, "Who's house?" You looked back at Joel, biting your lip.

If there was one thing about you, is that you loved to prove people wrong. You made damn sure Joel was no longer unbeknownst to that by the end of the night.

"Mine and Tommy's." He answers after a few seconds, and you smile devilishly.

"Perfect. I'd love to see your room, if you'll have me." You peered up at him innocently, trying to play the part of the version of you he had in his head.

He immediately hopped off the tailgate and held out his hand for you to take, which you graciously did. Once your boots touched the dirt beneath you, Joel was practically dragging you to the house. He'd truly never wanted anyone as bad as you before, and playing it cool clearly wasn't an option in his books.

He wanted to make it known.

As soon as you step inside the house, you sigh in relief as the cool air hits your skin. You look around a bit, liking how the house actually looks lived in. It was cozy, and definitely felt like a home.

"C'mon darlin'," Joel coaxed, jerking his head in the direction of the staircase. "Bedroom's upstairs." He let you lead, and on the way up, you catch a glimpse of a picture with Joel and a young girl in it. He saw you looking, and spoke before you even thought to ask.

"That's my daughter Sarah." He says, and you look back at him. You smile softly, looking back at the picture.

"She's beautiful." You tell him, and he grins before you keep walking up to the top step.

"She's not here right now, is she?" You ask him, causing him to suppress a laugh. You would definitely not want to do what you wanted with this man if his sweet daughter was under the same roof. No freakin' way.

"No, she's at her grandparents. Got the house to our selves all night." He spins you around and takes your cowgirl hat off of your head so he can dip his face down to be level with yours.

"Tell me, darlin', what do you want to do with such allotted time?" He's so close to you that the proximity between his body and yours starts to make you dizzy.

"I have a few things in mind, cowboy." You flick the brim of his hat, and he pulls you in by the waist so your body is flush against his.

"Oh yeah?" His voice is barely above a whisper, "And what's that?"

You couldn't take the tension anymore, so you finally closed the gap between you two and mashed your lips to his. You've never kissed someone with so much hunger and fervor.

His lips were velvety soft, just as you'd imagined. You moan softly into the kiss, and he moves you back so your back is pressed against his bedroom door. He immediately swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, and you instantly open your mouth, teeth clashing and tongue moving swiftly but in sync.

God, this man is a phenomenal kisser.

"I need that tongue somewhere else, cowboy." You brokenly spoke through the hot kiss, causing him to groan. He reached behind you to find the doorknob as the other arm snaked around your back to hold you steady against him.

He opened the door to his bedroom, walking you backwards to the bed in the middle of the room. Once the back of your knees hit the mattress, Joel broke the kiss and laid you down gently. He put your hat on top of his dresser alongside his, making sure to close and lock his bedroom door before returning back to you. He hovered above you, admiring your figure and your pretty face.

"Damn darlin', the hell you doin' to me?" He whispered mainly to himself, but you heard him perfectly clear. You reached up for his shoulders and brought him on top of you, smashing your lips to his once more. Your hands trailed down his abdomen until you reached the bottom.

He separated himself from you to look down at you, giving you a small reassuring smile before you slowly lifted the gray shirt above his head. You tossed it onto the floor somewhere, hands immediately moving to his belt buckle.

He chuckled at your eagerness, "Slow down there, pretty girl. Lift your arms for me." He coos, brown eyes boring into yours. You do as he asks, and he grabs both your wrists together in one hand, holding them above your head. He goes back down to kiss you then swiftly moves to your neck, the stubble on his jaw slightly tickling you.

Once his tongue made contact with the hot skin on your neck, you knew it was a wrap.

God damn soft spots.

You sigh in pleasure, and Joel takes immediate notice to your neediness becoming more prominent. He separates his lips from your neck, trailing them down to the top of your still-covered breasts. He dips his head down where the two buttons were undone, kissing you there once before nibbling on the area just in the slightest.

You let out a soft moan, unaware of your moving hips. They were trying to find something to move against to create friction. You needed something, anything— but Joel wouldn't let you. Not yet.

He kept kissing down your sternum, making sure his tongue consistently made contact with your trembling, hot skin.

"Joel, please," You sound whiny and begging, which you'd normally hate, but you needed this man so badly it nearly hurt. Your core was dripping at this point, but Joel wasn't done with the teasing just yet.

"Patience, darlin'," He tsks, making you instinctively bite your lip in agony.

He slid your tank top up your stomach with his free hand, finding its way to one of your breasts. He started to massage one, moving his lips lower and lower until he reached the top of your daisy dukes.

He moved his hand from your breast to unbutton the button on your shorts, immediately sliding his hand down the front. He almost hisses at the contact of your slickness.

"You're so wet for me already, baby. Fuck." He tries to keep his composure, but the way you were so needy for him in this moment made him want to lose his mind. But, the smidge of patience he had left in him overcame his rational senses, making sure to take his time with you.

He used his middle finger to move up and down your heat, and you started to roll your hips into his touch to cause friction.

"Needy little thing, aren't ya?" He chuckled, moving his finger down so it slowly entered you. You gasped, moaning at the newness of the feeling before he started to move his finger in and out of you, making sure to curl it just the tiniest bit.

Just this action alone had you writhing beneath him uncontrollably.

"Joel, fuck, please," You pleaded, "I need your mouth on me." He looked up at your pretty face, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes clamped shut.

He pulled his finger out of you, slick and warm. "Open your mouth." He says, and you once again do as he asks. How submissive of you.

He puts his finger into your mouth and you immediately suck on his finger, tongue swirling around the whole thing until he pulls it from you. Your hands were still being held above your head, but in all honesty, you enjoyed it. It was hot. He was hot.

Joel pulled your tank top up, just enough to cover your eyes. He let go of your wrists, but you didn't dare to move your hands. He slid your shorts off with ease, along with your hot pink panties. Joel smirked at the color choice.

"Open your legs for me, darlin'." Joel was suave with his words, sounding like butter to your ears. Again, you did as he asked, opening your legs for him. All you could see was the light from his bedside lamp, but other than that, not a damn thing. You had no idea where he was exactly, and the thought made your heart palpitate.

"So fuckin' pretty," He murmurs, moving a knuckle up and down your folds, "All for me."

You groan at his praise, suddenly feeling his lips kiss your inner thighs. The kisses were light and feathery, almost ticklish. He moved one hand up to rest on your lower abdomen, spreading his fingers out so it covered most of the area.

His kisses eventually made their way up to your aching heat, and he kissed you not once, not twice, but three times on your dripping core. His mouth was already slick from you, and fuck you tasted so divine to him.

He finally delved his tongue into your folds, flicking his tongue slowly and teasingly. His tongue lapped away at you, moaning into your core. He'd never tasted something so... so... addicting in his life. He would stay down there forever just to devour you if he could.

"Fuck, Joel, that feels so fucking good." You're panting, mind going blank of all other things besides how good this man is making you feel.

His skilled tongue worshipped you like you were a goddess, and in that moment, you were Aphrodite.

He added a finger back into you, pumping at a steady pace while he continued to lap away at you. The sensation became nearly unbearable, and you knew your undoing was short lived.

"Please, don't stop." You pant, and he moaned against you as if to say "message received."

You felt the hot pleasure burn through your core, and once Joel felt your walls clench around his finger, he lightly pressed down on your abdomen. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, screaming his name. He licked the inside of your thighs slowly as you were trying to come down from your high, your body still quivering.

He moved up from between your thighs, uncovering your eyes and taking your tank top off of you completely. You looked up at him, spent and woozy. His mustache and beard were still glistening from your wetness.

You bit your lip as you reached a hand up to his cheek, and you brought his face down to yours so you could kiss him. The kiss was much gentler this time, but tasting yourself on his lips aroused you once again.

"Take off your pants," You whisper, and he lightly smiles at you before standing up straight and removing his bottoms. "Underwear too." You laugh as he gives you a cheeky grin. He takes off his underwear slowly, letting his erection be known to you and your vision. You took in the sight before you, licking your lips before you got on your knees.

"Lay down," You coax him, and without question, he does. You move your body between his thighs, and you grin up at him innocently. You spit into your hand, moving it to his length and you slowly moved your hand up and down. Your thumb ran over his swollen tip a couple of times, hearing him sharply intake a breath.

You peer up at him through your lashes before lowering your head, and he tries to stifle a moan.

"Sweets, if you keep lookin' at me like that, I'm gonna finish quicker than we'd both like." He admits, and you purse your lips before moving your mouth down to his tip. He grabs a handful of your hair and you fix your position, so your ass is perched up but your mouth is at his length.

You start gently swirling your tongue around the tip, taking your sweet time before leaving a soft kiss before you use your tongue to lick all the way down to the base. You repeat yourself a few times before using your lips to glaze down the side, then back to the top before you took him into your mouth.

Your pace was so tantalizingly slow that he started to buck his hips into your mouth. You removed your mouth from him, looking up at him once more.

"Slow down there, cowboy." You smirked as he realized you were using his own words against him, causing him to groan.

"Fuck, y/n, quit teasin' me baby." His grip on your hair gets tighter, and you immediately move your head down again, no hesitation.

You began to move your head at a steady pace, trying to take as much of him in as possible. It was starting to become a wet mess, but neither of you quite frankly gave a damn.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum soon. I don't want to yet." He pulls your head up from him, and your eyes snap up to look at him.

"Let me ride you." You state, blinking at him before he lets go of your hair.

"Oh, absolutely darlin'. Please." He moves you up so you're now hovering over his body, skin hot to the touch. His hands slide down to your hips, positioning you above his length.

"Are you—" He pauses, and you nod.

"Yeah. IUD." You say, and he nods before you slowly sink down on his aching length. Both of you let out simultaneous moans, giving yourself a second to adjust to his length.

"Joel," You purr, resting your hands on his strong chest, "You feel so goddamn good." You start to move forward and backward slowly, rocking your hips. The feeling of him made you want to melt.

"So do you." He's breathless at this point, aching for sweet release. His fingers dig into your hips, coaxing them to move a bit faster. Once you found a good rhythm, Joel raised a hand and smacked your ass, hard.

You let out a loud moan, feeling complete bliss and euphoria in this very moment.

"That's it, baby— right there, darlin', please don't stop." Joel's desperation in his voice brought back that quickly brewing desire deep in the pit of your core, and you felt yourself clench.

That sent Joel absolutely insane.

"Fuck! Oh, god," He moans loudly, thrusting his hips up into you at that point. He wanted that damn release, and that's what he was going to get. "I'm gonna c—" Before he could even finish his sentence, he found that sweet goddamn release. His thrusts came to a slow, but he moved his hand down to your clit and started to move his fingers in circles at a fast pace, and in no time, you were relieved of the ache in your core. You lifted yourself off of him, both of your breaths an erratic mess. He pulled you into him as he kissed the top of your head, trying to steady his breathing.

One thing's for sure, though— Joel knew, he definitely knew— you were definitely not little miss innocent, and he was a goddamn naïve cowboy.

[pumpkinsy0]

outsiders characters as events from my silly ahh summer camp. i don't know how i survived for a month at a time there tbh

ponyboy: me going gollum mode over the hunger games book. it wasnt even a joke at that point i was struggling. also the pivotal turn my life took when i read hatchet. like i was reflecting and allat

darry: the DELECTABLE ahh lunches. idk what they did but they were so tasty. like i would have the best nap of my life after muching down on that

johnny: me crying myself to sleep that one time, some girl was like "erm miss counselor!!! i think insert name here is crying under her sleeping bag!!" and my bitch ass counselor who i HATED like she was my arch nemesis started trying to calm me down which made me even more upset. and earlier that day i was trying to feel included in a conversation w a semi friend and some cunt went like "no ones talking to u" when i was Literally just sitting there.

dally: that horse they assigned me that would not do anything asked of him. also one time he like broke out of his stall and was just walking around?? he was an interesting fellow. he was silly tho

soda: me getting sick from eating 2 much cereal. i was writhing around bc tummy ache 2 much later in the day. to be fair i did eat more than 10 servings of cereal.

steve: us having no air conditioning in the cabins. we had to bring our own fans. i had to shower multiple times a day bc I was sweating so much.

twobit: some girl mixing chicken and jello together. also me falling out of a bunk.

cherry: that time during horse and tack when we watched a movie bc it was too hot outside so we went in. but the movie was rlly sad and I cried

that was then… this now… ones

bryon: me almost drowning during one of the swimming performances. like I was lowk choking on water while under the sea was playing in the background.

mark: again that one damn counselor i hated so so much. like i was planning her downfall. why on God's green earth was she singing riptide while we were trying to sleep stfu

m&m: i would start randomly crying so often. i would miss lots of classes bc i would just be in the bathroom bawling for various reasons

angela: girls being so so mean to me. like it was a problem.

curly: me throwing hiking boots at a girl I didn't like

tim: them having to ban making slip n slides in the bathrooms. i didn't ask and i didn't want to know

most of these things aren't too relevant anymor but they kinda funny so here. i mean expand on these if u want. i can't put them on my blog bc it's not a TO blog but they need to be put somewhere

u made me remember this time where i just woke up weak as hell and my aunt had to literally spoonfeed me multiple bowls of cereal, to this day idk exactly HOW i got that weak, that has never happened to me before and it hasnt happened since

BUT ALSO i remember going to this summer camp and somehow someway we got into this gender prank war and im just pushing that onto all of em

and THEN there was this other time i was in this summer?????christian????school camp thing????? and look im an atheist idk what i was doing there i showed zero interest but my cousins and sister was also there, and for lunch we were going out which i dont think anyone else was doing bc my teacher asked “r u SURE u wanna go???” and i rhink she was pushing me to stay but i said yea and left immediately and i giggle at that and i think pony wluldve done the same, i wanted OUT🗣️

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Too little too late (no minors)

Alastor x F!reader x semi Lucifer

Chapter 2

~This hole you put me in, Wasn't' deep enough

And I'm climbing out right now, You're running out of places to hide from me.~

*******************************************

"That bitch doesn't know everything I've done for her. Who does she think she is, doesn't she know all I have sacrificed for her?” The small contents that had been resting on the dashboard in his radio tower now fell onto the floor with a loud crash. He grabbed at his hair, grunting between gritted teeth.

“How fucking dare she?? And with all people him? That pretentious little shit excuse for a king?”. He slid to the floor, claws digging into his hair, trickles of blood trailing down along the sides of his face. What was he going to do? He can't kill the king of hell.. as much as he would love to. He would enjoy tearing the pathetic smile from his lips, ripping his chest open, deflating the smug hot air that puffed from his chest.

Did he know you the way he did? Did he know the way you loved tea with more milk than sugar? The way you hated the hot summer days but loved the warm summer nights. Did he know you've already read every book in the library 10 times and still had something new to say about them? Did he know how you loved your neck licked? Especially the small part close to your collarbone. Oh, the idea of his slimy snake tongue worming its way along your perfectly soft skin, ripping those sweet small gasps from your throat…. Those sounds were for him and him alone. How dare you how FUCKING dare you. That idea alone turned his blood cold, his horns protruding from his head, his eyes transforming into details.

He tried to steady his breathing, and collect his thoughts..his eyes darted back and forth scanning the room..he was lost in his sadness and pure unfiltered rage. Wait.. you never said you didn't love him anymore, you said you can't! Why can't you?? Were you in some sort of deal?? With Lucifer??? Oh Lucifer didn't know who he was up against, no if he assumed he would go quietly he was more stupid than he looked.

The mindset he was in at the moment, he barely cares how this situation would affect his standing with Charlie, I'll rip her fucking throat out too if she gets in my way..y/n belongs to me we promised each other. Maybe she's forgotten that maybe I have to remind her of her promise.

His eyes snapped up his hands, finally leaving his sore and abused scalp. "Yes, yes that's it, she just needs a reminder, it's ok my darling it's ok I'll forgive you, we can fix this". He stood, laughter ripping from his throat, gritty and deranged. "Yes, I'm coming, I'm coming it's time you were reminded, reminded where you belong. Whatever this situation is, I can remove you from it. I can fix it". His large smile returned, not meeting his crazed eyes. Grabbing his microphone, his shadow appeared at his side displaying the same maddened smile, mirroring his masters as they both melted into the shadows.

“Darling, is something wrong with the food?” “hm?” “I asked if something was wrong with the food. You've hardly taken a bite! I can order something else” You weren't sure how long you had been pushing your pasta around with your fork in the dim restaurant Lucifer had taken you to this evening. You also weren't sure how long he had been talking, ranting about Charlie and ducks and overlords.

Your mind was still focused on the conversation with Alastor earlier, the look in his eyes when you had left. You could have sworn you heard a sniffle behind you as you turned and left the room leaving him alone. “No! No, everything is fine!” You lifted your head off the hand you had resting on the table. Moving your fork once again you forced yourself to take a bite, pushing past your nauseousness that had settled in your stomach.

Lucifer eyed you suspiciously, pushing away his place he reached over the table clasping your free hand on his. He ran a thumb over the back of your hand sighing. “Sweetheart please, I can tell something is on your mind, why won't you just tell me? Let me help you lighten your load?”. You looked up at him, his sweet fanged smile, his rosy cheeks and soft kind eyes underneath light purple eyelids. He was truly handsome, the most handsome in hell some would say.

You felt the hot sharp pain of guilt creeping into your stomach, it felt like you had swallowed sandpaper, causing it to suck all the moisture from your throat. Why did you feel this way? You haven't cheated on him, you haven't done anything! You told Alastor it was over between you both, so why did you feel so guilty?.

“I'm ok Luci, truly I think I'm just tired, it was a long day at the hotel that's all! I'm fine”. you squeezed his hand back reassuringly offering him a small smile that didn't meet your eyes. You're lying he thought but he wouldn't push it, not now not here. “You know I am too! What do you say we get the check and head home?”. He looked over to the waiter waving them down. You nodded, not answering him, returning to your thoughts. You had to let Alastor go, it was the right thing to do, you could be happy with Luci, he was an amazing man and he's always treated you with respect, he was kind, funny and handsome anyone would be lucky to be with him.

You didn't speak as you stood watching him pay the check. You slipped on your thin cardigan, pulling it around you almost protectively. “Ready to go hon?” His hands wrapped around your waist pulling you into a side hug, as the bright portal to your shared home opened before you. Walking through you tossed your purse on the floor next to the bed before beginning to undress, you could hear Lucifer faintly in the distance putting the leftovers in the fridge.

This night had exhausted you, you couldn't help but wonder what Alastor was currently up to. Was he angry? Taking it out on some poor innocent sinner somewhere in the streets of the pride ring? Was he sad, was he.. with someone else.. in an attempt to forget your body; lying above another? That thought.. the picture of him touching, feeling, kissing another. Oh it hurt and it hurt bad, but you knew you had no right to be hurt. You had told what you told him earlier and the cards lay where they may.

“Feeling any better?” Their hands in his white jacket pocket, large hats already discarded Lucifer signed standing in the doorway observing your body language. “Did everything go ok at the hotel today? Did something happen?"Crossing the room over, he wrapped his arms around your waist nuzzling into your shoulder. You set your hands on his looking back at him. “No, I promise I'm ok just a long day, thank you for dinner”. You pressed a small kiss to his nose, pulling out of his grasp to finish undressing.

He retreated to a chair next to him, and beginning to remove his shoes he looked up at you, watching you remove your layers slowly. You eyed him in the mirror behind you. “What?” You lightly chuckled meeting his eyes. He shrugged “Just admiring my beautiful fiance is all” his eyes lowered, his forked snake tongue protruding to moisten his lips. You were so beautiful and sexy..neither of you had taken the plunge and fully made love yet, opting to take things slow, but Lucifer was growling impatient. His need to discover how delicious your nectar would truly be was starting to drive him mad. And watching you now undressing before him was torture, the elegant curve of your back, the sway of your hips.. the curls in your hair rippling down your back as you removed your hairpins.

You felt shy under his gaze, exposed and vulnerable. You very childishly felt guilty again. Your thoughts floated to Alastor, you had promised him no man would ever see this way but him. “Say it” his words were staggered, broken as he pumped into you “Say it. “I'm yours Alastor” Eyes rolled back fists clenching his scared tan skin “It's all for you I promise only for you” “Yes” his head scanned your face, clawed hands holding your cheeks so softly so tender “Only for me”.

Holding back the tears that had started to form in the corner of your eyes you pushed that memory away, You discreetly whipped your eyes hoping Lucifer wouldn't notice, you fake smiled back at him over your shoulder “You're so sweet, my king”. You crossed over to the drawer pulled out a nightgown and continued your undressing, you were used to his eyes now always watching and lingering over your body. He raised from his seat behind to undress and change himself.

You took the opportunity to retreat to the bathroom, you splashed some cold water on your face taking in deep breaths. You had to hold it together; this was your life now. Heading back towards the bedroom you hoped that Lucifer would be preoccupied with whatever new project he was currently interested in so you could get some sleep without any further explanation.

To your luck, though he was waiting on the bed for you arms outstretched, “Come here my dear cuddle with me” You crawled in next to him letting him engulf you in his embrace. “I know I sound like a broken record” his thumb lightly rubbing on your arm “but please talk to me when something is bothering you, let me try and help share your load”. You looked up at him and signed “I know and thank you I promise I'm ok for now, maybe a little stressed with all the projects going on at the hotel”. “Has Alastor been giving you trouble?”

The mention of his name was a sharp poker through your heart, you gripped your bottom lip between your teeth shaking your head side to side “Na uh”. Closing your eyes you attempted to drift off to sleep when you felt Lucifer move next to you, soon he was moving down the bed and you felt your nightgown slowly lifting, your eyes shot open “Luci? What are you doing?” He was adjusting himself by your thighs running a hand softly over them. “I know we agreed to take things slow but I wanted to try and make you feel better if you don't mind” his sly smile reaching his half-lidded eyes.

You didn't want him to eat you out, but you also knew if he was to be your husband you would have to get used to his touch. Lucifer wasn't a bad man, a cruel man or anything of the sort, he was on all counts a great man and a great choice of husband. Your body thought your body knew what and who you wanted, but once again you pushed that feeling down. “oh ah sure” you answered in a shaky voice holding your hands in a clasp by your torso. “Thank you” he chuckled “No need to thank me, love, I should be thankful for you allowing me to partake in such an enjoyable activity” he winked at you before spreading your legs slowly. He started to kiss up your leg slowly humming contently.

Despite your best efforts your mind began to wander to past experiences. “Such smooth soft skin my darling” Alastor was kissing and lightly sucking slowly pressing his nose into your leg as he crept up your leg. You squirmed happily, his touch was electrical, lighting up every part of you. His large clawed hands slowly pulled your legs apart, pressing his face into your womanhood and inhaling your sweet scent, “hmmm delicious”

You felt him hook a claw into the band of your panties pulling them down and off your legs, he hooked your legs over his shoulder, claws digging into your thighs, he smiled at you a smile like he had seen the most delectable dessert in his life. He licked a long deep stripe against your lower region causing you to gasp and grip the sheets. “Oh fuck, I love you” You felt him chuckle against your skin “I love you too my firefly” before diving back into your sweet juices.

“Wait! Wait wait I'm sorry” Your whole body seized in response to Lucifer’s hands slowing opening your lap, he froze and looked up with apologetic eyes, he sat back on his heels, “Oh Gods I'm so sorry, this was probably too soon I don't mean to rush you I'm ok waiting!” He pulled back your nightgown over your legs and crawled back to lay next to you, “Please forgive me we agreed to take things slow I just wanted to help make you feel better”. You ran your hands down your face, you felt guilty he shouldn't be apologizing to you, here he was trying to give you pleasure while you think of another man. “No don't be sorry I just I am really tired I'm not feeling up to it right now” You turned over and patted his arm “But thank you for wanting to truly Luci I think I just want to get some sleep”. He hooked his arm around you nesting into the pillows comfortably. “Ok my love, yeah it's time for bed for me too”. You both snuggled into the comfortable blankets and leaned on his chest, hearing the soft pitter patter of his heart and slow breath. Soon he passed out lightly snoring and content.

You however could not sleep. Peeling his arm off you, you slinked out of bed grabbed your robe and headed outside to the gardens. Sitting on a chair in the warm night air, you let the tears fall. “Oh Alastor”, you whispered to yourself “Oh how I miss you”. You held your face in your hands trying to muffle the sounds of your cries. You were so distracted you didn't notice the dark shadow appearing behind you and the tentacles slowly encasing your body"Hello my firefly".

Hope you all enjoyed reading! Please feel free to re-blog but not without credit ❤️

[blackaleycatt]

Random Wild Kratts Headcanons: Megan Thee Stallion Songs

Songs that I think the characters would like or songs that represent them because I love Megan.

Y'all better stream Hiss!

Martin: Ungrateful

Everyone knows that Martin is a nice man. Even the villains know it.

Sometimes it seems like he's a little too nice tho. Like the villains definitely take advantage of it.

Martin can be a nice person but when you mess with animals, his friends, or his brother he can become a different person.

I think the lyrics “Y'all actin' really ungrateful, I'm sparin' you hoes” represent this.

I feel like he could be a lot more violent towards the villains but chooses not to.

Basically, he is sparing the villains despite everything they have done to the team and the villains are “ungrateful” because they constantly act the same way.

Chris: Savage

His sassy attitude fits this song well.

It doesn't matter if it's a villain or his own brother. That lil sassy attitude is always gonna be there.

I feel like he would actually call himself a savage after listening to this song.

“Been that bitch, still that bitch”

And he literally is. Not only has Wild Kratts been around a long time, but Chris has been iconic since Kratt’s creatures and Zooboomafu have been around.

Koki: Plan B

This song is about Independence and having a high self-worth.

Koki definitely has all of that.

She's technically a minor character but she leaves a big impact on the team and the show in general.

Also, I feel like a lot of the time she’s the team's “Plan B” meaning when there's a problem that the boys or Aviva can't fix she has to step in.

Usually involving the miniaturizer because they never listen when she tells them to keep up with it.

She’s like the only other person on the team with a fully functioning brain cell.

Jimmy: Hot Girl Summer

This was THE summer song so you know Jimmy was listening to it.

Probably says “It's hot girl summer” every year to Aviva and Koki.

The chill vibe of the song matches his personality.

I can see him lounging in the sun bobbing his head to this song.

I don't really have a deep reason for why this song is for him, it’s just chill.

Aviva: Hiss

Hiss blew up because it was a diss track calling out basically everyone in the music industry.

I feel like this fits her attitude towards Zach specifically.

Like she seems like she wants to say “Fu*k you” to him so badly.

Based on the “Mystery of the Weird Looking Walrus” episode Aviva seems to be a very observant person and knows a lot of tea about people.

Like how does she know what Zach eats every day and how many toes he has on each foot 💀.

And she was able to guess his password easily on the first try.

Basically don’t piss her off or she will air out ALL of your business, like she did with Zach.

Also, I feel like she listens to Megan when she’s angry.

Donita: Megan's Piano

If feel like she's also a Megan stan.

This song is her anthem.

One thing about Donita is she is gonna let you know that she is NOT poor and she works hard for her money.

Like she’s the hardest-working villain besides Gourmand.

Donita is a self-made queen.

Girlboss.

She likes this song because it reminds her that she's better than everyone.

Every time Chris and Martin come around she mentions wanting to give them a makeover and drags them for their fashion choices.

Definitely says “Sorry, hoes hate me 'cause I'm the it girl”.

You can't spell Donita without “it” after all.

Gourmand: B.I.T.C.H

I don't think he would actually call someone a bitch (he's southern-raised, he has some manners) but the vibe of the song fits him.

I think he would like the lyrics “You know you can't control me, baby, you need a real one in ya life.”

Gourmand is kind of like Zach in the sense that he does what he wants whenever he wants.

Hence why you can't control him.

He’s not like Donita who would use animal substitutes in his profession (the fake spider silk) no matter how hard the Kratts try to convince him.

He does what he wants and you can't control him.

He's also very straightforward with his feelings.

If he doesn't like you he’ll let you know.

Zach: God's Favorite

Zach relates to the song based on the title alone.

He truly believes that he is favored and highly regarded.

Him being the “favorite” could be a general feeling or a reference to how he feels about Aviva and her inventions.

He doesn't see himself as equally matched to her or anyone. He sees himself as the ultimate person basically, even above the other villains.

Despite his incompetence, he is still rather skilled in some things and successful.

The lyric “Here's a toast, who you love the most?” is also him talking about himself since we all know who his favorite person is.

I feel like he would listen to this song to boost his confidence.

[draped1ncerecloth]

Hear me out, Nick Valentine x TransMasc Reader

First off, bro is hot. No reason for the robot detective to have my mind in a grip.

SECOND, the disconnect from his own body/personality makes it match with the struggles the reader would also have so erm 😞

Nick Valentine x Trans masc reader

Some good old fashioned fluff since he’s perfect for it.

Warnings: tooth decaying sweetness, mentions of body dysphoria, swearing, ooc Nick valentine.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

“Have you figured anything out yet?” Nick called from his desk, sorting through the paper work as you scanned over your own newly discovered clues. “Nothing. I can’t seem to figure out we’re this bitch could be camping out at!” You sigh in frustration at the current project you had spend days of restless nights, the heat of the summer days and the soaked sweat clothes you’re currently drenched in makes the already tedious task much more daunting. It’s been about a year now since you first met Nick, him helping you with your issues and you of course saving him from people who wanted him dead. You hadn’t really known why Nick had been caught but all that had mattered was that you saved his ass and he was eternally grateful.

“Well, the sooner we are to figuring this out, the sooner we are to finding this man and putting him behind bars.” Nick called back. He never really took much bite of your tone or the way you would grow even more agitated by his words in the current moment. There was nothing he had done wrong but they way your very old and worn binder had been cutting into you after a whole days work, and the way your clothes clung made the whole action of breathing so much more difficult. Pain spreading through your body and the lack of oxygen made the oncoming headache much worse. But hey, in the end at least it was more comfortable and reassuring than anything else.

After some shuffling of the files Nick had neatly written and tucked away had been dropped and the way you let out a loud sigh, Nick finally popped out of his chair and asked if you were doing ok. Unfortunately this pissed you off to no extent. “No! I’m not alright Nick! I and tired I’m hot I can breath and worst of all, I can’t seem to figure this out!” Your hands thrown in the air as you fully turn to him, he watched in silence as he let you express what’s you felt. He knew you weren’t mad at him or whatever he might’ve said but he didn’t understand what had you this upset to begin with. “Hey, calm down kid, why don’t you take a seat and just breath.”

You threw the remaining files in your hand, down on the table and laughed. “I fucking can’t breath, I’m hot, I’m exhausted, I feel like my ribs are about to break, I need to take this off!” He watched in shock as you quickly removed your shirt and revealed your binder, quickly shoving your shirt back down and sucking as much air as you could. The pain was excruciating, and your back cracked from new found freedom of mobility. Then you sat. Only then did you start to cool down. To relax. To focus on breathing and letting the pain wash over you and out. “Forgot to take it off again?” He asked quietly, walking over to your side and rubbing your shoulders. “Mmhm.” He said, taking in his touch. “That’s unsafe, you need to be more mindful about these things, you could get hurt you know?” Nick tried to comfort you. “It’s unsafe but for me, I feel more safe. It’s….” You stopped yourself.

“It’s what dear?” He questioned. Worry washing over him. “It’s not like you really realize just how comforting it is to bind.” You winched at the way you said it, the way you doubted how much he cared made you feel guilty.

“You’re right, I don’t know the full extent of how much you need it kid, but I do know how important the comfort of needing something like that can be.” The synth let out a sigh and moved to sit on the desk in front of you. “Look, you know it doesn’t make me see you as any less. I am not bothered by you needing to take a break from binding. But it can be dangerous if done incorrectly, and you know this.”

“I know. I just don’t know how to explain it. It’s like, without it. I am just. Wrong.” You tried to puzzle your words together but only ending with half made sentences. “You feel as if, it is not who YOU are. That you’re incomplete.” You nodded. “Look kid, I love you, I hate to see you in pain. I can’t say I know how you feel but I myself have my own feelings about myself too.” He removed his coat and took his fedora off, setting them on the table. “A robot programmed to basically be part human. Used for something that I never turned out to fit. There’s no one like me, I don’t know who or what I am. But I do know that even though I can’t be at peace with what is missing, I do know I make peace with what is there.”

Nick and you talked back and forth about your own insecurities and he himself opened up slightly about his. Though things were different for each other, you still found that you felt the same about these situations. Standing up, you wrapped your arms tightly around him and Nick did the same in return. “I love you Nick, thank you.” You mumbled to him.

“I love you too darling. Now, let’s pick up these files and get you cleaned up and relaxed. It’ll all be okay.”

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Authors note: Sorry this is short, I haven’t gotten much time w Nick valentine yet!! I do wanna explore his companion ship now that I finally got to play with him♥️

[ereardon]

That Summer || Part Four [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Summary: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, angst, smut

Wordcount: 3.6K

Series masterlist here; Part Three here; Part Five here

You craved Bradley. 

You craved his lips on yours, his hot skin pressed against you. 

He had stopped it that night in the ocean, under the glowing moon. 

“I can’t afford to play games here, Birdy,” he whispered, his hands still warm on your waist as he held you cradled against him in the chest-deep water. 

You shook your head. “It’s not a game, Bradley,” you murmured. “You’re not a game to me. You’re not some prize that I’m chasing. All I know is that I want you.” 

And then his lips were back on yours, his hands flat against your back beneath the water, your fingers tugging his hair, your moans filling his mouth until the two of you broke apart, panting. 

You slid your legs from where they were wrapped around his waist, coming to standing. “We should go inside,” you whispered. “I don’t want to get caught.” 

The air was thick, cloying, with heat as the two of you trudged out of the water, walking quietly around the side of the house, up the wooden stairs, slipping through the side door. You held your breath as the two of you climbed two flights of stairs to the third floor, lingering outside of your room. 

You nudged the door open. “Do you want to come in?” you whispered. 

Bradley stood in the doorway, looking around. He had never been in your room before. It was light and spacious, with skylights that let the milky moonlight pour in and a king canopy bed against one wall draped luxuriously with gauzy white fabric.  

He shook his head. Your heart dropped in your chest. 

“I should shower,” he said, motioning toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

“OK.” 

He smiled, turning to go, and you reached out, circling his wrist with your fingertips. “Bradley?” He looked at you. “Meet me here tomorrow,” you whispered. “My room. Midnight.” 

He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to yours, and you could no longer remember a time when Bradley wasn’t part of your existence. “See you tomorrow, Birdy.” 

***

You were anxious. After dinner you excused yourself, going upstairs, taking a long shower, shaving your legs, picking out a tiny pajama set: a pale pink cami with matching boyshorts, forgoing a bra. You brushed your hair and left it down. 

And then you waited. 

And waited. And waited. And waited. Time was a bitch. She knew that she had something you wanted. No, not wanted — needed. And she was slowing down, just to keep you from that one thing. 

Finally, your door creaked open. You looked up eagerly from where you lay on top of the covers. Bradley poked his head inside and you waved him in. He shut the door softly, walking into the center of the room tentatively. He looked forward, out the big bay windows that looked out over the ocean. 

“Hi,” you whispered softly. 

He turned, a smile on his face. “Hi.” 

You patted the bed and he made his way over, sitting down softly. You sat up, crossing your legs, looking at him. He looked uncomfortable. Panic rose in your throat, along with regret. Maybe he was late because he didn’t want what had happened the night before to happen again. 

Maybe he had only kissed you back because you were technically his host family for the summer. Maybe he didn’t want you at all. 

“Bradley?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you, um, I mean, have you ever dated anyone before?” 

He blushed. There was something so endearing about watching him blush, his round cheeks perfectly pink. “Not really,” he said softly. 

You leaned forward until your knee was touching his thigh. “Really? No one?” 

He smiled shyly. “I’ve been with girls,” he said. “I just have never had a girlfriend.” 

You brushed one hand against his thigh. “So last night.” 

He turned to you. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said quietly. “But we have to be careful, Y/N. I know this might not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s a really big deal to me.” Bradley’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “I can’t fuck this up, Birdy. This is my only shot.” 

You reached up, cupping his chin in your hand, turning his eyes up toward yours. “I know this is serious,” you whispered. “I want to help you. I’ll do anything I can. I am not going to let you get lost in the shuffle.” 

Bradley’s warm brown eyes never left yours as he shifted to face you, your hand running from his jaw down to his neck until the two of you were sitting face-to-face and you leaned in, pressing your lips back to his, letting his hands grab your waist, fingers burning on the open slice of skin between your tank top and your shorts. Your tongue slipped between Bradley’s teeth, padding him gently. Every second, every breath, every touch made you feel like you were on fire, burning from the inside out. 

His hands slid up the back of your tank top, skimming bare skin, forcing goosebumps to rise on your legs and arms as your tongue swirled in his mouth. 

As you were lifting your hips, about to climb onto his lap, Bradley pulled away, his fingers still in your shirt, bunching it up so it ended just under your breasts. “Wait,” he whispered hoarsely. “We should take this slow.”

“Why?” You wanted him everywhere, anywhere, all at once. 

“I like you,” Bradley said softly. “I just, I don’t want to ruin this.” 

You wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t ruin things. That there was no way you could get sick of him. He was already intoxicating. 

Maybe that’s what he was concerned about. That the two of you would burn out so quick, a fireworks show at the end of a wedding, that he would be left to rot after. 

You nodded. “OK,” you whispered. “We can take it slow.” 

Bradley scooted onto the bed so the two of you were laying side by side. You easily nestled into his side, head in the crook between his arm and chest, your fingers splayed out on the cotton of his shirt, one leg slung over his. His hand softly stroked your side, pulling you in tighter. You whimpered softly as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Stop that,” he muttered. 

You looked up innocently. “Stop what?” 

He looked down at you with a small grin. “Moaning like that.” 

You giggled. “Seriously?” 

Bradley nodded. He was dead serious. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at his pajama shorts, and sure enough, he was right. 

You turned your gaze back up at him. He was pink with embarrassment. Your fingers brushed back his hair from his eyes softly. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours softly. “I want you, Birdy. I mean it when I say that.” 

“I’m already yours,” you whispered. 

It was true. You belonged to Bradley. There would never be a moment in your life, after that night, where you didn’t belong to him. 

Even after it all went up in flames.

***

“Ms. Sullivan.” 

You stepped out onto the dance floor. There were five middle aged women wearing various levels of frowns staring back at you from behind a tablecloth-draped table that sat on the edge of the wooden floor. You gave them the best fake smile you could muster. 

“Please tell us about your plans for once summer is complete.” 

You sucked in a breath. The dress your mother had chosen for the interview portion of the debutant program was constrictive. A tight bodice. A puffy skirt, a pair of new strappy heels that had apparently ordered a hit on your pinky toe because it was getting murdered the longer you stood upright. “I will be attending Stanford in the fall.” 

“And what is your intended major?” 

“Biochemistry.”

A round of nods. “And your plans for after graduation?” 

“Medical school.” 

Ten eyes stared back at you. “And what discipline are you interested in?” 

“Obstetrics,” you replied. “Fetal surgery.” 

The frowns deepened. “And why surgery? Why medicine?” 

You knew what they wanted to hear. You also knew why they were asking. It may have been 2023, but this deep in Texas, a not-so-small collection of society still expected women to be wives. Mothers. Socialites. You had grown up knowing that when the time came, you could go one of two ways. 

You could go out, go to school, get a job. Maybe find a man, build a home, get married, have babies. 

Or you could do what your mother did. Find a man. Spend your life serving him, implicitly and explicitly. Raise a family. Join a club, join five of them. Join a board of trustees. Make a living out of telling people how long their grass could be before they cut it. Organize cocktail parties. 

“Ms. Sullivan?” The woman in the purple blouse at the end squinted at you. Suddenly, despite the air conditioning and the sleeveless dress, you felt sweat prickle your underarms. 

You nodded. “I want to save people,” you said softly. “I want to save babies so they can grow up and become people. So they get the chance to.” 

The row of heads bobbed in agreement. You smiled. You had passed. 

As you exited the room, your fingers were already on the back of your dress, yanking the ties apart, letting air back into your lungs. 

You stepped outside into the glaring sun. Let the heat start to melt your makeup off, make your hair frizz, forcing sweat to pool at your chest. 

You let it. It felt like punishment. 

***

Bradley had been staying at a friend’s house until the parents got in a fight and decided on a divorce, forcing his friend to move between houses and pushing Bradley out. 

“I’m fucking sorry man,” Landon said, shaking his head. “I really am.” 

“It’s alright,” Bradley replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t last forever, right?” 

“So, uh, where are you gonna go?” 

“Texas.” 

Landon squinted. “Texas? Why the fuck would you go to Texas?” 

Bradley pulled out his wallet, gently easing out a wrinkled photograph, unfolding it and holding it out. “Before she died, my mom gave me this. Said if I’m really in trouble, go find them. That they would help me.” 

“Who are they?” Landon examined the picture. He recognized Carole and Goose instantly. Even baby Bradley was pretty obvious. But the other couple and the second baby were a mystery. 

“Friends of my parents,” he said. “From Top Gun.” 

Landon frowned. “But they’re in Texas?” 

Bradley nodded. “Guess they moved a few years ago.” 

“Why them?” he asked. 

Bradley took the photo back, folding it up and carefully replacing it in his wallet. “I guess he dated my mom a long time ago. He’s technically my godfather.” 

***

“Be my date,” you whispered softly. 

Bradley’s fingers were dancing along your side, slipping softly under the band of your sleep shorts, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “What?” he asked. 

You rolled over so the two of you were face-to-face. “Be my date to the debutante ball.” 

“Birdy,” he murmured. “That’s never gonna happen.” 

“Why not?” You pushed yourself up onto one elbow. “I need an escort. Be my escort.” 

“Baby, you know why not,” he replied softly. “I’m not part of this world. I’m just some guy who lives in your house and eats your food. I’m not escort material. I’ll never be the kind of guy your parents approve of.” 

You ran your fingers down his cheek. “I don’t want to go with anyone but you.” 

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he promised. “How does that sound?” 

You shook your head. “Not great. So you’re OK with some other guy holding me here.” You moved his hand until it was on your waist. “Dancing with me? Pressing himself against me?” 

Bradley growled softly. “Birdy,” he whispered. “Don’t make me jealous.” 

“I’m just trying to explain why I want you there.” 

“Baby,” he said softly. “If you want me there, I’ll be there. But it’s not up to me. And I don’t think it’s up to you, either.” 

“I’ll figure it out,” you replied. “Leave it with me.” 

Bradley smiled at you softly. You ran your hand down his chest before your fingers met the top of his boxers. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him. 

“Brad?” you asked softly. “Can I touch you?” 

He nodded anxiously. 

You took a deep breath, sliding your hand over the front of his boxers, palming him gently. He cock twitched, hardening under your touch, and you let out a contented sigh. God, he was massive. Your fingers rubbed over his length beneath his boxers before you reached up, pulling down the waistband. Bradley shifted so you were able to pull his boxers off entirely, his hard cock already dripping with precum. 

You sat up, cross legged, as Bradley sat with his back against the headboard and a mountain of fluffy white pillows. Slowly, you reached out, running your fingers over his length. Bradley let out a small whine, tipping his head back with his eyes closed as your hand closed around his shaft, thumb dragging the silken precum from his tip around the head of his cock as you wrapped your fingers around him tightly, sliding your fist from the base to the tip of his cock as he groaned beneath you. 

His cock was hard, almost pulsating, and you took your time dragging your fingers over his length. After a moment, you leaned forward, dribbling a pool of spit onto his tip, spreading it down over his cock with one quick movement. “Shit!” he groaned, unintentionally thrusting his hips up, seeking more friction. 

You kissed his cheek softly, still moving your hand along his cock. “I have you,” you whispered. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

The moonlight dripped through the skylights. You watched Bradley’s face. He was beautiful. You wanted him, all of him. You had never felt that kind of lust or need for someone before. 

You could feel him getting close. His cock was hard and hot in your hand and you rotated your wrist slightly in a small twisting pattern, causing Bradley to jerk his hips. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m close.” 

You shifted near him as Bradley’s free hand moved from where it had been sitting hot on your thigh to your breast, squeezing you over the thin cotton fabric. You moaned at the unexpected contact, and that alone drove Bradley overboard, a gasp leaving his mouth as you felt his hot cum spill over your fist, onto his stomach and all over your hand, a breathy moan on his lips as you worked him through the waves of the orgasm, his fingers gripping your breast tightly. 

Bradley’s eyes found yours. “Jesus,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I just–” 

You shook your head, letting him go softly, leaning forward and kissing his lips. “I loved it.” 

“Seriously?” 

You nodded, unfurling your legs, standing up. “Let me get a towel.” A second later,  you returned with a warm wet cloth, handing it to Bradley who cleaned himself up before pulling his boxers back on and leaning back with a sigh. You dropped the cloth back in the bathroom, settling back into Bradley’s side. 

He tugged you into his arms, his lips on yours before trailing down your neck, his hands hot on your back as he held you close. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured. 

“I wanted to.” Your fingers pressed against his neck, one of his thighs slotted between yours as you laid partly on top of him. You could feel how wet you were, the heat emanating from between your legs and when Bradley shifted slightly you groaned into his throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

He pulled back with a grin. “God, you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” 

You whined slightly as Bradley let his palm skim over your breast before his fingers touched the bare skin of your stomach, crawling up beneath your tank top until he had your entire breast in his large hand. Two fingers pinched your nipple softly and you let your head lull back in a moan. Bradley flipped you over until you were beneath him, his hand massaging your breast, hard, as you shook beneath him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes.” 

He leaned down, attaching his lips to your neck as his hand left your breast, heading south, smoothing over your hip down to your thigh. Bradley reached around, squeezing your ass, and you moaned into his mouth, shifting your hips higher, searching for friction.  

“Please,” you whined, desperate for him.

Bradley laughed a throaty chuckle against your forehead, kissing you softly as his fingers tracing over your hip bone before his palm pressed, hard, against the triangle between your thighs, his fingers dipping down between your legs, sliding between the slit, still on top of your tiny shorts. 

You moaned as he pressed his fingers deeper into your slit, the fabric now entirely soaked through by your excitement. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. You couldn’t help but nod wordlessly as he lifted his hand. Just as you went to argue at the loss of contact, he slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, his thick fingers stroking your soaking folds for the first time and you burrowed your face into his neck to muffle the sobs. 

You rocked against his palm as he slid one finger in your drenched cunt, the feeling of being filled by him unlike anything you had ever experienced. 

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley murmured as he sank another finger inside of you, thrusting up gently, curling at the top. You gripped his shirt with a tight fist, your chest heaving as a coil started to build in your abdomen as Bradley’s palm rubbed against your swollen clit. 

Bradley shifted his hand so his large thumb came in contact with your sensitive clit and you felt yourself tightening around his fingers. He groaned under his breath as you started to shake, a loud, whining moan leaving your mouth as you came all over his fingers. 

He slowly pulled his fingers out from inside of you and you were almost embarrassed to look at him. Bradley sat up, brushing his clean hand over your cheek, tipping your face toward his. “Birdy?” 

You looked up at him, face pink with exertion. 

“That was amazing,” he murmured. “Did you, did you like it?” 

You sat up, tossing your arms around his neck. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Later, once both of you had cleaned up, you laid back in your bed, sliding down below the comforter. Bradley stood next to the bed, the moonlight illuminating him from behind, like an angel. “I should go,” he whispered. It was almost four o’clock in the morning. 

“Stay,” you begged. The bed felt empty without him. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours softly. A whisper. “I can’t get caught, remember?” he asked. You nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, OK”

“Goodnight, Bradley,” you murmured. 

Bradley walked to the door, turning back with a smile. “Goodnight, Birdy.” 

You listened to him leave, the soft seal of the door as it closed, his footsteps that grew fainter as he made his way up the tower stairs. As you leaned back, you closed your eyes. 

Seventy one days. That’s all you had left. 

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[slowlydifferentbluebird]

Hey zazá, do u know sohee from the group alice ? I think she kinda remembers miyeon in some angles, so I thought about a smut of G1P Minnie fucking miyeon and Sohee

Of course I know her. She's too hot to be out of the radar. The timing for your ask is perfect because she just posted some sexy pics and those really gave fuel to my brain. Also, loving a request with members from different groups.

G!P Minnie X Miyeon and Sohee

(My eyes can't stop looking at that yummy ass)

The fun part for many fans in kpop are the collabs between artists of their favourite groups: sometimes they can be featuring, others partecipating in some variety shows together. This time it was simply a photoshoot: in fact (G)I-dle Miyeon and Sohee from Alice were scheduled for a summer set.

Miyeon was not there alone, in fact her member Minnie decided to support her because she wasn't busy that day. Since from the start it was a hard day for the thai girl. Seeing the sexy body in those revealing outfits was too much to bear.

She already fucked her friend some times, but Sohee was for sure her next target, so a question popped in her mind: why not both? Miyeon and Sohee already seemed to become close, and maybe more, on the set, so it should have been easy for her.

In fact at the end of the day Minnie kindly proposed to the two girls to have a drink to her place, and that's what they made...for like 10 minutes. A drink was enough to make them act in a more flirty way.

"Miyeon, I can read on your face you want to kiss her, just do it", Minnie teased and the older girl seized the opportunity. She pulled the short hair girl by her neck and put her tongue in her mouth, starting to making out, clearly relieving the sexual tension of the photoshoot.

Sohee was too excited to refuse, so she just let herself go...before feeling something poking her cheek. When she checked, she gasped seeing the already hard cock of Minnie in front of her face. "You won't let me out, right?", Minnie asked, ironic, while smirking. "You're so naughty, you know?", Miyeon answered, before taking once again the control of the Alice member.

She took the cock of her friend and pushed the head of the other girl against it, making her gag on her lenght. From there Minnie took control of the situation, face-fucking an helpless Sohee, while Miyeon was on her knees, sucking her balls with loud sounds.

But that was just the start of the night. After cumming a big quantity directly in Sohee's throat, she brought her to her queen-size bed and started undressing her with the help of the older girl. Minnie was basically merciless with her new catch, treating her just like a body to fuck...and Sohee was loving that feeling of helplessness.

"On your tummy, bitch", she said to a now fully naked Sohee, who just followed her order, laying on her stomach and sticking her butt in the air, ready to be taken. In few moments Minne was already inside her, her fat cock fucking her pussy as if was a matter of life or death.

Miyeon, who was not a lover of being left out, decided to also have fun with the poor girl, putting her head between her own thighs. Sohee, already slave of the pleasure, didn't lose a second to starting her out, as if it was just natural to do that.

Minnie continued to thrust into the poor girl pussy, till she maked a mess of it. It was all swollen and full of various load of sticky cum, but once again, it was not enough for Minnie's hunger. "You bitches from the nugudom need to learn your position", she growled at the end of the night in the ear of an almost passed out Sohee, while Miyeon was cleaning her cock with her tongue, her eyes still full of lust.

I hope you liked it, Anon 💙

Zazá

[lorifragolina]

The brother of the bride

Hello! the fifth fic for the @harringrovesummerbingo is here! This time I read a post on facebook and thought, how can I Harringrove it?

And this is the result! I hope you like it!!

Title: The brother of the bride

Square & Prompt: A3 "Bare feet"

Rating: General

Word Count: 1471

Major Tags: fluff, first kiss

Summary:It's Max wedding, and Billy is the man of the house, in his duty of brother of the bride. Love is in the air, and would Billy have some of it for him? Read it on AO3

Billy fastened his cufflinks and smoothed his jacket for the last time.

Stunning, as always. He loved the sage tone of his tie, it really enhanced his eyes, although he would never tell it to the shitbird. He sprayed a last touch of hairspray on his already perfect curls, took the bouquet and left the room. 

“Knock knock, can I?”

He knocked to the room at the end of the hallway, and Max raised her head and smiled at him.

She was beautiful. Billy had fussed at every shop and try, but deep down he really enjoyed the dress hunting with his sister and that dress was absolutely perfect, silky and not too feminine as she liked, with some lace accent and the sage details. 

The bridesmaids were giving the last touches, and he went kissing Jane and Erica before hugging his sister tight.

“You’re beautiful,” he smiled.

She had her eyes lightly glossy, but she was his shitbird, after all.

“Did you have any doubts?” she looked at herself proudly in the mirror. 

“Absolutely not,” he kissed her forehead and gave her the flowers. Max nodded, looking again at them in the mirror.

“It’s time. You’re ready, Max?” Said Jane. She was the maid of honor, so she checked that everything was on its site and touched the heart shaped necklace she was wearing, matching the one Maw was wearing. They hugged and the bridesmaids went to the chapel to open the parade. 

Billy gave his arm to the bride, they walked giggling until the entrance of the chapel, then Max became serious and the music started. 

Lucas was already at the altar with his older brother at his side, and Billy shook the hand of both before giving a last hug to the bride.

“You are still on time to call it off,” he mocked, being sure Lucas heard too.

“Bitch,” giggled Max, and Billy took his site at the maid of honor's side.

The ceremony was intense and touching, almost all of the guests ended up in tears, then cheering and clapping, and finally they all got together to the reception.

Max and Lucas chose a hotel near Hawkins with a big garden and a pool that was welcomed on that hot day of summer. Billy greeted the guests, old and new friends of the couple, and he smiled when Steve came and stretched his hand. 

“Nice to see you, Billy. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for the rehearsal dinner”.

“No, don’t worry, it was only for the close family. But I’m glad you can make it today”.

Steve nodded and reached more people to say hello to. Billy looked around trying to see who was his plus one, but he was cheering only with Dustin and Robin at the moment, so he sighed, turned his head and kept doing his duties as the man of the house.

He was a little drunk after enjoying the free drink a bit too much; he needed a smoke, so he stole a bottle of champagne, left the hall and walked alone in the dusk to the poolside, that was empty at the moment, all the guests were dancing to old songs he remembered from his teen era. 

He was happy for Max, although he kept pretending he didn’t like Sinclair; he had enjoyed all the preparation and even bear his sometime hysterical sister; he had been proud to walk her down the aisle, even if they lived already together for a long time: he felt his sister, and ok, even Lucas deserved a celebration of his love. Twelve years was a big, big goal indeed.

He reached the pool, took off his shoes, rolled up the trousers and sat at the side with his feet in the water. He giggled alone, flopping his feet a little, like a child, then fished a cig on his pocket, blowing the smoke at the sky and looking at the red clouds in it. 

“Hey”.

Steve emerged from the bushes at the bottom of the garden, with guilt in his face.

“Don’t tell me you were peeing out there, I thought you were trained to live inside,” said Billy.

Steve giggled nervously. 

“How funny, you didn’t change at all,” he answered, shaking his head. He pointed at the joint he had in his fingers.

“Well now you have been caught, come here and share. They are all busy”, Billy patted the spot at his side. 

“And don’t you dance?”

Billy pointed his cig too. “I needed a break.

Steve nodded, understanding. “Me too”.

Billy lit the joint with his zippo and Steve passed it to him after the first drag.

“So bland, Harrington, I remember you used to smoke stronger things, or my memory is wrong?”

Again, Steve giggled nervously. 

“I’m older now, a bad hangover lasts three days”.

“Oh, come on, we’re the same age and I can party all weekend”.

Steve laughed and they smoked a little in silence.

“So, Harrington,” Billy leaned on his hands looking at the sky, feeling the smoke kicking in. “I didn’t see your plus one, why didn’t you introduce me?”

“Mpf, you know very well I’m here alone,” Steve turned his face to look directly at him. 

“Oooh, too bad”.

“Stop mocking me, you’re here alone too”.

“Harrington, I’m here as the brother of the bride, I’m the man in charge and I suppose to be here alone, I’m on duty,” Billy snapped all the sentences in a really serious way, but stumbled a little in his words, and Steve bursted out laughing. “There’s nothing to laugh about, I’m serious”, he insisted, and Steve stopped giggling, looking at him with a strange look. 

Billy turned his face away, embarrassed, and reached for the bottle, drinking straight to the bottle. He passed it to Steve then and he had a good  slug too. 

“It’s funny,” he murmured to himself.

“What’s funny?” Steve stared at him again.

“Nothing”.

“Come on, dude…” Steve offered him the bottle again, and Billy chugged. He felt his head a little lighter and his guard was a little down.

“One… one of the last times we saw each other back in the day was… at your pool party in 1986, do you remember?”

“Yeah… we were drinking like this, and Max was everywhere with that damn Polaroid, she was so annoying… and look at her now… photographer for the National Geographic, and even married”.

Billy chuckled.

“I still have one of those photos,” those words felt between them, lingering in the heavy silence after. Steve didn’t say anything, and Billy chugged again. “I had a fucking big crush on you at the time, Harrington,” he giggled, looking the stars that began to appear in the sky. 

Steve held his breath for a time that seemed extremely long to him.

“I… I had a hard crush on you too,” he whispered. Billy suddenly looked at him, widening his eyes, and Steve blushed, lowering his eyes. “I… I thought you were so out of my league…”

“Bullshit,” said Billy with a gravelly voice. “You were out of my league… I was trash and you were straight”.

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle. “I filled up my senior year diary with you… and I still have that photo too,” he added sweetly, suddenly aware of what they had just confessed to each other. 

Billy was looking at the ground, blushing, 

“You… you’re mocking me,” said Billy.

“No… not at all. You have always been my secret crush”.

“And you have always been mine,” whispered Billy, his eyes glossy, looking finally inside Steve’s. 

Billy moved towards him, and Steve closed his eyes.

The shriek and the splash made them jump. They didn’t notice that the music stopped and all the guests were leaving the hall and the first bold guy had already jumped in the water.

Billy stood and lent a hand to Steve, helping him to stand again too. 

“Come on,” Billy grabbed Steve’s hand and they ran to the bottom of the garden, between an elegant group of trees, forgetting the bottle and their shoes.

The fresh touch of the grass on their bare feet made Billy cry and giggle, and they stopped, one in front of the other, looking at each other lovingly, an expectant smile on both faces.

“What if I asked you to marry me right now, Harrington?” Billy took him in his arms, raising his chin, terribly moved.

“I do,” answered Steve with a trembling voice. 

The kiss was the most magical, wonderful, amazing kiss both of them ever had, and it seemed to last forever. 

“I love you, princess. I have always loved you”.

“Me too, Billy. I have always loved you too, and I’ll love you forever”.

They kissed again, and it was even more stunning than before.