#i am speed running before my guests show up tonight

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Miles to Johnny: I never told you, you were my first actual friend after my change.

Me, immediately: 😭😭😭

[tbmunson]

Eddie's Best Friend pt 2 - Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader

Part 1

Summary: Movie night with Gareth and Eddie.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, insecurity if you squint really really hard. I think that's it.

WC: 2K ish

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It was nearing 5:30 when you heard the familiar rumble of Eddie's van speeding down your street with the too loud metal music blasting from it's speakers. You were dressed in your favorite sweater and a pair of running shorts. Your hair was pulled into a bun and your face was free of most makeup, save for some mascara and chapstick.

"Are you gonna be weird right now?" You asked, slinging the door to Eddie's van open, still unsure of his tone from the music shop.

"I don't know what you mean." He replied, raising a brow at you as you settled in.

You glared at him and sighed, deciding not to fool with him about it. "Can I ask you something, Eds?"

He could tell your tone was a bit more serious than usual so he straightened slightly. "Yeah, of course."

"Is Gareth a good guy? Like is he worth pursuing? Cause I know you know I'm crushing on him." You turned to face him, resting your head against the seat.

Eddie smiled and nodded. "He's one of the best dudes I know. And I happen to know he's crushing back because we had no plans to hang out tonight until he decided he wanted to have you over. Don't tell him I told you that."

You smiled, a small giggle escaping you as you pulled the seatbelt on. "Either you're a bad secret keeper or I really am your best friend."

Eddie glared at you playfully before slamming the gas and exiting your neighborhood.

You pulled up to a nice looking house with a detached garage. "Am I crazy for being nervous?"

"No. But, if you guys start making out I'm leaving." He cut the engine and looked over at you.

"Eddie, really? What do you take me for?"

"I'm your best friend. You're really asking me that after you've told me all about your-"

"Enough." You put your hands up, shaking your head at him. "Fine." You added before jumping out of the van and waiting for Eddie around front.

He joined you and lead you to the house, knocking as he opened the door. "Guests of honor have arrived!" He called as he entered.

"Kitchen!" Gareth called back as the refrigerator door closed.

You trailed behind Eddie, gripping the cuffs of the sweater as you did so.

"What movies did you get?" Eddie asked, propping himself against the kitchen island.

"Nightmare on Elm Street and Gremlins from Family video, and then I've got a few around here we can watch if you want." Gareth answered before making eye contact with you. "Hey, can I give you the tour?"

You went slightly wide eyed as the sudden question but quickly smiled. "Yeah. That'd be great."

He reached for your hand, pulling you from behind Eddie. "Oh, hey. Pizza should be here soon. Cash is there if we're not back." He pointed to the counter where a twenty dollar bill sat.

Eddie smirked and nodded. "Have fun."

You giggled as Gareth pulled your deeper into the house.

"Alright, so this is the den, where we'll watch the movies, and the bathroom is over there." He pointed to a closed door before leading you up the stairs.

"Awe, is this baby Gareth?" You asked, admiring a few photos that were hung there.

He blushed and tugged you gently away. "We're going to ignore those." He chuckled as he topped the stairs.

"You were a cutie." You pouted, pulling him towards you in a moment of bravery. "Still are too."

Gareth blushed brighter and looked down at you. "Yeah? You too, Sugar."

You blushed now, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "C'mon. Let me show you the rest of the place." He kept an arm around your shoulders and he pointed out the guest room and his sisters rooms before getting to his. The door was covered in stickers and song lyrics. It told you a lot about him and his parents. They accepted their son and loved him for who he was.

He pushed the door open and lead you inside, flipping the light on. "You can sleep in here tonight, if you want. Eddie usually takes the guest room across the hall. I can take the couch or one of my sisters beds." He said, looking around like he'd never seen his room before.

"No way. I'm not kicking you out of your bed. I'll take the couch, or we can share at the very least." You stated, coming to stand in front of him. "Actually, I wouldn't mind the second option."

He smiled down at you and nodded. "Yeah? I think I'm on board with that, under one condition."

You raised your eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue.

"You gotta play with my hair. It makes me all relaxed." He said, his face flushing again.

You giggled and nodded. "You got yourself a deal."

"Pizza's here! Keep your clothes on!" Eddie yelled up the stairs, making the two of you laugh and break away from one another.

You found yourself back downstairs, sitting on the counter with a beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. "You're really spoiling me. Eddie didn't get me pizza and beer until our fourth jam sesh."

Eddie rolled his eyes and flipped you off. "The strays keep coming around if you feed them."

"That's why you kept coming to my place then, huh?"

Gareth laughed at this and scooted closer to you, his arm resting on your thigh.

"There you go bullying me again." Eddie sighed dramatically before downing the rest of the bottle, only to replace it quickly with a new one.

You finished off your slice and jumped down from the counter. "I'm going to the bathroom, then I'll be in the den when you decide to join me, gentlemen." You said, walking in the direction of the bathroom.

"Don't touch the recliner! It's mine!" Eddie called after you. Once you were out of earshot he turned to Gareth. "Did you kiss her?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No, dude. I didn't wanna be pushy." Gareth answered, rolling his eyes.

Eddie nodded and tipped the bottle, pouring the amber liquid into his mouth. "Don't hurt her, ya know? She's like my baby sister and I feel like I have to tell you that. I love her, and she deserves happy."

Gareth understood, having two younger sisters of his own. "I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if I did. I've known her a day and I feel like I can't live without her."

Eddie nodded, chuckling. "She's got that effect."

"You guys coming?" You called, settling onto the couch.

"Yeah!" Eddie replied, pushing off of the counter to join you, Gareth close behind.

Gareth started the movie and settled next to you, but not too close. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

As the movie played you gravitated towards Gareth. First you grabbed his arm at one of the jump scares, soon followed by his hand. He couldn't help but to notice how you'd squeezed him from time to time so he snuck his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. You hid your face in his shoulder and gently made your way to his lap. He maneuvered your bodies to so that he was laying down, facing the TV and you were facing him, arms wrapped tightly around him.

"I got you, Sugar." He whispered into your ear before pressing a small kiss there.

This sent shivers up your spine and you fisted his shirt as you looked up at him.

He was focused on the movie and rubbing small circles on you back.

You reached up, planting a small kiss to his jaw before tucking your face into his neck. You felt his chest vibrate with a chuckle as he tilted his head down slightly, keeping you close.

"I know we've only watched one movie, but I worked 60 hours this week and it's only Thursday, so I'm gonna head to bed, cool?" Eddie asked as the credits rolled over the screen.

You nodded and moved to stand. "I'm not far behind you, I swear." You chuckled, wrapping your arms around Eddie's lanky frame. "Goodnight, love you." You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight, love you. If Gareth gets too handsy I'm sure he showed you my room." Eddie smirked before kissing your forehead.

You both laughed before letting each other go.

"Night, dude." Gareth said, waving him off.

"Night." And then Eddie disappeared into the darkness of the stairs.

Gareth reached up and pulled you into him to straddle his lap. "Hi."

You giggled and relaxed into him, resting your head on his chest. "Hi."

Gareth blushed sighed. "Can I ask you something?" He sounded a bit more serious as his hands rubbed up and down your sides.

You nodded, sitting up more to face him.

"I just have to ask for my sake. You and Eddie, it's just... It's nothing right? He says you're like his sister and I want to pursue you, but I wanna make sure you're not like holding out for him." His eyes held fear for the answer, scared you'd tell him you had feelings for Eddie.

"Gare, me and Eddie are strictly platonic. Brother and sister. I love him, but not like that. You have nothing and no one to worry about." You rested your hands on the sides of his face and looked into his eyes. "I promise."

He leaned towards you, connecting your lips gently and his hands wound around your back. "Can I take you out sometime?" He looked at you, absolute awe on his face.

You nodded, moving to stand. "I'd like that." You pulled him up and towards the stairs.

"What are we doing?" He chuckled quietly as you pulled him through the dark house.

"I wanna lay down." You pouted, opening his bedroom door and pulling him in.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down onto the bed with him. "Fine but you're cuddling me."

"I can do that. Do you have a thinner shirt I can borrow, by chance?" You pushed a few strands of hair away from his face.

He nodded, reaching up to kiss you before moving from the bed. "You know, it's only borrowing if you give it back." He stated, looking over at you as he opened his closet.

You shrugged as he tossed a plain grey t shirt your way. "I might." You said as you stood, turning so your back faced him as you stripped your sweater off.

He sucked in a breath, looking at your naked back. He walked over, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck before you pulled the shirt down.

"Hi." You voice was soft as your turned to look at him.

"Hi." He replied, settling his hands on your hips. "You ready to lay down, Sugar?"

You nodded and sat on the bed, propping yourself on the pillow as Gareth shed his jeans, leaving him in a t shirt and his boxers. You opened the blanket and urged him to lay on your chest before covering the two of you.

He was settled between your legs, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, head on your boobs like a pillow.

One of your hands was in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as you hummed, the other rubbed up and down his back.

Gareth was the most comfortable he's ever been and he fell asleep quickly like that, you not far behind.

[lockefanfic]

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“I was told there would be dicks here.”

You are a little surprised by the straightforwardness of Nayeon’s statement, but given that the only other occupant of the room was fast asleep on her lap, you supposed she didn’t really need to watch what she was saying.

“You said you’d invite plenty of guys to this party for me. But not one of them was worth fucking,” she continues.

“That’s because your standards are too damn high,” Jeongyeon says as she re-enters the living room after seeing the last of the party’s guests off at the door. She offers you a warm smile and a peck on the lips before cuddling next to you on the couch, draping her arms around your waist and laying her head on your chest below your chin.

“My darling wife is right,” you agree, “it’s not my fault that you only want to fuck actors and k-pop idols.”

Nayeon lets out a snort of disapproval from the loveseat. She puts an exaggerated pout on her lips as she begins to idly stroke Sana’s hair. The Japanese girl had had one drink too many, it seemed, and had fallen into a deep slumber, snoring softly on her friend’s lap.

“It’s 3am,” she observes, “I ought to have a dick in me right now.”

“Jesus you’re thirsty as fuck,” Jeongyeon quips.

“Girls have needs,” Nayeon explains. “I was really hoping to bag one tonight, but alas, here I am without a dick in sight.”

“Well there’s at least one dick around,” you say with a smile, almost on reaction, the words leaving your mouth before you had time to think them through . The smile quickly fades when you realize just what you’d implied.

The awkward silence that follows in reality probably only lasted a few seconds, but to your mind, which was running at a million miles a second trying to figure out whether you’d upset your wife or disgusted Nayeon or both, it seemed to last forever.

Jeongyeon stirs on your chest. While you can’t see her face directly, you can tell she is making eye contact with Nayeon.

You’d known Nayeon for almost as long as you’d known Jeongyeon, and being your wife’s best friend you’d obviously gotten to know her quite well over the years. But you’d never seen that particular look on her face, and you weren’t sure what to make of the slight cock of her eyebrow and the slimmest of smiles that had appeared on her lips. Was it surprise? Incredulous disgust? Or was it...

The silence continues, and afraid you’d upset your wife, you decide to break it.

“Uhh, it was just a joke-”

“Shhh,” Jeongyeon says, interrupting your rushed apology as she raises her head from your chest. You were well aware of her trademark death glare, and you steeled yourself to receive another one.

Instead there is a sly smile on her lips. Without saying a word, she turns to Nayeon and gives her the slightest of nods.

With the gentlest of care, Nayeon rises from the loveseat, taking care not to wake Sana from her deep slumber. She cradles the girl’s head with both hands before sliding out from under her and slipping a pillow beneath it. She takes a few steps towards you until she is standing just in front of your knees.

Jeongyeon rises from the couch next to you and steps behind her best friend. Her hands begin to trace a lazy path up Nayeon’s arms, until they reach the back of her neck and the zipper on her glitzy silver dress. Nayeon’s eyes, fixed on yours, become half-lidded with anticipation at the faint sound of a zipper being undone. There was lust in those eyes, and more than a little need - it filled her soft brown orbs, only barely restrained, only barely keeping from spilling over.

When the zipper reaches the end of its path, leaving her dress loose and sagging on her shoulders, Nayeon lets out the barest, slightest gasp.

Your wife looks over her shoulder and steals your gaze from her friend. There is a devilish grin on her lips, one that widens when she reaches up to slowly push the dress over Nayeon’s shoulders, causing it to fall down her thin torso and down to the floor in a pool of shiny silver.

As transfixing as Jeongyeon’s eyes were, your thirsty eyes couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Nayeon’s near naked body. You’d always admired her hot, tight frame from afar, but now, clad only in a lacy black bra and a matching, tiny black thong, you found yourself salivating.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Jeongyeon asks, aloof and haughty, her tone like that of someone admiring an expensive car. “Perfect little face, perfect little tits, perfect little ass.”

You swallow the quickly gathering pool of drool in your mouth. This evening had taken quite a turn.

 “...Definitely,” you stammer.

“You know, baby, she asked me once if I were ever willing to share you with her. I brushed it off at the time and told her I would, but only if I’m in charge… and lucky for her, tonight I’m feeling generous,” your wife says from over Nayeon’s trembling shoulder. “Isn’t that what friends are for, Nayeon?”

“Y-yes,” the girl answers, a faint quiver in her voice. Nayeon had always been proud and confident, but she seemed to have become quite submissive in Jeongyeon’s arms - whether this was an agreed upon act or whether she was genuinely submissive during sex you didn’t know, but you were dying to find out.

“She always got all the guys, any one she wanted. She could turn any boy she wanted into an obedient little fucktoy,” Jeongyeon says, wistfully, as though she were reminiscing about days gone by, “all of them except one.”

Nayeon lets out a small whimper, as though Jeongyeon were accusing her of something. Over her shoulder, your wife locks eyes with you as she whispers into Nayeon’s ear, loud enough for you to hear.

“Lucky for you, Nayeon,” she hisses, “I like to share.”

Nayeon’s thin frame shivers at the word share, as though she’d been waiting for that word for years. Had she? Your attention had always been fixed on your wife, of course, but every now and then you’d catch her friend giving you loaded glances, or watching you with a certain look in her eyes…

“Perfect little face, perfect little tits, perfect little ass...” Jeongyeon repeats - removing her friend’s bra and thong as she does so, leaving Nayeon naked, rubbing her legs together, seeking some sort of release for the lustful anticipation that was building in her body. She trembles under your lustful gaze, her perfect skin flushing pink.

Jeongyeon’s right hand snakes around to Nayeon’s naked, shaved crotch, and while you can’t see it, by the dip in her knuckles and the flush of pink on the older girl’s cheeks you can tell your wife has slipped a finger inside.

“...perfect little pussy,” she finishes.

Speechless, all you can do is gulp. For a long, beautiful minute, you watch as your wife finger fucks her best friend in front of you, her hand sliding in and out of the slick flesh between her thighs. Nayeon becomes a quivering, trembling mess, held up only by Jeongyeon’s arms around her torso. She reaches for Jeongyeon’s free hand and places it over her own breast, squeezing it tightly. Eventually Jeongyeon captures a stiff nipple with her index finger and thumb before giving it a sharp pinch, eliciting a long, throaty moan from the older girl.

“You know baby, it’s not very fair that Nayeon here is buck naked and you’re still fully clothed. Why don’t you show her what she’s going to have inside her?”

Your fingers move of their own volition to undo the belt and zipper of your pants before pulling them down your hips with an enthusiasm and speed you weren’t expecting. Your cock, easily brought to full stiffness by the show taking place in front of you, springs free from its cotton prison.

Nayeon gasps sharply at the sight of your cock. Over her shoulder, Jeongyeon’s devilish smile grows wider as the two most important people in her world continue to dance obediently to the tune she has begun to sing.

Your wife steps out from behind her naked friend to sit on your right side on the couch; Nayeon lets out a disappointed sigh as her friend’s fingers leave her body. You let out a grunt of pleasure as her hand reaches out to your cock and she begins to pump it up and down. Nayeon’s juices on her fingers provide wonderful lubrication for her work, making your cock glisten and causing the first delicious spikes of pleasure to shoot up your spine.

“This is such a nice cock, isn’t it Nayeon? So big and thick and hard. I love the way it fills me…”

“Mmmm,” Nayeon gasps, a needy expression on her small, cute little features. Her left hand begins to wander towards her crotch, her slim thighs rubbing against one another, seeking some sort of outlet for her growing need. Soon she is fingering herself, her thin fingers pumping in and out of her dripping heat, her pace increasing with each of the sultry words leaving Jeongyeon’s mouth.

“I love the way it stretches me out, makes me feel so full…”

“Oh, oh god, Jeongyeon.”

“I love the way it pounds my pussy every single night, so hard and fast, whenever he wants…”

“Mmm, Jeongyeon, please…”

“But do you know what I love the most, Nayeon?”

“Mmmm-?”

You turn your head just enough to witness the look Jeongyeon gives her naked friend.

“...the way he fills me with cum. So hot, so thick, so warm - and all for me.”

Nayeon moans - and the fingers inside her begin to pump faster and faster until, just a few seconds later, she orgasms. She becomes a quivering, trembling mess on shaky legs before they finally give out beneath her and she falls to her knees.

All the while, even as you both watch Nayeon become a puddle of boneless flesh in front of you, Jeongyeon is pumping your cock with a tight fist around your shaft. She stops suddenly, and you lament the abrupt end to the pleasure for only a moment before she brings her mouth to your ear.

“Fuck her.”

You turn your head to face her and crush her lips in a kiss that is equal parts passion and thankfulness.

But as giving as Jeongyeon is, she isn’t one to deny herself the chance for pleasure, either. As you leave the couch and drop to your knees behind Nayeon, she slips her black shorts from her own hips, taking her panties along with them. As Nayeon recovers from her post-orgasm haze to find you readying yourself to take her from behind, Jeongyeon reaches down and grasps her friend by the side of her head, steering her face between her own spread legs.

As you enter Nayeon’s pussy from behind, it pushes the older Korean girl’s face forward - and into Jeongyeon’s wet, dripping pussy. All three of you gasp. All three of you moan.

Nayeon is almost better than you expected her to be - tight, hot, dripping, smothering your stiff cock with slick heat. Each thrust into her body sends shocks of pleasure up and down your spine. You find yourself grunting and grimacing with each thrust, trying your best not to cum too soon, trying to savor every second you were inside the mewling, quivering young woman’s pussy.

Each thrust elicits a throaty gasp from Nayeon, one that is smothered by the warm flesh of Jeongyeon’s thighs. You cannot see exactly what she is doing, but the moans and sighs that leave Jeongyeon’s throat are evidence of the magic she is working between your wife’s legs. 

Your hands roam, eager to explore Nayeon’s tight, perfect little body, even as it is rocked back and forth by each impact of your hips against her round ass. You’d always admired her body beneath the tight, short dresses and low-cut tops she liked to wear, but to see her now, bent over and naked as you take her roughly on your living room floor while her face is buried in your wife’s pussy - it was almost surreal. 

Your hands wander her naked back, enjoying the moist feel of the sweat dripping down her spine. You settle for gripping her right shoulder with your right hand, pulling her back as you slam forward into her body, while your left hand squeezes a soft, round ass cheek, pulling the flesh apart to reveal the dripping lips of her pussy as your cock penetrates it over and over again.

You reach down with your left thumb, and you begin to tease the pursed, tight ring of her ass.

Jeongyeon sees this - has been on the receiving end of it more times than she could count, most of the time on her demand - and encourages you.

“Do it, baby,” she says, the words light and airy with pleasure, “stick your thumb in her tight little ass.”

You weren’t one to disobey your wife’s orders. When your thumb presses against her ass and penetrates it to the first knuckle, Nayeon lets out a deep, wordless moan of pleasure at the new sensation - one that sends delicious vibrations from her throat and directly onto Jeongyeon’s pussy. All the while you haven’t stopped fucking her with your cock - now your thumb joins in, pumping in and out of her ass slowly as you penetrate both of her holes. It seems to reinvigorate her, and she returns to her work between Jeongyeon’s thighs with new energy.

“Oh, oh fuck, baby, she’s eating me so good,” Jeongyeon gasps, “Oh, fuck--”

Jeongyeon lets out part of a shriek before her orgasm cuts it off and it turns into a passionate moan. The entire process - stripping Nayeon, fingering her, teasing the both of you - had already brought her close to cumming even before Nayeon had started eating her out. Between her legs, Nayeon is relentless, her head bobbing up and down as she continues to feast on her friend’s moist, slick flesh even as she quivers and trembles beneath her mouth. She eats Jeongyeon out through the entirety of her orgasm, her tongue swiping her friend’s clit with wide, strong licks, each one eliciting a strangled cry of pleasure from your wife.

The sight of Jeongyeon cumming so hard on the couch only heightened the pleasure coursing through your own veins. You’d seen her cum plenty of times before, but to see her cum now, with her legs spread and another woman’s head between her thighs - it was so very hot, so intensely erotic.

You thrust harder and deeper into Nayeon, fucking her hard and harshly now, the deep moans that she releases at your quickened pace only encouraging you to keep going. The loud slap of flesh on flesh echoing throughout the room increases in frequency as you hammer in and out of her slick pussy as fast as you are able.

“Mmmmmffmmfm,” she moans with her mouth and lips full of Jeongyeon’s pussy, “Mmmmfffm!”

“Do it, baby,” Jeongyeon moans weakly, “fucking cum in her pussy. Fill her perfect little pussy up with cum!”

“Mmmffm- please,” Nayeon says, lifting her head from Jeongyeon’s crotch enough to finally form coherent words, “Please, please, oh please fuck cum inside me, oh I need it so bad I need it so bad oh fuck fill me, fill my pussy, oh!---”

The tumble of filth leaving Nayeon’s mouth is cut short as the feel of your cum spurting deep inside her body causes her vocal cords to give out and an orgasm to course through her veins. With a hand firm on her shoulder and the other still clenched around her ass cheek you bury yourself as deep as you can inside her body as you cum, filling the mewling, quivering young woman’s pussy with rope after rope of thick, hot white semen. Nayeon moans with each stream of hot cum that fills her body, each one a deep, throaty sound of satisfied need.

The three of you, having reached orgasm within moments of each other, let out deep, wordless moans of pleasure as the sensations finally overwhelm your respective minds.

When your senses return you realize you have slumped over Nayeon’s body, your chest pinning her against the edge of the couch between Jeongyeon’s still-spread legs, her face pressed against your wife’s stomach. The first sound you are aware of is Jeongyeon giggling.

Soon Nayeon is giggling as well, and before you know it you are letting a small chuckle escape your own lips as the reality of what you had just done finally settles in.

You feel a sudden need to kiss Jeongyeon, and it takes some effort, but after you lean towards her she meets you halfway and your lips meet in a short but passionate kiss. Nayeon, sandwiched between you, pushes her own face between yours, and you find yourself kissing her as well, your tongues exploring each others’ for the first time. Jeongyeon, never wanting to feel left out, soon pulls Nayeon’s face from yours by her chin before capturing her best friend’s lips in a sultry, heated kiss.

The three of you are content to enjoy the moment, your sated, sweaty bodies pressed against one another, enjoying the feel of naked flesh and the taste of wet, hot tongues. With the immediate lusts satisfied for now, the three of you ease into a slower pace, savoring each moment, relishing in the new sensations and feelings between you.

Content to watch Nayeon and Jeongyeon begin to engage in a fierce makeout session, your hands wander, enjoying the weight of Nayeon’s round breasts in your palms. Her messy, cum-drenched pussy pulsates and quivers around your half-softened cock when you pinch her stiff, sensitive nipples, causing your shaft to stir inside her. You feel her pussy begin to drip your combined juices onto the carpet. 

Soon Jeongyeon’s shiny silver top joins Nayeon’s dress on the floor as the older girl pulls it up and over your wife’s arms. Her bra and your own t-shirt follow soon after, leaving the three of you fully naked for the first time. Nayeon quickly bends her head to suckle from Jeongyeon’s small, round breasts, her lips closing tight around a stiff nipple.

The passions soon reignite in your bodies. You feel your cock begin to harden once more inside Nayeon’s creamy, sloppy pussy, and with your hands on her hips, you slowly begin to rock back and forth inside her body, relishing the first spikes of pleasure that shoot up your spine. Her pussy begins to tighten and squeeze you, and Nayeon turns her head from Jeongyeon’s saliva-drenched breast to give you a needy look with half-lidded eyes, as though urging you to keep going..

The prospect of a second round is interrupted by Sana, who has finally arisen from her deep sleep. At the sound of her rising from the loveseat, the three of you turn to see that she has risen to a seating position, a look of shock on her face.

“Why the fuck did you get started without me!?”

---

Author’s Note: Whew.

Rushed this one a bit since I wrote it in a 2yeon inspired boner fueled haze haha, and couldn’t wait until the 2yeon chapter of BT I have planned which will probably be a couple of months away. Apologies if it’s messy and not up to usual standards but I just needed to sate my 2yeon urges for now. Hope you all like it :)

...now the idea of a second round with creampied Nayeon is in my head ...

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse -  A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards. 

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it! 

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together. 

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

-

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”  

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

-

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.  

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."  

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

-

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing: 

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

[youbloodymadgenius]

Home (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry for @maggiescarborough​‘s 400 Followers Challenge. Congrats again, love 🌺

This is another silly, fluffy thing. It’s probably boring, sorry 😔

Since Ivar is undoubtedly a Scorpio, this story takes place in November 😉

The prompt: surprising the character on their birthday.

@geekandbooknerd​, thanks for beta reading this for me ♥️ And @inforapound​, thanks for helping me out ♥️

Thanks to google translate too 😉 jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk: I've already started to learn Danish.

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Summary: On his birthday, Ivar is in a very bad mood. The only present he wants is you, but there is an ocean between you two.

Warnings: Ivar’s bad temper (is that ever a warning??); soft, soft Ivar; fluff+++.

Words: 3209

When his phone rings, Ivar's first thought is to throw it across the room. Looking down, he then sees the name on the screen and closes his eyes. Snippets of his days run through his mind: how he had snapped at Ubbe – I don't give a shit about what you're saying, brother; how his outburst had brought to tears his new personal assistant – if you don't even know how to make a fucking coffee, I should probably fire you; how Harald, his longtime business partner, had hung up on him, angering him even more – you may be smart, Ivar, but when you're such in a bad mood, you're worthless. I'll call you tomorrow.

 Ivar knows he needs to calm down. He's so pissed off – at everything – that his right quadriceps is constantly spasming, his thigh as hard as rock. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he sighs loudly, pinches the bridge of his nose and eventually grabs his phone.

 "Mor?" He's sure his mother won't fail to notice the hint of sharpness in his voice. She won't acknowledge it, though, used to his temper.

 "Hello Darling." There's a tremendous amount of love packed in those two little words, yet it doesn't bring a smile on his stern face. "I just wanted to let you know that Sven is on his way. He left Kattegat forty minutes ago. He is going to take you home."

 Clenching his jaw, Ivar stops himself from telling his mother that Kattegat, for him, is no longer home. Not anymore. The truth is, he doesn't know where home is. Home isn't his luxurious loft in in the very center of Copenhagen either. Home should be where you are. But you're so far away…

Ivar clears his throat. "I still don't get it, Mor. Why should I go with your chauffeur? You do know I can drive, don't you?"

 "Oh, honey, of course I do. But we've been over this, remember? You had to work the whole day, on your birthday, and I just want you to relax. Traffic can be brutal this time of day. Just let Sven bring you home. Maybe take a nap in the backseat, or just allow your thoughts to wander. I want you to be rested tonight, sweetheart." His mother pauses for a few seconds, and when she speaks again, her words are careful, her tone almost hesitant – so unlike her, his heart softens a little. "You did pack a bag, didn't you?"

 Ivar can't help but roll his eyes and then settles his gaze on a brown leather duffel bag right next to his mahogany desk. He knows that whatever his mother might expect, he won't stay the night. And if she doesn't allow Sven

to drive him back to Copenhagen, he will just call a cab. He won't argue about it right now, though – everything in its own time.

 Letting out a small sigh, Ivar nods uselessly, a hand running through his hair. "Yes Mor, I did."

  Sven knows better than to talk to him and, in the backseat, as the car speeds down the highway, Ivar closes his eyes and tries to relax. Anger still coursing through his veins, it turns out it's a nearly impossible task. It seems as if everything has gone wrong since he woke up and he's therefore mad at the whole world. He's mad at all those stupid, infuriating people he had to interact with. He's mad at Sven for taking him to Kattegat. He's mad at his mother for inviting him for his birthday. He's mad at himself for accepting. He's even mad at you, for not being here; for not making the impossible possible. For leaving him alone. And no matter if deep down he knows how unfair it is to you; because of course, you'd be here if you could. But he can't help it. He's mad at you because he misses you, every day a little more, to the point where the ache in his heart is far worse than the pain in his legs.

 And today, he misses you like crazy. To the point where sadness floods his mind. To the point where anger takes control. Because today may be his birthday, but it's also the anniversary of your first kiss, first and foremost. And he wants you here, right next to him, for now and forever.

  Fourteen months ago, after yet another surgery, and because even if he knew all too well that he couldn't stay by himself while recovering, the mere thought of his mother's overprotective presence made him nauseous, he had flown – fled – to Canada, to Floki's. The old fool had welcomed him with open arms, turning one of the many guest rooms of his house into a high-tech physiotherapy space. That's where he met you. At first, you had been just his physical therapist, then his date, his girlfriend, and now you are his lover. And if he's back in Denmark for nine months now, you're still in Canada. He had thought he could handle a long-distance relationship. He couldn't have been more wrong. Your absence just kills him.

 As a boat whistle can be heard, Ivar slowly opens his eye and then looks around. Frowning, he scratches his head, confused and annoyed. Since the Lothbrok mansion is located on a hill overlooking Kattegat, there's never any reason to go by the seaside to get there. Never ever. "We're on the wrong road, Sven. Why are you going to the shore?" Ivar speaks in a demanding tone of voice that doesn't impress Sven one bit.

 The obedient chauffeur barely shrugs. "I'm just following orders, Sir. Your mother's orders."

 Now riled up, irked, Ivar snorts, his nostrils flaring. "My mother asked you to drive me here?" Without waiting for an answer, he takes his phone out of his back pocket, gasping as Sven comes to a halt in front of The Nimb Hotel, the hotel palace of Kattegat.

 When his mother doesn't pick up the phone, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he tries to get ahold of Hvitserk, Ubbe, and even Sigurd, but to no avail. Fuming, his hands curling into fists, Ivar clenches his teeth. Did his mother organize a fucking birthday party even though she knows he hates that? She wouldn't dare. No, she wouldn't.

 Oh, fuck. Sure, she would. She totally would. And it'd explain why she had been so adamant about having Sven drive him. She wanted him here, in this fucking hotel, and not at the mansion. It explains why his brothers don’t answer the phone. Because they know that if they did, he would yell at them to fuck off. He can’t believe it!! What’s got into his mother?? What the fucking hell??!!!!

 For a split second, he hovers a trembling pointer finger over the screen of his phone. Calling an Uber and going back to Copenhagen would be so easy. But as tempting as it may be to just run away, he knows he won't do it. He can't. Because it'd hurt his beloved mother, and the thought is unbearable, even though he's angry with her right now. That's why, whatever she may have planned, he'll deal with it, putting on a brave face for her sake.

 And that's why he doesn't object when Sven opens his door, "This way, Sir," his hand gesturing toward the hotel entrance, flanked by two ostentatious marble columns. Ivar uses his hands to place his right leg out of the car and he then slowly stands up, one hand on his crutch and the other on the car door, before following the gray-haired chauffeur, a permanent scowl on his face.

As they walk through the lobby, he is surprised when Sven leads him onto an elevator, pressing the twelfth-floor button. He would have thought that his mother would have privatized the hotel restaurant. But the restaurant is on the main floor. What's on the upper floors other than rooms? A roof terrace, probably. His mother would never throw an outdoor party in the middle of November though. Nothing makes sense.

 Confused, Ivar tilts his head while the lift is going up. "Where are we going?" Sven doesn't react to his harsh tone, just repeating his reply from earlier. "I'm following orders, Sir. I am walking you to where your mother ordered me to walk you." He doesn't utter another word, getting out of the elevator as soon as the door opens.

 Ivar tightens his grip on his crutch and follows him to what seems to be a hotel room. Or more specifically, and as it's written on the door, the executive suite. More and more bewildered, he watches Sven swiftly knocking on the door before using a card key to unlock it. Holding it open, the chauffeur steps aside, "I've been asked to tell you that the sunroom is over there," waving his hand slightly to the left, Sven then gives a slight nod to an astounded Ivar, "I now take my leave, Sir. I wish you a delightful evening."

  As Ivar slowly crosses the living room, the slight thud of his crutch on the hardwood floor alerts you of his presence. Shivering with excitement and your heart pounding in your chest, you struggle but don't move, don't say a word; not yet.

 Taking a tentative step into the sunroom, which, he's sure of it, offers during daytime a breathtaking view on the bay of Kattegat, a dumbfounded Ivar notices the candles first – there are candles everywhere, their soft glow creating an intimate ambience – and then the table for two elegantly set in the middle of the room.

 "What the fuck is going on?" Ivar grumbles, irritation obvious in his voice, and you know it's time for you to show up, or he may leave. Stepping toward him and into the light, you absently rub your sweaty palms up and down your black dress, your heart now beating so hard and so fast you wonder if he can hear it. This is it. The moment you were waiting for, for weeks now. You couldn't be happier, and yet you can't help but be nervous. Could he reject you? You don't think so but with Ivar, you never know… Swallowing the lump in your throat, and even if you can barely breathe, you manage to crack a smile at the exact moment he sets his eyes on you. "Happy birthday, my love, and happy anniversary too."

 Ivar's jaw drops, his eyes widen, and a soft gasp escapes his plump lips. He wobbles for an instant and you quickly close the gap between you and him, steadying him by placing both your hands on his hips. Your touch shaking him out of his stupor, he blinks a few times, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your face. "Y/N, is it… is it really you?" With a trembling voice and tears in his eyes, he stutters, dazed and surprised. "By the gods, what… what are you doing here?" His arm finding your waist, Ivar pulls you closer. There's a whirlwind of emotions on his face, but there's mostly love. You're sure he won't reject you.

 "Did you really think I was going to miss your birthday?" Standing on tiptoes, you give him a long kiss before whispering in his ear, "And I missed you so much, my love."

 Rough fingers caress your face as Ivar looks down at you incredulously. "But… I… I don't understand… I… I thought you were busy with work. But you're here… How?"

 "By plane, obviously," you quip playfully, and your lover rolls his eyes and shakes his head, before suddenly frowning. "That's really a wonderful surprise, Y/N, and I'd love to stay here with you but we… we should go… My mother… I think she's waiting for me, for us… You know, since it's my birthday, she wanted to throw…" Ivar stops talking when it dawns on him that he has been – to his delight – tricked, and you just smile. "Mother never planned a party, did she?"

 It's your turn to shake your head. "No, she never did, you're right. She knew I was coming and since I needed a little help, she agreed to play along. Tonight, it's just you and me, my love." Ivar's eyes sparkling with joy, your smile grows wider. "She's expecting us for lunch tomorrow, though."

 Nodding, Ivar flashes you a beaming smile that falters almost immediately as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. As he stifles a hiss of pain, you wrap his right arm around your shoulder and your left around his waist. Without a word, you lead him to a corner of the sunroom, help him to sit down on a huge nest chair and finally breathe a sigh of satisfaction as you snuggle into his side.

 His hand running up your arm, Ivar cups your face and looks at you fondly. "You being here with me is the best birthday gift ever." He then kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your back and your fingers threading through his long hair. When he breaks the kiss, he still holds you close and you lean into his warmth, your head resting on his chest.

 "When are you flying back?" Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, Ivar clenches his jaw as you pull away just enough to look at him. You know he hates the idea of you leaving him once again. You don't have time to answer him as he keeps going. "Guess you'll stay through the weekend, but when is your flight? On Monday morning?"

 A mischievous smile playing on your lips, you wrap your fingers around his hand. "There's no flight, Ivar, not anymore. I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my love."

 Swallowing, Ivar just stares at you for long seconds, a frown on his confused face. "What… What are you talking about? If this is a joke, it's a very bad one." He eventually manages to say, his bottom lip trembling.

 "I swear it's not a joke." You reassure him as you readjust your position, straddling him carefully. Your thumb stroking his cheek, you give him a quick peck before explaining yourself. " I hate our current situation, and I know you do too. I don't want to live like this anymore, between two flights, between two countries. I don't want to miss you anymore. My life is with you, my love. And since you can't exactly relocate the Lothbrok Company, it's up to me to move, which I'm happy to do."  

 Dumbstruck, Ivar remains speechless for a long time, but you can tell by the smile on his lips that he's thrilled by the news. Tilting his head, he finds his voice again. "You are serious? Wow! You do realize you'll have to find a new job, learn another language? That's not nothing."

 "Actually," you place your hands flat on his chest, "I've already found a job. Floki still has strong connections here, did you know that? On the same day I made up my mind, he was already making calls. He has been amazing, truly! I start working in a rehab clinic within a fortnight. As for the language…", you stop and inhale deeply before saying hesitantly, "jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk." Ivar's wry smile tells you that your pronunciation could have been better, but you don't mind. It's a first step. "Anyway," you exclaim, beaming, "You know me, I love a challenge!"

 "I just can't fucking believe it!" Ivar shines with happiness and it melts your heart. His next question, though, makes you wince internally. Because on that particular point, you're suddenly afraid you've put the cart before the horse.

 "Where are you going to live?"

 Lowering your gaze, you begin to fidget nervously. "I…", you clear your throat, closing your eyes, "I was thinking… well… Maybe I could… I don't know if…" As soon as you realize you're getting nowhere, you stop; you know you have to muster up the courage to be straightforward. Releasing a short sigh, you tilt your head up. "I was hoping we could live together. I mean if you want to. It's fine if you don't, I'll rent an apartment."

 Literally thunderstruck, his eyes fixed on you, Ivar swallows loudly. "You… You…" He stammers, an incredulous expression on his face. "You want to live with… with me?"

 As you nod while muttering under your breath "Only if you want to," a broad smile spreads over his lips and he blinks a few times. "Of course, I do. But you do know that", his sheepish look is unmistakable, "I'm not exactly easy to live with, right?"

 Relief floods through you and you burst out laughing as you remember what he put you through when you were his physical therapist. "I do know you, my stubborn, grumpy, short-tempered and moody lover! And guess what, my love? I wouldn't want you any other way. Plus, as I said, I love a good challenge!"

 Without even trying to hide his elation, Ivar throws his arms around your waist, giggling, "It's a deal, then," before peppering light kisses all over your face. His mouth barely an inch from yours, he's about to kiss you as your stomach rumbles. Embarrassed, you want to hide your face but Ivar, all smiles and laughing eyes, grasps your hands, squeezing them. "Guess we should feed you."

 Checking your watch, you stand up reluctantly. "Actually," you point at the table behind you, "we should be served a meal in less than five minutes." Reaching out, you grab Ivar's left hand as he hauls himself to his feet, handing him his crutch once you're sure he found his balance.

 Now towering over you, Ivar gives you a thank-you smile. "So, tell me Y/N, what's the plan for tonight? Besides dinner, I mean." The naughty grin adorning his features tells you the answer he's hoping for.

 "Well," you can't resist teasing him, "I was thinking maybe we could take an after-dinner walk on the shore afterwards, and later, there's this wonderful documentary about penguins I wouldn't want to miss, so yeah, that's the plan."

 "Ooooh, look at you!" You can't help but laugh your head off as Ivar's smile falters, a crease forming between his eyebrows and pouty lips shouting his displeasure. "I'm just kidding, my love," you soothe him, your thumb grazing his mouth, "there's this whirlpool-bath I'm dying to try in the bathroom if you're up for it. And after that, I'm going to make love to you, my birthday boy." Ivar's breath hitches as your hands squeeze his butt cheeks playfully. "And then we'll sleep. And tomorrow we'll go and have lunch with your mother. And when we're done there, you'll…" Overwhelmed with emotion, you stop, your eyes filling with tears.

 "I'll…?" Ivar asks as a crooked smile tugs at his lips.

 You swallow away the lump in your throat, intertwining your fingers with his. "You'll take me home, won't you?"

 There are tears in his eyes as well, but when Ivar nods, the smile that flashes over his face is a wide, shining one. "Yes, my love, I'll take you home."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​ @pieces-by-me​ @xceafh​

[pinkmirth]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ (ch.1 | feenin')

—𝑶𝑵𝑬.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | WK: 2.8K

Frenzied cheers buzzed throughout the raving auditorium, the basketball’s reverberating bounces against the slick court floor adding onto the thrill. This match was nothing but hyped, but in a good way so.

The sports chants of the college goers sounded rather foreign to you, since it wasn’t like you attended Stohess University anyway. The fellow audience around you were at the edge of their seats, hailing their team’s basketball players as the raving shouts began to sound borderline intoxicating. So much so that you couldn’t help but clap along to another school’s anthem.

“Havin’ fun?” Marco questions, the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile that showcased his quirky dimples. You beamed right back at the freckled male, plush lips curved into a grin of your own.

It all seemed trivial, just a friendly collegiate basketball match that your friends Jean and Marco had invited you to free of charge, but it was all the break you needed from your own studies and more.

“Hell yeah I am,” you chuckled in reply, “but you know what’d make it better?”

His doe brown eyes flitted between you and the vibrant box of candy in hand, which was seemingly low in supply after you and him dipped your hands in for a bite a countless number of times.

“A refill on these, yeah?” His claims were just as what you were thinking, earning your brief nod of agreement. Marco subtly shook the snackbox within his hold, the spare pieces left beginning to rattle around with the motion.

“You read my mind, Coco,” you grinned, rising up from your reserved seat with spare cash stuffed into your back pocket. “I’ll be right back, ‘aight?” He sends you a brief smile in compliance.

“Get the sour patch this time!”

“You got sour patch money..?”

He pursed his lips momentarily, unsure as to whether you had been joking or not. “M’just messing ‘round with you, Coco,” you snickered with a teasing grin, slipping a hand into your pocket to retrieve the few bucks. “It’s on me.” Was all you said before making your way through the crowded stands, descending down stair after stair.

“It’s only the first game of the season, and our pride and joy, the Stohess Scouts, are already dominating tonight’s guest competitors!” the commentator boomed through the mic, their voice adding onto the various noises that filled the gymnasium. “We’re calling for a halftime, but let’s keep our fingers crossed that Kirschtein can pull through with a fair amount of two-pointers by the upcoming final quarter—“

The mentioned name of your close friend makes you beam with pride, content that your Jeanie was the star of the show. You set eyes on the brunette from where you stood, who was now making his way to the sidelines for a desperately needed and duly earned swig of water, his light brown hair in a disarray of stray strands fraying out from underneath the simple hairband you’d given him a while back.

You eagerly began to flit down the stands to reach him, striding past the poor row of benched players, from the injured to the water boy.

Jean eventually takes notice of your arrival and instantly beams, subtle puffs of air leaving his agape lips after all the running and dribbling and such that came with game day.

The first thing you do is taunt upon your arrival,“Y’all had better win, Jeanie.”

As always, Jean only smirks. “You doubting that I won’t bring that trophy home, Pookie?” you playfully grimaced and let out a stifled laugh over the somewhat embarrassing nickname— one that you made up when the pair of you were seven, and it's the same one that he’s been holding onto for all these years, even at nineteen.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said you aren’t lookin’ pretty damn promising out there,” your reply is genuine, the soft grin that you display causing Jean to display one of his own. It was an affable, never ending cycle— you’d tease and he’d do it right back, until the both of you would laugh over it and depart with a brief smile.

“M’getting snacks, I’ll be back before the breaktime ends, okay?” Kirschtein briefly nods in compliance, sending a few adjusting tugs to the white basketball sleeve hugging his bicep before departing with the sharp squeak of his shoes sprinting against the court floor.

Once again, you find yourself strolling past every individual seated on the benches. You’re speed-walking alongside them, anticipating to retrieve a couple snacks for you and Marco, until something— Someone catches your eye.

It was brisk and almost too sudden, but flashes of green meet your line of vision. You managed to make out the blur of thick brows, long dark hair having been thrown into the messiest attempted bun, a modest, charming smile, and a pair of turquoise irises that seemingly peered into your own with an intensity that made you take it personal. Yet, you hardly even caught a good glimpse of their face, whoever they were.

You passed by said person a good thirty seconds ago, already pushing your way past the double doors and over to the vending machines stationed along the semi-populated hallway, but that striking gaze was still heavily implanted within your mind.

Hazy green-grey eyes, you recalled, accompanied with them shooting you the briefest grin just as you whisked by. Though, as recent as it was, that was all in the past now.

You glance around to see a decent handful of people here to buy food of their own, being perched at other vending machines. The snack-wielding contrivance before you isn't drawing much attention and doesn’t have an awaiting crowd standing around for a bag of potato chips, so you withdraw the dollars from your back pocket and attempt to straighten them out a bit before inserting them into the slot.

“Wow,”

This sudden breathy gasp from a “random whoever” is something that you take notice of, but it isn’t enough to rip your attention away from your scavenge for Marco’s sour patch. To their dismay, you do nothing but continue with what you came to do. In your opinion, whoever that was had been getting a bit too close for comfort..

Albeit the evident way you choose to ignore, another whistle resounds, along with an unpleasantly suggestive hum. It sounds somewhat louder, and it seems much closer than before. You can’t help but tear your gaze away from slot E7 and look up, since it seems so directed towards you.

You've hardly turned around before being met with the abrupt presence of a stranger uninvitingly looming beside you, the man’s beaming grin seeming sickeningly sweet. Almost too approachable.

“Oh, I’m sorry to pop up out of the blue,” his apologies come out within a chuckle, and as inviting as he attempts to seem, your brows only furrow. “—but you really caught my attention!” He was greatly unfamiliar to you, some white male around your age with shaggy auburn hair and chestnut colored eyes in contrast. Despite his subtle charm, you weren't growing a liking to him and his stupid little smile.

“Oh,” You muse with a dull hum, pursing your glossed lips before releasing them with a slight pop, “Did I really?” His nod is too enthusiastic, and you hardly try to cover up the mug-like expression that overtook your features, eyes grazing across his plain face uninterestedly. You promptly slide the dollars right back into your pocket, “Nice to know. Can you mind your own now?”

“Wait! I'm not meaning to be a bother, but.. I don’t see girls like you around much..” You're instantly encased with a shiver of deep cringe, one that annoyingly scurries up your spine and makes your lip twitch into a vexed glower.

You emitted the most exaggerated huff, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, all the while glancing at the sheen glass of the vending machine to see your own reflection. It was plastered all across your face, yet this dense-ass man still couldn't get it; you were pissed-off.

Great. You internally groan, Another snow roach who thinks I’m exotic.

“I really appreciate how different you look,” Was he really still rambling on, despite knowing damn well that you were growing uncomfortable? Or maybe, he was just an utter dumbass and couldn't take the painfully obvious hints.

“You wanna know what I’d appreciate, hm?” You say sharply, taking a swift inhale through your nose, “If you left me alone.”

Your smooth, placid voice was the first thing that Eren heard when he trotted into the hallway, that of which sounded dulcet and intriguingly accentuated, but more annoyed than anything else. He turns the corner and is met with the sight of a bastard that looked too smug for his own good, and a girl, such a pretty girl, whose melanated skin even found a way to gleam under the shitty fluorescent school lights.

It then clicks in Eren’s mind, briefly but distinctively. You were the person who'd strolled by the bench that he was sitting on earlier. You were also the same one who did a double take upon seeing him, glancing once— No, twice, with those captivating eyes of yours. He remembered the way his leg started to bop along the floor with a newfound excitement that he just couldn't place. Though, more than anything else, Eren recalled that he did the exact same; hold his gaze and grin at the sight of you.

“Ah, but you can spare me a minute more, can’t you?” You respond with the swift roll of your eyes, eliciting an exasperated groan, “Nigga, I said bye.” Eren’s thick, neat brows falter into a furrowed position, looking upon the scenario that was being splayed out before him, which everyone else in that hall was seemingly content with ignoring. It couldn't have only been him that saw that this bastard was relentlessly bothering you, could it?

“Woah, no need to get aggressive,” Eren’s expression contorts into a grimace upon hearing every little word, the tips of his ears red with brewing rage. Despite his matured will to control his daily outburst of emotions, it was safe to say that he'd never exactly gotten past his trial of anger issues since he was a kid.

“Listen, this is my nice way of tellin’ you to fuck off, but I can get aggressive if you want.” Your offer sounds downright threatening, “Do you really want that?”

You’re snappy and direct, and Eren can't deny that he likes that. Though, as much as he's growing fond of your strong will and defensiveness, he knows he can't stand idly by all day, he just can't. Besides, everyone knew well— It was practically Eren Jaeger’s forte to intervene.

The green eyed male eventually begins to make his way towards the scene in the form of subtle limps, being cautious of his ankle sprain as he grows closer, which was the reasoning behind him being benched in the first place.

You were much too preoccupied with that cheeky, unrelenting bastard to notice the way that Eren was gradually coming over, anyway. What could he say? He was a fan of the element of surprise.

You halt in the middle of your opposing rant, growing aware of another’s emerging presence. You're yet again bombarded with somebody else making their way beside you with an act of stealth that you were unknowingly soon to be thankful of.

Before you get the chance to merely peer in their direction, tall, a long haired male clad in the black and grey Stohess basketball uniform is towering alongside you, his toned, burly arm slinking around your shoulder.

This sudden proximity leaves your head spinning in the best way possible, and how could it not? You don’t know a single thing about this alluring stranger, but he’s close, so close, and it gets your heart and mind racing miles in a minute. You were subtly, but instantly enraptured once the weight of his arm rests comfortably upon you.

Eren doesn’t pay the confused male not one glance, but instead tends to you and your own state of delighted shock. “Play it cool, alright? I wanna help.” Your breath instinctively hitches once he leans down to ease out his whispered plan into your ear, flashing you a consoling half smile.

You return a brief nod before dragging your eyes along the male’s face, which looks so much better up close. Your interpretation of his image was more literal and precise than you thought to be; The dark, long tresses that had been pulled back with the aid of a thin elastic scrunchie, his expressively thick brows, pink lips that upturned into a supportive smirk, and those sea-green eyes that left you feeling weak right in the knees.

Albeit Eren’s prior grin, he eventually turns his attention towards the unrelenting man for a second or two. In that moment, his expression speedily grew all the more intense, practically sharper than before, and contorted into something of a scowl. Although, you can tell he’s trying so hard to channel his temper and mask away his revulsion.

“I’ve been, ah.. waiting for you to come back to your seat!” Eren begins to improvise, flashing you a subtle gleam that made it seem as though the pair of you were familiar with each other. “S’been a while since then."

He purses his lips within a pause, nimble fingers draping along your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring squeeze, "Is it ‘cause this bastard is keeping you occupied? He’s bothering you, isn't he?”

You're damn near close to stammering over the words that were bound to leave your mouth. Though, it doesn't take much for you to regain yourself. Your lips fall slightly agape all the while you briskly dragged your line of vision along his charming features, but your response follows after in a quick manner. It was just that you couldn't help how his unnerving gaze left you mesmerized.

“—Yes. Yes he is.” You hum, accompanying the claim with your hands crossing over your chest as you leaned into his grasp, in an attempt to appear convincing. Your confession sounded assured and stern, which was the complete opposite of how girls would act around him.

Eren knew well of the doting effect that he had on females— It was hard to forget when he’d merely ask for a spare pencil and wind up with an unasked phone number in return. Though, he admired the way you saw him as any other person and played along so well.

The brown-haired male scornfully laughs, and just the sound of him leaves you feeling uncomfy, “Whaddya' mean? We were just having a small chat, isn't that right?” Your contorted expression is full-fledged disrespectful, and Eren has to stifle his chuckle over your unsmiling glare and scrunched up nose. Damn, were you entertaining.

“Small chat, huh? Well, it was real one sided..” You voice out an irked murmur, “You're over exaggerating, you just haven’t warmed up to me yet—”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Eren makes a very much intended interruption, “I’d say that she doesn’t want to mingle with a sorry bastard that should leave her alone already.” You note at the subtle flex of Eren’s clenching jaw, signifying the way his already weary patience was running rather thin.

“Bastard—? Wait, who even are you?”

“Who am I, huh?” scoffs the green eyed male alongside you, a twinge of drawled hesitance in his voice. Eren pauses momentarily, only now beginning to realize that his little hero act wasn’t as planned out as he thought to be.

What could he say that would be persuasive enough to get this sorry fucker to leave you alone other than throwing fists unnecessarily? Jaeger’s emerald-hued eyes eventually light up in the dawn of an idea. One that he’s somewhat unsure of, but it’s much better than nothing.

Besides, this plan of his had been set in stone by the very moment he had draped his bare arm around you and shot you that all-too-suggestive smile, so he might as well finish what he started.

Eren’s touch trails downwards swiftly, spreading riveting tingles from your shoulder down to your forearm, then along your wrist, and even past there. His hand is now encasing the left side of your hip as his lithe fingers press into the curve of your supple waist. He takes a light inhale, giving you a light squeeze with his large palm, as though signaling for you to brace yourself over what he was bound to say.

“—I'm her boyfriend.”

—𝑭𝑰𝑵.

[mxvladdy]

Ooh~ I got somewhat of an angst(/comfort -hopefully??) ficlette request!

Established relationship with Diavolo. He thinks everything is going great. Until one night MC tells him that he makes them feel inadequate.

He's so BIG (they are literally/physically so much smaller than him, man is IMPOSING) and it's not like they have demon stamina/strength. they're afraid he gets bored, or will, in time.

He is SO IMPORTANT to everyone and everything and always so busy and they're just a distraction when he could be resting between meetings or courting with the intent to make an heir and they're just a human, a pretty average one at that, can't even use their magic like Maddi or Solomon

*clutches my gay little heart* I'm weak for giant puppy boys 😢. I love this idea! Hope I did it justice! P.s-hope ya ain’t lactose intolerant like I am, cuz I got cheesy at the end lmaooooo

Edit: 6/15- Here is the link to part 2!

  You feel inferior or inadequate? No, not his little Giglio.

He doesn't see at first. He is observant, sure. It comes with the territory as a prince, but he is so blind when it comes to you.

You're perfect and he wishes your relationship to be just as perfect. He can't explain why. Somewhere deep in the vacuous pits of his hearts, he yearns for your happiness.

He courts you like any demon would. Showing off his strength and magic to a maddening degree. He will lay fresh kills at your feet for you too.

It makes demons and other creatures swoon, but not a great turn-on for humans it seems. Barbatos had to pull him aside several times to remind him that too much magic could kill you, and he was tired of getting blood stains out of the wood floors.

He just wants to prove he is enough to you too. He'll do more human courting rituals as time goes on. Taking you topside to eat at human restaurants or do quaint human traditions.

Even in your realm, he can’t get away from gawking and curious humans wanting to be in his presents. He has the magnetic pull only a devil could pull off.

He doesn't notice your reluctance to be seen with him or sullen attitude till it was almost too late.

Balls are a common occurrence for him. Keeps the royal families in check, strengthens ties, or, some unfortunate times cutting them down in a show of force and warning for the rest of them.

Diavolo doesn't hate these events. They come as easy as breathing to him after centuries of doing it. But the flocking, gawking, and borderline reverent guest did get stifling. Having you on his arm made it bearable. The courtiers at least gave him some distance. Where were you anyway?

The barest flicker of black and gold muslin catches the crown prince's eye. The expensive fabric flitting around the corner of the ballroom to the restricted section. He wasn't worried. Diavolo knew that outfit and the delectable scent of his most prized jewel that wore it. You were allowed anyway you wished. Though he wished you were on his arm right about now. Ah well-

He turns back to his compatriot nodding along politely at the dull topic and takes a sip from his flute. He hums delighted by the fruity dry drink. Honestly, he wasn't sure how many of these he had had anymore. But it was just as sweet and tangy as his first glass. The bubbles ticking his nose and the liquor make his head fuzzy and his stomach hot. Mmm... He would have to complement Barbatos after this was over. His experiments were simply divine. Diavolo excuses himself from his conversation partner politely. He needed another drink if he was going to have a chat as dry as that again and survive. Fresh drink in hand he scans the massive hall for you. You should have been back by now… Odd. Perhaps you had called it a night early? He can't blame you. The redundancy and boring pushes for political power did get old fast. Smiling into his bubbling glass he has half a mind to join you. Sleeping the night away with you in his arms? Hells, he just might trade the crown for a day for a bloody break.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" A petite little incubus bowed low, wrapping his tail around his leg respectfully. Diavolo blinked up from his glass. Ah, yes. The game wasn't done yet.

It takes another three hours of dancing and glad-handing before he could finally extract himself from the ballroom. His feet were sore and swollen in their tight leather confines, his formal attire becoming itchy with sweat. He was ready for bed. No, a hot bath, tea then bed. No. A hot bath with you, tea then bed. Yes, a perfect ending to make up for a sub-par party.

Your shared quarters were dark when he entered. The smoky smell of recently snuffled candles greets him as he slips in. He frowns. The outer chambers looked to be untouched. The hearth cold and empty of ash. Your evening outfit wasn't spewn over the lounge and floor like it normally would be after a ball.

You often retired early from these parties, but you always waited for him here. Nestled up in the furs in front of the fire. A warm welcoming smile ready to greet him as he enters. "My love?" Diavolo calls out to the empty room. He winces at how loud he was. Perhaps he had indulged in his cups a bit too much.

He cocks his head listening for the sounds of running water or your cute little snores. Perhaps you had already gone to sleep? Silence greets him. He begins to panic now. Were you some elsewhere in the palace? Had some oppositional little cretin tried to harm you? He knew some at his party tonight were vying for him to go back to the old ways. Eliminating you would be a prerogative to those fools.

No, Barbatos had his eyes everywhere tonight. The complex webbing of his magic was nigh impossible to circumvent. Diavolo could feel it crawling over his skin, though the feeling was fading now that he was in his private chambers. Lucifer and his brother were ever vigilant too at these parties. As much as they bickered and annoyed his other guest they were skilled watchdogs, and keeping you safe was a top priority to all of them.

He reaches out through the shadows of his chambers searching for you frantically. His magic bleeds into every corner of his large private rooms. The vice around his chest lessens when he senses you on the private balcony. He goes to you, shrugging off his collars and chains as he moves, leaving a forgotten trail of priceless treasure behind him. "Darling," he breathes a sigh of relief seeing your silhouette in the light of his realms many moons. "Was the party not to your liking?" Diavolo flops onto your shared bed with a groan of pleasure. His feet now happy to not have his weight on them anymore. He runs his fingers through the vast expanse of cold silk. It wakes him up slightly. "Perhaps I can make it up to you? I can think of quite a few things more pleasurable than a swarm of stuffy demons."

"You’re drunk Dia." You don't move to face him. Your eyes still upcast to look at the clear evening sky.

His head lolls to the side to watch you curiously. You can feel his eyes follow the trail of your hands while you stroke at the marble railing. His family crest glistening on your finger. "No, no, not drunk. Tipsy perhaps? Or is the word ‘buzzed’ more appropriate?" He chuckles. "Perhaps you could sober me up with a kiss? You always know how to make me feel amazing."

Your breath catches at his words. A pathetic little sob escaping you. He is sober now. Instead of a warm kiss alighting his muddled thoughts to bring the world back into sharp beautiful clarity, it feels as if he had been submerged in ice. He approaches you with inhuman speed. His clawed fingers were gentle on your shoulders.

He turns you to face him. Crystalline tears were trapped in your lashes. Your cheeks were ruddy and your lips were swollen.  In any other circumstance, such a visage would be a privilege to see. But these tears were cold and filled with pain. Lips red hot not by his kisses and fangs, but from nervous chewing and pulling. Your cheeks were streaked and puffy from countless hours spent alone and crying.

"Giglio mio, cosa ti affligge?" He cups your cheeks rubbing the chill away from your skin.

"Why- why do you even waste your time with me?" You hiccup.

“I don’t understand.”

You part from him, backing up to the railing. “What do you see in me?”  You ask, arm raised in question. He takes in your body. You were adorned in his colors and his scent, it makes the territorial part of him rumble in satisfaction. Your delicate human flesh radiates a warmth demons could never replicate. You were small, sweet, and his. What was he missing? “What will happen when you find someone better? Someone who will- who can grow old alongside you. A demon or witch, strong and talented.”

Your wavering words don’t register with him. How could you say these things? Did you think he would allow you to grow old without him? You were his, just as he was yours, or as much as he is able of being yours. It was a laughable thought but he knew to hold his tongue. Humans always get in a tizzy about death.“I don’t-” He starts ready to brush your concerns away. The flash of his perfect teeth only angers you.

“Do not play dumb with me!” You say jabbing a finger at his bare chest. “Look at you. Think of who you are compared to me. Look at how they all cling to you, all those pretty demons and witches with something to offer you.”

Something better than me.

The words hang unspoken between you and leave him stunned. He had so much he wished to say but knew tonight was an inopportune time. Your emotions were running high, too high for him to successfully navigate. Especially in his compromised state. He would have to admit defeat tonight. “I am sorry if I have neglected you and your feelings. Please, let's go to bed. I want- I need to understand. But-”

“You’re drunk.” You repeat chuckling without humor. You wipe at your face. “I get it. We’ll talk in the morning?”

Diavolo puts a hand to his chest. “Of course. You will have all my time tomorrow.”

You wake alone the next morning, the sheets beside you cool but not made. You expected that though. He was never one to stay in bed even on the rare days off. It was the downside of his status and routine.

You rise alone and head to the bathroom, the gargantuan space was still slightly warm and steamy. Good, that means you didn’t wake up too much later than Dia. You shower quickly, washing away the grime of lasts night’s nervous breakdown. You were so embarrassed, collapsing all over Diavolo in jealous self-pity. He had more important things to deal with than some weepy human.

You need to go find him and apologies, tell him not to worry about it. You knew what being courted by him would entail. You swore up and down you could handle it, and you could. You will. This was the worst time to falter too he had some pressing deadlines and important figureheads coming around this week. Even one loose gear in his well-oiled machine could damage any number of things. You refused to be the reason he failed. Steeling yourself, you dress quickly, determined to put your new plan in motion. Apologize, promise to do better, and then hide at R.A.D until you could face him again.

It doesn’t take you long to find your demon. He had been waiting for you. You enter the den in a flurry of movement phones in hand to check with Lucifer to see where the prince might be. “Join me?” His deep baritone makes you jump in alarm. Your phone flies out of your hands to clatter loudly on the tile floor.

Diavolo sits, sprawled out on his couch. His favorite terry cloth robe is tied loosely around his broad figure. He watches you with a growing frown, his strong jaw perched on his fist. You freeze. “Please?” He offers you his free hand. You take it timidly. He grasps you firmly and lifts you effortlessly onto his lap. You rest your head on his strong chest. He smells of juniper berries and oranges. Bright, fresh, and sharp. Their combined scents mixing with his natural musk put you at ease. The clenching panic around your heart easing slightly. You eye the breakfast layout before the two of you on the low coffee table. The banquet was still untouched though you do not know how long Dia had been sitting here. You felt the tiny pulses of magic radiating off the table.

“To keep it warm,” Diavolo answers your unspoken question. He moves you in his lap so he can reach for a plate. Filling it to the brim with an assortment of pastries and warmed jams he hands it to you before filling his coffee cup. “I didn’t know how long you wished to sleep.”  

You take the plate meekly. “I-thank you.” You eat in relative silence, eyes locked down on the treccia slowly disappearing on your plate. You were too nervous to look at Diavolo. “When do you have to get back to work?” You ask.

“I don’t-” He adds a hefty dollop of heavily whipped cream to his coffee. “I took the day off.” Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“Giglio.” Diavolo sighs heavily. He puts his coffee aside to cradle you. “Never be sorry for needing time.” His large hands rest over your thigh and shoulder. “I promised we would talk today, and I am nothing but a devil of my word.” He kisses your crown, his thumbs rubbing your skin comfortingly. “Tell me your worries.”

“What do you see in me?” You blurt out looking up at him. “What could you ever see in a human that you couldn’t get from someone closer to your stature?”

“You have something no other being has ever had before.” He answers effortlessly. He had thought about this time and time again in private. He had lost count of the nights spent in his study stewing over this very topic. You captivated him in a way he still couldn’t fully comprehend.

You scoff at the nonanswer. “What? A soul?”

Diavolo sucks his teeth in distaste. Your voice was so bitter. “Do you think I don’t have a soul?” He counters, smiling ruefully down at you.

“Do you?” You are genuinely curious. Satan had been very upfront with the fact that he didn’t and he was a full-blooded demon. When you had asked Barbatos he had just shrugged. 

Diavolo looks wistful for a moment. Golden eyes glazing over as he gets lost in thought. “Who knows?” He admits. “Souls are a precious commodity, true. But such things mean very little to me when it comes to you. No, the thing you have is my trust. You came here with nothing and expected nothing of me but a safe and successful exchange program. There was no social climbing or cloak and daggers with you- or perhaps you are so skilled I cannot see it!” His chuckle shakes you both. “I feel as though you do not see me as just a prince, yet you still respect the title, the authority, and the customs that come along with it. You see what I have to offer and don’t ask for more than I can give you.”

“What will happen when you find that I no longer do that for you? When someone else could do it better and give you eternity along with it?” His words bring you hope, but hope did little when you knew the inevitable outcome.

“Why would I look when I am more than happy where I am?” He dodges your question. He would cross that bridge and bear that cross when you find out on your own.

“But-”

He hushes you with a flurry of kisses across your face, dipping low over you. You squeak as he dangles you precariously over the side of the leather couch. “Come, eat with me.” He says between kisses. “Enjoy a day away from the prying eyes of scorned socialites. Let me show you how devoted I am.” He releases you to pick up a piece of bruschetta. Popping it into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction he turns back to the cooling food, his jovial mood returning. You huff, flicking off a stray bit of diced tomato from his chin.

“Fine- as long as you let me help you catch up on all the work you're missing tomorrow.”  

[secretaryunpaid]

I think I wanna Marry you (part 2)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,000 approx (what can I say, I love Love)

Warning: Lot’s of sex, it’s their wedding night !!!

~~~~~ The Grandhotel Pupp, Czech Republic ~~~~~

“Abiento, Sra. Dalton.” 

“Excuse you, I’m no Dalton ...”

“My apologies Sra., then perhaps I should presume you to be a guest of Sr. Samuel Dalton’s party.” 

“I’m Sra. Dalton’s aunt, but that wouldn’t be any of your business now would it?” 

“Sincere apologies. I didn’t wish to offend... Please, let me take care of your stay to make this up to you. I own the hotel, and just wanted to be hospitable to our esteemed guests.”

 After allowing him to do as he stated, taking his card as requested should she require anything further, Dahlia’s Aunt Marilyn finally met up with her older sister Patricia, explaining her delay... very much to Patricia’s disbelief. 

Marilyn continues... “Well, I wouldn’t mind a free stay in the hotel... He was so insistent, I wasn’t going to admit that I have a home here... Let’s take full advantage of the spa and other amenities... We can question our Dahlia a bit more about this billionaire boyfriend turned husband a bit later. It’s a good thing we talked to Riley isn’t it... Dahlia will be very surprised to see us...”

~~~~~ The Greeting, Take 2  ~~~~~

Having received word of their helicopter arrival, he makes his way quickly to the front desk to greet his most influential guest. “Anton Edison, welcome to my hotel Mr. &  Mrs. Dalton... I’d like to personally invite you to my Casino in Monaco as my private guests... Consider it my wedding gift to you, along with this stay being my compliments... (Both Sam and Dahlia look as if this is some sort of prank until he assures them otherwise, giving Sam his personal Exclusive Contact card.) ... No pressure, just please let me know, should you decide to take me up on my offer. Enjoy your stay!”

As introductions conclude, Anton returns to his private office, pondering if the couple will actually take them up on his generosity... He must have an answer prior to his and their departure from this hotel... An impromptu dinner or meeting will just have to occur... This opportunity will not pass him over... it is crucial that he succeed.

Anxious to start this “Dalton’s love story” he has planned, he practically drags his bride to the private paternoster... But he is respectful of Anton’s hospitality, only kissing her teasingly as the ascent to their room begins. The second wedding had Sam feeling that not only the ceremony deserved a do over.

Once in their room, Sam insists that Dahlia shower, telling her that he wants to make preparations for dinner before joining her... wanting it to be a surprise, and pleading with her through kisses to allow him his way this once.

Setting up his “surprise” with lightning speed, having pre-planned everything down to the last word. He joins her in the shower, totally distracting her mind to prevent any questions as to what he was up to. 

After getting properly dressed for this wondrous evening planned, Sam slips out to take his position just before she comes out adjusting her jewelry... looking up to find Sam looking like a lost Cupid ... which puts a deep smile on her face...

“First, I have the infused chocolates... to heighten our mood...”

“Next, I’ve poured the champagne... You know ... to get the tickles in your mouth before I taste those lips...” She closes her eyes, looking away from the playfulness. When she turns back, Sam is holding a rose between his teeth and a sign... resulting in her audible face palm... 

“More lovemaking? After we just completed that and got all dressed up? But we’ve got the whole stay... And I must tell you love, that although it feels brand new each time... (she whispers, hand against face) It’s no longer an unexpected surprise!”

“Ah, just teasing... but you’ll be asking for this sign again very shortly...”

“Sam, truly what’s going on?” He looks at the sign, rolling his eyes at the oversight...

“Oh shit, I am showing the wrong side... Let me try that once more... “

“Marry me woman !!!? Please... I can’t live without you...” 

“What happened to going down on one knee, Sam?” (Finally understanding what Sam has been trying to do all of this time...)

“Oh baby, I’ll do you one better and go down on you on both knees... Come here, and let me plead for you to marry me... Lick by lick!”

“I’ve still got it!” He teases her, reminding him of the first time he chose to propose... both agreeing that it truly wasn’t the best time... Her reminding him of how romantically unplanned the second proposal was, but truth be told, this is the one she would have ugly cried through before devouring him. “Love, you could never be ugly... no matter what you do.”

After giving it much thought, Sam sent a text to Anton, stating, “Monaco sounds fun, and my wife is anxious to take in the best that Monaco has to offer! Look forward to meeting with you again!”

~~~~~ Rewind to the Wedding Night  ~~~~~

Running a single finger down her sternum, lightly pinching her breasts, tracing her sides until his hands meet her hips, he whispers his plans for her tonight.

Tonight, he’ll be taking her as his wife, not a woman whose affections he has been chasing for support or desire. Tonight… the heights of pleasure he is planning to drag her through will be on a much higher level, knowing her instinctual resistance will only stimulate his drive even more.

He seductively teases her as hidden as possible as they sway through their first dance of the night. Yes, their coming together after their first joining to one another as husband and wife was ethereal and stitched him to her in a way he didn’t think possible again. But this marriage… before family and friends … permanently enclosed his heart with hers in his eyes.

She’d never looked more beautiful on any other day. He was blessed to lay eyes upon her. As he traced the outline of her lips, he imagined them encapsulating his length. Envisioning her teasing his scrotum… drawing shivers from him as her small fingers glide along his pubic hairs, reaching his hips… inducing the assisted gyration within her drooling mouth… increasing her hold with her perfect tongue pressure… inciting satisfied groans… 

“Babe, open your eyes… You’re groaning out loud,” she laughs… “Thinking about us, are you?”

His slow kiss gives all the response she needs. He releases her, twirling her around, capturing her back into his embrace … Her back pressed to his chest as he grinds into her the way he’d wished he could privately, but in a way that was respectful to onlookers… if there is such a thing… But, soon his restraint falters… He wants his wife to know his full desire.

Dragging her over to the microphone, he makes an announcement that he and his bride need a few private moments, “Please enjoy the Cristal, music and cake… We hope to return to the celebration, but don’t be too upset if we happened not to… Mom… Dad... twin duty? Thank you everyone…” All Dahlia can do is wave briefly before he lifts her, practically running with her as the crowd’s laughter quickly faded in the distance…

Unable to hold back any further, he finds a secluded corner, lowering her down to her feet… turning her against the wall, dropping to his knees and covering himself under her gown… tasting her already overflowing desire… her head pressing hard into the brick, uncaring of its grittiness.

His constant lapping of her center draws out an uncharacteristic lisp as she whispers her scream of his name. Needing her against him, he stands, hurriedly exposing his overpowering erection, burying it so excitedly into her that it causes her to seemingly climb the wall… both now burning with a need uncontrolled, insatiable, moving with a building friction that brings her love sounds repeatedly … now fueling his own sounds in answer…

“Sam, I need you covering me … Room! Now!” Reluctantly he withdraws, pulling her away from the wall… both now in an excited sprint … Their room is still much too far away to reach … Their growing need for satisfaction overcomes them, so they maintain connection through touch and short kisses.

Coming across cleaning staff, Sam brings them to a near missed stop at her side. “Excuse me Miss… Do you have a room available like, right now! Dahlia buries her face in his neck from sheer embarrassment as he pulls out his wallet. The staff takes notice of their attire and, without hesitation, opens the door out of which she just exited.

Quickly handing her what could easily been over five grand, he carries Dahlia in hurriedly, kicking the door closed, reaching up to put the additional lock on

Now desperately searching her dress for any means to remove it .. feeling way too impatient, he rips it down her back side… to her shock. “Sam !!! It had a zipper !!!” “Can’t wait,” he says as his tongue spirals along her bare skin… already moving out of his own clothes… When he spins her around, both are completely free of clothing…

He pulls her to the bed’s edge, kissing, groping… moaning … Switching positions, he now stands behind her, pushing her into a bend, entering her before he hardens even more … Her gripping of the sheets and muffled whimpers spur his rapid thrusts, her ass clapping against his frame … He grips her hips, ramming himself deep as her walls swallow him repeatedly ...

“Too? … Rough?,” is his broken question… Her throaty, “No… Harder !!,” sends an excitement through him. Before she realizes, she is flush against the mattress with him closing her legs inside of his … Now situated atop her ass, driving deeply, slapping her cheeks before laying against her backside … stroking roughly as she returns his thrust … his hands gripping her hair, marking his territory with such vessel shattering kisses, she claws his ass, spurring him even further still…

“Yes, ba-by… Yesss!,” she hisses. He continues this way until his need to see how she is enjoying him causes his withdrawal, her audible disappointment and turning to pull him back to her proving more than any vision of her clenched eyes could prove…

She all but snatches him back onto her. His rushed entry draws out the sound of pain… He stops, but she moves against him… “No, Sam … Don’t stop!” Driving even deeper still, his forceful movements back her up into the headboard, but she opens herself to him as wide as she could, separating her legs in a lifted grip… her own nails practically piercing her skin…

Sam grips the headboard, determined to send every ounce of his longing through her … Soon they both are screaming each other’s name... her orgasm cascading pleasurably over his slowing strokes… but he withdraws, both watching his seed flow against her mound … spreading it until nearly dried.

Leaning to her ear, Sam whispers, “I’m not ending this night this early … I won’t cum inside you until you beg me to …” Her desperate kiss, tongue pulling, and lip biting, provides her approval … “Let’s get to our room now. I have so many pleasures in store for you tonight, my love,” ending his confession in another sensual breathtaking kiss …

Chests heaving, he pulls her to the pile of clothes on the floor … Realizing now that there is no way she can put her dress back on, they both snicker over his previous over excitement, which is quickly escalating at the bounce of her breasts as she laughs.

“It’s okay… I’ll hold it in place somehow.”

“Here, put my suit coat over it.”

He peers out of the doors, seeing the cleaning staff giving a bashful smile… “Okay, let’s get out of here…” Pulling her yet again in another sprint, her dress catches, almost exposing her… Sam scoops her up, kissing her, steadfast in their rush to reach their room … Shaking her head and covering her lips in a slight grin, the woman enters to clean the room once again. Totally surprised at how disheveled the room had been left in such a short stay.

Now inside, heading towards the elevator, he sees a group of frustrated guests, implying that the elevator has kept them waiting. They give each other a defeated look, but soon Sam sees another cleaning cart… They both nod in agreement, and soon he is rounding the corner.

“Excuse me!... Excuse me!” The gentleman stops pushing the cart of soiled linen to address them… “Is there a private elevator or staff lift?” Noting Dahlia’s clothing dilemma and marriage attire, he leads them to the corner elevator. “It takes a key to operate, so I’ll have to escort you…” 

“FINE!!!” Both laugh, as the man shakes his head knowingly. Pulling her into the furthest corner of the elevator, Sam lowers her, taking a protective stand in front of his wife’s exposed frame. He removes his wallet, taking out another wad, handing it hurriedly to the staffer. Quickly standing to his side, speaking in a whisper, the gentleman clears his throat in understanding.

Sam steps back to Dahlia, with her immediately tugging his shoulder down to inquire of the words spoken to the man. Turning, Sam lowers his head to her ear saying that he told him to forget what he was about to hear. And with that, he was falling to his knees, kissing his way up her calves, knees, thighs… until he reached her… “OH !!!” … center... covered with her dress yet again. She fought for quiet,  failing miserably.

For each floor the elevator was forced to stop on, the staffer would wave the incoming staffer away, hurriedly pressing for the doors to close. Sam peers from under her dress, realizing he never told what floor, but the staffer said, “We’ll reach the honeymoon suite shortly Mr. Dalton. I mean, sir !!” With that, he's back under the layers of dress once again, Dahlia gasping in the best efforts at silenced pleasure as she could. Once the elevator chimes it’s final time, the staffer steps out to clear the hallway of possible guests to avoid further exposure… “All clear, but not for-” 

“Ooooh, Sam!!! Yessss !!”

Clearing his throat loudly, the bride and groom take the hint, Sam carrying her down the hallway hurriedly once again, Dahlia burying her head in his chest. Shaking his head with a smirk, the staffer enters the elevator, understanding their “rush” with familiarity. Planning out his use of the $10K amnesia payment… wondering how many more private elevator rides will be needed with a hearty laugh.

Finally inside their honeymoon suite, Dahlia leaps from Sam’s arms, now tearing his clothing free, lowering herself to his engulfed member, teasingly drawing his deep inhales, her hair now being ruffled into a knotted mess… holding him assisted as her strength allows against his pelvis, she works him desperately, hungrily pleasing him to no end… until he unloads … She allows him to watch her take every drop… 

“Perfection !!!” He pulls her into his lustful kiss, then holds her, forehead to forehead, hearts beating erratically. Neither satisfied, both expecting a totally sleepless night. 

“Mrs. Dalton…” 

“Yes, Mr. Dalton…”

“I’m going to eat you alive! But first…”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s hydrate !!!”

Both break into laughter, heading over to the chilled champagne, walking over with the bucket and glasses, lowering themselves into the jacuzzi. Sam guided her between his legs so that he could hold her tenderly, pouring their first drink of the night.

“Sam, I don’t think this really counts as hydration…”

“Then we’ll just have to keep drinking each other,” he says with hunger building in his eyes yet again. “You know this is your fault for putting me on hiatus until tonight?...”

She smiles into his lips … “I’m not complaining one bit, though…” Her lips now making a heated trail down his center, coupled with an enticing tongue flicker…

By checkout, there is a mess of wax and torn sheets strewn throughout, in the midst of empty bottles, lost lingerie, and a note with a generous tip left for the cleaning crew… The words written:

“Off to our honeymoon! Our deepest apologies for the … yeah !!! The Daltons … Please let us know if jacuzzi replacement costs are required.” … Sam’s signature on the back of his business card.

“Nope, consider this celebration’s damage on the house, lol” She didn’t think her tip last night could get any better, but after her shift, she’s off to shop for her new car. “Come again!,” she exclaims, laughing at the happenings that must have gone on in this room ...

[han-shinsuke]

ɢᴏᴀᴅ ɴᴏ.4 🥀𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜 𝑇𝑒𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑢🥀

I remember approaching him that summer, with a letter in hand and a stem of daffodil. They had a great game against Karasuno. They lost but still, it was a great game. Kuroo asked for a moment to be alone. That’s when I made my move. I have written a letter for him. A very long one. You see, I’m not good at making people stay. But, I am honest and brave. Unfortunately, those weren’t enough for him to stay. He’s seeking for unusual. Something I don’t possess. Something he can never find in me.

That moment happened almost a decade ago and time, as if on purpose, doesn’t lessen the pain, the happiness, and sense of accomplishment I had felt when I let him go. I was his first love but I am not his greatest one. He had dreams. He had goals. And he wasn’t my top priority back then. We were young. We needed guidance. I can never abandon my family and my responsibilities.

Now, I could tell that Kuroo is an accomplished man. He’s got everything. All of his dreams came true. But one thing is missing, a wife and children. That's why we are here. To help him plan his new beginning. Alisa had told me that Kuroo has a fiancée and currently on a business trip abroad.

I have established an event planning business and surprisingly, according to Alisa, we are Kuroo’s choice. It has been months since I started working full-time on his dream wedding. He hasn’t changed at all. He is still meticulous.

“How’s your dad, Y/N?”

We are currently slow dancing when he asks question. Let me defense myself, this is just a friendly dance. Forced by our common friends back in high school. It’s his party, organized by Kenma and Lev before his wedding this coming weekend.

“He’s good. My family is doing good.” I am not blaming my father for what happened between me and Kuroo but it is the eldest child’s duty to take responsibility when the head of the family can no longer fulfill the job. My father got involved in a car accident. He lost a foot, suffered from depression and that forced me to take part-time jobs while attending high school. After I graduated, instead of pursuing a college degree which was clearly not possible that time, I applied for different jobs to support my family. Three years later, I got an invitation from a nearby University. They offered me a full scholarship program that I gladly accepted.

“I heard that someone has donated a prosthetic leg for him. Maybe I should send him an invitation for my wedding?”

“Alisa told you ha? Why would you invite him?”

Kuroo has been mentioning all sort of things about weddings for three straight hours and it started making me feel sad about myself and my love for him that never fades.

“I was close with your father, Y/N.”

“You WERE close before.”

“Yeah, that was before.”

We didn’t noticed that the song we were dancing along with had finished. Thanks to Morisuke and Bokuto they pulled us apart and handed us a mug of beer. I must control my alcohol intake tonight or else I would end up speed driving on the street. I emptied at least three mugs and I am confident that I’m not drunk. I have high alcohol tolerance!

“Alisa, have you seen my things?” My brows are furrowed when I started looking for my bag and folders. Alisa just shrugged her shoulders and continued drinking with our drunk friends.

“I think I put them inside Kuroo’s bedroom.” Lev said, yawning.

“Hah?!” I smacked him on the face and he just laughed at me.

“Go get it, Y/N, Kuroo is not there.”

I jogged towards Kuroo’s house and went straight inside his dimly lit room. I found my bag and folders laying on his bed and immediately picked my things.

Before I could spin on my heels, a figure of a man appears from the darkened corner of the room.

“Sorry for intrusion, Lev’s fault.” I hugged my things closer to my body and looked straight at Kuroo.

“Do you still love me?” All of the sudden, Kuroo asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I am honest and brave.

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“Excuse me, Kuroo. I need to go home.”

“Could you give this to your dad?” Kuroo handed me a copy of the invitation and squeezed my hand.

I smiled at him, “I will.”

Kuroo held my gaze for a moment. He sighed. The light from the ceiling flickered. I think I catch a glimpse of a portrait of a woman there before the door closes.

It must be his fiancée. How sweet of him.

When I returned home, my father was waiting for me on the front porch. I gave him a high five.

“Dad, Kuroo is inviting you to his wedding this weekend, would you like to attend?” I asked. Looking for the cream colored envelope inside my bag. I place it in his palm when I found it.

“Of course! You’ll be there, too, right?”

“Yeah. I’m one of the bridesmaids.” I laughed.

𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔

“Dad!” They are here again! The employees from the nearby flower shop. Bringing baskets of daffodils for my father. If I’m not mistaken, someone have been sending daffodils every last saturday of the month for five years straight now! Whoever is doing this, is undoubtedly an angel! These flowers contributes to my father’s immediate recovery!

“Oh! These are pretty!” My father descended from the stairs, walking straight to the delivery team to sign the receipt. He was dressed in suit and I was dressed in yellow dress like the color of the daffodils.

“Where’s mom, Aria, and Dale?”

“They go shopping.”

“It’s too early for them to go shopping, Dad.”

My father walks up to me, dragging me outside our house after the delivery team finished placing all the baskets in the living room.

“Get going, Y/N, we’ll be late!”

“You seemed excited, Dad! It’s just Kuroo’s wedding!”

𝑊𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑢𝑒 ( 𝑆𝑡. 𝐴𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑃𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑎 𝐶ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑐ℎ )

He’s been looking for the right one until she came in his life. She's the torch that lights up his dark paths. Leading him towards the brightest one. Where he doesn’t need to be alone. All these years and after everything he went through, finally, Kuroo had found the one.

His peace in a world full of chaos.

My event team are all busy. Alisa helps aligning the children in the center aisle of the church. I left my father with Lev and Kenma and assisted the other guests. The bride’s car is parked near the entrance. I wonder why she is still staying inside the car.

“Come on, Y/N!” Alisa dragged me back on the line. Joining my father at the very end of the queue.

“What about the bride, Alisa?” I asked in panic.

“She has different tradition, Y/N. Let her be. She’ll come out after us.

“Stand straight, my child.” Dad said. Smiling widely.

I smiled back. Lev handed my father a walking cane who struggles standing on his prosthetic. Dad taps his arm, laughing.

The queue starts as the music plays.

[ the one by kodaline ]

🥀 Y/N LETTER ALMOST TEN YEARS AGO🥀

𝒦𝓊𝓇ℴℴ,

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚. 𝐼 𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜�� 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑡! 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠, 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡! 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒. 𝐿𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑦𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝐵𝐸𝐴𝑈𝑇𝑌 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝐸𝑋𝑇𝑅𝐴. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦. 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛.

𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜.

𝐺𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.

𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟.

—ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ

•end of the letter•

I really wished it was me. The one you’re looking for. But an extra should remain an extra. We were just made to spice things up. That’s all.

The line is about to end. Three more people and it will be our turn to walk down the aisle. The bride is still in her car. I’m nervous. I don’t think I can make it. Kuroo’s happy face is telling me to run for him and take him away and make him mine again.

But, that’s so cruel and inhumane.

“Be brave. Dad is here.” I bursted into tears when my father said those. He grips my hand tightly as we walk hand in hand. Tears streaming from my eyes down to my cheeks.

The guests probably thinks I’m out of my mind. Who am I to cry? I am not the bride for Christ’s sake!

“Dad? What are you doing?” I wiped my tears away and tried reaching my father's hand when he approached Kuroo.

He pulled two small envelopes from the inside pocket of his suit and gave one to Kuroo.

Dad opened the one he was holding and started crying when he showed me what was written on the paper.

𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛. It said.

“No! No! Don’t say that, Dad. You were never a burden.” I’m holding my hand on my chest as I cried loudly. Why would my father think that? He was never a cargo or a responsibility. He is my dad.

He pulled another paper that said, 𝒀𝑬𝑺.

That’s when the guests started clapping their hands. I looked at them one by one. They are all smiling and crying like me.

From where I am standing, My mom, my sister, Aria and brother, Dale, came out from the bride's car. All dressed.

Aria ran towards us, handing Kuroo a flower crown made of daffodils.

Now, it’s his turn to show what's inside the envelope that my father had given him awhile ago.

“SIR, CAN I MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER?” Kuroo read, tears forming from the corners of his eyes.

“Wait! Are all of these pranks?!” I cried, stepping back. They laughed. Kuroo pulled me close to him. Putting the flower crown on my head. Kissing my eyes like he’s been dying to do all of these.

“These are real, Y/N.” Kuroo leads me towards the altar. Grinning. My parents stood beside me. Both shedding tears.

“He’s the daffodils sender, Y/N.” Dad said.

“And he’s the one sponsored your college scholarship.” Mom added.

I gasped. Bursting into tears again.

“You bewitched me from the very start, Y/N. After all these years, it was always you I keep looking for. You are my beginning. My middle. And my end. You are my cycle of life.”

— E N D —

[babbushka]

My sinday thought is for the emperor Kylo dinner/banquet sex you talked about this week. Does he also clear a spot on the table occasionally and lay you down on it to eat your pussy for an appetizer before fucking you?? Please do something with the public sex haha. Thank you! I’m going to the special hell.

Anonymous said: Pretty please with a cherry on top if you feel like it can you do a lil thing on the “your face pressed to the table” at dinner thing for the emperor AU? Thank you! And thank you for two days! You’re so kind :)))

(1.4k NSFW (public sex, oral sex, PIV sex))

He’s entertaining a large group, tonight. There are ambassadors from Arkanis, from Alderaan, Yavin and Bespin, there are all of their traveling group accompanying them, all the servants and guards and advisers as well. They’re speaking amongst themselves after having enjoyed a long day at the baths, where many of Kylo’s whores pleasured them and were pleasured in turn by them, but now it was time for a grand feast – or at least it would be, if the food would arrive.

“What is taking so long?” Kylo grabs the wrist of a passing servant, asks him not unkindly for he knows that this man doesn’t control the speed at which his food is delivered.

“I’m so very sorry your Imperial Majesty, the kitchens are running as quickly as they can, the food should be out shortly.” The servant replies quietly, carefully, not daring to look Kylo in the eye lest he upset him.

“You said this five and ten minutes ago.” Kylo reminded him, growing irritated.

“I know, I know but this is what the cooks have told me to tell you.” The servant tries to explain.

It is then that you enter the dining hall, capturing all the attention of the entire room, for their gaze is naturally drawn to you the way one might be so inclined to stare at the sun as it travels across the sky.

“I understand.” Kylo releases his hold on the servant and sits up straighter in his seat, “I will simply sate my hunger by another means then.”

You are wearing some of your finest clothes – or well, Kylo isn’t so sure he can call them clothes, when your body is exposed for the room to see. You have a golden harness which adorns your chest, framing your breasts beautifully as they are on full display. You wear a golden metal belt, two pieces of sheer fabric fall off of it, one from the front and one from the back, leaving your hips and your sides exposed. Your legs sport a criss-cross of leather laces from your sandals, and your nails on both your fingers and toes are painted a dark red with sheep’s blood.

“(Y/N)?” Kylo’s gaze darkens with lust considerably at seeing your body so clearly, beautifully backlit by the sun as you move through the room. Hearing your name catches your attention, not that you weren’t already looking right at him. Kylo beckons you forward and pats his side. “Come here.”

“Hello, your majesty.” You grin, aware of how all eyes are on you in this moment, as your hips sway when you walk to stand by your lover, your Emperor.

“It seems as though our dinner is taking longer than usual, and I am, in a word, starving.” Kylo explains, and you arch a brow for his true meaning. He does not smile, although you can see the happiness in his eyes that you are near, and suddenly, he stands and clears a large space for you to lay comfortably, before whispering in your ear, “Up on the table.”

The moment your back hits the table, Kylo is pulling your hips right to the very edge so that he may sit before you. You wear no under garments, and he groans at this, at the way he finds your pussy already slicked up and waiting for him.

“Some things are best enjoyed fresh, don’t you think?” He asks you, and the entirety of the dining hall has their breath held, for many of them are not used to such a public display as this, and those who are, are anticipating quite the show.

“I do believe so, your majesty.” You grin at him, your arms strewn out above your head on the table, careful not to touch any food or knock over any drink.

At once, he ducks his head underneath the sheer fabric that calls itself a skirt, and gets to work eating your cunt. He’s hungry, his stomach is growling, and he will sate himself through your body. You are sweet, so sweet, yet savory as well, a perfect balance on his tongue as he thrusts it inside you, hands gripping your thighs.

“Oh – oh Kylo, ah!” Your moans echo around the dining hall, and all the chatter has ceased, all the focus in the room is on you, and you, oh you preen underneath the attentions.

“Mmmmmm,” Kylo moans as he loudly licks and sucks down the juices which spring forth from your pussy, loud enough that the senators and advisors are shifting in their seats, growing hot in their trousers, in their robes.

Kylo bruises your hips, your thighs with his fingers as he yanks you down the table further so that your legs can sling over his shoulders, and he pushes his face closer to you, soaks his goatee with your juices, moans and groans while your toes curl against his back, your nipples stiff and back arched up towards the heavens.

“Ah! Yes, yesyesyes, oh – right – right there!” You chant, your hands opening and closing around nothing, your throat jumping, your body sweating on the table.

Everyone in the room is watching you, watching and waiting, waiting for you to come, and for a moment you begin to feel as though you’re growing close, but then Kylo pulls away, wipes the shine off his chin with the back of his hand and licks it off his knuckles.

“Flip for me blossom.” He says, voice raspy, and you grin as you do as you’re told, letting him open his trousers and pull out his cock, sliding it between your folds as you lay on your stomach on the table, before thrusting hard into you, grunting out, “Ungh, yes, take it.”

His hips snap rough and hard against your ass, balls smacking against your skin. He watches as his cock disappears inside of you, one hand holding you steady, the other hand shoving your face against the linens. You drool onto the tablecloth and laugh out your pleasure, high breathy moans as Kylo shakes the table with the force of his thrusts. Some of the representatives have to pick up their goblet of wine, lest it spill over from the movement.

“Oh, Kylo oh yes, please please please!” You moan like the beautiful whore you are, pushing back on his cock as he splits you with it, all his spit and your juices coating his cock and letting him fuck you easier.

Finally, as he’s fucking you like this, fucking you so hard that the table scrapes against the floor, that jugs and glasses topple over, that silverware clangs and clatters, the servant returns with a team of nearly a dozen behind him, all holding in their hands plates of bountiful foods.

They are unfazed by this, for they see Kylo take you all over the palace, everywhere and at any time. They begin setting the food around you, careful not to disturb you, careful not to touch you. Kylo would cut their hands off right then and there if they were to touch you.

“Your oysters, your Imperial Majesty.” A servant bows, and Kylo nods out a thanks and a dismissal all in one.

“Blossom, be a darling and fix them up right.” Kylo smacks the side of your thigh sweetly, and you groan at having to do anything at all other than lie there and be pleasured.

He smirks then, that you’re so in love with the feeling of his cock, that even as you raise yourself onto your hips, you still push back onto his dick, your breasts bouncing from his unrelenting pace.

“Y-yes your majesty – ah!” You reach for a wedge of lemon, your head tipped back as you beg for your own release, “Kylo! Kylo please – yes!”

The moment that you squeeze the juice of a ripe lemon over the oysters, he rolls your clit and has you coming hard on his cock, shouting out his name loudly for all to hear.

And it is only then, only when you have licked the juice of the lemon off of your fingers and have sat back in his lap against his chest, Kylo’s hard cock spilling come into your wanting pussy, only when he has relaxed enough to catch his breath and the sounds from his throat have turned to content sighs of pleasure, does he look up at the room of sexually frustrated guests and announce,

“Dinner is served.”

[kaznejis]

Vignettes- Marco Peña x reader

Anonymous asked: just some like cute fluff with marco, maybe like different stages of your relationship. like first date, kiss, first time, just cute lil fluff like that.

Anonymous asked: I feel like you’re one of the few people who write Marco x readers that I love, so can I request your typical how you meet, first kiss etc imagines xx

A/N: Thanks for sending these in, I decided to get through two requests with this one. Sorry that I haven’t posted anything in the last week or so, I’ve been away but I am at home now and promise to be much more active! For those who have sent in a request, expect to see it on here sometime soon. :) 

Also, I gave your parents names in order to make the story flow much better- if those are your parents names then lucky for you, haha!

Feel free to send in any requests!

Vignette- A brief evocative description, account or episode

i. 

“Hey Y/N, grab one of these boxes for me?”

“Sure thing, Dad.” You wiped dust from your hands as you hauled another box that was stacked before the now-empty moving truck. 

“Thanks,” He grinned from the doorway, wiping the sweat that clung to his forehead as he did, “Once you’ve moved that into the kitchen I have some bad news for you.”

“Okay,” You spoke slowly, blowing a hair from your face as you deposited the (admittedly heavy) box onto the kitchen floor before joining your dad in the hallway, “What’s up?”

“Your mother contacted some nearby families before we came here; long story short we are eating dinner with one of them tonight.”

“You’re kidding?” You groaned, running a hand through your messy hair as you pictured the state of your appearance. 

“You’ll have time to fix yourself up,” Rolling his eyes, your dad had practically read your mind, “Think about it, we don’t even have furniture right now let alone food.”

“True,” You sighed, “When are we going?”

“Six.”

“Wait-” You spun to stare grab your phone and check the time, “That’s in two hours!?”

“Better get moving.” Your dad laughed as you sped up the stairs toward the bathroom. 

-

Luckily, you did manage to get ready in time and at 5:52 your family stood on the porch of a large house only a few blocks from yours. Shifting the bottle of champagne that served as a piece offering into the crook of your arm as you moved to knock on the door, the three of you twitched nervously in anticipation.

Eventually the door swung open and light flooded the porch that had been previously lit by a few dim garden-lights. A thin, dark-haired woman stood on the other side of it- a bright smile adorning her features. 

“Welcome,” She laughed, beckoning you all inside, “It’s freezing out here. Come in, come in!”

“Thankyou so much for having us,” Your mum smiled as she took the bottle from you and offered it towards the woman, “We don’t really have anything to cook with but I hoped that this would be enough.”

“oooh Anna, thankyou very much,” She placed the bottle down and pulled your mother into a tight hug- doing so caused her to spot you and your father loitering awkwardly in the hallway, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Laurel, Laurel Pena.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Chris” Your father stepped forward, engaging in a side-hug with Laurel before gesturing towards you, “And this is our daughter Y/N” You smiled awkwardly and gave a timid wave. 

“Y/N! Your mother has told me so much about you, come here and give me a hug.” She did so, the hug was warm and comforting- washing away any awkwardness you had originally felt, “Now, let’s go meet the rest of the family.”

Turning down the hallway, Laurel led the three of you towards what was presumably the dining room- noise and light erupted from the room as the activity of a family preparing for dinner bustled from it. Smiling reassuringly, Laurel turned into the room and at the sight of guests the family paused- each member turning toward you. 

“The guests have arrived.” Laurel cheered, throwing her arms in the air as the whole family erupted into greeting. Laurel quickly jumped to introduce the each of you to the other family and vice versa. As she moved around the table, you noticed a boy around the same age as you watching you, a small smirk on his face. Chewing on your lip in an attempt to calm the nerves the gaze penetrating the side of your face caused, you willed the eruptions of want that sunk into your spine to stop. 

Eventually, Laurel placed her hands on the back of the boys chair, “...and this is my son, Marco.” She ruffled his hair before turning to the seat beside him. “I noted that the two of you are the same age so I thought that it would be great that you sit beside him Y/N.”

Cocking his head to the side, Marco stared at you as he awaited your reaction. You simply bit your tongue and let out a harsh outtake of breath in an attempt to steady your voice, “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

“Great!” Laurel then moved to show your parents to their seats, “Now, I will go and get the last of the food- everyone feel free to tuck in!” 

Lowering yourself into the chair hesitantly. you watched as the table began digging into the copious amount of food that littered the table upon different variations of plates and bowls. Marco reached for a dish before him, causing the toned muscles of his arms to flex beneath the short-sleeved shirt that he wore. Turning the skirt of your dress between your fingers and swallowing harshly, you composed yourself before turning to fill your plate with the food that surrounds you. 

“She always goes all out whenever we have guests.”

“Hm?” You hummed, turning towards the voice beside you as you hadn’t quite heard what he said. 

“My mother,” He smiled fondly, which was a really good look on him, “She always goes all out with the food- we usually have about a quarter of this during normal meals.”

You spluttered out a laugh, reaching to cover your mouth as he grinned at you in triumph, “Well, I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” He snorted around a mouthful of food, “She hasn’t spent that much time cooking in months.” At that, you both continued to converse throughout the night as you both became familiar with each other. You and Marco shared a number of interests and you weren’t going to lie about the fact that you had originally found him extremely attractive anyway- these factors only deepened the feelings you already felt towards Marco. 

Apparently, Marco had felt exactly the same. 

As the night came to a close and everybody had separated to different rooms in the house, Marco had pulled you aside and asked the question that would start everything, “Would you consider going out with me sometime?”

ii.

You said Yes, of course.

Though the date didn’t end up happening until a few weeks later- you needed time to settle into the new house and become familiar with the local area. 

You vividly remembered Marco’s grin when you had gone over to his house and told him that you were ready for the date he had promised you. He had bounded around like an excited puppy, pulling you into a joy-filled hug as his arms squeezed your sides. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 11,” He had beamed, staring down at you as he slowly pulled his arms from around you, “I can’t wait.”

It was now ‘tomorrow’ and you anxiously waited beside your window- every time a car pulled up you would jump in anticipation, even if it was approximately an hour before Marco had arranged to pick you up. Chewing on your nails, you moved away from the window and walked over to the mirror in order to check over your appearance; continuing the cycle you had been performing over the last hour or so. 

Just as you begun to settle the nerves that flooded your mind, a car horn sounded from outside the house. Speeding back to your window, you set your gaze upon Marco who was moving to lean against his car. Taking a deep intake of breath and patting down your summer dress one last time, you left your room and headed towards the door. 

“Wow!” Marco exclaimed as soon as you stepped down from the entrance to the house, “You look beautiful.”

You laughed, feeling a heated hue of colour filling your cheeks, “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

You weren’t wrong, Marco wore an unbuttoned plait shirt paired with a black top and ripped jeans- he didn’t look too bad; he looked hot. Marco just shrugged his shoulders and opened the passenger door for you, a content grin on his face. 

“So what actually are we doing today?” You inquired as you slid into the seat, looking over at Marco as he shut the drivers side door behind him. 

“I was going to keep it a secret,” He laughed as he manoeuvred the car out onto the road, “But it’s nothing too big, I thought it would be fun to go bowling and then grab something to eat.”

“Bowling?” You giggled childishly, “I haven’t been bowling in years.”

“Well then,” He grinned at the sound of your laughter, “There’s a pretty high chance that I’ll beat you.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed, shoving him softly (mindful of the fact that he was driving), “That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m bad at it.”

“Well then we’ll just have to see how it goes.”

“Game on.”

-

In the end, Marco did win the game. It turned out that bowling was a regular for Marco’s family- meaning he had years of experience against your lack of.

After your pathetic defeat, you sat together in a booth within the restaurant that was connected to the bowling complex- each with a burger and a shared plate of curly fries. 

“You know what Marco,” You swallowed the abundance of greasy food in order to speak easily, “I had fun today.”

“You did?” He smiled widely, staring at you intently, “Well, I did too.”

“Well I mean, you did plan the date.”

He continued to stare at you for a beat. as if he was contemplating- then once his mind was apparently made up; he smacked a salt-covered kiss to your cheek, “Whatever.” He mumbled cheekily after doing so. 

You grinned shyly at Marco, bringing your hand up to brush the area of your cheek that he had kissed, “Ew- You got sauce on my cheek.” Marco broke into a howling laugh that practically crippled his body as you scrubbed at your cheek. 

“You’re so cute.” He huffed out as he recovered from his laugh. 

“Whatever.” You echoed, twisting your lips bashfully. 

“Go out with me again.”

“Slow your roll,” You sipped your drink and winked, “We have to finish this date first.”

iii.

One date turned into two...and eventually three. 

Over the two months in which you had now known Marco- you had grown to harbour some intense feelings for the guy. The two of you were in constant contact between dates; texting and calling until the early hours of the morning or simply falling asleep together on facetime. You were adamant that he shared these feelings- giving you the confidence you needed for what you were about to do. 

With an arm curled around your shoulder, Marco was walking you home after offering to do so as soon as the movie you had attended came to a close- therefore giving you the opportunity to, well, kiss him. 

It had been due to happen since that moment during the first date when Marco had lunged over and smacked a kiss to your cheek- the two of you had been stuck in a limbo of whether or not one of you should make the move. This usually resulted in the end of dates closing on an awkward hug or another cheek kiss. 

You were sick of it and taking this much needed step was very much necessary. 

“-I just think that the main character should of made a much better choice, do you agree?” Your prolonged train of thought had taken place whilst Marco had gone on a rant about the main protagonist’s moral choices from the cheap, indie movie you had just viewed. 

“Yeah,” You grinned up at him as his hands trailed patterns upon your shoulder blades, “I agree.”

“You weren’t listening, were you?” He laughed, though he didn’t seem to be offended nor surprised. 

“Sorry,” You snorted out a laugh as he ruffled your hair, “I was trying to listen to you I swear.”

“Well, as long as you tried.” He grinned down at you, moving to encircle his hands around your waist as you came to a stop beneath a fluorescent street-light. 

This was it, you thought, as you stared up at Marco’s lips from beneath your lashes under the glow of the light. 

Though, it seemed that Marco had been thinking about the same thing. Before you could even begin to lean upward he brought his hand up to cradle your chin with his thumb and forefinger, “Can I?”

You huffed out a soft laugh. “You don’t even have to ask.” And before another word can be uttered, you both met each other in the middle and connected your lips into a slow, sipping kiss that made your heart speed up and your knees weaken. 

Eventually the two of you had to pull away for air, as you did so Marco smiled down at you sweetly- with a slight smug look to it, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

You just smiled bashfully up at him, chewing on your slightly-swollen lip lightly, “Me too.”

“Hey,” Marco spoke, throwing his arm back over your shoulder as you set back onto the path, “Does this mean we’re together now?”

“That’s your way of asking?”

“Yep.”

“Alright,” You giggled, tucking yourself into his side, “Sure, we’re together now.”

iv.

“Are you 100 percent positive that you want to do this?” Marco asked sincerely, running his arm up and down your arm in a comforting manner. 

“Yeah,” You nodded insistently, reaching up to brush a stray curl from your boyfriend’s forehead, “I want you.”

Marco gulped, his brown eyes darkening ever so slightly, “Are you sure? I mean-”

“Marco, love.” You laughed, shaking him slightly, “We’ve wanted to do this for weeks and this may be the only time in a while that the house is completely empty for the entire night.”

“Okay,” Marco whispered, closing his eyes and toying with the end of your loose shirt, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Sighing, you pulled Marco forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before pressing your forehead up against his, drawing circles upon his cheek with your thumb, “I know you won’t, I trust you.”

“Good.” Marco mumbled huskily, moving to kiss you again as he lowered you to lay back against the pillows at the top of your bed. 

-

“Fuck,” Marco breathed out as you both lay side-by-side, pliant and sweaty against the bed covers. 

“Yeah.” You grinned widely, allowing yourself to roll over and cuddle up against Marco’s side as the endorphins and love hormones produced from sex coursed through you. 

“That was good,” Marco grinned, kissing you lightly on the forehead as he pulled you into his arms, “Was that good for you?”

“I loved it,” You sighed, not allowing your mind to catch up before you said what you were about to say, “I love you.”

Marco paused, going still and silent for a moment as you could feel his eyes boring right through you- though he pulled himself back together in a matter of seconds as he let out a glee-filled laugh, “God, I love you too.”

-

Taglist: @mansaaay​ @yongboxerrr​ @the-not-so-iconic​ @sandovalali12

[sunnysidevans]

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 - 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫

Summary: everyone copes with a bad day differently, after a particularly bad day andy finds a new way to cope, with some help of course. 

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW THEMES , drug mentions , alcohol mentions , oral (m/r) , daddy kink , semi public pda , unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap kids)

Authors Note : hi! heres the long awaited andy fic i promised, I do also want to point out i did base this after the show and that andy and laruie are not together bc I just dont condone cheating one bit. okay enjoy! 

NSFW THEMES UNDER THE CUT

READERS POINT OF VIEW:

Everyone copes with bad days in different ways, some people turn to alcohol, some people turn to drugs, some turn to good ways such as meditation, but not Andrew Barber, he turned to Burlesque clubs. The club was slow as it finally hit eleven pm, many men finally went home to their spouses as once it passed ten, you can't pull the “work” excuse. You sat in your chair in the small dressing room as you touched up your makeup lightly from the last set as your manager slipped in, “(Y/N), there’s a few more regulars left, would you mind taking the stage for a bit?” she asked as you smiled at her in the mirror “of course! What number are you thinking?” you asked as she smiled “you pick! Let me know and we’ll get the curtain up for you!” she smiled walking away as you heard a faint “Thank you!” in the distance. 

As the curtain rose and you and a few other dancers stood on stage, the music had not even started yet as you made eye contact with the blue eyed man in the corner of the stage, he looked like he had a bad day, as many do when they come into the club, it was common for them to cope with watching women dance and put on shows, better than being at a strip club sometimes. You started to lip sync to “I put a spell on you” in the black leather two piece you smiled and winked to him and received a smirk back.

You made it off the stage after the number smiling as Mandy smiled at you, handing you a water bottle, “You know I didn’t hire you to flirt with our guests” ending it with a wink you laugh “he looked like he needed a smile” you shrugged smiling widely at her as she laughed in response “okay sure” she rolled her eyes as she walked away, turning as she was a few feet away “oh! Would you mind staying a bit extra to pick up a bit? Mark is a bit understaffed on servers tonight” she smiled as you groaned with a smile “I guess” you drew out the s with a laugh and nodded quickly “yes” you smile as she yelled “your the best!”. You made your way back to the dressing room to change to a small napkin on your station “Great show beautiful AB” you furrowed your eyebrows looking over the note shrugging it off as someone was sending you a little fan mail. You tossed the note aside and quickly changed your clothes to head out and clean up some tables. 

The clock had finally hit midnight and most regulars and shifted out the door and there were two customers left, Mr.blue eyes included. You cleaned a few tables in front of blue eyes watching his eyes watch your every move. You stood and took care of the few glasses you picked up and made your way back to him leaning your hand and hip against the table you watched him, he looked at you like the most prized possession, it was actually really sweet. “So, blue eyes, can I get you anything else?” you asked softly smiling looking down at him as you made eye contact again as he smirked slightly “uh” he swirled the brown bourbon in his glass around “no not yet, unless your kicking me out” he looked back up at you again as you shook your head “I’m here till 1 so, enjoy your stay” you winked walking back to the counter to continue to pick up after the regulars who had finally went home. 

One am approached fast and the only one left was you and blue eyes, you’ve come to quite like calling him that, as you hadn’t fully introduced yourselves to one another. Mandy trusted you to lock up so it was just the two of you, he also seemed harmless. “Am I the only one left?” he asked as you dried a few glasses, he stood approaching the bar “Yes you are” you smiled at him tilting head setting the glass down smiling at him, biting your lip again. “So, what's your name?” you asked him watching as he leaned against the bar, “Andy” he smiled looking at you smiling “and you?” he replied again as you nodded “(Y/N)” you replied to him biting your lip, watching as his eyes followed every move of your lips. “(Y/N)” his voice rasped, dropping a few octaves deeper. “I like it” he nodded, smirking at you, looking you up and down watching your face as you walked around the bar to him. “So, Andy..” you whispered walking closer to him as you two stood face to face watching his face as you looked up at him “what brought you in tonight?” you ask, slightly messing with his tie, that had been loosened from the moment you two had made eye contact a few hours ago. He sighed heavily watching your fingers play with his tie “a long, long day” he bit his lip watching your lips as you stuck your tongue out to wet your lips. 

You stood on your tippy toes to finally kiss Andy holding onto his suit jacket to pull him closer as he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he leaned you against the bar counter, sitting you down and standing between your legs. Parting was for a short time he began to kiss down your neck as you let out a sigh of delight “A long day huh?” you moaned softly tangling your fingers in his hair as he found your sweet spot. He mumbled something along a “mhm” against your neck as you pulled him up to kiss his lips again passionately, they were soft and you for sure couldn’t stop kissing them. You pulled him closer by your thighs as you locked your ankles around him, pulling his suit jacket off and tossing it aside. Pulling away to catch your breath you wiped the small bit of chapstick you smeared on his chin biting your lip grinning looking at him raising your eyebrows “I only live down the road… would you want to come along?” you asked as he smirked, kissing you again passionately. 

You barely made it to unlock your front door before your back was against it and Andy’s lips were against yours. You once again pushed his jacket off his shoulders, tossing it behind you as he held your hips in his hand messing with the button on your jeans. You pulled away for air, panting softly, feeling his breath fanning your face as you watched his eyes darken. He undid the button of your jeans,grinning as he felt your breath speed up in anticipation. Andy kissed along your collarbone again as he slid his hand into your jeans, running his finger between your folds over your panties, if you knew you would get laid tonight you would’ve picked better attire. You gasped as his knuckle brushed your clit as he bit down on your shoulder. “Oh sweetheart is that the jackpot?” he asked softly as you nodded quickly in response as you pulled him in to kiss you again. As you tangled your fingers into his hair Andy slid his hand into your panties finally, He finally brushed his fingers through your folds, causing you to gasp and him taking the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. You whimpered as he ran his knuckle over your clit whispering in your ear “is that the spot baby?” he asked as you nodded quickly “please” you whispered “please what?” he asked as he slowly gripped your hips, his finger circling your clit gently “please touch me” you finally desperately whispered. 

Andy finally nudged you to the bedroom where you finally got the chance to admire him, as you slowly unbuttoned his shirt and was met with a beautiful tattooed chest. You shoved his shirt off as he slid his hands up your side to pull your top off along with the straps of your bra. You traced your finger over the tattoos slowly biting your lip as you kissed along his collarbone tattoo looking up at him as you kissed down his chest. Finally meeting your carpet you undid his belt slowly setting the belt aside along with his pants as you palmed him through his boxers. He growled as you finally tugged his boxers down and the cold air met his leaking tip. You looked up at him as you took his length in your hands, causing him to shiver “god damn your hands are cold” he groaned as you giggled and whispered “sorry daddy” before licking a strip up his length, watching his face you took him into your mouth,circling the tip with your tongue collecting the precum at the tip. “Oh fuck” he moaned leaning his head back as his hands tangled in your hair,gripping tightly. You continued to bob your head, pumping the remaining that you couldn’t fit into your mouth, as you bobbed your head you watched his face as he bit his lip tightly, gripping your hair. Andy held your head still as he thrusted his hips slowly into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag slightly, drooling down the side of your mouth and falling to your chest. “Fuck fuck fuck” he chanted pulling you from his length panting as you coughed wiping your chin “I’m not cumming down your throat” he panted as he helped you from the floor, picking you up and tossing you on the bed.

As you bounced on the bed you quickly shed yourself of your jeans and panties biting your lip as you watched Andy stand at the end of your bed. He was a beautiful man, nothing of what you were expecting in the best way possible. “Do you have a condom or are you on the pill?” he asked, climbing up the bed between your legs as you ran your hands up his arms, shaking your head quickly, pulling him down to kiss you before quickly mumbling “pill”. As you spread your legs for him he slowly adjusted himself to fit between your legs, looking up to your face for permission and being met with a nod he slid into you slowly. You moaned as he had bottomed out laying your head back “oh my god” you moaned as he watched your face, thrusting slowly to start. “Fuck” he groaned watching your face in pleasure, picking up his pace and thrusting faster and harder to hit your g-spot. You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly pulling him closer to pull him deeper as his thrusts got faster and consistent. “Oh Andy” you moaned, holding onto his shoulders,digging your nails into his arms as his thrusts began to get sloppy and more irregular. “Are you gonna cum for daddy huh?” he groaned as he managed to thrust harder and faster but still sloppy. As his final thrusts hit your g spot you gripped his back tightly moaning loudly arching your back “I’m cumming oh my fucking god” you moaned loudly as he smirked whispering in your ear biting his lip “cum for daddy baby you can do it” he reached down rubbing your clit to help push you to the edge in which he did and you arched your back,cumming all over his length. You arched your hips to meet his thrusts whispering in his ear “cum for me daddy” you whispered in his ear, to help encourage him as he groaned in your ear cumming inside of you and falling to lay on top of you, panting. 

A few minutes passed and Andy had climbed out of bed and managed to find his way to your bathroom across the hall. You heard the faucet running along with the toilet flushing before he strolled back into the bedroom. “Hey” he whispered sitting beside you, moving your hair out of your face smiling “here’s this, don’t forget to pee, i’ll go grab you a water” he whispered, handing you a towel and walking out the room, in which you got a good view of what he was packing in the back. After you used the restroom and cleaned yourself up you climbed back into bed and shortly were met with arms around you. Before you fell asleep you rested your hand on his arm as you felt him snoring behind you, you don't know what it was about him but you were more than willing to help him with his long days. 

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Chapter 1

WC: 5233

Post-apocalyptic drama: A woman wakes up with no memory after an apocalyptic storm devastates the country. With everyone starting over and finding a new way of life, she is assigned to lead one of the rebuilding programs. The agriculture-based neighborhood is running smoothly until a stranger shows up, the first outsider in over a year.

CW: stranger, unconscious, blood, amnesia, referencing past head injury

I cradle my warm mug closer and survey the room, still feeling far from sleep. I went to bed early, too early, when the sky darkened prematurely because of the rainstorm. The weather pulled my focus away from work to watch the wind wrestle with the trees at the edge of the yard, testing the strength of their branches, threatening to splinter them to pieces. When the rain started, steadily pouring down in constant streams of water without any distinction between drops, the view was obstructed. Now the rain will fall for days and with the wind, we’re all confined to our houses, so I had gone up to bed since I’d have no shortage of time to finish work tomorrow. Everyone says the rain changed after the Storm, but this is all I can remember, anyway. 

The rain is still thundering down onto the roof. I don’t even know what woke me—it’s impossible to hear any of the normal creaks and aches of the house breathing on its own over the weather. I came downstairs to make tea, more for the ritual than the tea itself, something I do almost nightly. The methodical steps are enough of a reset that I fall asleep before my tea is cool enough for a full sip. Tonight, it’s less comforting. Adrenaline still courses through my veins from startling awake. There is no reason to feel shaken. I must have had an unsettling dream that I can’t remember. The thought of lying down in the dark and facing emptiness makes my pulse speed up again. I focus on inhaling and exhaling smoothly, commanding my heart to slow down to a regular rhythm, filling my lungs with the aroma of the chamomile blossoms bobbing to the surface in the strainer. I make my way across the open living space toward the stairs, allowing myself to stall by inspecting the way everything looks different from last night when there were visible stars and a moon. 

The house—my house—looks almost exactly like it did the day I arrived. I run my hand along the back of the creased, brown leather sofa in the middle of the room. It’s worn more on the right side, across from the ring on the coffee table and beside the lamp. It faces a bookcase of hardcovers standing in dignified lines despite the scuffs on the spines and the dogeared pages hidden from view. The warm wood of the built-in shelves meets the slated fireplace, the focal point of the whole floor. There’s no television, so whoever lived here must have read instead. I’ve tried thumbing through the pages of the books to fill my free time but can never seem to get through more than a few lines. There’s the solid oak dining table anchoring the back of the room in front of the picture windows with chairs for eight, another mark of the previous owners. 

I’ve never once had a personal guest but the house hasn’t felt empty, despite its size and living alone. Even now, on a stormy night, despite every line and angle extended, making it seem endless, it doesn’t feel jarringly vacant. Darkness swallows the corners of the room and deepens the shadows under the furniture but instead of making me rush for the light switch, I want to let my eyes dance over the impossible-to-see details. I have them all memorized anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s too dark to see. I let my eyes trace the silhouettes of the space once more time before forcing myself to climb back up to bed. 

My foot is on the first step when I see it. Almost obscured by the staircase, a shadow passes in front of the window at the back of the house. I freeze. I can barely see anything through the rain but I know something is out there. My heart is sprinting in my chest as I move back into the room. I don’t want to imagine the emergency that would have a neighbor coming to me through this weather. The figure passes by the last window in the room on the way to the back door of the garage but pauses. I hold my breath, wondering if they can see me through the rain into the dark house. My eyes trace over the shape of their shoulders, inclined head, and clenched fists. They stagger a few steps forward before collapsing onto the grass. Before I have time to think, I react.

I drop the scalding tea, which pours down my leg as it falls, mug saved by the thick, wool area rug. I don’t even register the heat against my skin as I sprint across the house to run out the back door of the garage. The rain and wind rush to beat against me as I step outside. I blink furiously to see through the sheets of water. It’s immediately like I’ve been submerged. Everyone is right that it rains harder now, which is why the Program advises against going outside during any bad weather. This is more like a hurricane hitting away from the coast. We’ll spend the few days after picking up debris, branches and clearing fallen trees. Luckily, it’s not freezing rain like we had all winter. Pools swell around my bare feet with each running step I take through the sodden lawn, splattering mud up from the ground. I reach my destination after a few strides and mentally thank my frequent runs for my speed. 

Whoever it is, lies facedown in the grass so I grab a shoulder to roll the person over. He’s out cold, with mud from the wet ground covering half his face. I fight the urge to pause and identify him because somehow it is raining even harder. I’m almost certain he isn’t one of my neighbors. I crouch down, grab both of his arms and do my best to roll him onto my back so that I can half-drag him across the lawn. It's easier than I expected. Maybe the wet grass is helping his limp legs slide behind me. We make it to the back door and I pause for a moment as reality hits me. I’m about to bring an unconscious stranger into my house. There’s no telling where he came from or why he is here. I try to remember the instructions Inspectors have told me about handling trespassers. 

Something moves on my back and I realize the stranger has turned his head. I’ve been standing here, half-carrying him. It would be irresponsible to try to walk to anyone else’s house in this weather, especially dragging someone. I clench my teeth and pull him up the two steps into the garage and through the hallway. I manage to almost gracefully deposit him on the sofa, leaving streaks of mud across the wood floors. My feet nearly slide out from under me as I run back to lock the doors. For good measure, I close all the curtains before turning on the floor lamp beside the couch. 

I start to look him over for injuries, checking his head first. I don’t see or feel anything under his dark hair. I use my sleeve to wipe away some of the mud on his face. He has symmetrical features, rough, dark stubble, and light-brown skin. I am noticing the long, dark lashes on his closed eyelids when he exhales a sigh. I jump, feeling my face grow hot. I direct my attention away from his face and wind up cursing myself for not noticing his torn pant leg earlier. I pull back the shredded fabric and suck in a breath. He has a long, deep gash, caked with mud that is still bleeding. I fly upstairs to find the medical bag and some towels. 

My mind is spinning but somehow, my hands are steady. I clean the wound and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. The minutes pass quickly. The counting gives me something to focus on aside from wondering what happened to cause this. I match my breaths to the rhythm and feel more centered. My fingers have no problem managing the needle holder and I lose myself in the steady progress of suturing. I’m nearly finished when the stranger sighs again. I pause to look at his face and notice a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t wake up but my pulse quickens anyway. I look back down and try to focus. I could lose my job for not following protocol by bringing him into my house, but it only seems responsible to give him first-aid so he doesn’t bleed out. I can turn him in when he wakes up. 

After I finish the stitches, I disinfect it again, apply antibiotic ointment, and tape a sterile gauze bandage over the wound. I clean up all the rain, mud, and blood that we tracked into the house as best as I can, constantly checking to see if the stranger has moved. He sleeps quietly, breathing steadily and looking peaceful. I pick up the mug I dropped earlier and soak up the tea from the carpet. My clothes are still wet so I rush upstairs to change but skip taking a shower, more afraid of the stranger disappearing without an explanation than of any other possibility. Back downstairs, I make myself a replacement cup of tea and settle into the armchair to wait.

I distract myself by thinking about the fields, hoping as usual that the trenches we dug around them for this kind of weather, will be deep enough. We’ve never had a problem before but I can’t help but worry, after all, it is our food source. We are fairly self-sufficient at this point, almost one year in and I don’t want that to change. The Programs started six months after the Storm. They still don’t know how much of the population was lost during the Storm or in the aftermath. Sometimes I hear my neighbors debating it while they work, with guesses ranging from seventy to ninety percent lost, but no one knows for sure. I was in the hospital but others were in shelters, waiting, while plans were made to organize people into homes and communities. Anyone highly skilled was employed as a Programmer. Geologists, engineers, and other specialists identified areas with enough undamaged houses and clear land to use productively. They wrote a Program for each location based on what they would be able to do to survive. Then it was a simple matter of assigning survivors to the empty houses to fill all of the jobs required to make the Program viable. 

Programmers said the fact that I was unattached would help me be a more objective leader. It’s a ridiculous assessment of my situation and there were plenty of others who were also solo, but I didn’t argue. I was pretty objective until tonight’s lapse in judgment. The rest of the residents keep their distance, maybe because I’m here to enforce the rules, or maybe because I’m not fun. I follow all of the checklists and read through the Program details, keeping myself busy. I woke up after the Storm half-wrapped in plaster with no memory of anything. The first few days are a blur of pain from the head injury. Soon enough, it became less dramatic, the amnesia was a fact then and a fact now. I faced it alone and learned quickly not to fight it. I can’t remember anything, no reason to get emotional or philosophical about it. Everyone said I was lucky to have made it to the hospital, most people who were outside in the Storm were never seen again. They guessed I had been injured during the earthquakes, but it was all conjecture.

I tried not to listen to the hospital staff’s speculations about what my life was like, or what I was like. They thought they were being helpful and might spark some memory. I would tune them out and spend hours memorizing the hospital room. It’s so clear in my memories, even more so than the house, which I’ve been living in twice as long. The way the corners of the room met to support the flat, smooth ceiling. The exact number of tiles in the ceiling, thirty, and the number of small lights blinking down, six. The texture of the hospital bedding against my skin, scratchy and worn into a strange kind of soft. Comforting but unyielding, built to last. Everything was cream or beige, blending like coffee with too much milk. I can remember the way the colors progressively deepened as the daylight faded through the single window.

I spent the first few weeks, once I could get out of the hospital bed, getting sick every time I had physical therapy. I pushed myself too hard and too fast they said. The doctors still congratulated me on healing quickly, despite my memory not returning. There were many discussions about patience and time, that I would be surprised to wake up one day with memories flooding back. Despite weeks in the hospital and eventually recovering enough physically to run five kilometers with no headache, I still hadn’t remembered anything. The doctors assured me it was completely normal. I needed more time, they repeated, moving into a Program would help me recover through purpose and routine. 

Our Program area is twenty-five square miles, with the residential street at one corner. The whole area was high enough to escape the floods and surrounded by thick forests that protected it from whatever else the Storm had tried to toss this way. From what we can tell, there were only minor earthquakes here, most of the damage was from wind and water. We made house repairs first, thirty of us total, boarding up the odd broken window or patching a roof leak. Then we started the long process of carving out fields for food and some animals, raised a barn, and built a few sheds. The first small harvests were fairly successful and have continued to improve, despite no one having any farming experience beyond growing kitchen herbs, but it’s all thanks to the Program materials. I handle the delegation and training, but I don’t think I am a necessity here. Anyone can read an instruction manual and everyone works hard for the neighborhood. It could probably run as smoothly without me.

—

I jerk awake, sitting upright. My breath is fast and cold sweat clings to the back of my neck. I try to focus on my surroundings. I must have fallen asleep in the armchair while I was watching—my eyes fall on the empty couch, the wool blanket crumpled at the bottom. I jump to my feet and knock a book off the side table. It lands with a thud on the wood floor and I’m startled all over again. I exhale slowly, trying to settle myself, and massage my temples with my fingertips. 

“Headache?” a soft, almost musical voice says behind me. 

I whip around to see the stranger standing behind the island, a mug of steaming something in his hand. I don’t answer and instead, take in the changes from last night. His face is clean and shaven. The rough stubble I saw last night is now a smooth shadow over his jaw. His dark brown hair is messy but in an effortlessly perfect way. He’s wearing a clean grey shirt and dark jeans that must be from one of the extra bedrooms upstairs. He looks like a completely different person than the one I dragged out of the mud in the middle of the night. 

“Coffee? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tilts his cup toward the French press sitting on the stove but must be referring to whatever process facilitated his clean appearance. I swallow my irritation at myself for falling asleep and not being alert to watch him. He’s staring at me with a strange expression on his face. I avert my gaze, looking down.

“How’s your leg?” I ask, walking around the island to see that he is keeping weight off of it.

“Alright, thanks to you. The stitches are perfect—don’t worry, I didn’t get them wet,” he says quickly, smiling like he thinks he’s placating me. 

I furrow my eyebrows. 

He bites his lip and turns away to take out a second mug.

“Who are you?” I blurt at his back. 

He sets the French press down and I watch the remaining coffee slosh around inside of it. His shoulders round forward as he looks into the cup he’s poured. I’m about to repeat myself when he inhales and turns. 

He’s wearing a soft smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself, I’m Elias,” he says, holding the coffee out. 

I stare at it. 

“You are…?” He tilts his head, studying me. 

I ignore his question, irritated at his calmness. “Where did you come from? Do you realize you’ve trespassed into a Program area?” 

Elias seems to give up trying to goad me with caffeine and sets the mug on the island. “Right, well, when the rainstorm started yesterday, I was in the woods and a tree fell. My leg got hurt but I managed to start walking through the rain to find shelter and wound up here. I had no idea I was so close to a neighborhood…” he says a little too innocently. He runs his hand through his hair, not meeting my eyes anymore. 

I start to do some math in my head. I know for a fact that the closest town ruins are at least twenty miles away and none of the other neighborhoods between were salvageable. Unless he was living in some half-crushed house in one of the still-flooded neighborhoods, that means almost five hours of walking at a good pace. In the rain, through the forest, on an injured leg, it would take probably twice that. He must be lying. No one would make it here that quickly under those conditions. 

I try not to make my skepticism obvious as I ask, “Why were you in the woods?”

“I got lost…” he barely seems convinced himself and it almost sounds like he’s posing it as a question. 

I nod, keeping my face neutral. I’ve heard enough. He seems perfectly fine now, so I can turn him in now. I march over to the front door, tug it open, and step onto the front porch. A wall of rain greets me. I can’t even see the front yard. Elias limps up behind me. I can feel his warmth a few inches away as I stare down the rain. 

“Look, I know what it sounds like, but I promise I’m not a scavenger.” 

After the Storm, not everyone wanted to join a Program. The Program calls the people who roam the deserted towns and destroyed cities, scavengers. Sometimes they work with the Programmers if they find a good haul. More often than not, they operate by their own rules and are dangerous. Luckily, we are so remote that we have never had any find us.

“I’m not here to steal anything. Please—” 

I spin around. 

Elias is closer than I thought and I’m practically in his arms as he leans in the doorway. I meet his gaze and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are an intense green-gold color, full of light and smoldering. He must be looking straight into my soul. Something flutters there under his consideration. Despite the intrusion, I relax, forgetting my earlier distrust. He smells like pine and soap. It’s so familiar, it must be the scent of the soap in my bathroom. It takes more than a minute for me to catch my original train of thought. 

I mean to be demanding but my voice comes out as a breathy whisper, “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

Elias doesn't answer. He’s searching my eyes one at a time, left to right, and back again, looking for something. Eventually, he breaks away and starts limping back toward the kitchen, leaving me alone in front of the open door. 

I shiver as the cold air surrounds me and shake my head to dispel the strange feelings. My hands numbly close and lock the door before I follow him back into the house. 

At the island, he picks up his cup of coffee and looks back at me. “As I said, I was lost in the woods and my leg got hurt when a tree fell. I could hardly see in the rain so I was just stumbling around looking for shelter. Then, I woke up here,” he repeats with more confidence this time, his voice smooth and even.

“If you’re not a scavenger, why aren’t you assigned to a Program?”

“I managed to stay sheltered for a while in the city,” he offers, shrugging. 

I suppose this could be true. The neighborhood Programs were not compulsory but it seems strange that he would have been on his own for so long. It doesn’t exactly seem safe to be a lone wolf when there are gangs of scavengers roaming around. 

I sigh and run my hand through my hair, brushing it off my face, and realize there is still mud in it from last night. “I can’t turn you in until it stops raining, so I guess you’ll just have to stay here.” If he is surprised or upset by this, he doesn’t show it. I leave him in the kitchen and head upstairs. 

—

Closed in my bedroom, I keep ruminating on Elias’s story. He doesn’t have the look of the scavengers I’ve seen warnings about in the Program. Maybe he left another Program, which isn’t a big deal unless he got into trouble first. Despite these other possibilities, I’m unable to see him as a threat. Something is nagging me about him or this whole situation. Likely, the fact that until now, I’ve never once broken the rules of the Program. I shake my head. It was stupid to bring him to the house. I should have followed protocol. As I stand under the shower, I find myself continuing to rationalize his presence and even excusing his improbable story. This is ridiculous. I don’t know why I am so obsessively curious and willing to ignore my better judgment because of some feelings. 

We are lucky that most of the infrastructure for water and power could be repaired or was undamaged during the Storm. Something about special engineering that preserved the systems. They don’t go into a lot of detail in the Program literature about it, but I’m too grateful to care. Not only is life easier, but it’s also the only reason I am not dead since there wouldn’t have been much of a hospital to save me without running water and electricity. Fuel is the biggest problem now. Most of the underground storage traditionally used was damaged or flooded. In theory, electric cars would still be a possibility, but the roads are in no condition to drive. The Programmers have spent a lot of resources clearing routes. The first few months they had to deliver our supplies in huge off-road military vehicles, which significantly dented their fuel reserves. Even after a year of working to clear roads, journeys take hours with endless detours because of flooding, sinkholes, or other debris.

I walk out of the bathroom and sit on the edge of my bed wrapped in a towel. The blankets are still thrown to the side from when I got up so quickly last night. After I change into leggings and a soft, knit sweater, I make the bed. I take the time to tuck in the corners and smooth the blankets so they lie flat with no wrinkles. I sit back down and work my long, dark hair into two thick French braids. They fall most of the way down my back, definitely too long, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to cut it. I have to start the second braid over again because I’m so distracted thinking about the man downstairs. I look over at the little chrome alarm clock next to my bed and realize how little sleep I got last night and I still have to refigure the schedules due to the rain. I decide to accept Elias’s offer of coffee in the hopes that I can get some work done before I’m dead on my feet. Maybe I can get also the truth out of him and figure out how he ended up here.

Downstairs, I find Elias bustling in the kitchen. He’s humming to himself softly and beating eggs in a bowl while garlic sizzles in a frying pan on the stove. His movements are graceful and intuitive as he moves through the space. One hand absently pushes around the fragrant garlic while the other scans the spice drawer, fingertip sliding over each jar before finding what he’s looking for. He moves on to chopping after plucking some fresh herbs out of the mason jars next to the sink. The knife almost sounds musical on the wooden cutting board before he slides everything into the bowl and cradles it in the crook of his arm to stir it all together. He transfers the mixture into the frying pan and sprinkles in salt and pepper, every step with so much intention it’s almost choreographed. 

It’s been longer than I want to admit before he turns around, to get a sip of his coffee, and notices me watching. 

He smiles and then furrows his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” 

I blink and rub my eyes which must be watering from staring for so long. 

Elias smiles at me again. “How about that coffee now?”

“I—” I look away and clear my throat, decide on nodding instead. 

Elias turns to pour from a full pot. He limps to the fridge and adds a splash of milk out of the glass carafe, then holds it out to me. My fingers brush against his when I take the mug and my heart skitters. 

“I should get to work,” I say quickly, turning away and taking my coffee to the dining table. I drop into one of the chairs with my back to him and grab my tablet from across the table where I normally sit. I stifle a sigh as I sip the coffee, better than I usually make. I labor to lose myself in reworking schedules and timetables for the entire neighborhood, factoring in the delay due to the rain. 

As I am finishing the log updates I will send to the Programmers, Elias starts setting the other end of the table. 

“Breakfast is ready, whenever you’re finished,” he says, sitting down. 

I nod without looking up. I would like to pretend I have important things to do and won’t drop everything because he cooked for us but I can’t. He’s made omelets with tomatoes, mushrooms, and greens. It smells incredible and looks about a thousand times better than the plain scrambled eggs I’ve been overcooking every day. I swear my stomach audibly growls. 

I snap the tablet closed. “I’ve finished anyway,” I say, trying to sound casual as I slide into the next chair over where he’s set a place for me. 

“Bon appétit,” he says. He rests his chin in his hand and waits for me to start. 

I take a bite, trying to downplay my excitement. I swear under my breath. It tastes even better than it looks with a perfect, soft texture. 

“Thank you,” I murmur into my next bite. I can see him grinning as I peek at him through my eyelashes. His expression could be smug but instead, it’s much softer. 

He watches me for a few more bites before he picks up his fork. “My pleasure. It’s been a while since I’ve had fresh eggs and herbs to cook with. Are they from this neighborhood?”

It seems like he’s just curious, so I answer. “Yes, we have a few acres of farmland and animals. The chickens are everyone’s favorites. The herbs are actually from my garden behind the garage.” 

He nods, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Have you seen any other Programs?” I ask. 

I hope it doesn’t seem like an obvious effort to reveal his true motives but I’ve always wondered about other Programs. I imagine groups can do anything locally available, so there must be a lot of possibilities. The Programs are independent and self-sustaining. We consume everything we produce. I’ve always thought that the Programmers seem to get very little out of the whole arrangement. 

Elias shakes his head and swallows his bite of food. “Nothing up close. This is the first time I’ve been into a neighborhood…” He looks up at me. 

I keep my face neutral. 

“I’ve seen a lot of mobile teams though,” he adds.

“Mobile teams?” 

The Program literature I have is specific only to this neighborhood. There is some general information that must go to all the Programs but there isn’t very much about the overall scheme or how it is managed. 

“They set up a camp for a project and move on once they finish. I’ve seen teams working on clearing the roads, sorting through factories, or siphoning gas in parking garages,” he explains.  

I nod and wonder if these teams ever wind up having to fight off scavengers. I hesitate to ask about scavengers since a few hours ago I accused him of being one. 

Elias changes the subject. “So, what did you do before the Storm?”

I swallow and my palms start to sweat. 

It’s an innocent question, one my neighbors have often discussed but this is exactly why I avoid socializing and keep my relationships strictly professional. It seems impossible to lie. I don’t want to but I’m not sure how to explain that there was no “before the Storm” for me. My life is this job, it’s all I have. After sixteen months, I haven’t even remembered my own name. I chew on my lip, trying to gather the courage to tell him something I have never told anyone.

Before I collect myself, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s a really personal question. I didn’t mean to pry.” I look up and find him smiling gently at me, his eyes full. “I’m grateful that you brought me in last night and are letting me stay.” 

I blink at him. “Oh, it’s okay…” 

Elias stands and stacks my empty plate on top of his, then takes my mug. “Let me get you a refill.” 

“I can clean up, you should stay off your leg,” I say, standing and trying to take the dishes from him. 

“No, no,” he insists, stepping out of my reach, “it’s the least I can do.” 

I still follow him to the kitchen to get the coffee so he doesn’t have to walk back to the table. He refills my mug and hands it to me, smiling, his eyes still full in a way that makes my pulse feel loud behind my ears. I mumble thanks and retreat to the dining table to pretend to work.

TBC

[fckinsupreme]

That ask about Duncan and face timing in lingerie, but pres Duncan and...well I had a twist in mind but I spaced out, so basically, anything /risqué/ with president Duncan please!

New York City was illuminated against the sky, with the skyscraper lights and pink hue of dusk reflecting against the clouds. From your hotel room, you could see most of the city’s famous landmarks, and it was the best view in the world to you. It was a far cry from those you got in Washington D.C., from the monuments and rose gardens that were your new normal. Being First Lady had its perks, but living in a place with some of the most rewarding views didn’t seem to be one of them.

President Duncan Shepherd was sitting out on the balcony, smoking a cigar. You were getting ready for the dinner you were set to attend with him later in the evening, and you were in nothing but the lingerie you wanted to wear beneath your dress. A purple & black bra and panties, equipped with a black garter belt, black thigh highs, and purple garters was framing your body, and you wanted to give Duncan a quick preview. You thought it went perfectly with the purple dress and black shoes you would be wearing tonight, and you wanted to show him to have a little peek before you put the dress on.

You open the door leading from your room to the balcony, and Duncan turns to get a quick look. He immediately does a double take, the cigar paused before it reaches his lips again. A low growl comes from his throat as the smoke curls from his nose, and you can’t help but smirk at him. You do a quick little twirl so he can see the full ensemble, wanting him to get a glimpse of it from all sides. He stands up, putting the cigar down before walking over to you.

“Wow, that looks fantastic on you,” Duncan breathes, the smell of cigar trailing after him as he starts to kiss your neck. “The light of dusk makes you look even more perfect, princess.”

You moan as he sucks on the most sensitive area, eyes fluttering as a lazy smile forms on your lips. “Careful, Mr. President,” you breathe. “You’re gonna get me going before dinner if you keep that up.”

“You’ve already got me /me/ going,” he growls, teeth dragging along your clavicle as your breath hitches. “Would it be a bad thing to fuck before we go?”

“No,” you say. “Not at all.”

Duncan comes up, capturing your lips in a hot kiss. You groan softly, pressing your chest fully against his as you start grinding against him. His tongue swipes yours, one hand fisted tightly in your hair as you feel how hard he is through his pants. You grab his white button-up shirt, holding him close to you as you grind along his erection. He growls against your lips, pulling back after a moment before you immediately drop to your knees in front of him. He gives a nod as you gaze at him in wonder, and you tug his cock free from the dark grey dress pants he was wearing.

“You do realize if someone would happen to see us, you’re going to cause quite the headline in the New York Post tomorrow,” he teases, gently brushing some hair behind your ear as you gently kiss his shaft.

“I don’t give a shit,” you say with a soft laugh, your eyes on his as your tongue plays with his tip. You kitten-lick the slit, your tongue tracing the outline of the head after. “Do you?”

“Nope,” he says, hissing as you pull his pants down fully around his ankles, mouth all over his balls. He pulls your hair impatiently, shaking his head. “Don’t tease me. You have a job to do, princess; do it.”

You purr softly, opening your mouth and slowly taking his throbbing cock into your mouth. You move down until he’s at the back of your throat, gagging around him as you try to swallow. Duncan moans, one hand winding in your hair as your eyes meet. You mewl around him, drawing your head up a little before pushing back down. You take your time, not setting a rapid pace yet, despite Duncan’s visible impatience with the speed you’re working. He tries to push his hips forward to thrust, but you place both hands on them and give him a warning glance as you continue to bob your head.

“Stop holding back,” he hisses, yanking your hair roughly as you moan in response. “You know I hate it when you’re a teasing little brat like this.”

You whine, but decide to indulge him. You gradually pick up the pace, cheeks hollowing as you meet his gaze. One hand keeps hold of his hip, the other moving down to squeeze his balls before your finger reaches around. You part his cheeks, the tip of your finger running over the rim of his ass as his hips stutter forward in response. You wink at him, and he yanks you forcefully from his cock as he begins twitching in your mouth.

“No,” he says, delicately wiping some drool from your chin. “I want to cum inside of you, princess. Stand up.”

You do as you’re told, although you’re reluctant. All you wanted was to keep sucking his cock for a little while longer, but he had other plans for you. He helps you into a standing position, before walking you to the balcony’s railing and spinning you around to face the city. He tugs your panties to the side, his fingers running through the wetness there before he pushes his cock inside of you with a loud, hot moan in your ear. You echo him, hands gripping the railing as he sinks fully inside of you.

He starts thrusting deeply, keeping them shallow as one arm winds around your torso. The other is pulling your bra straps down, sucking the skin on your shoulders before both hands free your breasts of the cups. He massages them, holding you to his body as his hips work rhythmically. You rock against him, moaning as your hair tumbles into your eyes, face contorted in pleasure. He kneads your tits, mouth on the back of your neck as his lips explore the skin there.

“I want you to scream my name,” Duncan hisses in your ear, rotating his hips a little before snapping them quickly. “Call me Mr. President, baby. I want everyone in the adjacent rooms to hear you.”

Duncan begins drilling into your G-spot, and you moan as loudly as you possibly can. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, your eyes on the skyline of the city for a moment before you glance around. Some people are coming out on their own balconies, and the guests closest to you watch in wide-eyed shock. You don’t ask Duncan to stop, nor do you make a scene about it. You just wink at them, and turn to look at Duncan with a wicked smirk.

“We have company,” you whisper, making eye contact with an attractive man who had frosted blond hair, big blue eyes, and a cross earring dangling from one ear. He didn’t seem to have any guest with him, and if he did, they were hanging out inside, uninterested in the scene unfolding outside. There was also something familiar about him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it then. “Look at that handsome one, Mr. President. He can’t stop looking at us.”

Duncan shoots the man a glance, keeping his gaze on him as he waves. “Wanna take a turn on her?” he calls to him, and the man blushes darkly. He turns to walk back inside, but Duncan stops him. “Wait! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Stay. Watch.”

The man seems conflicted about what to do, hesitating with his hand on the knob. He finally decides to stay, sitting on his balcony and watching the show the two of you are putting on. Duncan shifts so that you can both see the stranger, and it’s still evident that he’s shocked about what he’s witnessing. Who wouldn’t be, though? Watching the most powerful man in the Free World drilling his wife on a hotel balcony? You wonder, amusedly, if he had voted for Duncan or was a supporter of his. From the looks of things, and how he was squeezing his hands to keep from touching himself, you guessed it didn’t even matter to him.

“What’s your name, cutie?” you call to him, moaning hotly as Duncan pulls you up to kiss your neck, still slamming into you as he does so.

“Xavier, ma’am!” he calls back. “I’m X-Xavier Plympton!”

That’s when it hit you who he was. “Oh, my God! You’re that really famous actor! The one who was in that mafia movie with—“

“That’s me!” Xavier calls back, his eyes taking in the ensemble you’re wearing. “And you’re the most famous people /ever/ right now! You—“

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Xavier,” Duncan interrupts, making eye contact with him as he pins you to the balcony, holding your head down as he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin and your moans echo all around, and more people come out to see what’s going on. “How would you like to join this little party?”

Xavier’s cheeks turn bright red, and he averts his eyes for a moment. When he looks back up, you’re close to your orgasm and Duncan is twitching inside of you. “Okay!” Xavier says finally. “I...I mean, if you’re serious—“

“I am,” Duncan says, pulling out of you before either of you have a chance to cum. He waits a few minutes before tucking his cock back into his slacks, grinning at the two of you.

“Why did you stop?” you whine, panting heavily as you look back at Duncan. He puts your panties back in place, patting your ass as he does so.

“Because, princess,” he says, pulling your back against his torso before kissing your ear, pointing over at Xavier as he does so, “we are gonna wait until after our dinner tonight. Xavier is going to join in on the fun, and I want us to wait for him. Would you like that, Mr. Plympton?”

You had never seen someone nod so eagerly in your entire life.

———————

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @leatherduncan @melodylangdon @dark-mei-rose @littlegirlsdontplaynice @whatcodysaid @blakewaterxx @xavierplympton @bitchchatter @frenchlangdon

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 20: A Line

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs. 

Rumple and Jefferson explore some boundaries.

Read on AO3

It was still raining as Rumpelstiltskin drove Mrs. Gold back to the pink house. She had dried off, in the hours since she had come into the shop and seen him standing too close to Jefferson. Her clothes had dried, but her attitude was still as stormy as the thunder and lightning in the sky.

That morning, the silence between them had been sullen, resigned. The silence of two people who couldn’t speak to each other, even if they wanted to. Now, Mrs. Gold’s side of the car crackled with unspoken hostility. If he looked at her closely, Rumpelstiltskin could almost see her trembling. Poor woman was fighting to keep silent, straining to keep herself from saying any words that would finally sever the last fraying threads of her marriage. 

Once the car was in the garage, Mrs. Gold burst through her door and bolted into the house. She didn’t even stop to pick up her shopping bags from the back seat. Walking around to her side of the car, he took as many of the bags as he could carry. There was one still left on the floor. He would have to come back for it.

He entered the kitchen just in time to hear her door slam shut upstairs. He sighed, and shook the rain off his coat.

Could he offer her an explanation? Would she care about what he had to say? Mrs. Gold already knew that there was someone else. He had told her Belle was a woman, but she had no reason to believe him about anything. Throughout all the years of the curse, Mrs. Gold had trusted her husband. She had trusted in his cruelty, in his rules, in his appetites. She may have been on her knees, but at least she knew where she stood. In only a few months, Rumpelstiltskin had destroyed that trust.   

He made dinner, wondered if she would come down to eat. When she didn’t, he brought a plate up to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door. 

“What?” Her ragged voice was at the exact midpoint between rage and despair.

“I brought you dinner,” he explained to the door.

“Leave it.” Even through the wood, he could hear her labored breathing. “Then go away. I don’t want to look at you.” 

Wincing, Rumpelstiltskin set the plate on the ground. Then he stood at the door a moment longer. He should say something. He should apologize. He should be kind to her.

But the longer he waited, the longer she didn’t open the door because she didn’t want to look at him, the more he understood. The kindest thing he could do for Mrs. Gold would be to leave her alone. She was allowing him to provide for her--taking his money, eating his food. She wouldn’t leave her room, as long as she thought it was safe.

He would make her feel safe. As best he could, at least.

Limping, he headed for the stairs. Halfway down, he heard her door open, and the china plate scraping across the floorboards. She had been listening for him, to make sure he was really gone. She had been listening for the tap of his cane.

He heard the door shut. And the metallic mechanism of a lock.  

Once, he had locked Belle in a library, in order to keep her burgeoning love for him from ever coming to life. Now Mrs. Gold was locking herself away, because any love she’d had for her husband had already suffered a messy, painful death.

With a heavy tread, he kept walking. 

****

In his study, Rumpelstiltskin sat down at Gold’s desk and poured himself a tumblr from a sky-blue bottle. Johnnie Walker Blue Label. The liquor was a dark, golden brown, but the glass bottle was the same color as Belle’s eyes. 

From his breast pocket, he took the paper where Jefferson had written his address and telephone number. He tossed it on the desk and stared at it. 

Jefferson. His truest friend. The only person he had trusted, before Belle. He hadn’t been the first man Rumpelstiltskin had taken as a lover, but he was the only one who had been just as pleasant company outside of the bedroom. They had gone on many adventures together, fetching items from different worlds, running errands for kings and empresses, sometimes getting richly rewarded, and sometimes barely escaping with their lives. Jefferson had always been loyal, brave, and clever. A good man to have by his side.

He could have loved him, if he hadn’t been such a fool. If he hadn’t kept the boy at a distance in a thousand tiny ways. If he hadn’t insisted that he leave him after every adventure. Jefferson would have lived in his castle, if Rumpelstiltskin had asked him to. Jefferson would have traveled with him forever, if he had ever indicated that he wanted to. They could have stayed together. If Rumpelstiltskin had thought that anyone could have loved him.

As it was, Jefferson had found Leona Ogg, a woman who never doubted that she could love and be loved. They had married, and had a daughter, and Rumpelstiltskin had wished them well--from a distance. From the lonely darkness that he knew was all he would ever deserve. 

Belle had changed that, of course. Too late for it to benefit Jefferson much. But now Belle was gone. And even Mrs. Gold didn’t want to speak to him. And Jefferson’s wife was in another world, alive but inaccessible. 

Jefferson had spent the past twenty-eight years alone in his house, spared from the curse, but unable to interact with anyone in Storybrooke. Finally, he had come to Rumpelstiltskin in need of a friend. 

Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a friend as well. 

He dialed the numbers on the black telephone on Gold’s desk. He emptied the glass and didn’t pour another. After a few rings, there was an answer. 

“This is Dodgson,” Jefferson’s voice said.

“Are you sure about that, dearie?” The alcohol had eased his tension, but talking to Jefferson had truly loosened him. Dropping the mask of being Mr. Gold felt like being able to breathe again.

Over the phone, Jefferson’s tone became softer, warmer. “Hello,” was all he said. One word, full of meaning. 

It wasn’t flirtatious. Flirting was asking a question. But these questions had already been asked and answered long ago. 

“Hello yourself,” Rumpelstiltskin answered. He heard his own voice as low and heavy, thick with want. 

“I’d like to continue the conversation we were having earlier. Are you free?”

“Magic always comes at a price. But for you, I am free indeed.” 

He heard Jefferson breathing into the phone. “Tonight?”

“I can leave right now. Your house?”

“I’d rather die,” the boy said quickly. “But come here to pick me up, and I’ll tell you where to go.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Rumpelstiltskin was already standing up. 

“Good.”

****

The rain had stopped by the time he got to the winding forest road where Jefferson lived. He was waiting in front of the driveway, leaning against a stone pillar, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. Rumpelstiltskin stopped the car and he got into the passenger side.

“Now follow this road for another two miles.”

Nodding, Rumpelstiltskin drove. “Where are we going?”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s the most interesting place in Storybrooke.”

Jefferson didn’t say more and Rumpelstiltskin didn’t ask. Unlike with Mrs. Gold, he could relax in the silence between himself and Jefferson. He knew the answers would come. He just had to be patient. 

“You know the town well?” he said after a while. There weren’t many turns on this highway, just woods and darkness. 

“I’ve had twenty-eight years to look around.” Jefferson stared out the windshield. “And six months to explore.” He sighed. “I tried to map it, you know. I tried to figure out the limits of this place. Find out if there were any… I dunno, weak spots.”

Trying to keep his eyes on the road, Rumpelstiltskin glanced over at Jefferson. “What did you find out?”

He scoffed. “If there was anything useful, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. There’s a spot over here where you can pull over.”

The tires crunched on gravel as Rumpelstiltskin parked the car on the shoulder. They were still in the forest. The road kept going on ahead of them. There didn’t seem to be anything interesting about this spot. 

No, there was one thing. 

“What’s that sign up there?” he asked Jefferson. They faced the back of a sheet of metal on a pole. “Do you know what it says on the front?” 

“‘Welcome to Storybrooke,’” Jefferson sneered. “Three of the most loathsome words in this world.” He opened the door and stood up. “Come on, Dark One, I want to show you around.” 

By the time he had gotten out, Jefferson was standing in the middle of the road behind the sign. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk forward. His pace was measured, careful. In the still night, Rumpelstiltskin could hear the boy muttering under his breath. 

Counting. 

“What are you doing?” he asked after a moment.

“Watch,” was all Jefferson would say. “It should happen any minute now. Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty--FUCK!”

From out of the darkness, a deer came barreling down the road. It ran at full speed along the painted yellow stripes on the pavement. Head bent, antlers pointed, it was dead set towards Jefferson. 

With impressive agility, Jefferson swerved from his path in the center and raced back to the car. Once he was behind the signpost, the deer also changed course. It leapt into the brush along the roadside and--utterly unperturbed--walked back into the forest. 

Rumpelstiltskin looked over at Jefferson, who had braced his hands on the hood of the car. He was breathing heavily, but not too heavily to speak.

“I hate it when it’s deer,” he panted. “The moose and the bears just kind of stand there, being big and scary. But the deer are always on the attack, always out for blood.” Shaking his head, he straightened up and turned to Rumpelstiltskin with his arms spread wide. “So this is the town line, and that’s my parlor trick.” 

He stared. “You knew that would happen?”

“I knew something would happen. Animals are a pretty regular method. A few weeks ago, this road was a sheet of ice once you got past the sign. If we had come out here while the storm was still going on, a bolt of lightning wouldn’t have been out of the question. Or a fallen tree. Something like that.”

Rumpelstiltskin said nothing, so Jefferson kept explaining.

“It’s actually safer when you’re walking. Whatever happens will just kind of shoo you back to the town limits. In a car is where it gets really bad, I guess because you have a better chance of actually getting somewhere. You ever hear the locals call this the widowmaker highway?”  

“Mrs. Gold said something about that,” he nodded. He was beginning to understand. 

“Funny thing, that. If you look at, say, twenty-eight year’s worth of newspapers, you’ll see that no one has ever actually died on this highway. Lots of accidents. Lots of previous fatalities. Every family knows somebody who’s died here, sometime in the past. But no one has been killed on this road since October 23, 1983.”

“Of course not,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “The curse wants to keep people alive.”

“It wants to keep people inside,” Jefferson agreed. “Trapped like animals in a simulated habitat.” He made his way over to Rumpelstiltskin, leaned against the car next to him. “Nothing is real in this town.”

He had worn gloves against the chill. Black leather driving gloves. The headlights reflected against the rain brought out the dull sheen of them, especially contrasted with Jefferson’s gray wool coat when he put his hand on his arm. 

“You’re real,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “I don’t know how you managed it, but you are.”

Jefferson looked down at the place where they touched. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, that’s the whole point of this world--this is the place where we only exist as stories. None of us are really real. We’re not supposed to be here, not walking and talking and--feeling.”

Rumpelstiltskin could only squeeze more tightly on the boy’s arm. Early in his own experience with immortality, he had spent a decade or two grappling with the potentialities of existence and non-existence. Whether or not anything could really be true. Whether or not actions actually had consequences. Whether or not every reality and every world he knew was nothing more than a grain of sand on an infinite, eternal beach full of other realities.

It was the sort of thinking that could drive one mad. 

“I tried calling the real world once,” Jefferson went on. “The world without magic. I found the phone number for a chartered plane service in Bar Harbor.”

“Where?”

“Bar Harbor!” Jefferson snapped. “It’s a town, in Maine. A real one. Unlike Storybrooke, it shows up on maps! I called the airport there--and I was just so happy to hear another voice. This was after things started changing. Before that, all the phones in my house were disconnected.”

Jefferson rubbed his hand over his eyes, his forehead. The poor boy looked so weary, so defeated. 

“I called. And I told the lady on the other end of the phone where I was, and that I wanted a plane to come get me. There’s over a hundred thousand dollars in cash in a safe in that house, I would have given it all and more besides. But the lady just laughed at me. She thought I was playing a prank. Because Storybrooke, Maine doesn’t exist! She’d never heard of it and it wasn’t in her database when she looked it up!”

He began to laugh, a wild, manic sound that could turn into sobs at any moment. “The next time I tried to call, I couldn’t get through! I called a hundred times one day and they’d never pick up!”

“Jefferson,” Rumpelstiltskin said softly.

But he couldn’t stop. “Then! I tried to rent a boat! Lots of boats in the harbor! I went to this grumpy drunk and gave him a thousand dollars to take his boat out for the day. It was a clear day--freezing, but not a cloud in the sky. I picked a direction and I just went. I motored out into the harbor until this town was just a speck in the distance.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist. “I could see the open ocean in front of me. The horizon was limitless. It was beautiful. For one shining instant, I though I could go anywhere.”  

Then the boy shuddered. He curled in on himself, head between his hands as he nearly bent over double. 

“And then the fog rolled in,” he whispered. “One second you could see for miles, the next I couldn’t see past the front of the boat--the bow or aft or whatever it is. The next time I saw anything, I was back at the docks.”

“Jefferson,” Rumpelstiltskin said again. He put a hand on his shoulder, wished desperately that he didn’t have to use the other hand on his cane. Jefferson needed him, needed whatever strength he had. He couldn’t be crippled now.

He stroked his back. “Jefferson, my boy, I’m sorry.”

He looked up. His dark blue eyes glinted like steel. “You’re sorry?” Slowly, he registered Rumpelstiltskin’s hands on his body. He backed away. “You’re sorry?” he snarled. “Twenty-eight years of this hell and all you have to say is that you’re sorry?”

Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “We have all suffered, my boy. Do you know what the curse did to--”

“To you?” The edge in Jefferson’s voice was sharp and jagged. “Or to Belle? Yes, I know both. I know all about the proclivities of Mr. and Mrs. Gold.”      

“And I’ve had to live with that--”

“For six months! Oh boo hoo! It’s such a fucking tragedy that you’ve got a brain-dead bimbo begging you to fill her up in every hole!”

“Don’t.” Rumpelstiltskin spoke through his teeth to keep from shouting. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

For a second, Jefferson seemed taken aback. He looked at him, level and even. Appraising. When he spoke, the hostility had ebbed away. “You know I meant Mrs. Gold, right? Not Belle.”

Rumpelstiltskin unclenched his jaw. “Yes,” he said. He took a breath. “But even then… she is still a person.”

“No she’s not.” Jefferson turned away, to look up at the trees overhead. There were no stars in the sky, nothing but gray clouds. “Even if we’re real--if we were real back in our old world--the people in the town aren’t real. Not now.” He sighed. “Mrs. Gold isn’t any more real than Dodgson or Gold or little Paige Lewis.”

“Grace,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Your Grace.”

He nodded. “She has different parents now,” he said softly. “At least they love her. They’re giving her a good life. I watch her, every day.” Jefferson swallowed hard. “I do have you to thank for that.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You remember the telescope you gave me and Leo? The magic one?”

“Of course.” The enchanted spyglass could see across distances and worlds, to focus on any single person at any time of day or night. In the old world, Rumpelstiltskin had adjusted it so that Jefferson and Leona would always be able to see Grace, and she would always be able to see them. “Did it come with you?”

A slow nod. Jefferson stood in the road while Rumpelstiltskin remained by the car. “It doesn’t have magic, but it’s still damned useful. I can see her, even if I can’t do anything else. I know she’s alive, I know she’s happy. At least I have that.”

He covered his mouth with his hand, and Rumpelstiltskin understood. 

“As for Leona...?”

Jefferson shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Nothing. Not for twenty-eight years. I don’t know if she’s happy, if she’s safe, if she’s even still alive.” Tears brimmed in his eyes and ran down his cheeks as he looked at Rumpelstiltskin. “What if she’s grown old, Dark One? What if she’s outgrown me, forgotten me? What--what if she found someone else and got married again? I wouldn’t blame her for that. But what if she had other children? Her children could be older than I am now! What if Leo moved on and lived this full, rich life that Grace and I didn’t get to share with her? And what if I never know? What if I never see her again?”

He was sobbing now. The sound was a weary ache, an old wound that had never had a chance to heal. Jefferson, poor Jefferson, was giving voice to demons that had plagued him since the curse was cast. For twenty-eight years, his pain had festered in silence, in loneliness. There had been no one for him, the poor boy. Not a single human soul.

Until now. 

Despite the uneven, rain-soaked forest floor, Rumpelstiltskin hobbled over to his friend on his cane. He wrapped his arm around Jefferson. He let the man lean against him, and silently prayed that he would be strong enough for the task. He rubbed his back, while Jefferson moaned out his agony. 

“It’s all right,” he said, even though it wasn’t. “It will be all right, my boy.”

Jefferson didn’t answer, just shook his head and swayed to the rhythm of his sorrow. Rumpelstiltskin stood by him. He stayed, while Jefferson wept. He offered whatever support he could. The crying eased, though the pain would take far longer to abate. 

A drop of water landed on Rumpelstiltskin’s ear. Had that come from a tree branch, or was it starting to rain again? 

“Come on, my boy.” He shook Jefferson gently. “Let’s at least get into the car.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, Jefferson managed to stand. He walked on his own to the side of the road. Opening the backseat door on the driver’s side, he slid across the red leather bench. There was plenty of room for Rumpelstiltskin.

He didn’t wonder why Jefferson had chosen to go to the back seat instead of the front, why he wasn’t in a hurry to drive out of the forest, what he expected to happen next. Those were questions that had been answered already.

Jefferson was waiting for him. He had wiped the tears from his face, but when he tried a smile, it was too shaky to be convincing. His back was pushed up against the far door. His long arms and legs tried to sprawl out, but the car was too cramped for that kind of thing. They would have to be close, if they were going to be there at the same time. 

Before he got in, Rumpelstiltskin took off his heavy coat and laid it over the front seat. He left his cane up there as well. He wouldn’t need it in such close quarters. When he took off his gloves, his wedding ring glinted faintly. 

He hadn’t fucked Jefferson since he had married Belle. There hadn’t been enough time. The curse was coming, and every moment he had he wanted to spend with her.

But Belle was gone now. 

And Jefferson was here.

Rumpelstiltskin sat down in the back seat of Gold’s car and shut the door behind him. 

They stared at each other for a moment, as best they could in darkness. Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t see Jefferson’s eyes, but he knew them well enough. He knew how they could darken as they filled with want. How he could gaze, unblinking, lips parted, waiting for the next move.

But this time he didn’t wait. Jefferson made the first move. He leaned forward with his hands outstretched. Rumpelstiltskin felt his fingers on his face. Then his palms on his cheeks. Then his mouth on his mouth.

Jefferson had always been free with his kisses. When they’d first started, that had been a shock for Rumpelstiltskin. Many of his lovers had held kissing as something altogether different than fucking. Something far purer, more sacred, more meaningful. They would offer every part of their bodies to every part of his--all except for the meeting of their mouths. That would be too much of a violation. Jefferson had never seemed to think kisses were that important.

Or maybe he did, and that was why he gave them so generously.

When they broke apart, Rumpelstiltskin held Jefferson by the back of his neck. “What are we doing?” he whispered. 

“Missing our wives,” Jefferson answered. Then he kissed him again. 

It was thrilling, even to be this close to another person. To feel his heat and his weight, to hear his breathing in his ears, to smell the scent of another man’s body--the cologne and the sweat and the unique essence of Jefferson. That hadn’t changed. Even after all this time. Even after marriages and curses and resentments--Jefferson tasted just the same. 

They began to touch. Shirts were pulled out of trousers. Buttons were undone. The boy’s body was so smooth, so firm, so strong. Jefferson’s hands started cold, but soon warmed on Rumpelstiltskin’s skin. Ties and scarves were cast aside. Rumpelstiltskin ran his lips over the scar on Jefferson’s neck, as he had done a hundred times, before the boy had started wearing the collar that marked him as Leona Ogg’s. The sigh Jefferson gave out at the sensation was the most erotic thing Rumpelstiltskin had ever heard in this world.         

“Hey,” Jefferson rested his large hands on Rumpelstiltskin’s shirtfront. He was more or less on top of the boy now. His suitcoat was draped over the front seat, his waistcoat was unbuttoned and hanging open. “Did I see what I thought I saw in that plastic bag?”

It took a moment for Rumpelstiltskin to understand what he was talking about. Then he saw the pale shape of a shopping bag on the floor of the backseat. Mrs. Gold had left it there.

“I have no idea what’s in that bag,” he answered.

Reaching down, Jefferson pulled it up and examined the contents. “Yep.” There was a smile in his voice. “Condoms and lube. You are hospitable as ever, Dark One.”

Rumpelstiltskin let out a breath. “Why did she buy all that? She knows I won’t use them.”

Jefferson looked up from the bag, a black paper box in his hand. “Not at all? Because this world isn’t like the old one. You really should--”

“Not on her,” he clarified. “I can’t touch Mrs. Gold. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“To Belle?”

“No.” He sat back, a little away from Jefferson. “To Mrs. Gold. It would be too cruel to her.”

There was a crisp rustle of plastic and paper, then the quieter movement of cloth. “If that’s cruelty, I hope you won’t mind being cruel to me.” 

“She doesn’t know who I am,” Rumpelstiltskin said simply. “You do.”

 In the darkness, he felt Jefferson’s body shift again, leaning against him. Deft hands undid his belt buckle. Strong arms lifted him up, for just long enough to pull down his clothes. Smooth fingers glided over his legs, his thighs. 

His cock.

“I know who you are.” Jefferson’s voice was soft as he stroked Rumpelstiltskin into beautiful hardness. “And you know who I am. You always have.”

He felt the needful, wet heat of Jefferson’s lips on the head of his cock. Then, in one skillful, fluid motion, the boy opened his mouth and swallowed him to the hilt.

“Oh, fuck!” Rumpelstiltskin moaned loudly enough that it echoed around the car interior. “Gods, boy! Give a man a bit of warning first!”

Without seeing him, Rumpelstiltskin knew that Jefferson was smirking when he came up. “You look different, but you feel the same in the dark. It’s been too long since I’ve done that to you. Or to anybody.”

Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin opened his eyes. “Have you had sex at all? In the past twenty-eight years?”

He shook his head back and forth between Rumpelstiltskin’s thighs. “Good thing I’m ambidextrous.”

“And I thought six months was bad.”

“We have each other now,” Jefferson said. “We may not have anyone else in this world, but we have each other. We have now.” He grasped Rumpelstiltskin by the shaft. “I have this. And I’m going to make the most of it.”

“Fuck.” Rumpelstiltskin threw his head back against the headrest while Jefferson set to his work. His hands felt for his body in the darkness. His bobbing head, his tense shoulders and arms, the sensitive shell of his ear. “You don’t have to,” he whispered. “I do like talking to you too.”

Jefferson came off his cock with a pop. “We can talk when I’ve got my cock in your ass. How about that, Dark One?” 

“Wait.” Rumpelstiltskin pushed him up. Jefferson went along, but his hands kept moving. “Don’t call me that, Jefferson, please.”

He was still stroking him. “You told me once that your name has power.”

“It does, but not here. Not in a land without magic. And besides, we’ve been through so much together. I think this is a power I can trust you to wield.”

Jefferson chuckled a moment, and looked down. One of his hands was still pumping back and forth along the length of Rumpelstiltskin’s cock. The other was gently cupping his balls, rubbing them ever so slightly. He placed a kiss on his groin, around the base of his shaft. 

“Alright,” he whispered. Then he gave him another kiss. “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The shudder began at the base of his spine. Perhaps there was a hint of magic in it. Emma had brought magic to Storybrooke, it was possible he was feeling it. Perhaps it was only that Jefferson was the first person to touch him since Mrs. Gold’s failed attempt to pleasure him on their anniversary. Perhaps it was that this was the first time he had heard his own name--his true name--in more than twenty-eight years.

“Again,” he breathed. “Please, my boy.”

Jefferson was moving faster now, his caresses were rougher. His voice was more sure when he said, “Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Oh fuck,” he gritted his teeth. He felt his body tighten. His hips jerked up erratically, but Jefferson was there. Jefferson was with him. Jefferson would make this so good, he always did. “One more time.”

It didn’t have to be three times, but it was such a nice number, and people expected this sort of thing.

Knowing what was coming, Jefferson clenched his grip into a choke-hold. He moved his face into the dim light coming through the car window.

Rumpelstiltskin could see the boy’s eyes as he looked at him. He could see his plump lips begin to form the word that would make him come undone. He could even see the smooth stretch of skin between Jefferson’s cheek and his nose and his mouth. That was where his semen would land.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” 

The name was a roar, and he roared back--hungry and desperate and heart sore but not now. Not in this moment. Now he had Jefferson. Now he had completion. Now he had peace and satisfaction. Now he could rest in oblivion.

He breathed. And he heard Jefferson’s breathing in the darkness. He collapsed against the leather seat, and Jefferson settled in beside him. Blearily, he felt the boy take his wrist and put his fingers to his face. Hot, sticky fluids dripped down Jefferson’s cheek. Moving Rumpelstiltskin’s hand for him, Jefferson coated his fingers in semen, then sucked them into his mouth.

“You’re delicious,” Jefferson murmured. “But this is very much why I said we should use a condom.”

Dazed from the intensity of his orgasm, at peace for the first time in months, Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. “You can put one on,” he sighed. “When you stick that massive cock of yours up my arsehole.”    

[trashmouthnerd]

Just dudes being dudes...

Fandom: Avatar, Zuko x Sokka

Summary: Inspired completely by @firebendcr “Zukka are the gay friends who constantly flirt “as a joke” but would say yes in a heartbeat if the other asked them out” Yes so he is the absolute genius that came up with this. Follow him please :)

A large, drawn out sigh escaped the not so new but still incredibly inexperienced fire lord. He ruled over the entire fire nation with confidence and grace but evidently could not face a social event with even a fraction of the same attitude.

"Relax would ya? The whole gang is going to be back together for the first time in a year. You should be excited" A familiar teasing came from Zuko's bed. Sokka had let himself in earlier this evening, already dressed in his best attire, and dropped theatrically on Zuko's freshly made bed.

"How can I relax? This outfit looks ridiculous Sokka, and what if they don't like me anymore? Spirits this is dreadful, maybe I can call it off-" Zuko rambled, hands patting down the red fabric frantically.

"Alright seriously, chill. They love you and you know it so shut up, and hey that outfit is barley different from your usual"

"It's tighter" Zuko complains. Sokka groans, pulling himself off the bed reluctantly to stand behind Zuko - who was glaring into the mirror as though he were waiting to grow a second head.

"Just shows of your rocking bod more" Sokka winks, slapping Zuko's ass playfully before turning his friend around and flattening the collar properly.

"Shut up, like you know what looking stupid feels like. You look ridiculously hot in anything it isn't fair" Zuko pouts, his head falling in defeat to rest on Sokka’s shoulder.

"Hey, that's just my natural charm, can't blame me for that" Sokka grins, it only widening as his remark earns a groan from Zuko.

"Seriously though, you look great alright? Now stop being such a baby" Sokka said, rolling his eyes when a glare was sent his way. Zuko made his way to the mirror once again, prepared to compulsively check over his appearance when a rather loud knock sounded at his door.

"What is it?" He called, making his way over to the doors, barley keeping himself from tripping over his robes when an excitable Sokka shoved ahead of him.

"Oh ambassador Sokka, please could you inform Fire Lord Zuko that the guests are arriving now" A soft voice came from the doorway and Sokka nodded his head triumphantly.

"You hear that Jerk-lord, party's starting" Sokka winked, grabbing Zuko's hand and dragging him out of the comfort and isolation of his room.

"Fantastic.." He muttered as he allowed himself to be pulled around corners and through hallways.

They reached the main hall moments later and were utterly flabbergasted at the outcome of the last few days. Rows of brightly lit lanterns were hanging from the ceiling, tables of the finest food lined the back walls. It was completely decorated with Fire Nation scrolls and paintings in any areas that might have looked uninviting had they not been there.

It all looked so official Zuko had to take a deep breath.

He never would've hosted a party if Sokka hadn't been so spirit damned adamant about it. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all...

Sokka smiled, nudging his friend before taking it all in himself. Crowds of people who were well aquatinted with each other were beginning to form in small circles. All sorts of people, there were friends from past adventures, officials of every kingdom and special guests Zuko had invited from the fire nation villages he'd visited.

"Will uncle be coming?" Zuko turned, his eyes trying to submerge the hope until he received an answer. Sokka smiled sympathetically.

"Not tonight, but in his letter to me he said.. never mind" Sokka stopped, his eyes widening as though he'd said something he wasn't supposed to.

"He said what, Sokka?" Zuko glared, staring ferociously to encourage an answer.

"Oh alright.. he's planning on surprising you this week but I wasn't supposed to say anything.." Sokka frowned, knowing he'd missed the chance to see the light in Zuko's eyes upon Iroh's sudden arrival.

Zuko smiled anyway, thankful he'd see his uncle again soon.

"Oh.. Well good, it's about time the old man visited"

"Sokka! Zuko!" A familiar voice called from the crowd. The pair turned to see three smiling faces running towards them at full speed. Aang got there first, nearly sweeping the two off their feet as he jumped into a sudden hug. Katara following soon after, engulfing them further into the warmth of their friends.

"Guess I'll join in on the sappy reunion too" Toph smirked, her arms wrapping around the group as her cheeks squished against Katara’s back.

"I missed you so much, even if you are a pain" Katara smiled to her brother warmly as Aang told Zuko a long winded tale of his adventures on the way to the fire nation.

"Ha ha, you too sis. Keeping this one in check isn't an easy job" Sokka sighed, punching Zuko in the arm playfully.

"Speaking of which, spirits look at you Zuko..." Katara started, looking him up and down.

"Yeah, tell me about it.. You look so.." Aang trailed off.

"Handsome? Hot? Flaming Hot?" Sokka rambled, doing his duty of helping his friend in finishing his sentence.

"I was going to say fancy" Aang laughed.

"You look the same to me" Toph shrugged. Sokka laughed, touching her arm gently. It felt nice, right, being all together again.

Hours passed and the party was still going strong. Sokka had eaten most of the buffet but everything else had gone according to plan. Zuko had met with a few officials to greet them, doing his absolute best to win them over.

Other than a few short conversations Zuko had spent the entire night in a spare room with his friends, sending Momo every now and then to retrieve some snacks - which never worked in their favour.

"So come on then Zuko, spill the beans" Toph teased but Zuko only raised a brow.

"Oh come on, you're telling me you're the Fire Lord and you haven't gotten any" She went on, her own brows furrowing together in disbelief.

"Huh? Oh no, I guess I haven't" He shrugged, it's not as though he'd really thought about. Yeah there's a few cute boys but he's busy enough ruling the fire nation and rebuilding what Ozai broke to think about dating.

And by a few cute boys he means that one cook that works mornings, the guy he met down the market place once, and his painfully perfect best friend.

"Lame" She finished, stretching her feet out onto the table.

"Why do I need a relationship when I've got hot stuff here to help with me everything anyway" Zuko smirked, eyeing the boy beside him mischievously.

"It's an honour, Fire-Jerk" Sokka smiled, biting his bottom lip suggestively while maintaining eye contact. The two were so absorbed in their teasing they failed to see the confused glances their friends were sharing.

"Get a room!" Katara said, turning her nose up in fake disgust.

"We have one" Sokka winked, Zuko seemed to have found this amusing as he nudged his shoulder against his friend’s, scoffing slightly.

"So have you two been like this since we left or...?" Aang asked, sitting forward as he snatched a carrot from the bowl in front of him. Tilting his head as he awaited the highly anticipated answer.

"What do you mean 'like this'?" Zuko asked, turning to Sokka for some sort of assistance.

"Acting like you're married" Katara provided to the dumbfounded idiots sitting directly ahead of her.

"Dunno what you're talking about sis, this is completely normal bro behaviour" Sokka shrugged, his hand resting on Zuko's thigh. Katara looked at said hand suspiciously and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah.. sure.. friends always flirt with each other non stop" She said sarcastically, eyeing her brother knowingly.

"Flirting? We are not flirting!" Zuko frowned, shoving the hand off of his thigh.

"Yeah! We always act like this!" Sokka added. Raising his hands to drive home his confusion.

"That's completely normal.. just guys being guys.. nothing romantic about it" Aang smiled, looking towards Katara in knowing agreement.

"Exactly!" Zuko shouted. Arms crossing over his chest in realising that touching Sokka right now was off the table, he didn't want his friends to be suspicious about nothing after all.

"So you're saying neither of you would go there with each other?" Toph smirked, knowing her question would give her plenty entertainment.

"Well-" They both said in unison. Sokka's eyes wide and Zuko's cheeks tinted red.

"You go first"

"No you”

"Fine. Well I'm a good friend you know, if my buddy here wanted to do something then who am I to decline the Fire Lord?" Sokka explained, shrugging as though he weren't declaring the tension between them was existent after all.

Zuko's eyes widened at his best friends confession. If he'd known that were the case then for what dumb reason weren't they doing that already?

"Yeah and I mean, have you seen those eyes? I'm not saying no to them" Zuko stated, grabbing Sokka’s chin, tilting it up with his finger as he smirked.

“You wanna go out with me? I wouldn’t mind giving you the pleasure of having such an incredibly good looking boyfriend” Sokka smiled, his eyes glinting as Zuko tilted his chin just a little further to kiss him with a warm smile.

"Idiots, the both of you" Katara shook her head, smiling as she watched Sokka throwing his arms around his totally platonic best friend, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.