#i really don’t see myself dropping it any time soon

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Nineteen

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Nineteen: Mint for Virtue

Summary: (Y/N) runs into someone unexpected at the mall.

            Okay, errands are run…I have some spare change, maybe I can get myself a new book. Ana Huang’s latest book has come out. I could buy that. Yeah. (Y/N) smiled to themself as they walked through the mall. That’ll be good— (Y/N) paused as they spotted the one person they had never expected to see in a regular mall.

            “Kyoya?”

            Kyoya looked at (Y/N).

            “What are you doing here?” they asked.

            “Tamaki,” said Kyoya.

            “Hm.” (Y/N) nodded. Honestly, the word “Tamaki” could explain everything almost all the time, especially the strange situations the hosts got into.

            An irk mark appeared on Kyoya’s forehead. “He didn’t even give me my phone or wallet.”

            “So you’re stuck here?” said (Y/N).

            “Unfortunately,” said Kyoya. “Tamaki couldn’t even be bothered to tell me where he was going.”

            “Well, you can use my phone to call your driver, or I can loan you some money for a cab,” offered (Y/N).

            Kyoya looked at them. “You don’t have to spend money on me.”

            “You’re my friend, and you need help,” said (Y/N). “It’s not an issue.”

            “I would pay you back,” said Kyoya.

            “You’re too polite not to,” said (Y/N), smiling. They trusted him.

            Kyoya’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he heard the words. “Thank you—” His stomach growled, and they both paused.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Maybe we should grab some food before sending you home.”

            Kyoya sighed. He was really going to owe (Y/N) after this.

l

            “Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere a bit fancier?” asked (Y/N).

            “I’m not going to have you spend more money than necessary on me,” said Kyoya as they stood in line at the fast food shop in the food court. He smiled coldly at (Y/N). “In fact, for all the trouble, I’ll have Tamaki pay you back, as well.”

            Poor Tamaki, thought (Y/N). “Thank you, but it’s no trouble. This is a fast food place. It’s not putting a dent in my money.” My savings, anyways. My little bit of free money? Yikes…

            “He’ll pay you back ten times over,” said Kyoya.

            Oh, dear. “Okay,” said (Y/N), giving up the fight and going to order. “What do you want?”

            “I don’t know how to order here,” said Kyoya. “Get anything.”

            “Two burgers and medium fries, please,” said (Y/N), smiling at the cashier.

            The cashier looked up and saw Kyoya. (Y/N) recognized the blush that appeared on her cheeks.

            “Thank you for your order!” She beamed at Kyoya. “Would you like some dessert? There’s a brand-new item—”

            “No dessert for me,” said Kyoya, bored.

            “How about our new milkshake?” she continued, still trying.

            “I said I don’t want any,” said Kyoya.

            Poor retail worker, thought (Y/N). “Thank you.”

            The receipt came out, and, soon enough, so did their food. As they picked it up, Kyoya saw a scrawled note on the receipt, and Kyoya narrowed his eyes. A phone number. Carelessly, he crumpled it up and threw it away as (Y/N) grabbed a table. He had no use for that. He wasn’t interested in anyone but (Y/N).

            “Hm.” Kyoya regarded his hamburger after taking a bite.

            “Not to your tastes?” said (Y/N), amused.

            “It’s a gift. I won’t complain,” said Kyoya.

            Aha, so he would if it wasn’t a gift. (Y/N) sweat-dropped. That’s Kyoya. “Well, once you’re done eating, I can give you money for a cab and you escape for the sake of your ‘taste.’ ”

            “What are you planning to do?” asked Kyoya.

            “I was going to take a look at the market,” said (Y/N). Not that I have money left to do that. “But I might head home.”

            “What if we walk around?” said Kyoya. “With my name, we can put anything you want aside and come back once I have my wallet to get it.”

            “Kyoya, you’re paying me back for food,” said (Y/N). “You’re not paying for books or trinkets or whatever else is here. That’s on me. I’m independent.”

            “Are you sure?” said Kyoya.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N). “I don’t want you to continuously spend money on me.” They were independent. They were ambitious. They were going to make their own money. They appreciated gifts, but they didn’t need to be continuously spoiled by their friends. That was fine with them. “But thank you for the offer. We can still walk around, if you want?”

            “That would be nice.” Kyoya respected them too much to push. They were their own person, after all. He liked to gift them things—the denim romper looked amazing on them—but he wouldn’t go too far. He would never cross (Y/N)’s boundaries.

            Besides, as long as he got to spend time with (Y/N), he’d be satisfied.

l

            “Small businesses are so interesting,” said (Y/N). “To see people love something so much that they want to make something out of it…it’s inspiring.” They smiled.

            “I don’t see much of this,” said Kyoya. “My family and the families of my peers, they all order things from larger companies. Reliable.”

            “But less personal,” said (Y/N). Kyoya inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I suppose it’s all a balance.” They examined a piece of pottery. “I mean, reliable is good, but new ideas come from—”

            “Hey, watch where you’re looking,” said the old man running the stall. “Shoo, shoo. This is too valuable for some kid to look at or, worse, touch.”

            (Y/N) straightened and flinched back. Kyoya narrowed his eyes slightly.

            “Honestly, the amount of ignorant window-shoppers who try to paw my merchandise,” grumbled the man.

            “Oh, my,” said a woman, looking at the pottery. “Is this Shoin Komatsu’s work? How odd to see them here.”

            Instantly, the man’s attitude changed, and he beamed at her. “What good eyes you have, madame!”

            (Y/N) sighed and rolled their eyes. Their age and class caused people to be condescending, and this was one of the examples.

            “As a matter of fact, they are a bit too high-quality for a venue such as this,” continued the man.

            Kyoya raised a brow. This vendor wanted to disrespect (Y/N)? Very well. Kyoya would handle it appropriately.

            The man continued without any knowledge that Kyoya was planning his downfall. “They’re so valuable that the Komatsu family kept them out of the public eye for generations—”

            “They’re counterfeits, madame,” said Kyoya smoothly.

            “What did you say?!” cried the man in both shock and offense—obviously, Kyoya was right.

            “The blue of this dish looks extremely similar to the kind Shoin Komatsu produces, but the base differs in gradation, and this coating is too clean,” said Kyoya, beginning to take apart the pieces of the vendor’s scam. He flipped the bowl over. “Ah, as I thought. The signature at the bottom has somewhat different strokes than the original.” He looked up at the terrified vendor. “Of course, if it is genuine, then you surely have a certificate of authentication. Shall we get someone to verify?”

            “I—Well—the certificates are all kept back at the store,” said the man hastily.

            “Fair enough. If that’s the case…” Kyoya smirked. “My family has known the Komatsu family for years. If you don’t mind, I’ll put in a call and have my men look into it right away.”

            The vendor was trapped by his lies. Kyoya had won. It didn’t take long for the people in charge of the market to escort him out, and the older woman was grateful enough to bow formally to Kyoya, who waves her thanks off with more humility than (Y/N) was used to him showing.

            “It’s unusual for you to help someone like that,” said (Y/N). They smiled at Kyoya. “I’m glad you did, though.”

            Kyoya certainly hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart—mostly, anyway. It was for (Y/N). They had been disrespected, and Kyoya had rectified that. He wouldn’t let the person he loved be treated so rudely. Besides, a low-brow scam like that was unacceptable.

            However, Kyoya didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “That lady is the wife to the chairman of a large economics firm. I’d ever met her before, but by her kimono and ring, I figured she must belong to a reasonably good family. So it turned out alright.”

            “Thank you again, young man,” said the woman, smiling. “Who would have thought I’d come across an Ootori here of all places? I’ll be sure to let my husband know how you helped. He’s been unsure about going to your resorts due to the distance from here, but I’m sure the resorts would do us good coming from such a polite family.”

            “We’d be honored to have you,” said Kyoya, bowing his head and smiling as the woman walked off.

            “So you did it to secure someone’s good favor?” said (Y/N).

            “Business connections are made from good impressions and word of mouth,” said Kyoya, the trained response of someone used to being PR for his family coming out.

            (Y/N) smiled and chuckled. “That’s true, but not everything you said was.”

            Kyoya glanced at them. “Oh?”

            “There was a crow around the vendor,” said (Y/N). “You couldn’t see the woman’s ring.” They smiled so knowingly at him that Kyoya was worried they were staring right into his soul. “Thank you all the same for helping.”

            They understood why he’d done it. Kyoya faltered for but a moment, and then he cleared his throat to respond. “I—”

            Bring! A loud ring sounded over the PA system, and everyone paused.

            “Attention customers,” said the voice. “There is a lost child. Please be on the lookout for Kyoya Ootori. The missing child is Kyoya Ootori.”

            (Y/N) and Kyoya paused and just stared at one another. Huh?

            “His guardian, Mr. Suoh, is waiting at reception on the second floor,” continued the announcement. “Kyoya is 181 centimeters and wears glasses. He has on a patterned shirt and jeans. The child is currently penniless, and his guardian is extremely worried. If anyone spots him, please contact our staff immediately.”

            People glanced at Kyoya strangely and began to whisper. It was strange, after all, for a young adult to be referred to as a child. It was possible, though, that there was something wrong with him…

            A giant irk mark appeared on Kyoya’s forehead. “I’ll kill him!”

            Poor Tamaki, thought (Y/N) again. He was in for quite the lecture (and punishment) from Kyoya.

l

            “Kyoya! Mon ami! I was so worried about you!” cried Tamaki as Kyoya approached reception. He ran towards his friend and jumped to hug him. Kyoya sidestepped and let him crash into the ground.

            “You called me a child because you didn’t leave me my wallet?” said Kyoya, looking down at him coldly.

            Tears came to Tamaki’s eyes. “I’m sorry! I was so worried!”

            “Yeah, and we know how grouchy you get without sleep and food,” said Kaoru, shrugging.

            “You could’ve been terrorizing the commoners,” said Hikaru.

            “You’re scary in the morning,” agreed Honey, and Mori nodded.

            A larger irk mark was appearing on Kyoya’s forehead. “I have better sense than that.”

            “Don’t worry, he was fine,” said (Y/N), walking up.

            “(Y/N)!” said Tamaki happily. “When did you get here?”

            “I go to this market regularly,” said (Y/N), smiling. “I happened to find Kyoya.”

            “You owe them money for lunch,” said Kyoya.

            “But I didn’t get lunch with them—”

            Kyoya glared at Tamaki.

            “How much?”

            (Y/N) chuckled. Kyoya held back a smile at the sound. Ah, well. Tamaki had caused him a lot of trouble, but at least he’d gotten time with (Y/N) out of it.

Taglist:

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[crystallizsch]

If the other fandoms make you happy then posting them is a great idea! 👏 It also gives people who follow you a chance to see pieces of other games that they might not have considered looking into otherwise. Benefits for everybody!

OH TRUE TRUE!! that's another cool way to look at it >:0

aagh i love seeing different persepctives to this i haven't considered, thank you thank you ,,, i appreciate it anon 🥺🫶

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I have this tea cup I made in highschool (it’s really cute and was designed more like those Japanese ones without a handle than it was those fancy English style with even more elements to them) but I never actually asked if the glaze we used was food safe (we all used the same glaze on those cups specifically because the teacher glazed those ones in particular and I don’t remember checking. I glazed and painted every other project but only one of them was something you would use for food and that thing broke a few years ago and was honestly more decorative) and this has haunted me ever since. It’s a super cute cup and I adore it, but I have no idea if I can use it for its intended purpose and while I could buy a lead testing kit I’m not sure how I would check for anything else that might have been in that glaze. I know the color used but not the brand, so that’s not really a help either. The teacher I had left the district after that year because our school district paid art teachers a shit wage and we rotated through them like elementary school kids needing new shoes every year. I’m not entirely sure how I would contact her, but even if I did track her down (something not entirely impossible from what I know about her life outside of teaching us for a year, I would feel slightly weird about it though, even though she was my favorite art teacher) but I highly doubt she would remember something like the glaze she used on one project her students made at a school she taught at for one year. I’m not sure what other testing kits I would need besides lead to confidently say it’s safe enough for my personal use, and it’s annoyed me for several years now.

[lesbiansanemi]

I have started to accept I am a bit more (re a lot more) psychologically unstable than I thought for a long time and man…. I’m tired of it

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 3.4k | ao3

five times people don't believe Steve and Eddie are dating + one time they have to

Made the silly post, decided to actually write it

1.

Eddie stops his van in front of Dustin’s house. His was the last stop of the drop off after the dnd session at Gareth’s house. Dustin turns towards Eddie. He is drumming his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the DIO song playing, never still. When Dustin doesn’t move, he turns to look at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Anything wrong, Henderson?”

He is looking at him with his big eyes and Dustin gulps. Even after everything they have been through, Dustin can’t help but feel nervous. There is still this feeling that tells him he has to try to impress Eddie, to be cool enough to be his friend.

“Will you teach me how to play guitar?” Dustin blurts before he chickens out.

Eddie looks at him with surprise, blinking a few times. He was clearly not expecting that question.

“Sure.”

“Wait- really?” Dustin is genuinely surprised. A part of him knew that Eddie wouldn’t say no, but he fully expected some teasing, some ‘what, Henderson, you wanna be like me?’ which. Yes. But he didn’t want Eddie to say it.

“Yeah dude, why not?”

Dustin lets out a delighted laugh and slaps the dashboard. “Yes! Thank you! When are we starting? Any time is good for me-“

“Calm down,” Eddie says with a chuckle.

“What about tomorrow? I can do tomorrow. I will bike to your house after school and you can teach me the basics or-“

“Calm down Henderson,” Eddie repeats louder. Dustin shuts up. “I can’t do tomorrow.”

Dustin’s heart breaks a little. “Why?”

“Because this humble bard has a date with Steve Harrington.” He has a stupid smile on his face when he says it.

There are a couple of seconds of silence and Dustin knows that he is pulling a face.

“Dude, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” Eddie looks baffled, almost offended, but there is a shiver going down Dustin’s spine.

“Like that! A date? Just say you are hanging out like a normal person.”

He is used to Eddie’s way of saying things, rarely in a normal way, but that was weird. Don’t get him wrong, he is very happy that Steve and Eddie have stopped acting like idiots every time Dustin mentioned the other and that they are hanging out now. But it’s still strange, seeing them actually getting along so well.

“If I’m going to have the King all to myself I am calling it a date.”

“STOOOP! It’s weird.”

“What is it Henderson?” Eddie says in a teasing tone as he leans towards Dustin. “Jealous that me and Steve are giving each other a bit of love?”

“Stop saying it like that!” Dustin screams. This would be so much weirder if Dustin didn’t know he is just teasing him. Maybe it was better when they were not friends.

The front door to his house opens, and Dustin scrambles to get out of the van before his mother can come and embarrass him more. The last thing he hears is Eddie’s crackling laugh.

2.

“Okay, what is happening?” Robin asks as soon as the door closes after the girl that had just rented Back to the Future.

“Something’s happening?” Steve sends a brief look around with a confused frown on his face before he looks at Robin.

“That girl.” Robin gestures to the door for emphasis.

Steve snorts, “yeah. Back to the Future? That’s funny.” He says as he crosses his arms in front of himself.

“That is not what this is about.”

“It’s not?”

“No! She was a babe!”

“Was she?” Steve looks at the door again, like he had not even seen the girl, like it had not even occurred to him to look at the girl. Robin could kill him.

“Yes! She was!”

“Did you want me to set you up with her? Because I will, you know that. Maybe we can have a code for that, you say- I don’t know- ‘have you watched Fast Times?’ and I will put my best wingman skills to use. I will get you a date in no time.”

Steve is the best friend Robin could ask for. He is also incredibly dumb and she is going to strangle him.

“I didn’t want you to set me up with her.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“The problem is that you are Steve Harrington and you didn’t even try to flirt with her! You should have been all over her, trying to get a date or her number. You haven’t been on a date in weeks! And it’s not even that you are striking out like in scoops, you are not even trying Steve. What is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean I haven’t been on a date in weeks, I was with Eddie just yesterday, I told you.” He has this confused frown on his face, like he seriously doesn’t understand where Robin is coming from.

“Steve, hanging out with Eddie doesn’t count as a date. Also, ew, don’t put that image in my head, I know he is our friend now or whatever and that you like hanging out with him but I would hope for you to have better taste than that.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Eddie? Seriously? Did you see the stains on his mattress?”

Steve pulls a face, like had not thought about it before. “We’ll buy a new mattress.”

Robin looks at him, trying her best to communicate how gross she finds Eddie with her mind. Steve looks back at her with his eyebrows raised, daring her to say something else about Eddie.

The bell at the door interrupts them. It’s not a babe this time, just a normal guy, returning a tape. They act like the professionals they are until he is out of the door again.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t flirt with him?” Steve asks, his hand gesturing to the door in that annoying way of his.

“No,” Robin says, but Steve doesn’t really wait for her answer before he continues talking.

“I didn’t because I am dating Eddie!”

“No you are not,” Robin answers with a snort.

“Yes I am.” Steve looks completely betrayed. “I am with him almost every day.”

“Oh, I know what is happening.” It’s so clear, so easy to understand now that Steve has said that. She puts her hands on Steve’s shoulders. He looks at her with a frown, a tilt of his head as he uncrosses his arms in confusion. “Steve.” She tries to convey as much seriousness as she can, just so Steve understands what is happening too. “Just because you have realised you like boys and he is gay and you two are hanging out, it doesn’t mean you two are dating.”

“Oh fu-“ he tries to move away from her but she clutches his shoulders tightly.

“You have to learn how to have friends your age, Steve. Remember when you though you liked me? I got away because I don’t like boys, and Eddie does! But that doesn’t mean he is into you!”

Steve rolls her eyes at her. The audacity. He bats her arms away with more easiness than Robin would like to admit. “Whatever.” He just says.

3.

“Steve”

“Mike” Steve answers in the same serious tone. If not a bit confused. Mike had followed him inside when he had come to get some drinks. He can still hear the others in the pool outside.

“I saw you speaking with Nancy.” Mike states. They had been speaking, close, too close. “And Dustin told me you were making eyes at her during the Vecna thing.”

“What?” Steve whispers as he shakes his head while he takes the drinks out of the fridge.

“Anything to say to defend yourself?” Mike asks him. He crosses his arms, tries to put on a serious pose. Intimidating, as much as he can.

“Listen,” Steve starts, he turns towards Mike him and leans back on the counter. He crosses his arms, and it makes Mike shift, conscious of his own crossed arms. He doesn’t like his tone, as if he is talking to a kid. “I know you are still pissy about me dating your sister, for some reason,” he uncrosses one of his arms to say it. “But she is with Jonathan now and I am totally over her.” Mike just squints at him. He doesn’t believe him. Everyone knows that Steve is not over Nancy. “Totally! I mean it. I’m dating Eddie now.” He says it like it’s a question.

Mike snorts. That is the stupidest lie Steve could have come up with to try to get out of this. “As if.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie is too cool to date you.”

“He is too- I’ve saved your life,” he points to Mike.

“Eddie is still cooler.”

Steve takes a deep breath and Mike doesn’t really want to hear what Steve is going to say to defend himself. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything, his mouth closing as his eyes drift someplace behind Mike.

“I was promised beer,” Eddie’s voice comes from behind Mike.

“You’d have it if Mike here hadn’t decided to give me shit,” Steve answers as he moves to open a can of beer and hands it to Eddie when he gets to him.

“Just-“ Mike huffs. “Don’t get any ideas with my sister.” He says it as he points to Steve while he walks back outside.

Mike doesn’t stay to see Steve’s reaction, but he hears Eddie say “anything I should be worried about?” before the noise of the others drowns everything else.

4.

Max and Eleven giggle as the stand outside of the window to Eddie’s room. He is inside, they can see the lump inside the sheets and the mess of curls on the pillow. They look at each other and nod with a grin before they start banging on the window and shouting his name.

Eddie starts on the bed, Max could swear he lifts a few centimetres from the bed she can hear him scream ‘jesus christ’ through the window before he turns towards them with a squint. He sits up on the bed and reaches across to open the window, he is not wearing a shirt, so they have a full view of all his tattoos. It’s not like Max ever wants to see them so close, but she knows El likes them.

“What the FUCK Mayfield,” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. Then, after a second of him squinting and them more. “Mini Hopper.”

Max doesn’t answer, because behind Eddie another lump is raising from the bed and looking at them with a squint. “Max? Is anything wrong?” Steve asks as he rubs his face and hair with the hand that is not currently propping him up.

“I…” Max starts, but she doesn’t continue. Sure, she had seen Steve shirtless at the boat that one time when they were going after Vecna, but it was nighttime and she had to look through some shitty binoculars.

Eddie reaches a hand back to try to push Steve back down, but it doesn’t really work. He just pushes his face, and Steve lets himself be pushed, just for a bit, before he is straightening again.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says as he snaps his fingers in front of Max. It works on bringing her attention back to him. “Anything wrong?”

Max shakes her head.

“Are you having a sleepover? I also sleep with Max when we have a sleepover,” El asks.

Eddie looks between them for a couple of seconds before he says, “sure we are.”

It just sounds like he just wants to get rid of them.

“You boys are gross, can’t you put a shirt on?” Max asks. Billy was always walking around shirtless too.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Eddie just replies.

“Did anything happen?” Steve insists.

“We had a sleepover,” El says.

“Yeah, gathered that,” Eddie deadpans.

“We came so you will take us out for pancakes.”

Eddie groans as he lets himself fall back on the bed and looks up at Steve.

“I totally blame you for this being my life now, just so you know.”

Steve just laughs and pushes his face to the side. Max pulls a face, their friendship must be one of the weirdest things that has come out of the whole Vecna thing. Steve turns towards them with a stupid smile on his face.

“Go get your things, we will be out in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?!” Eddie protests, but Max and El don’t pay attention to him, already celebrating and running back to Max’s.

The last thing she sees is Steve leaning down towards Eddie with a hand on his face out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t really put much thought to it.

5.

Lucas loves having Steve to play with. After all the Vecna stuff, he didn’t really want to hang out with the guys from basketball all that much, so Steve had stepped up. He had bought a hoop for his big driveway for them to practise and everything.

The day is hot, and they have been going at it for hours, so they are both sweaty and tired. They are at Steve’s driveway. It’s just them, sweaty under the sun, and Eddie sitting on a folding chair on the side, for some reason. He was already here when Lucas had arrived, and he had refused to leave. He is on the shade, reading a book, looking way more comfortable than them.

“Pause for drinks?” Steve asks, and Lucas is very happy to agree with him. “Hey!” he yells towards Eddie, he jumps as he looks up. “Don’t think I don’t see you looking at me like a creep. You should be getting us drinks.”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Eddie shouts back as he waves his book.

“Drinks, now.” Steve says with a jerk of his head towards the house.

Eddie drops the book in his haste to stand up and follow Steve inside. They are weird, they act so weird all the time. They should get girlfriends, that way they would maybe stop being weird with each other.

“You want anything, Lucas?” Steve asks as he walks away.

“Just a soda!” Lucas calls out after them.

Steve gives him a thumbs up as he goes through the door.

It’s ten minutes later that Lucas starts to wonder what’s taking them so long. He got tired of practising shoots, and also of sitting down on the grass waiting for them.

The house is blessedly chilly and dark when he comes in.

“Steve?” he calls out.

He walks towards the kitchen. There is sound coming from it, shuffling. When he gets close enough to the kitchen he hears Eddie speak quietly.

“Were you afraid your neighbours might see, big boy?”

“Shut up,” Steve answers. Then there are some wet sounds and when Lucas comes into the kitchen Steve is all over Eddie and-

“DUDE!” Lucas screams. Steve jumps away from Eddie. “What are you doing? What if Robin had seen you?”

Steve looks around. “What?”

“Dustin said you like Robin, what if she was here and she saw you…” he can’t even describe what they were doing, he just knows that if some girl saw that, she would never consider dating Steve.

“I don’t want to date Robin, why does everyone think I want to date Robin?” Steve says.

Lucas doesn’t answer. He just looks at Steve. If it’s not Robin, it’s Nancy, for sure. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her, or anyone.”

Eddie laughs like a maniac, Lucas just squints at him and goes to grab his soda.

+1

Robin is not sure how they have ended up here. At the Hideout. On a Tuesday. With all the kids and Eddie’s band helping them get ready before even the freaking owner has arrived. She doesn’t know what about Eddie he thought was reliable enough to give him the keys to the bar, but she guesses it’s ‘I don’t want to go work early because some teenagers want to set up their instruments to play their shitty music’. It works for them though, because the kids had been saying how much they wanted to see them play, but they are not allowed to come into the bar when it’s open, so they have come extra early so they can listen to a couple of songs before people start arriving.

“Hey lovebirds!” A voice shouts. It’s one of Eddie’s bandmates. Gareth, Robin thinks he is called. “Stop being disgusting and come here so we can start?”

Robin turns to look for who he could be calling out for. Nancy and Jonathan have not come today, and everyone is in the stage area, everyone except…

“Did you just call Steve and Eddie lovebirds?”

“Yeah, since they started dating they’ve been unbearable.”

“DATING?” Dustin shrieks beside them.

“Shit, sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?” Gareth asks, and he sounds genuinely scared. Robin would normally appreciate it but-

“Oh, you think they are actually dating?” Dustin asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question, more like a realisation.

“Aren’t they?” Jeff asks.

“No, no, it’s just Eddie saying weird things.” Dustin dismisses, but Robin is frozen in place, the cogs in her mind turning.

“You are not dating?” Gareth asks to the side and yep, there Eddie and Steve are, now close to them. Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they are leaning against each other.

Shit.

“We are,” Steve says easily. “They just don’t believe us.” Eddie bumps his head against Steve’s and he moves his head slightly away with an annoyed look that looks more fond than anything else.

Robin and Dustin are gaping at them and, from the sudden quiet around them she guesses the rest are too.

“Wait you two are actually dating?!” Lucas voice comes from behind them. “But Dustin said you weren’t going out with anyone because you liked Robin?”

That shakes Robin out of it, if only to turn around and say, “Ew, no.” Doesn’t matter who he is talking to.

“And I told Mike and Robin I was dating Eddie,” Steve says. “And you saw us kissing.”

“Yeah but- I don’t know.”

Eddie’s bandmates are now dying of laughter, Robin can’t even blame them.

“How was I supposed to believe you were telling the truth!” Robin exclaims. That provokes more laughs.

“Wait,” Max intervenes. “So that day you were sleeping together without a shirt…” She trails off, but they all see in her face what she just realised. “Gross!”

“Oh shut up Mayfield,” Eddie says. “I saw you looking at my boyfriend’s tits.”

That shuts Max up.

“You really are dating Steve?” Mike asks.

“Yes, and no stupid comments or your character is dead Wheeler.” Eddie states, pointing to Mike with the arm that is not around Steve.

And that shuts Mike up with a huff and a shake of his head.

“So you two are boyfriends?” El asks. “I think that’s cute.”

“Thanks El,” Steve says.

“I can’t believe you got with a boy before I got with a girl!” Robin exclaims. “And I didn’t know!”

“You would have known if you had believed me!” Steve exclaims back.

“Well sorry for thinking about your dating record and drawing conclusions.”

“Okay, okay,” Gareth interrupts them. “As funny as this is, we need to start now if we want to play anything before the owner arrives.”

“Let’s get this party going,” Eddie exclaims. He moves away from Steve to grab his guitar, and then goes back to Steve and kisses him on the lips. Actually kisses him on the lips in front of everyone, and Steve doesn’t really react except from a smile because why would he? They have been boyfriends for weeks apparently. “Be back in a minute sweetheart.”

Robin fake gags.

Steve moves to stand next to Robin. He has this shit eating grin on his face that Robin can’t stand.

“Shut up,” she says.

Eddie is on the stage now, looking at them with a stupid smile on his face. She should have known they were dating.

“Told you so,” Steve just says.

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: 'Control Freak' ༄࿔ H.H. & H.J.

⤷ DP in One Hole | Orgasm Control | Edging

♱ word count: 1.4k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, mentions of a lot of hickeys (mainly on han but also some on reader), orgasm control, edging (reader + han rec), dom!hyunjin (kinda bratty lol), fingering (barely), double penetration in one hole, breast/nipple play (f rec), mxm if u squint really really hard, creampie, blowjob (han rec), deep throating, it gets silly at the end sorry not sorry

♱ notes: i made myself laugh at the end

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“F-Fuck you!”

You cried out for what felt like the hundredth time as you clenched harder around the cock nestled deep inside of you. Hyunjin snickers from behind you and quickly moves his hands to your wrists, gripping them tightly and holding you back from touching yourself. You’ve almost lost count at this point, but when you’ve gotten denied 5 orgasms while being spread open, can they really blame you?

Even if they didn’t, their hands are still tight on your body. Hyunjin is keeping your shaking arms still at your sides while Han digs his fingers into your hips, keeping you still from grinding against him.

Once he’s sure your orgasm has faded, Hyunjin gives Han the ok to start moving again, though he doesn’t remove the hold on your wrists. He holds you there with your back to his chest as Han fucks up into you, his hands now at your waist and holding you just high enough so he can pound into you from below.

Your neck is starting to ache from the angle you have your head thrown back on Hyunjin’s shoulder, but you already know if you look at the pretty boy below you, you might just cum on the spot.

Hyunjin knows you’re getting to your limit soon, so he quickly tells the younger boy to slow his thrusts. Han almost cries at the order, but he knows better than to go against Hyunjin’s wishes and eventually slows his hips to a complete stop. You’re forced to finally look at Han when Hyunjin pushes you, making you fall forward onto the man below you.

He’s not faring any better than you, one of your denied orgasms included his denied orgasm, and he’s been getting constant attention to his cock with no release for the entirety of the time you’ve gotten edged. Hyunjin, on the other hand, has only just now pulled out his cock. Hours into this session.

In an apology to Han, you push your lips against his and tangle your hands in his hair to tug lightly, just the way he likes. Despite being obviously distracted, he wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss and shoving his tongue into your mouth off the bat, tangling his tongue with yours as his hands roam up and down your sides.

You don’t really notice Hyunjin quickly pumping himself as he nudges 2 of those long fingers inside of your hole, right against Han's cock and spreading you open even farther. Your mind can’t handle multitasking, and when there’s a pair of pillowy lips sucking yours, you can’t be bothered to even notice the way Hyunjin manages a total of 3 fingers inside of you in record time.

You only notice when Han bucks his hips up into you desperately thanks to the cold feeling of lube dripping from Hyunjins cock. The same cock that is currently nudging against Han’s base as he starts to enter you.

You swear you can see Han’s eyes roll to the back of his head as Hyunjin pushes each and every thick inch of his own cock into your stretched cunt, rubbing so perfectly and slowly against Han. Yours would have rolled to the back of your head too had Hyunjin not grabbed your attention immediately by pulling you back to chest with him the second he bottoms out fully.

“Isn’t he so pretty, love?” You follow his gaze below you to Han; the sight itself is enough to make you gush around them. Han’s eyes are saucers, wide and watery, his eyebrows are furrowed together so tightly, and his pretty lips are parted just slightly despite the pout he keeps up. He has a few drops of drool falling down his chin from your heated makeout session, and as you follow that wet trail, you’re met with the red patches that litter the entirety of his torso.

There are a few surrounding his chest tattoo while there are many that lead to his opposite, swollen nipple. His neck and stomach have equally littered hickeys around them, and you can even slightly see the bite mark on his arm from where you chomped him during your first denied orgasm. Your eyes exploring his body get him desperate all too easily, and he quickly finds something to distract himself with.

You can feel his hands wandering up your sides until they eventually find a home on your chest. He holds eye contact with you as Hyunjin starts moving behind you, slowly at first so as not to hurt either of you. It’s not until he’s speeding up god knows how many minutes later that Han breaks this eye contact, and it’s only to get a good look at your pussy being split open on their cocks.

Your eyes are glued to Han’s lips as he takes the bottom one in between his teeth at the sight, and then still as he pulls you into him and positions you so your chest is directly in his face. He trails kisses up and down the valley of your boobs, and his nose tickles you each time he gets too into these kisses and starts to suck hickeys into your skin.

“J-Jagi- Your tits‘re so pretty…” He slurs his words as if he’s blackout drunk, and he truly acts the part as he latches onto your right boob, sucking it roughly immediately. The other side is given attention by his pretty hand rolling your nipple between his fingertips, occasionally even pulling it to feel the way you clench around them in response.

Hyunjin leans forward to flush his chest against your back once more and he joins Han in marking you up. Their lips feel the same but still so different as they roam any skin they can reach. The older of the two takes it upon himself to fuck into you even faster and rougher to get both of you to the edge faster.

But, let’s be real. It’s not so hard when he has his favorite, desperate sluts below him <3 You’re so pent up from being edged that your orgasm builds fast. Han is close behind, being pent up and eager is in his blood, so Hyunjin isn’t even surprised.

Still, the inner brat inside of him tells him to push both of your buttons just a little more. And he does so at the crest of Han’s orgasm, pulling you off of him just in time for the younger’s orgasm to get denied and fucking you roughly against him. Your cheek is smooshed against Han’s vibrating chest, and the new angle Hyunjin finds with this position is enough to make you cum right then and there.

Your nails dig into the bed sheets and your voice cracks with a squeaky cry as both of the knots in your stomachs snap. Hyunjin buries himself as deep as he physically can as he cums, his forehead dripping sweat onto your back as he milks himself dry with a few final, sharp thrusts.

You don’t even notice what happened until babbles of curses fill your ears combined with Hyunjin’s giggles. You’re still confused until you slump forward and Han’s still hard cock nudges against your chest. He jerks in sensitivity at the feeling, his orgasm still being very close.

Then he almost shouts when your lips suddenly wrap around him, much to Hyunjin’s dismay. He wanted to edge you both tonight, but he also can’t argue when he watches Han’s hand fly to his mouth and his palm gets caught between his teeth. He can’t deny that the boy looks like a masterpiece, so he indulges you both with no further teasing, just this once.

Hyunjin chuckles and shakes his head, resting his body weight onto one hand as the other wraps into your hair and bobs your head for you. He’s quite nice about it for a while, delicate even until Han is at the edge. Then the hand in your hair pushes you down all the way. It’s out of nowhere and makes you gag repeatedly around Han’s tip which is now nestled deep in your throat.

Han’s only response is his eyes rolling into the back of his head paired with a moan so loud that Hyunjin’s hand flew out of your hair to cover Han’s mouth. Once you swallow every last drop, you laugh with Han’s cock still in your mouth and pull off just in time to see him shaking from the vibrations.

“Yo… Hyunjin, what the- Fuck you, man.” He still manages a breathless dig at Hyunjin through these jerks of sensitivity, but can’t help but laugh to himself in disbelief. He gets a pillow to the face in retaliation, and you’re very quickly rolling to the opposite side of the bed as a... naked? pillow fight breaks out.

“You guys are so stupid…”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

@felixsangelicfreckles

[svndaysaweek]

Overture (Prequel to Enlightenment) — {Feat. Karina}

8.7k words

A/N: You don’t know how old this draft is… I still remember that anon who sent a few asks about this series, and I really hope that they read this! This one is the longest I’ve ever written. Might not be the best piece, but I’m so proud of myself that I did my best. Thank you @dnd-writes for editing and giving me awesome advices. Enjoy!

*Prequel to “Enlightenment”

******

“Doesn’t matter how the two met. It’s about how they’re together ‘til now.”

******

It’s the first day in your new high school. It’s already March but the breeze is yet to blow winter away, strongly acclaiming its presence with the icy wind you face as soon as you come out of the main building of your school to go to the cafeteria. You haven’t made any friends to have lunch with yet, so you change your mind to just head to the smoking spot–behind the auditorium which is already an alien building itself–and kill some time smoking. You turn your way to the smoking spot inside the huge tide of students heading to the cafeteria. Freezing air makes you pace up to the spot.

After passing a few corners where even the wind has been disturbed to travel through, you find a drum can with fire in it making a peaceful crackling sound.

And a girl standing right by it as if wanting to get burnt. “Are you the new one?” Her voice is sharp enough to make it sound wary, yet quite chirpy to end up hitting you as rather coquettish.

“I don’t… I don't really know you,” Your steps towards her contradict your words. “Me neither.” At the fire you light your own cigarette. Your eyes scan her body from the ground to meet hers doing the same to you. The yellow name tag catches your eyes. Her name is Yu Jimin, third grade. And where the name tag is what makes your attention gather up too–perfect size, matches her wavy figure and sassy face, calmly heaves when she’s inhaling in the smoke.

“My name’s not that hard to read,” That’s when you realize that Yu Jimin, this unusual girl, will be an attraction with challenges. It’s all in her grin, in her turbid eyes that never leave yours–to be honest, it’s yours that never leaves hers; they won’t let the leash on your eyes loosen, until she wants to.

You suck it in, and breathe out a mouthful of smoke in the cold air. You look at her again and she's been watching you thoroughly, from head to toe, examining your body, shape, façade and all things she finds nice to look at, regardless of you mirroring her like once isn’t really enough.

She’s got such a nice, sculpted body, hidden under the school uniform but even more premo like that; concave and convex, it just hugs her curves impeccably. Narrow waist and wide, tight hips causing the skirt to struggle not to be torn apart. What’s more is her face, at the height of your chest, looking almost unrealistic, inhumanly beautiful, especially with a shallow grin like right now.

You are automatically making steps toward Jimin and she’s not backing up. You turn your head right to let out the smoke and then return to the ongoing gaze between you two.

“Don’t I look cold?” Jimin steps backwards, from the fire and from you. It makes you just automatically look at her legs, so slick and teem with femininity. You keep following what she tells you to do, what the hormones tell you to do.

“What do you want me to say?” It should be delivered as a counterattack to the dominance Jimin has shown you, but it, unfortunately, ends up sounding as if you were really confused. And Jimin almost bursts into laughter which she manages to hold in.

“So, third grade? What class are you in?”

“Two. You?” You drop the used cigarette and step on it to put it out. “Four. I’ll drop by sometime, handsome.”

Then she leaves the spot just like that. You are so interested in the girl Yoo Jimin. Given that she’s pretty like that, smokes around, she’s nothing like the normal students, obviously. And you can tell Jimin also found you special. Yeah, you know people don’t get to see a man like you quite often. You also know you don’t get to see a girl so appetizing like her often. It’s third year in highschool. You’re no amateur to let a girl play you around, rather, you’ve learned to control those feisty, hungry girls, but ugh, to be honest you don’t know what’s going on. 

******

She never comes to see you until the end of school. Nor do you, because you thought you could wait–precisely, you thought you had to wait. You definitely want to take the upper hand in this new relationship so you just head home, yet with a bit of disappointment. But you don’t let anyone know. Maybe she’s just playing you out. That’s unacceptable for you. You calmly wait for the bus deep in thought. Maybe find someone else tomorrow. I don’t know.

“Hey, going somewhere?”

Fuck. It’s her. Jimin.

You think of complaining, but swallow it back and answer. “Home. You?” Jimin shrugs with nonchalance. “I don’t know. Your place, maybe? Do you live alone?” She lunges in suddenly, and you could just let her be as spunky as she can be. “I do. Why do you want to know that?” You throw a question, feigning calmness, and Jimin just smirks back.

“Don’t ask me.”

You’re on the bus. You let Jimin take the window side and sit next to her. You stuff your ears with some random songs and lock your eyes to the screen in your palm to leave the absorbing girl next to you out of your world even for a second.

“What made you move to my school?” Suddenly one of your earphones is between her fingers, your arm in hers to squish her breast slightly which feels so intentional. This bold little chick keeps surprising you in unforeseeable ways. Besides, you can read that she’s definitely testing you. Seems a little bit like an upside-down situation, for you to be the object, and oh, don’t you say you don’t find this rather fun.

“Well, there was an accident. You don’t need to know any further.” Her questions don’t seem to end, however. An eye roll might silence her—

“You can tell me. It’s alri-“

“You’d better shut the fuck up, Jimin.” Your fingers hold her chin up, facing you, merely a breath away as your noses tickle each other. And what gets you a moment later is her eyes, round and glowy, that could easily see through your brain, trying to suffocate you in the vivid yet gooey gaze. And there she plants her words straight into your brain; I’m a little impressed, but try harder. 

A sudden squeak of the brake informs you to get off. You step out of the bus and Jimin quietly follows. Then you start walking at a rather slow pace. The sound of another pair of footsteps is the only clue of her existence for you.

“You made me wait.” You break the silence as you near your house. You don’t bother turning back to be an audience for her commanding attitude, but her cockiness nonetheless makes it to your ears.

“Well, I might have just forgotten. My bad.” You unlock the door, let Jimin in and close it. Right after the thud you pin her arms over her head with one hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from her.

“You made me fucking wait, Jimin. You’ll have to pay for it.” Your face is just a few inches from hers again. Your straining voice is mixed with her breath, hot, and your burning gaze never leaves hers, to return the blow that she had on your mind; you don’t know me yet.

“You should feel lucky.”

“Why?”

“I’m interested in you.” Jimin’s words, however, don’t sound tense or weak despite your visible dominance. Rather, it’s an impudent confidence that defies the dynamic knotted between your eyes. Jimin herself visualizes it with an even wider smile, dense with deliberate harm to your ego.

“Mmm…!” You dive into Jimin’s lips while your other hand suddenly wraps around her neck hard. Keeping the chokehold still, your hand once holding her wrists tears her school shirt open, letting the buttons randomly fly to the floor. With her hands free, they dangle on your arms. Her demure hand tries to push you back from her neck, but her tongue is flapping inside your mouth, already allured by the intenseness. Your other hand hesitates about before swiftly undoing her bra and Jimin drops it on the floor. You squeeze the godly pair of flesh and soon pull back from the kiss.

“Shit, you like it rough, huh?” Jimin giggles, with a killing lip bite, and discards her buttonless shirt. There you feel something kick your heart, to see a girl enjoying your selfishness and harshness for the first time. A thought that this girl might be the one for you passes through your mind like a hit-and-run truck.

You turn yourselves around and make Jimin walk backwards to your bedroom with your guide. Jimin doesn't wait to unbutton your shirt on your way, and the corners of her lips soon get pulled down by the lust exponentially charging up. You try to look calm but you’re no different–can’t help it in front of this amazing figure of Jimin, skin-to-skin just for you.

Entering the bedroom you push Jimin onto the bed. Her under lip experiences another intense bite as you lay her down and climb over her body, face to face just like a few minutes ago. With one hand supporting your weight, you take the other to her irresistible breasts and fondle them. Jimin hooks her arms and magnetizes your lips to hers for a delirious lip lock once again. Your hand slides down her torso to the button of her uniform skirt and undoes it then takes it off of her fatal legs and throws it to the floor.

“Next time you won’t wear these, okay?” It’s a demand but also a command, with your fingers on the wet spot on her panties. Her hands find themselves wandering on your toned chest, much in admiration. She nods quickly and unbuckles your pants.

“Needy,” Her hastiness makes you grin, and your words only make Jimin’s excitement grow.

“Yes. I am.” This is what makes you wanna accept the challenge; she’s talking things like that all too fresh, like you have to feel thankful for it. You take your pants off with your underwear to be fully naked. You help Jimin get rid of the annoying cloth being dampened by her pussy off her legs and throw it to the pile of clothes on the floor. With the anticipation for the next step Jimin’s breath paces up, running thin like her patience.

“You’re fucking big…” Jimin marvels at the way your cock tickles her belly button and her tummy. You slap her bare stomach a few times with your cock, spit on it and spread the slickness across with slow strokes.

“I said you’ll have to pay for it, Jimin,” You rub your cock on her wetness, gaining more lubrication, and slap your cock on her folds to see her reaction.

“Ah, please make me…Make me-OH FUCK…!” You push into the hilt with a swift thrust. The tightness draws a groan straight from your throat, and your right hand rises to her neck and chokes her hard again.

“You tell me who’s lucky. You think it’s still me?” Straight to the point that has been bothering you ever since it was spoken. You love to make things clear—dirty—who’s the one to stand and who’s the one to kneel. And if she ever intended to get under your skin, well, she pushed the wrong button.

Jimin’s eyes slam shut, unlike her agape mouth through which you can see her tongue has lost its way, dragged here and there by the hand of her senses, overthrown by what you’re doing. You keep thrusting in and out at such a pace, every time making sure your balls hit her ass, filling her tight hole up ecstatically with no vacancy.

“Hah, god…! It’s me, I’m the lucky one! I’m so fucking lucky to have your big cock inside me!”

“Good. See, your act doesn’t last a day.”

Her lips tremble, as if about to cry, as if all the fucking around was just a pretense and she actually has to be under you. She bites the lower one but can’t hold the shiver down. 

You move your hand from Jimin’s neck to her face, grabbing her cheeks in one grip. You bring her face close to yours, both shaking to the orgasmic rhythm but never losing eye contact. Then you slap her cheeks, out of nowhere, just enough for the sound to be pleasurable but not too painful. Jimin starts to drool when you do that several times more, with loud, long moans gradually turning into screams.

“Oh, fuck, yes…! FUCK YES…!” Done with the hitting, you push in your fingers to Jimin’s unsilent mouth to get a better hold of her body. A teardrop leaves her glossy eyes and rolls down to where her ear is. A perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, both of which makes you two forget about tomorrow.

“I’m cumming, Jesus! I-I… Fucking cummi-“ Jimin’s back viciously arches so upward that you almost slip out. Her arms don’t seem to settle for a while before they dig into your back to work as anchors, her body vulnerable in the midst of a destructive swirl of pleasure. But that’s none of your concern as you make the haze in her head threaten her consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” You wait for Jimin to come down but that’s so silly of you to do so; your ravageous ramming cock never lets her. All of a sudden you pull out, causing Jimin to shake immensely, and flip her on all fours. Her sex is glistening and the other hole is too, both of them slick with her juices and constricting irregularly.

When Jimin feels your cock rub on her pussy she collapses onto the mattress, only her ass up and her face down, exhausted on the bed, faced to the right. But whenever your cock teases her other hole Jimin shudders, toes curl and her fists try to tear your sheets at the sensation of her asshole getting stimulated.

“Agh, fuck…” You don’t warn Jimin when you insert the head of your cock inside her tight ass. This time even you can’t handle the pleasure of its tremendous tightness as you shut your eyes and groan loudly.

“Holy fuck, Jimin, this is so tight,” You tell her when you’re halfway in. Her body stays still, but her hands ball up and her toes curl until they all become pale. Every inch deeper inside her ass is the moment for you to admire the transcendental tightness you’ve never experienced from those other girls you have been through. Maybe you’re lucky too, to have found this perfect body with nothing to lament on.

“Oh, please, that’s deep! Fuck my ass deep just like-oh my fucking god!” Your reaction is quick—it’s more of a reflection though—doing more than what Jimin asked even before she finishes her words, beginning the mindless assfuck with such a carefree pace. You bring her powerless head up with your hand wrapped around her neck, tight, choking her again. The tighter you grip, the tighter her ass gets. You catch a glimpse of the crooked corner of her lips, which only fuels your inner engines to work even harder.

It’s just your thing; when you see a smile, you have to break it. You destroy it, and you sincerely cherish it when it’s gone.

As you reach your maximum speed Jimin’s distorted smile subsides and an even more euphoric look spreads. Mouth open wide, drooling down her chin and onto your hand on her throat, eyes open but white. As if she muted herself, Jimin doesn’t even breathe—not only because of your grip, but also the orgasm building up as fast as how you ram her ass. You grin at the sight of Jimin drowning in the sensations her own nerves convey; you create. It kills you how small her body is, when you can witness a simple—yet ruthless—piston to her crotch can dye her whole skin red, travel electrically to everywhere in no time, shrinking every minimal muscle. You release her, she falls down limp on the bed and screams at the anal orgasm hitting her, threatening her consciousness.

“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…!” You’re nowhere far from your own end, either. Your breath shallows down at the crazy tightness of Jimin’s orgasming ass. 

“Jimin, I’m cumming…!” You do. You reach as deep inside her anal cavern as you can and unload your cum, mind blowing pleasure coursing through every corner of your body. You shoot, and shoot, and shoot. Jimin clenches her hole for your cum to be deposited inside her with a lazy hum, in harmony with your groan seeping out of your gritted teeth.

It takes a few minutes for your breaths to find the normal speed. “No one’s fucked my ass this amazing,”

It surely was enough to bring amazement, undoubtedly the best you’ve had so far. You sit up and rearrange her hair for her.

“Did I pay for it?“ Jimin’s already got that bright smile back, and after such an extreme sex your barriers collapse in front of her, as you smile back at her.

“Very much.”

“Can you get my phone? It’s in my skirt.” You head to the pile of discarded clothes and do it for Jimin, who’s sitting on the bed with her head resting on the headboard. You toss it on the bed.

Jimin looks into her phone right away, scrolls down mindlessly and looks at you, who’s naked and standing next to the bed.

“Take a shower first, baby.”

Baby, she said.

Your eyes dart to hers immediately. Your face stays placid but you know Jimin knows you’re not at all used to it. You never really allow any strings attached with the ones you fuck; it’s a rather body-to-body entanglement than something emotional. But you’re surprised at how that word fits comfortably between you two. There’s something different. You look back at Jimin but her attention is taken by her phone already, again like a hit-and-run truck, but not completely as you can see her smirk the way you love. So you just enter the bathroom. 

In the shower you review the past 30 minutes—you had sex with the girl Yoo Jimin: nothing special. But not just that; Jimin has by far the best body of all the other girls you’ve experienced. You can tell you really enjoyed it today. You can tell she’s worthy of continuing the relationship. You like the way Jimin turns from a bubbly, sassy girl in school to a begging, screaming mess in bed under you. And the way she calls you baby—it dulls all your edges like a cup of boiling water would do to an ice cube. Just like the hot water pouring on your head.

You come out of the shower and see Jimin smoking on your bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed, elbow on her thigh, still aesthetically naked. She looks gorgeous like that. You walk to her, take the cigarette from her hand to your mouth. Then push her down on the bed, breathe the smoke in deep and throw the shortened cigarette away to the bin next to bed, breathe out, and share a smoky kiss.

A few moments later your rod pokes at her belly and Jimin parts away with a giggle.

“Fuck, I really have to clean my body.” You bring her off the bed with you. “Shut up and get down here,” With a smirk she does, and as soon as she adjusts her legs and position you shove your cock in her mouth. A gag earned.

But after that Jimin takes your big cock pretty well, without gagging or looking uncomfortable, even when her nose crashes on your crotch; you’ve found yourself a perfect girl, indeed.

“Nice.” Her teary eyes never leave yours throughout the session as you pace up for a brief finish. Adjusting to the speed of your cock moving entirely in and out, Jimin’s hands go up to the back of your thighs for firmer grip.

Jimin’s drool tickles down your balls and forms a small puddle on the floor. With the filthiest slurping sound Jimin bobs her head at the beat of your cock sliding through. Whenever her delicate tongue presses onto the underside of your cock you throb inside her mouth, making her head slightly move simultaneously.

Jimin’s tears meet the drool on her chin, and with a sound of her voice from her throat Jimin taps your thighs for you to pull out. You take your cock out of her mouth and slap it on her fucked face a few times, painting her face with her own saliva, to her liking.

“Finish it.”

Put the shower aside, and you shower Jimin with your lust deep into her throat. You feel your legs not far from giving in, but thankfully your cock is just the same, due to what Jimin is doing under you.

“Jimin, I’m-I’m close.”

Jimin starts to fondle your balls and that certainly helps you cross the line. In no time you fill her throat up white, and the room with your satisfied groan.

You look straight into Jimin’s eyes when you cum, and it’s astonishingly reciprocated when she gulps down your load quickly, professionally. As soon as you are done pouring into Jimin she stands up, showing you her clean tongue with a tilt of her head, and heads to the bathroom. You, left alone, giggle quietly and sprawl on the bed after putting on underwear. 

******

“Text me at lunch break. You know where to meet me.” You just nod at Jimin, who’s in one of your T-shirts that is just a little bit big for her; loss of all the buttons on her uniform comes at a cost. An inner beam blooms under your face when you find her just too perfect in that outfit of school skirt with your T-shirt tucked under it. Those unhidden bra lines count as one of many reasons for you to stare at her, take her in your arms right now and-

“Not now, perv.” Her smirk lets yours surface up to reciprocate hers. You stand up from the bed, approach her and walk her backwards to the wall. Jimin has been playful and relaxed with you and you like it. But when you—just like right now—detect submission in her eyes: you love it. You don’t stop your hand from rising up for her neck and have a good grip around it. You don’t stop the other from being pulled away to her gracious tits and squeezing them.

“Not now?” And there are those big eyes begging for you to go further, that bitten lower lip asking for any contact, as if the one who just quipped ‘not now’ choked out. Always hits you differently when she just switches from a brat to a subby mess out of control.

Contradiction is the most normal of things when you have a tight grip over Jimin. Her reddening face gradually forms a thin smirk when your lips close in to hers. Her eyes close, lips part for a mind-numbing kiss—

“Not now.” You make a sudden pull back and release Jimin from your grip. She stumbles and almost collapses on the floor so you hold her in your arms. For the same purpose and then some, her arms rest on your shoulders and pull you in, only to be denied by your hand pushing her chest off of you, leaving Jimin just keeping a hungry gaze at your lips and whimpering “Please.”

You finish tying the necktie, bring your thumb up to her lips. As it sweeps over them Jimin lets her tongue coat your thumb with her saliva which could’ve blended perfectly with yours.

“To the spot at lunch break, Jimin. And ah,” You stand down and pull her panties down in one sway and she helps herself out of them by lifting her legs respectively. You toss it on the bed and rise up again, for your collarbone to match her height, for her to look up at you again.

“You don’t wear the same panties for two days straight, do you?” Jimin just nods quickly and tries to crush her lips on yours yet again. Seems like she wouldn’t care even if you made her go to school all nude, if she could just mix her tongue with yours right now. Her efforts to make you kiss her is visible to you; eyes so seductive yet not able to take themselves off of their foremost target, lips slightly open for her tongue to peek outside. Seeing that you just step back and prepare to leave for school with an unseen smirk.

“Let’s go.”

******

As anticipated, needy and untidy Yoo Jimin sends you a dozen pictures of her bare crotch under her skirt, saying ‘Want your fingers inside’, ‘Can’t wait for the lunch break.’ Those are to be left on read.

Morning classes fly by as the bell rings to announce the lunch break. The class rushes out for lunch, has a race among them with some of them even running like they have something to win. And amongst that crowd you head to the spot, to Yoo Jimin.

She’s there already waiting for you when you turn the last corner. Legs crossed, back on the brick wall and a half-spent cigarette between her lips, looking so delinquent there with that insanely short skirt and in the shirt you gave. She notices you, has a reet smile on her and throws the cigarette on the ground, and watches you approach her standing still. No immaterial words or acts are needed when you can just kiss those lips like they’re yours. The remnant of the cigarette a fume that makes you dive deeper into this trance her tongue and yours are building, you spontaneously get rid of her skirt and are met with the wet skin under it.

Your fingers taste her crotch, slowly rubbing around and poised for any further indulgence. Her hands are, on the other hand, hectic with your buttons and when they’re done they swiftly go down to your belt. Your pants drop to your ankles in no time with your underwear, and with your erect cock emancipated, Jimin detaches from the kiss and spits on your cock and spreads it.

It all happens so fast that you are still enraptured by the kiss and her tits in your palms, leaving so many treats unfelt to your body. The next second you are inside her, making it even headier for you to follow up.

“Fuck, I needed this.” Jimin grits. With no clue of downshifting she takes the shirt off, her bra to follow suit, and hooks her arms around your neck to stand the frantic sex she wants from you. And that happens right away, as your instinct drops the hammer for you to automatically thrust into her even before you find yourself moaning at the sensation of her inside.

You keep your eyes closed while wrecking her pussy despite the eye candy that is Yoo Jimin during sex, and suddenly you notice her teeth on your shoulder. It’s a pain that can make you grin, that can make you savor the feeling, even it gets even stronger, because now you know that when she bites, she cums. Her legs give in, and you know it by the weight of her arms around your neck. Her walls clench harshly and there’s a stream of her juice down your legs when she cums. Yoo Jimin is so tactile, and when she cums her whole body does, for yours to recognize, you don’t even have to hearken to know it. The auditory input hits your brain the last, the pearly, shaky yelp of the orgasming needy girl adds up to all the stimuli you are taking.

When she comes down you slow down, lazily reaching her cervix as she hums at it every time.

“Kiss me, baby.” You do. It’s saccharine to your tongue. Her tongue distraughtly moves around inside your mouth, some of the drool leaking onto her tits to make it even more impeccable. The gustation mesmerizes you into a rabid sex, this time for yourself to get off. No subduing, only upshifts lead the way as you turn her around, put it back in and lavish thrusts into her sex.

“Shit. Jimin, you’re so fucking perfect.” You’re not saying this again because she might not have heard it; you are repeating it like a low-functioning machine because you’re afraid you haven’t said it enough. And she can condone it—of course she can, it’s a compliment anyway—because she knows it already, because the feeling’s mutual. You say it several more times on the back of her neck, almost making it a tattoo, carving it in intaglio. Still deranged, Jimin is just screaming with her back arching to the sky and carotically facing the brick wall with her left cheek. The right side of her face is rosed up, and her eye has a glimpse of you, your wry face and the sweat-coated torso and shuts and she cums just like that. 

Her breaths are shallow, irregular, a gusty fluid squelches out of her pussy and the scene of her orgasm is intimidating your endurance, easily sending you to an orgasmic stupor and making you spurt out inside her with a gritted groan. 

“Jimin, I… God, fuck…!” To your overstimulated cock Jimin has her shrewd tongue on it, sealed with her lips. Makes your legs wobble, unmercifully agitating your mind with frenzy, but just until she clears your shaft up clean from the tabloid juices all over it.

“I loved it. Maybe we should make it daily.” Jimin rises up, with her skirt and your shirt in her hands and still breathing somewhat heavily. And the desecrated smile on her face is the coercion for you to wear one too, a copacetic one. Shirt on, a smoking cigarette between your fingers, you insinuate to her.

“Your panties are still on my bed, you know.” And she’s shrewd with it—has been from the very beginning—and purrs. “Mhmm, I’m going to go fetch it after school with you.”

Of course, is what your nods that follows says, and there’s my girl, says your zest-filled grin, looking at her back that walks out of the corner. It’s always that intrinsic sass you could simply, so simply kill for. Maybe a challenge for you, maybe a finesse for you to be benumbly trapped into. It’s your choice, and from some point on the latter looks dazzling to you; maybe you’re a person who just dyes so well, to a derogated girl who seemed to have taken everything you’ve given but turns out she just put you in the phantasma of her own stardust without you realizing it—you’ve lost it in her, somehow. And that’s bizarre: and you love it.

******

You’re standing at the bus stop, hands in your pocket and looking around to find your girl. When you do, you’re so surprised at how Jimin so stands out among all the crowd while doing nothing but just walk. Even from miles out you’re sure you’ll spot her in a second. The belle of the crowd, wherever she is. She’s not the tallest but still piques herself on her to-die-for aura like she blurs everyone out. As if she sensed the scrutiny, Jimin looks up from her phone, looks around and soon finds you looking at her. You hate to be seen so infatuated like this but you can’t help it, as your eyes meet hers and your face brightens up, half from seeing her and half at yourself caught like that.

“That happy to see me?” You don’t answer, just bring your hands to her crotch and check there’s no underwear blocking your way. A flick over her uncovered pussy earns you a shocked look.

“This is not your bedroom!” Jimin shouts in whisper, but not with caution, but an intrigued grin with eyes darting around the crowd waiting for the bus.

“Are you telling me to stop?” You take your fingers to her mouth, her tongue welcoming the taste of horniness coated all over your fingers. “I’m telling you not to stop.”

So your hand returns to her pussy. You’re rubbing, tapping on and hooking your fingers in, Jimin bites on her own fingers not to relinquish her scream. You hold her trembling body as steady as possible but you know that it’ll be absolutely normal if the people around you realize that you two are having a little fun explicitly in public. Everyone’s looking at you and Jimin in front of you, facing the same way as you and receiving that dirty fingering amongst so many audiences.

In a few minutes the bus is here, to show you only one vacant seat left. You take the seat and Jimin sits on your lap, facing backwards and hugging your neck. You resume the unholy yet entertaining fingering to the pretty moaning girl on your lap.

And you return to who you really are: you’re a gentleman yourself, with etiquette, with common decency, to pull Jimin’s head down on your shoulder to muffle her nasty sound on it. You know even the driver is looking at you through the mirror, but that’s because of her, not you; again, you’re making no noise, and Jimin in your embrace is the culprit of all the squeaky, watery, moaning noise, not you. 

“Quiet, Jimin.” Now her teeth dig into your skin, synchronizing with your fingers indulging into her wet, tight hole. You know what you’re doing won’t shut her up. You’re just saying it, a formality. Inside your mind you want her to moan loudly, at the same time want to see her struggle keeping it quiet. So you yank her hair back to watch her distorted face, observe every tiny wriggle of her expression.

“Ah…!” Look into her eyes as if wanting to pierce through them. Jimin looks at you too, flooding with lust, drowning in her own sensations of sex and embarrassment of being exposed in such a public situation. “I’m almost there.” It’s a plain text but she’s begging there. She says she’s almost there but she’s already there, as it seems.

“Yeah, we’re almost there.” A bump on the road makes your fingers hit her spot, makes her back arc, makes her almost, almost lose it right there. You pull out your fingers from her hot cavern to the relatively cool air of the bus. Her liquid feels fresh out in the air but that feeling is soon lost, by her tongue wrapping them up and sucking it clean—suckling it dirty.

The bus stops right then for only you and Jimin to get off. It’s much quieter than inside the bus, partially due to you not fingerfucking her anymore. In no time you’re at the door of your house, unlock it, swing open and it slams shut. Simultaneously Jimin hops on you and dive into your mouth with hers. You stumble through to your bedroom, toss her on the bed, swiftly undo your belt and pants with your boxers, let your already hard dick spring out but don't let it feel the air as it vanishes into Jimin’s waiting pussy right away.

No one speaks a word. No one can, to be fair. You two are merely inches away from dying, too impatient to wait another second. And there you let Jimin approach death a bit closer by holding her neck around, a perfect necklace for her, and straining your hand. Jimin’s mouth is open, difficulty in breathing so visible, face reddening but there’s still her hunger in it; she grins. Her smile is so cruel, violent, so evil yet joyful, as if she’s the victimizer and you’re the victim.

“Please, baby… Kill me. Fucking choke me to death, please, choke me and kill me-fuck!” You make her scream when you slap her tits, as if you were angry at her, but you’re the opposite—you love her so much that you just want to abuse her, to her liking, just like right now. All her sensations seem to evaporate as her eyes roll back and her hands drop to her sides spiritlessly: or, airlessly. You let her go, not wanting to actually kill her.

With a giant inhale Jimin returns from the border of unconsciousness. Her hands travel from her own tits, your hands, and soon back to the sheets, still wandering in need for anything to release the tension. So you pin down her wrists and pace up your thrusts.

“Fuck, Jimin. Don’t tempt me. You make me really want to fuck you dead.” You’re saying it right on her face, which enables her to feel that you mean it. There she tries to kiss your lips, but you pull back with agility, instead covering her mouth and nose with your palm, again suffocating her to your liking, to your loving, to your abnormal, psychopathic obsession.

“I want to see you struggle for life. I want to see you beg for life. You’ll look so perfect like that.” Jimin screams into your hand, covers it with her saliva and tears. You close in with your other hand groping her tit and your cock hitting everywhere inside her squeezing cunt. Jimin’s eyes widen as her orgasm fades in, muffling “I’m cumming!” Several times on your palm before peaking like never before. Her orgasm never gives her the time to even shut her eyes as they roll into her head. Her scream penetrates your hand over her mouth as it departs on your ears so deliciously.

That’s what psychopaths do, isn’t it? To experience the catharsis washing over your spine and get off with how a person screams, all helpless, with tears, shallow breaths as if soon going to die, or at least pass out. Maybe it’s that she’s making it clear about who you are. Would be a pleasure to embrace it.

And it’s your turn now. You pull out, escaping Jimin’s spent pussy with quite an amount of her squirt, leaving her all trembling and arching. There’s a layer of sweat all over her body and it makes it look like a scene from any pornography. Jimin doesn’t move a bit-only her chest is heavily healing up and down, even after you flip her upside down.

You tease her asshole with your middle finger and when she senses it enter she helps you by spreading her cheeks for deeper insertion. No resistance in and out of her ass. Every curl inside her ass makes Jimin squeeze her own cheeks as a response with a powerless moan. “Mmm, fuck me please… I’m not done yet.” Of course. You grin and prepare your cock for the second entrance as you pull Jimin up on all fours. Her arms give up when you rub your glistening cock on her pussy lips. And her reason gives up when you penetrate her rear hole.

“Ahh-fuck yes!”

“Holy fuck. This is so tight.” Her tightness erases your patience to savor it slowly. You start ruining her ass with the intention of actually destroying it. Jimin frowns, loud moan seeping through the bitten lip, hands curling into fists but arms all powerless on her sides.

“It’s so good, it’s so fucking good…! Don’t stop it baby. Make me cum like a fucking whore…!” Her voice can’t even get louder when her words just melt on the mattress just like her. Her words turn to nothings, eyes squeeze shut, concentrating all her senses to where she’s getting fucked. You feel your eyelids become heavier every single thrust, but the visual pleasure is just too good to give up watching it-her ass up for you to fuck it senseless, narrow waist contrasting her wide hips so aesthetically. The cherry on top is the expressions on her gorgeous face which you can’t quite read. Just like when all colors mixed makes pitch-black, her facial wrinkles and twitches are the perfect mixture of all pleasure, ecstasy that you can’t tell what she’s feeling at this moment.

“Nngh!” Actually, you can. Jimin is orgasming so hard, clear—dirty—liquid pumping out of her empty pussy to flood the mattress. Her ass squeezes your cock too hard for you to move in and out as fast as before without blasting every drop in her climaxing ass hole.

So you park it deep in her contracting hole, stay there, and shut Jimin’s moaning mouth with yours. She doesn’t care—or she doesn't acknowledge—and keeps screaming for her life even after her peak has washed over. A few dozen seconds pass, she calms down to at least breathe regularly when you stand your torso up to resume the session.

“You… You have to cum…” As if she even cares for you instead of her own pleasure. You know she just wants more overwhelming orgasm only you can deliver, and you are no different. There’s something about this body, these tits, the voice, this face, this pussy, this ass; there really is something about Yoo Jimin. Without your knowledge you are humping her like a villain, mad, but with a grin that’s so dangerous that Jimin mirrors. Your hand already made itself home around her neck, a red mark of it pressing hard inevitable, tears rolling down along her side face.

“I’m going to fill you up, Jimin.” And with a sharp inhale you begin wrecking her inside. A gut-rearranging pounding is what her perfect ass deserves and she can’t even open her eyes properly-either one stays closed against her will, rolling up to see that there’s nothing inside her head.

“Fuck! Please, please, please, please… Gah, I’m- Again…!” How impatient. There’s not even a point for you to call a flaw. Immoral, impatient, vulgar, dirty… She’s all too perfect. And you’re sure that’s why you cum so hard, like never before.

A nasty pair of voices fill each other’s brain as you two cum. You lower your body, forehead on hers and eyes on hers, looking through those teary orbs as you feel yourself bursting out gregariously. No words but loud pants bridge your sensations to each other, and until the last spurt you don’t even blink in order to see Jimin go through her own orgasm.

That’s it; it’s been your undesirable sadistic desire that kept you on fire, and when you have saturated it it flips out of your head, making it empty—there hasn’t been anything other than that. When you’re done completely you let Jimin go from your glare, sit on the edge next to her gasping body. Your urge is swept off so cleanly, and you can see how dirty it was by the mess on your bed.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but looking up at the ceiling, not Jimin. You don’t turn your head but can already sense her looking at you. “You’re just so perfect.” Selfishly she doesn’t answer. And you hear the smirk in her words. You make one on your face too, hearing that, stand up, face her and find Jimin overloading your vision with how she gorgeously lies down there, making even all the nasty things complement her perfection.

“I’ll shower. Just don’t fall asleep on the bed. It’s dirty.” You tell Jimin, all helpless and powerless on the bed and panting like she just had the best sex in her life. The lustful girl who was begging for you to kill her is nowhere to be found; instead there’s a weak, short of breath, vulnerable and lithe angelic devil with your cum gushing out of her ass. As if a few more touches and she’d actually evaporate.

In the shower you barely feel the water on your body, so distracted by your own thoughts—your own thoughts but in the grabs of Yu Jimin. The exact same as yesterday, you are showering yourself with your shocked, strange feelings in the shower after sex that simply blew your mind.

It's just that she's too good. Too good to call it a hook-up, too good to make it only an occasional sex. The way she craves your cock, the way she begs for your violence, the way she’s so desperate for extreme orgasms under your hold. It’s the first time for you to smile just by thinking of a girl, especially when you’re such a harsh and rough type of a person even you’d admit. She’d let you hit her. She’d let you choke her, let you fuck her, destroy her—let you love her.

Then the door opens, a small, pale figure of female comes in, walks slowly through the mist of the hot water. Jimin stops in front of you, legs barely holding there, face buried on your chest and her arms locked around your neck to support her lithe body but they barely do. You move a little backward to let her more of the hot water.

As if all the water got into your veins, you feel your heart burn. Just look at her—legs all wobbly, barely standing, too exhausted to even look up at you, her hands at the back of your neck irregularly stroking the back of your head as if signaling she’s at least perceiving things properly. You put a hand on her back and spread the water on it, and that’s when she lifts her head and meets your eyes. 

Weak and lethargic like a candlelight in front of a tsunami, Jimin is barely standing there with low moans whenever her legs wobble and give up. Her arms tighten around your neck as one of yours hug her back so that she doesn’t collapse. Her face is right beneath yours, tilted up to face yours. Those eyes can’t avoid looking at your lips, which is just what you’re doing to her unashamedly.

Your hand climbs up to the back of her head. Regardless of that you and Jimin are exchanging such a strong yet soft, intense yet loving eyelock. It is an atypically genial moment and if you look back at this moment you might throttle yourself. She should know it by now, from the visible, audible changes on you. 

(Maybe you were afraid. Or beyond that. Love was what your fears were afraid of. Doesn’t quite make sense to say that you have fears, but anyways, you didn’t want, nor expect a couple nights to escalate to an actual romance.)

Minutes pass, and pass, and—and pause, when you pull her a bit into your arms and make a soundless, yet seismic kiss. Lips lock. Two pairs of lips open and a pair of tongues make contact, hug each other just like you two. Her hands snake into your hair, your head in her hands and deeper into the kiss. You two have even forgotten to breathe as the liplock continues for what feels like a lifetime, to complete the kiss of your life. When you try to pull back Jimin lunges a bit forward not to break the kiss, and you let your system suffocate a few dozen seconds more. 

“You’re so beautiful, Yu Jimin.” You finally tell her this. Not the literal confession of love but she gets it with the bewitching smile she always wears like nothing. Never been in love, you feel like you’re sent back to childhood, pure and intact, but that feeling is shattered into pieces when her hand finds your hardened cock poking at her belly.“Is that why you’re so hard, baby?” This time, the word ‘baby’ sounds so right with a lip bite of your lover and with a lust-filled grin on you. Her thumb slides on the underside of the tip, almost making you stumble back.

“Yes. Just like you’re always horny because of me.”  With a smirk you turn her around, bend her over so that her hands are on the wall, and put your cock in in one stroke. Jimin helplessly loses all the strength in her legs and falls but you're prudential enough not to let her. It's to the point where she's just hanging from your arms when you kindle the movement. Her skin looks even more satin with the water so you collar her and go on. You can't stop when the biggest impetus is jonesing for it. No choice but to harden the grip on her throat.

Jimin is flaccid on the wall, fingers fumbling on and desperately digging themselves on it with her head facing down. You are never going to unbind her until she falls into a stupor. “Baby I… I fucking love it so deep…! Use me just like that…” She can't let it out loud and soon loses all voice, raises her head, brings yours right beside hers and kisses you. And a feeling that this is the requital for your disclosure makes it compulsory to reciprocate it poignantly. Her hand guides one of yours to her tits, pushes it hard on it to make you squeeze them and soon the convulsions agitate through her body. Her orgasmic screams reverberate through your throat, which is also moaning out of the pleasure congesting your mind. 

When the kiss breaks her yelps stifle the smacking and squelching. You have no idea if it’s your heartiness or just overstimulation from before the shower, but her voice sounds so giddy she might just hit the floor all limp. The burgeoning pleasure conglomerates into a derogated vertigo, the unbearable sensations stack up in your spines and Jimin’s wringing walls really doesn’t help you push it down. Her eyes tell you—because her mouth can’t right now—she’s only a couple thrusts away from coming undone, tantamount to what’s threatening to blow your mind, break down your nerves.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming…!” A tautology that is so understandable. You help her, add to the pleasure by choking her. Her moans permeate to your hand through her throat and the foul secretion of her orgasm flows down her legs with the water pelting down on your bodies. Jimin fumbles on the wall with her fingers, too herring-gutted to digest the deray.

“Jimin. Yu Jimin. I’m coming too-fuck…!” When Jimin hears her name she hums, and when she feels the warmth coat her walls she buckles, arches her back to beckon your lips and jockeys her tongue between them. In less than a minute however she pulls back, due to lack of air, because of your chokehold, and pants in your face, with a pejorative smile, but no sign of mannerism—you all know, that smile that follows after an exquisite sex—her sheer feelings carved in it, and you willingly mirror it as a beck of mutuality.

******

A rather huge thing is settled. Sitting on the edge of the bed together, with a cigarette between your fingers for each, you recount your history: the reason you moved, your personality, your sex life being like this. All of them, however, converge to her, Yu Jimin, weirdly enough for you who just can’t concede any feelings involved, which sounds like a monolithic psychopath which actually might be who you are.

Well, a little bit of romance couldn’t kill, could it? You think, lying next to Jimin and slowly closing your eyes to fall-

“You haven’t said it yet.”

“Say what?”

“You only said I’m beautiful.”

“And?”

“I know there’s something more. You know there’s something more.”

There you fail to hold out the chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re-“

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be shy about it,”

Jimin mischievously giggles. You know you can’t just laugh it off, and you won’t. That intricate feeling that tickles, but is not transient.

With a somnolent voice, you placidly say, like a tagline of a tragedy—or a comedy.

“Love you, Jimin.”

Her grin infiltrates her words hearing it.

“That’s it, my boy. Love you too.”

******

[princessbrunette]

being the spoiled, ex prom queen, cheerleader, kook princess — who also happens to be rafe cameron’s toxic ex girlfriend.

you had to give credit where it was due. since you’d dumped rafe, he’d stepped his game up. you didn’t know how he did it, where he got all the money and the alleged gold, but you had to say, you were impressed. you knew he hoped you’d be watching his moves, knew it was most likely to impress you. turning up to one of his infamous tanny hill parties alone was a weak moment on your end, but you’d be damned if you were going to let him know that.

heads turn when you enter, not just because you were the infamous ex girlfriend, but because you looked good— and you wouldn’t have it any other way, stepping through the crowd confidently holding back a giggle at the sight of rafe boredly talking to a girl who looked like she’d taken a dip into your wardrobe. cute.

as soon as he sees you, he’s doing a double take — quickly pointing her in the direction of his friend and all but shooing her away, attempting to seem nonchalant all at the same time. you take your cue, walking over to him already holding an air of mischief, given away by the impish smile you wear.

“can i help you with something?” he drawls, but he can’t help the way the corner of his lips turn upward, or the way his eyes rake over your little outfit.

“mm, i don’t know. thought i’d swing by for old times sake, see what you were up to.” you sigh, eyes dragging down to his button up shirt, your hand reaching out to fiddle with a button. “this is cute.” you add on quietly.

“you think i don’t know that face? you want something so… out with it, please.” he blinks at you, going to remove your hand from him but he holds onto it.

“i can’t just say hi?” you bat your eyelashes with obvious faux innocence, tilting your head. “came here ‘cos i’m bored. play with me.” you step closer, not removing your doe eyes from him for a second as you invade his space. he sucks in a breath of self restraint, shifting on his feet.

“play with— that what you’re doin’ now? finally settin’ that pride aside for some dick, do i have that correct? you—you know i heard you were fucking on that maybank kid. so what… he not doin’ it for you? hm?” he stares down at you, eyes hanging low at the lust he was holding back.

“where’d you hear that? you keeping tabs on me rafey? that’s sweet.” you pur, smoothing his linen shirt down with your hands, manicured nails scratching him lightly through the fabric.

“people talk, alright?” he breaks his gaze, mainly to look around to see if any of his friends were watching him act like a total pussy whipped bitch over his ex.

“hmm. thought it was above you to listen to rumours. anyway, who said i want anything for myself? maybe i miss doing other things.” you defend, voice soft and velvety as a feather. to sell your point, your stand on your tiptoes, pulling him in closer to speak quietly into his ear. your glossed lips graze his jaw as you speak, leaving your pink mark on him. “c’mon daddy, just let me suck it a little. don’t you miss it?” you all but moan, and he licks his lips before his eyes flutter in irritated self control, nostrils flaring.

“you know it’s — it’s not fair to play with me like that. just… toying around with me when you’re bored. it’s sick, okay? you understand that?” he complains, pants tightening involuntarily.

you giggle, reaching behind him to the drinks table and plucking out a straw before dropping it into his drink and taking it out his hand, sucking the harsh liquid through the straw for a moment, “fine… you really want me to go… i’ll go.” you spin on your heel, taking one smug step before he winces at his own decisions, looking around and following you closely.

“shit, wait— okay?” he blurts and you freeze, slowly spinning back to him with a smile. he stares at you for a beat, lips parted in thought before he speaks. “are you… actually fucking jj maybank?”

you stare, thinking up a response before you look around. “does it matter? where’s your little girlfriend anyway?” there’s some victory for him, because he can hear the bitterness in your tone. he takes another step forward, lips pursed.

“shes not my girlfriend, a’ight? and — and yes it matters. okay? shit, seems like you’re keeping tabs on me. you know if you miss me you can just use your damn words.”

“miss you? my friend said she saw you sitting in your car alone blasting bryson tiller. you miss me.” you bite back a laugh and he closes the space between you until there was barely a gap between your bodies, the oldest cameron looming over you.

“gonna deny it, huh? saying… you don’t miss me?” he challenges and you widen your eyes up at him, switching the innocent act on once more.

“miss you? but you were so mean? how could i miss that? i do however, miss this.” your hand snakes down his stomach and cups his alarmingly hard bulge through his pants making him tense up, looking around before smacking your hand away.

“chill — yeah? we’re in public, i don’t know if you realised.”

“so let’s go somewhere more private.” you propose, staring him down. he knows if he does, it’ll only be you that gets what you want — but he can’t resist, pressing his lips together with a nod.

“fine, okay. shit… such a little brat, ‘know that?”

“mhm, you love it.” you grin, letting him lead you through the house to the bedroom upstairs.

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[roanniom]

mechanic eddie is so hot that id break my car on purpose to see him

The Tune-Up

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex / PIV sex / semi-public sex, dry humping, really shitty and poorly research car mechanic details

So maybe you intentionally bought a clunker when your last car finally bit the dust. Maybe you found a perpetual lemon of a car that you positively knew would conk out on you every other week meaning you just happen to need to take it to the shop all the time. The shop with the hot mechanic who always has his greased up coveralls pulled down and tied around his waist, revealing the tattoos and muscle and sinew that you could look at for hours on end.

So what?

It's the fourth time this month that you have had to roll your hunk of junk into his garage, and you check your make up in the rear view mirror before hopping out, arranging your hand casually on your hip as you see him walking up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Eddieeeee. It's making that clanking sound again," you call out in a sing-song voice. Eddie gives you a lopsided grin and sweeps his messy curls up into a ponytail, giving you the perfect view of his stretching pecs beneath his thin tank top.

"You know you don't have to keep abusing that poor car just to see me. You can just ask me out, sweetheart."

Your heartbeat leaps into your throat and your jaw trembles.

"I...that's...I..."

"I'm just messin' with you!" Eddie chuckles at your sudden speechlessness and grabs a wrench, kicking the creeper in front of him and flopping down on it to roll under your car on his back.

The moment he disappears you bite your lip to contain a groan. The man is just so fucking fine. You tilt your head to take in the flexing of his thighs - his lower half the only thing visible right now - under the material of his coveralls. Your appreciation is cut short, however, when he rolls out only a moment after.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky grin, rolling back out from under your car but remaining on his back on the roller.

You look away abruptly at being caught.

“You know my car really does just suck and break and stuff,” you argue lamely in answer to his earlier question. Eddie barks out a laugh and rests his arms behind his head so he can relax there while staying reclined and looking up at you. It gives him a perfect vantage point up your skirt, but he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

“How do you know I don’t keep rigging it to break myself so you have to keep coming back here?” Eddie says in a lilting tease. Your gaze snaps back to him and he raises his eyebrows in a challenge. You feel your entire body come alive at the implication of his statement but try to calm your heart beat by remembering that he's always this flirty.

"Oh yeah? Angling for more chocolate chip cookies there, Munson?" you ask, referring to the fact that you'd brought him cookies as an additional tip during the last few tune ups. Eddie licks his lips and looks you up and down slowly in a way that has your stomach flipping. It's almost like he's considering something. His smile is large when it seems like he's made his decision.

"Angling for a kiss is more like it."

Blood rushes to your ears. If he said anything else, you wouldn't be able to hear it because suddenly you're feeling like you're going to pass out and your vision narrows to the point that he's the only thing you can see.

It's late in the day on a Friday and Eddie's the only one in the shop for closing. You know that. It's why you come on those days in particular, to ensure you get him all on your own. The garage door is open to an empty street that's far enough off the beaten path that you don't think any passersby will be ambling around anytime soon.

So you drop your bag, inhale sharply to hold your breath, and step forward so that you stand with your feet planted on either side of his stretched out legs. Eddie's smile widens with surprise that you've actually taken the bait, but his eyes widen even more when you drop down to straddle his lap.

He'd expected you, at most, to kneel down beside him and playfully peck his cheek. Worst case scenario you'd tell him off for his cheekiness.

But here you are, skirt fanned out around to obscure the fact that you are now pelvis to pelvis. You drop your hands to his chest, fisting fingers in his dirty tank top over the knot of his coverall arms tied at his waist.

"Do you want payment before services or after?" you ask, voice surprisingly steady in spite of the rush of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Eddie looks dumbfounded for only a split second before the cocky attitude is back. His hands find your thighs and grip you, holding you down against the most intimate part of him.

"How 'bout a down payment to start with?" he asks, sliding his hands up your hips and to your waist, most likely leaving the material smudged with grease. You don't care at all, of course. He could cover your whole body in grease if it meant you got to feel his hands on you everywhere.

So you lean down and bring your lips to his. Your initial intent is a quick peck. But after your mouths meet, Eddie's lips part to let out a sinful moan and suddenly one of his hands is cupping the back of your neck to keep you down on top of him. The peck becomes a kiss, and even that morphs into something a lot more dirty and a lot less dignified.

Not that there's anything dignified about straddling your mechanic in the first place.

"Wow. I never want another fucking chocolate chip cookie ever again," Eddie grunts against your neck once he's pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. You giggle but it turns into a moan as he proceeds to immediately suck a hickie into the skin of your throat.

"I'm glad this form of payment works - ah! Works for you!" you say breathlessly as he moves his lips up to drag and suck at the spot behind your ear. His hands grip your waist so tightly that you feel yourself sinking against him as snug as you can get, the pulse between your legs becoming more and more insistent.

"I'm sorry, but your cash is no longer any good here, baby," Eddie rumbles into your skin and all the laughter stops because in that moment you feel the heat emanating from yourself and from him and that is the exact second that you feel his hardness nudging against you.

You pull back to make eye contact, find him glassy eyed and kiss bitten and rumpled staring back up at you.

"Well I guess we can get that figured out when you finish the job," you whisper, experimentally swirling your hips. Eddie's feet plant more firmly on the floor to keep the motion from pushing the roller, and his now bent thighs create a slope that causes you to slide further down and into his crotch. You both groan collectively at the increased contact.

"I already finished actually. So we can discuss payment now," Eddie says, leaning up and capturing your lips again. You pull back a second later, however, when his words finally register.

"What do you mean you already finished?"

"I just had to tighten a bolt," Eddie says with a grin, lifting up the wrench he had abandoned at his side the moment you'd dropped down on him. Your eyes narrow and your heart skips a beat at the implication.

"How did you know that's all that needed to be done?"

Eddie's grin becomes sheepish, as you anticipated. He drops the wrench back on the ground and rubs the back of his neck.

"I might have....uh....left it a little loose after your last visit. Just to make sure you'd....you know. Brighten this shop up again soon."

You try your best to hide the massive smile threatening to burst out on your face. But you make sure to ask the first question on your mind.

"My car couldn't have, like, fallen apart on the highway or anything with that bolt loose could - ,"

"Oh fuck no!" Eddie cuts you off, gripping at your waist suddenly with how fervent he is in his need to assure you. "I would never have let you drive it if it was dangerous." He averts his eyes before looking back at you with humor sparkling in them. "Now did I want it to make a harmless loud noise so suspicious you had to come back in? Yes."

"Shame on you," you cry out without any malice behind the words at all. In fact, you're laughing and leaning down to kiss him again. Your eagerness causes you to rock up against him and before long, the two of you are back at it hot and heavy.

"Hey," Eddie says, attempting to pull back after a while. You, however, are the one to blaze a trail of kisses down his neck this time. He sucks in a breath and continues. "Hey. I get off in about a half an hour."

"Don't want to wait that long for you to get off. Want it to happen right now," you whisper in his ear before sucking his ear lobe into your mouth. Eddie's eyes roll so far back into his head at the action and the innuendo and you feel his hard cock positively jump against you.

"Can't do this while I'm working, baby," Eddie groans, though his hands actively contradict his words by gripping your hips and encouraging them to continue moving against him.

"Isn't my car the last one for the day?" you ask innocently. As if you aren't grinding your clothed pussy all over his erection out in the open in his place of business with the garage door open and the sun still out. "And you did such a good job fixing it."

"Holy fuck..." Eddie breathes. He had been the confident one. He had been the forward one. He's not sure when the dynamic shifted but dear fucking god he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He does still try his best to at least attempt to be a gentleman, though.

"But I'll get you all dirty. Don't wanna ruin your pretty clothes." Eddie says this while biting his lip and sliding his hands down to squeeze at your ass. It makes you gasp and push down against him even harder, exactly as he'd hoped.

"I don't believe you," you breathe. Eddie captures your mouth in another kiss before shaking his head, distracted.

"What don't you believe?"

"I don't believe that you don't want to ruin my clothes. I think you want to get me all dirty," you challenge. Eddie lifts his hand to your face and holds your chin suddenly between his thumb and index finger, staring deeply into your eyes.

"You're a tease and I love it, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle that makes you preen. "But I need to know...what do you actually want right now?"

"You," you say, not even skipping a beat. Eddie's eyes become serious.

"How...how much of me are we talkin'?"

"All of it," you say, your grin spreading.

"Mother of fucking Christ," Eddie grits out before holding onto you tight and pushing off with his feet, rolling the two of you further behind his work bench, effectively shielding you from the outside world. You squeal at the sudden motion and cling to him, so he uses that to his advantage, attaching his lips to your pulse point. One particularly generous suck to your juggular has you keening and bucking down against him, much to his insane pleasure.

"Oh god. Eddie," you gasp. Eddie closes his eyes and furrows his brow.

"Yeah. Say my name again. Please." He attempts to soften the command with the nicety but you would have screamed his name for much less. You sit up more fully in his lap and help him untie the knotted arms of his coveralls, unzipping the last part of them and exposing the tented front of his boxers. He'd felt huge but he looks even bigger.

"Eddie," you whisper, making eye contact before rubbing your hand over his clothed length. His brow furrows even deeper and you could laugh but you don't. Just like you don't continue to tease him because you're teased out yourself. You need him inside you, like, yesterday. So you pull his boxers down and ogle the length and width of him. Everything you could want him to be.

"Can you...you wanna even the playing field here, sweetheart?" Eddie asks with a silly grin that knocks the wind out of you. You nod without even stopping to get too self conscious, swiftly unbuttoning your blouse and letting the two sides hang open, revealing your bra-clad breasts. Eddie groans like he'd been punched.

"You're a fucking goddess, are you fucking kidding me?" he says, as if you've personally offended him. You chuckle at that.

"I think the exhaust fumes in here have messed with your brain, Munson."

Eddie simply snaps the front clasp of your bra, releasing your breasts to that they fall out with a bounce. Eddie moans like a wounded animal.

"Exhaust fumes my ass. You are unbelievable." His hands immediately close around you, squeezing and weighing. "These tits are magnificent."

You scoff at his word choice.

"You're ridiculous," you try to dismiss him, but his fingers playing with your nipple makes it hard to concentrate on any emotion other than lust. You begin gyrating your hips in search of friction, the hood of your mound pressing up against his erection and creating much needed pressure, even through your clothes.

"No, you're ridiculous trying to pretend like you can wait for this dick," Eddie mocks you, noticing exactly what you're doing. You look at him, biting on the inside of your cheek.

"As if you aren't the one making me wait," you toss back. Eddie's eyebrows raise in a challenge.

"You're the one on top, princess."

You huff and immediately lift yourself up, dropping back down over him so that your skirt obscures his view. But Eddie doesn't need to see in order to feel the tightness of you lowering yourself down onto him.

"Holy fucking - ,"

"Shit!" you interrupt him with your own cry. While you're certainly turned on, it was absolutely absurd for you to try and fit him in without any preparation. Eddie is bigger than anyone you've been with before and he's instantly deeper than you knew was possible, thanks to gravity.

"Fuck, that too much, baby?" Eddie asks, immediately alert and clutching your hips, attempting to keep you balanced above him before your pelvises can meet fully. Fuuuck, he's not even all the way in!

"J-just.....oh god. You're just really big," you whimper. Eddie makes to pull you off him but you dig your fingernails into his arms. "No don't want to get off just - ah. I need a minute. Need to...oh."

You're entire body begins trembling when Eddie's finger begins rubbing circles into your clit. You shudder and then feel yourself sink down a little further on his cock. The attention to your sensitive clit has your thighs widening, your muscles relaxing and your pussy becoming wetter by the second.

"Relax. Mmmm there it is, good girl."

His words practically do more than the finger on your clit and you arch into him, rocking against him shallowly.

After another few minutes of these ministrations, you finally feel yourself growing impatient and increasingly turned on. Experimentally you lift up with your thigh, rising till only his tip is inside you, before sinking back down slowly. Your breath is punched out of you with a hiss, but another moment passes and soon you're able to do it again, faster this time. Eventually you work yourself up to a rhythm, bouncing yourself up and down his cock while his face screws up and his fingers dig into your thighs.

"Wanted this for a long time, princess," Eddie grunts out. "Every time you came in I imagined bending you over that hunk of junk you call a car and fucking you till you couldn't walk."

You gasp at his dirty admission and, feeling emboldened by his honesty, decide to be honest yourself.

"I always wanted you to take me in the backseat and fuck me," you whine. Eddie bucks up into you, the drastic motion causing you to both shift back and forth due to the rocking of the roller you're still precariously perched on.

"We're doing this again, you know," Eddie says matter-of-factly. You must look confused by his words because he continues on fervently. "I may have pictured you with this car, but I'm fucking you in a bed next time," he insists. "Okay maybe a kitchen counter if we can't make it to the bedroom, but either way you deserve a room with a closed door."

You laugh at his words, clenching internally and causing him to moan in the process. You're quickly brought back from humor to urgency when you feel his finger on your clit again.

"Yeah. Yeah we're doing this again," you practically hiccup.

Eddie pulls you down on top of him so that he can lick and nip at your neck, his hand still sandwiched between the two of you.

"Listen to the greedy girl. Already thinking of the next time I'll be inside her."

"You're the one who brought up the subject of a next time!" you accuse, but you lose your bite the second he bites into the side of your throat. He soothes the spot with a lave of his tongue.

"Cum on me, baby, and we can get to that next time sooner."

When you cum, only moments later, your cry echoes throughout the garage. The reverberating sound comes back to your ears and shocks you enough that you almost fall out of your ascending headspace, but Eddie's grunts in your ear and fingers digging into your skin block it all out and keep you grounded to him. This allows you to enjoy your orgasm and even benefit from aftershocks as he takes over and plows up into you, chasing his own release. His haphazard thrusts cause the two of you to roll back and forth on the roller. You cling to him to stay stable with all the movement, and your sudden tensing has you clenching around him so tight he has no time to warn you of his impending orgasm. He just calls out your name and drives his cock deep inside you, spilling out into with sputtering hips.

It takes a while for the proverbial dust to settle. Eddie's hand on your back is soothing, but you quickly realize that your thighs are over extended and your body aches from the strenuousness of your sexual activity.

"Easy there, princess," Eddie coos. He helps you up, his cock sliding out of you with the movement. Like a gentleman he slides your panties back over your dripping slit, patting the wet spot fondly, before dropping the hem of your skirt and shifting to guide you up.

You wobble on embarrassingly unstable legs.

"Jesus christ, what did you do to me?" you huff. Eddie encircles you in his arms and lets out a bark of a laugh.

"What did I do?! How is it that you never fully realized that you were on top?" he asks, echoing his previous sentiments. You help him pull his coveralls up to tie at his waist again and he graciously helps button you back into your blouse.

"Well next time I want you to do all the work," you respond cheekily. Eddie's eyes spring back to yours and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if his earlier words were simply born of the heat of the moment. But Eddie's looking at you like you hung the fucking mood and suddenly he's kissing you. Bold and ardently and with a lot of tongue that says everything he wishes to say to you simply with the press of wet muscle to wet muscle.

When he pulls away his lips are shiny and bruised and you're out of breath. He gives you a lopsided smile and scrunches his nose.

"Next time do I still have to fix your car, or -?"

You slap him on the chest and pull him back in for another kiss.

~*~

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Hoping tumblr doesn't cut off the actual end of the story!

[martinmuhl]

⋆✧˚ ༘ prove it (part 2)

pair: paige bueckers x reader

warnings: cussing

summary: notorious player paige wants to take the star volleyball player out on a date

authors note: hi babies !!! sorry this one is so long i was just having so much fun w it! hope you enjoy <3

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

a week after your run in with paige, there’s radio silence. you hadn’t heard anything from the blonde basketball player. you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed, no matter how many times you told yourself that she wasn’t going to prove anything. you knew paige… not well, but well enough. it had only been your first semester at uconn, but you knew paige’s reputation just like everyone else. she enjoyed sleeping around, but the last you’d heard of her sleeping around was 3 months ago with your teammate. as much as you were disappointed that you hadn’t heard from her though, you were at least happy you hadn’t heard that she was sleeping around. maybe she had changed.

shaking your head, you hear a knock at your door as you rolled out of bed. who could possible be here at 7am? you swung the door open, standing face to face with a girl you’d recognized as kk arnold. she was holding a boutique of daisies. kk was paige’s teammate, what was she doing here so early? and with flowers too?

“i think you have the wrong apartment,” you say, a confused look on her face at your words.

“oh no, i’m at the right place. you’re y/n, and oh yeah i’m kk!” she beamed, trying to shake your hand but not being able to set down the giant bouquet, “ah forget it, but my girl paige wanted me to drop these off since she has basketball workouts every morning this week so… i hope this isn’t weird, but she’s been on me about making this perfect so if you could just take them..” she trailed off, obviously nervous. you took the bouquet from her and set it down behind you.

“thank you kk. do you know how she found my apartment? also, why couldn’t she have dropped them off after her workout?” you ask. kk throws her hands up in a shrug and sighs.

“girl boo, i don’t know! paige is weird. she’s all shy and nervous and shit, ive never seen her act so weird,” she shrugs again, a sudden ‘oh shit’ look on her face. she starts digging around in her pockets, “shit i almost forgot this! paige would’ve killed me for real. here!” she hands a small folded note. “well, gotta go ball! see you y/n!”

you take the note, frozen in place. she sent kk to bring flowers and a note? so maybe she was trying to prove you wrong. “uh thanks kk! bye?” you shout at her as she hurries down the hall. after grabbing the bouquet of flowers, you head back inside your apartment and put them in a vase with water. you couldn’t wait any longer as you unfold the note from paige.

y/n, i hope you like the flowers! i didn’t know what your favorite flowers were so stay tuned… sorry i couldn’t deliver them to you myself. i have workouts every morning and im really busy this week. i got big things planned though for us. imma prove it to you, ma.

p.s. i hope you don’t think im a stalker… i asked your teammates for your address and your schedule. see you soon. <3

- paige

you smile and shake your head, giggling. you couldn’t believe paige was actually doing this for you. paige was notorious though so as much as your heart pounded at the thought of her trying so hard for just one date with you, you had to protect your heart until you fully trusted her. it was going to take a lot more than a bouquet of daisies delivered by her teammate.

up until friday, kk showed up at your door at 7am every day with a bouquet of flowers and a note from paige. monday was daisies, tuesday was peonies, wednesday was tulips, and thursday was lilies. friday morning rolled around though and kk didn’t show up that morning. disappointment rolled through you, but you couldn’t be too upset due to the fact that you knew paige was making an effort. she took the time to send flowers and a note every morning for the past week. you shouldn’t expect anything more.

friday was particularly busy for you as you had errands to run, workouts, class, then practice. the national college volleyball tournament was in just a few weeks and coach was running you guys ragged wanting to perfect every rotation. you played in every rotation so you were especially exhausted and sore after every practice this week. your day went by and still nothing from paige. no kk, no flowers, no notes. you shrugged it off, she was probably just busy today. she had already done so much this past week.

in the locker room before practice, you were telling your teammates about paige and what had been going on. allison, your teammate she had slept with, listened with wide eyes. you expressed that you hoped allison wouldn’t be upset with you or make it weird or anything for the sake of your friendship and team dynamic.

“girl we hooked up one time months ago, this is not weird or anything! i think it’s sweet and i think you should go for it! be careful though okay? we fucked and then she completely ghosted me so just be careful. make her work for it, you’re a special girl y/n. now come on before coach kills us for being late!” allison smiles, patting your back. you sighed, feeling relieved but taking her words very seriously. you would not let paige play you.

after practice, you stayed for a while just to get some reps by yourself. as you were shagging the balls, you heard someone enter the gym. it’s probably just a janitor. you continue with what you’re doing until you turn around and there’s paige at the other side of the gym, volleyballs in hand. you both walk toward the cart to place them in. you suddenly felt very nervous and flustered. it was late and she was here, helping you.

“uh thanks for the help. what are you doing here?” you muster out, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. stay calm, stay cool, don’t let her play her. those thoughts echoing in your head.

“i wanted to see you, ma. you weren’t at your apartment so i figured you were here. did you like the flowers?” she asks, smiling. her blonde hair was wet down her shoulders, she wore a white uconn basketball shirt, grey sweats, and a gold chain around her damn neck. oh you were fucked.

“i did, thank you. you didn’t have to do that though. the deal was that you keep your hands and mouth to yourself, not showering me with gifts.” you say, trying not to give in so easily to her charm.

“can’t i do both?” she asks, cocking her head with a smirk on her face.

“i guess…” you shrug. “im surprised though. i haven’t heard anything yet about your typical shenanigans. girls not finding you so irresistible lately?”

she laughs, throwing her head back. “i told you i was going to prove to you that i want to take you out. i am a woman of my word. now come on! i have one last surprise.” she quickly grabs your hand, pulling you towards a table in the corner of the gym. as you approach you see a bouquet of red and white roses and a basket full of goodies. you see snacks, gatorades, face masks, bath salts, fuzzy socks, and a coupon for a free massage. you turn to look at her, a smile bright on your face. she was making it so difficult to resist. she chewed on her lip watching you, she looked… nervous.

“our coach likes to work us really hard before big games so i figured yours probably does too… i’ve never made anyone anything like this before so i hope you like it. kk and aubrey helped me with it so…” she trails off, scratching the back of her neck. all you could do is gape at her. this was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you. fuck it. you threw your arms around her, a silent thank you. she left out a deep breath, relaxing into the hug.

pulling away, you verbally thank her and insist that she doesn’t have to do all of this. she just shakes her head, asking if you need a ride home. you close up the gym and paige drives you and you basket of goodies back to your apartment. you begin to learn more about paige and realize that you had already begun to fall for her charm. as you pull up to your apartment building, you reach over and give her a hug, thanking her again for everything.

you pull away and slip out of the car. you begin to walk away as you hear her shout, “see you next week, ma!”

“what’s next week?” you shout back.

“your next surprise!” she smiles and drives off. you stand there stunned, you were falling for paige bueckers and you could only hope it doesn’t come back to bite you.

[lucidfairies]

pretty girl [a.a]

pairing: experienced!Abby x inexperienced!reader // Owens sister!reader x bbf!Abby

synopsis: Abby was irritatingly beautiful, nobody could deny that. But one night, everything changed between the two of you.

warnings: mdni 18+, religion mentioned, dom!abby, sub!reader, poc friendly, oral sex [r], fingerfucking [r], praise, slight size kink, corruption if you squint

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is short and really not good but that's okay cuz I have more coming out soon! also no more virgin reader because it kinda made me wanna shoot myself

Out of all of the friends your brother, Owen, had over the years, Abby Anderson was definitely your favorite. Aside from the fact that she was built like and had the face of an actual god on earth, she was so sweet to you all the time. Always acting like, well, a sister. The feeling had never been mutual, though. You didn’t want her to see you as her best friend’s cute younger sister, you wanted her to see you as her best friend’s undeniably sexy younger sister.

You never really knew when this crush became, but Abby had been in your life for so long that it didn’t matter. All you knew was that every time you looked at her, your stomach flipped and warmth spread between your legs. Because, god, those eyes. Always looked like they were picking you apart, one inch at a time.

She’s the exact reason you were tossing and turning in your bed, trying to get her out of your head. Your body reacted differently to her lately, every accidental touch was like a punch to the gut, and at night, every time she crossed your mind, your clit throbbed, a feeling you weren’t used to.

It’s not like you never found people attractive, it’s just… she was different. You needed her in a different way, in a very unholy way. One your brother would absolutely not be okay with. You tried to tell yourself that that’s why you wanted her - just to get to Owen. But that didn’t work.

You sat up in your bed, wiping the sleep out of your eyes and forcing your legs together to end the throbbing. You were so fucking wet. Looking in the mirror at the end of your bed, you huffed and got up, brushing your hair out and changing into a smaller, hotter pajama set. Before you could register any consequences to what you were about to do, you grabbed your keys and left the house.

You knew where Abby’s house was. You’d been there a handful of times over the course of the years, normally to pick up Owen when he was high. Suddenly, you were pulling up and parking at the curb and getting out of the car, slamming the door on the way out. Standing at the door, you banged harshly, hoping she miraculously wouldn’t be home.

“Okay, Jesus, give me a sec- y/n?” Your stomach dropped. The reality of what you were doing hit you like a truck, and you suddenly second guessed everything, ready to turn around and run away. “What’re you doing here this late, sweetheart?” You sighed, digging your palms into your eyes and rubbing them.

“I need your help, Abby.” You looked up at her, unwilling to elaborate until she let you in. And she did. She opened the door further, allowing you to step in, then shut it behind you. “There’s this… feeling in my stomach that won’t go away. It’s like heat. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Abby wanted to pretend like she didn’t know what you were talking about. Wanted to pretend that she was thinking about the fact that you were literally horny and came to her for help, not to mention the little pajamas that you had on, that hugged you tight and hardly covered anything. She could tell you that Owen would hate her if she helped you the way you needed, and it was just unethical, but.

But.

That would be like telling you she hasn’t been in love with you for seven years, telling you that she didn’t want you, telling you that she hasn’t thought about this every night practically since she met you. And she surely didn’t want you thinking any of that.

Abby sighed. “Is that all it is? Heat?” She took a step closer to you, making you catch your breath.

“No,” you paused, taking a step forward as well, so that your chests were almost pressed against each other. “It’s this wet feeling. And this throbbing.��� Abby could’ve come in her boxers, right then and there, if she wasn’t trying to focus on you.

“Where?” Your face was burning. She placed her large hand on your stomach, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “Here?” she ran her thumb over the skin. You shook your head, placing your hands on her shoulders. Her hand cupped your cunt, heel of her palm pressing up ever so slightly, just to press into your clit. You pushed up on your toes, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensation, but it was unrelenting. “Here, baby?” You nodded quickly. “Words.”

You moaned at her harsh change of tone. “Yes Abby,” she left an open mouthed kiss on your neck, pulling her hand away from your pussy. “I don’t know what to do about it.” The way you looked at her made her want to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Big doe eyes, unknowing but curious. You were so innocent, and it turned Abby on more than it should’ve. All she could think about was your pretty, big lips wrapped around her strap, taking it deep in your throat.

“Oh honey,” Abby sighed again. She didn’t want it to seem like she didn’t want this, want you, but she didn’t know how to go about it. “Have you never touched yourself?” Your brows scrunched.

“No. But that’s not what- oh!” Abby couldn’t take it, she picked you up and threw you over her shoulder, walking down the hallway and going into her bedroom. She shut the door and sat you down on her bed. “Abs.. I’ve wanted this for a while.”

“Wanted what, baby? I thought you didn’t know what you were doing.” She was on her knees in front of you, hands on your waist as she looked up at you.

“I..” you groaned, running your hands over your face in embarrassment. “I want to have sex with you. That’s why I came here, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Abby knew that. But she didn’t stop you from telling her. It sounded so nice coming out of your lips. “Owen can’t know, if we do.”

“I never said we were doing anything, darlin.” Remaining on her knees, she pressed against you and caught your lips in a kiss. Her hands were on your thighs, wrapping them around her waist, while she kissed you so hard you lost your breath. It was all tongue and teeth, nothing sweet about it. “What do you think about when you think about me, baby?”

Your brain was in a haze as you tried to formulate words. “You-your arms. And h-how your voice sounds, and how you look at me w-whenever we make eye contact.” She hooked her fingers under your shorts and pulled them down, then tossed them and shifted the two of you so that you were laying against her pillows and she was overtop of you.

When Abby caught a glimpse of the gold cross around your neck, she almost stopped. But the thought of corrupting you, turning you against the things you believe in just for her... extremely attractive.

"The heat between your legs is because you're horny, baby. Don't they teach you that at your pretty prep school?" You shook your head quickly, mind fuzzy as she kneaded your tits overtop your pajama shirt. She grabbed your hardened nipple and ran her thumb over it, making you shiver.

"Too much, Abby. Too much." You whined, pushing away from her hand.

"Is it really too much, sweet girl?" She twisted your nipple and pulled it, making you whimper and arch slightly off the bed. You couldn't tell whether you liked it or disliked it, but the way she was doing it felt extremely different from the way you briefly experimented with yourself here and there.

She knew what she was doing, and it made you want to moan and ride her fingers like you'd heard Owen talking about with her. You had listened to the vulgar stories she would tell your brother of her hookups, talking about what she did and how she did it.

You pushed up, sitting against the headboard as you pulled your pajama shirt up and over your head. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from your tits. In seconds, her lips were latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, her hand flicking the other. Your back was arching into her mouth, moaning quietly.

"You're so pretty, my love." She mumbled into the skin of your sternum as she made a path of open-mouthed kisses towards your pajama shorts. Your skin was burning, and you were tingling at the thought of her teaching you what to do and how to do it.

She slipped your shorts off your legs and tossed them somewhere, gently running her thumb down your center. You shivered and whined, lacing one of your hands in her hair. "Abby," your head lolled back when she finally pulled your underwear down, kissing your clit gently. "Abs be gentle."

"Don't worry pretty girl, I'll go easy on you this time." Your stomach flipped at 'this time'. Would there be more times?

She licked a fat strip up your cunt and your hips bucked into her face, encouraging her. The sensation was brand new, and so much different than anything you'd ever done or felt. So much better.

Her tongue circled your clit, tracing shapes and letters, spelling her name against you. "Oh God, Abby," you moaned, the feeling of her hot breath and wet tongue creating the best mixture on your clit. The harsh middle ground where hot and cold met, where her thumb ran down your folds, was the greatest. You decided it was a good thing you waited, but you could definitely get used to this.

Moments later, Abby's middle finger was slowly pushing into your entrance, and she was groaning into your clit. She pulled away from your clit, watching her finger sink into you as she pressed kisses into your stomach and thighs. "So fucking tight, baby," her other hand rubbed your thigh, "need you to relax, angel."

A whine was ripped from your throat at the unfamiliar pressure. Your hips moved, trying to find some way to make it more comfortable. Abby was praising you, leaving quiet chants against your skin reminding you to breathe. You took a deep breath and released it, allowing your lower half to become less tense.

She began to thrust her finger slowly, curling it towards the sensitive bundle of nerves within you and grunting at the way you squirmed and cried out her name, begging her to do it again.

When you were ready, she added another finger, letting you adjust to both of her digits before reattaching her lips to your clit. Her right hand had found its way back to your tits, pulling at your nipple.

Your stomach became wound up, almost like a cramp in need of release. You knew it meant you were going to cum, but you never had before. "Abby- m'gonna, oh, Abby," a gush of warmth flooded between your legs, stronger and much better feeling than when you got wet.

Your legs were shaking and your hips were twitching, head thrown back and she worked you through it. Abby on the other hand, was wide-eyed and blushing as she watched you come around her fingers. She hooked up with girls regularly before now, but she had never been with someone like you.

She retracted her fingers and licked them clean. You were panting, forearm thrown over your eyes so that you wouldn't have to meet hers. "You did so well, my love." She had her hands pressed into your hips as she kissed your neck, waiting for you to come out and talk to her.

She was painting your skin in soft kisses when you finally brought your arm away from your face, cupping her face with both of your hands. "That was nice," you both grinned, which turned into laughter. It felt so good to laugh with her without worrying about Owen.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" She asked once the laughter had subsided, turning things to a slightly more serious note. "I wanted you to be comfortable."

"You didn't hurt me, Abby. I'm glad I waited for you." She was kissing you then, smiling into your mouth as your teeth clashed and nicked at each other's lips. "Can I stay here tonight?" Abby rolled over next to you and took your hand as hers before looking towards you.

"You can stay here forever." She whispered quietly, kissing the back of your hand.

[azrielsdove]

All This Time: Rhys x Reader

Warnings: Short, Little Angst, Little Suggestive

***

“Have you lost your mind?” Rhysand seethed, glaring at you. “Throwing yourself directly in the path of danger?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and glaring back at him. “I didn’t throw myself into danger. I was trying to help.”

“Help? Help! What you did was not helpful in any way. You acted foolishly and rashly.”

“Well what you rather I done then? Let you be killed?”

“I would not have been killed.”

You scoffed. “Oh, really? From the way I saw it that dagger was seconds from implanting itself into your heart.”

His anger grew, darkness creeping in to the edges of the room. “I am a High Lord. A measly dagger would not end me.”

“Sure,” you agreed, shrugging your shoulders. “But a poisoned one might.”

A great silence encased the space, Rhys’ anger quieting down for a moment. “Poisoned?”

You nodded, holding out your arm and pulling up your sleeve. There lay the cut the dagger had left on your skin.

It was black.

And it was not healing.

Rhys stared at it for a long time before speaking again, voice deadly quiet. “When did you realize?”

“As soon as it happened. No normal cut burns the way this did.”

“And yet you chose to stay silent?”

“You were already angry enough.”

He looked ashamed, his dark anger dissipating. He moved over to you, taking your injured arm carefully in his hands. His fingers traced the wound delicately. He tensed at your small gasp of pain. “Has it gotten worse?”

You shook your head. “Not as far as I can tell. It hurts, but it hasn’t changed.”

He was quiet again, studying your skin as if he would find the cure written there.

“It’s fine, Rhys,” you reassured, trying to get him to look at you.

“It’s not,” he said slowly.

“What do you mean?”

He closed his eyes and you felt the low thrum of his power on your skin. You shifted in discomfort, nervous about what he was going to find. “Rhys,” you whispered as his magic began infiltrating the wound. A slow burning feeling was accompanying his search, getting worse every second he continued. “Rhys,” you said louder, beginning to panic at the pain. He continued what he was doing, as if couldn’t feel your struggle. “Rhys! Stop! Stop!” You cried, trying to pull your arm from him with all your strength. Tears were streaming down your face as you fought against the statue of a man, begging for him to let go.

He finally snapped out of it, dropping your arm in shock. You stumbled, brain fuzzy from the pain. Rhys caught you as you fell, moving the two of you carefully to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over. “I’m so sorry.”

The burning your arm ceased and you were able to catch your breath, looking at Rhys with concern. “What was that?” You asked warily.

Still staring at the mark on your skin, he responded, “Dark magic. Ancient magic. I haven’t seen anything like this.”

You did not like the sound of that. “Well, did-were you able to, tell, anything?”

His eyes reconnected with yours, worry lining them. “No. As far as I could sense the magic was not any deeper than the skin.” He traced the black line mindlessly with his fingers. “It won’t heal from this, though. The scar will remain as is, until the end of time. Superficial, but ugly.”

“That does not matter to me.”

“And it shouldn’t.” He stood from the floor then, pulling you up with him. He let go of your arm, moving to put his hands on your waist. Your heart stuttered at his closeness, at his eyes looking intently at you. “Yet if you ever, ever, risk your life to save me again, I will lock you in your room.”

You scowled, pushing away from him. “Mother, remind me to not save his life next time.”

“You do not need to play the hero!”

“I wasn’t! I was acting on impulse.”

“Impulse of what? Getting yourself killed?”

“No, Rhys!” You screamed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “To save you. To help you. Don’t you see? Everything I do is for you!”

He looked you over slowly. “Why?”

Mother, give you strength. “You idiot. I love you, Rhys. I always have. So no, I will never bow away from danger if it means losing you!” The room was silent again. You turned away from him, unable to look at his reaction to your profession. “Just go, okay?”

“No.”

You slowly moved to face him again, shocked when you found he had to moved to right in front of you. “No?” You asked.

“I won’t leave. If I leave, I won’t get to do this.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but your question was answered before you even spoke by the rough press of his lips against yours. You melted into him instantly, your arms twining around his neck as he held you close. You put all the years of unspoken secrets into the kiss, holding onto Rhys like he was the only light in the world. Everything felt right.

“How long?” He murmured against your lips, refusing to fully break away from you.

“Years. Decades. Centuries,” you whispered, kissing him between each word. “Ever since we met.”

“Since we met,” he repeated, his fingers flexing against your body. He pulled away then, cupping your face in one hand. His thumb ran across your swollen lips, his eyes flashing darkly. “I’ve wanted you for all this time. Needed you. I’ve felt called to you like the stars to night.” He kissed you again, lightning rolling up your spine. “You’re mine.” He began pressing kisses to your face, your jawline, your neck. Anywhere he could get he kissed you like he was starved of it.

“Rhys,” you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders as he left marks of his teeth along your skin. You had waited forever to feel like this, to have him touch you in such a way. “Rhys, I love you.”

He looked back into your eyes, a small smile on his lips. “And I love you. Risk your life for mine again, and i’ll kill you.” He silenced your argument with his kiss, pulling you down to the bed with him.

Nothing else mattered.

***

this is just a short something, i really wanted to write an argument hahaha. i hope you enjoyed <3

[angstflavoured]

A little fiddauthor analysis...

Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…

First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.

Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.

But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)

The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.

Because Ford has Bill.

And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.

Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.

Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?

He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.

This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.

I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.

Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.

And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.

Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…

OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”

As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.

Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.

Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.

And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.

In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”

And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--

Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.

I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.

FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.

He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.

And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.

F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.

One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.

And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.

At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.

Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.

There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.

I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...

[butterbabyflapjack]

✧˖° Brian Moser x serial killer fem!reader

✧˖° summary:

The Ice Truck Killer’s back in town, and somehow he's stuck babysitting you; Miami's newest would-be killer.

Helping you out wasn't at all his original intention–he'd rather see you dead, you know far too much–but he supposes he could spare an evening to undomesticate that hungry beast inside you. Show you how to really live your life.

In which Brian helps you kill someone who utterly deserves it, and the kill room turns into a horny sex-fueled bloodbath.

✧˖° wordcount (chapter 1): 5k

✧˖° chapters: one, two, three

✧˖° ao3

✧˖° warnings: serial killer fem!reader, reader insert, explicit sexual content, rough sex, passionate sex, fucking in a kill room, dark romance, dark comedy, canon typical depictions of blood and gore, enthusiastic consent, mutual pining, impact play, playing with your food, serial killers in love, banter, dirty talk, voice kink, trauma bonding, babysitting a serial killer, implied sexual abuse of a child (you're killing this mf don’t worry), torture (you’re torturing this mf don’t worry), Brian is his own warning, enemies to lovers, biting, daddy issues?, blood play, a bit of angst a dash of bloodlust & a heavy splash of spice, Brian loves to fluster you and he won't shut the hell up going about it, Brian survives season 1 in this house

✧˖° author's note:

This is ridiculous, horny, bloody, silly and dark (in essence, a very dark romantic comedy), so please heed the tags!

Starts after season 1, but with Brian escaping. Sorry if there’s any rough spots, I kinda rushed editing this.

ch.1 is from Brian’s POV, and the rest of the story is from yours. And there aren't nearly enough problematic female characters in the world so I'm making you one 😃

✧˖° chapter 1

Hello again, Miami. 

Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon.

What’s it been? Eight months? Since I was your most highly sought after criminal?

Guess I just couldn’t stay away.

Time flies when you’re laying low.

Guess I just missed you.

But really, my reason for coming back to dear old Miami–my home, both my real and spiritual birthplace–has a name, a life, and a face. Your name, if you’re really so curious. Your life. Your face. And I intend to leave what remains of all three of those things behind to the hungry bellies of gators before once more absconding stage left. 

But why, you might ask? Why do I want to kill you? Horrified, scandalized, even. For what reason had you to die by my skillful hand? And the answer to that is simple: death doesn’t need a reason. Death simply is, and I simply enjoy it. 

Though…

Regardless of that irrefutable fact…

I’ll admit. 

This particular death–your death–has a slightly more personal reason. And that reason, or at least its causation, was currently chit-chatting with me on the phone.

“Your plane lands at eight?” Dexter asked, and I didn’t waste time with a nod when he wouldn’t see it. Simply staring out across the coast of Costa Rica, the sunset reflected within the dark shadow of my gaze.

Costa Rica… and I’d really wanted to retire somewhere cold.

Not that this was retirement.

It was more of an… unplanned, involuntary vacation. Just until the heat from the feds cooled down.

Then again, I wasn’t waiting for the temp to drop before planning this little excursion back to Miami. But you’d sorta forced my hand in that regard, now hadn’t you?

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash on the couch,” I said, good-natured, and I knew he wouldn’t object. My brother couldn’t feel much–much more than myself–but I sensed a sort of guilt in him for how he’d previously driven me off those eight months ago. Choosing a fake sibling over a real one, one who actually knew who he was… I’d say the guilt had good cause.

I could hear him at his quaint living room/office combo’s computer, typing away at something. Perpetually Distracted Dexter.

“Yeah–yeah, that’d be great,” he said. 

I exhaled a little sigh whilst listening to the soft waves roll in beside me. “Why do I feel there’s a but coming?”

“No buts,” said Dexter. “I just, uh…” He seemed distracted, but not by whatever he typed. “I’ll just have a friend over tomorrow. She’ll probably be here when you arrive.”

Ah.

The friend.

The one I’d been silently wishing Dex would just kill himself. Grow suddenly bored of you.

Wishful thinking.

He seemed quite fond. 

He wouldn’t shut up about you. Always and forever droning on.

It wasn’t romantic, this interest, or so I’d come to suspect over all these past droning months. I didn’t exactly ask about that, though, half because I really didn’t care and half because of how much the subject of you annoyed me, raised over and over again and ugh, just give it a rest already. 

Dex shouldn’t have ‘friends’. The mere concept a fairytale, a mask to people like us. It should be just he and I, two hunters against the world, hunting whomever we like.

“Ah,” I voiced aloud, with the sugar-flaked pleasantry of someone who wasn’t at all picturing severing your aorta with an icepick. “Your little friend will be there to greet me. How nice.”

Dexter must have misread the edge of sarcasm as some sort of concern. “She already knows you’re coming. Don’t worry, she can be trusted.”

Just more proof that my do-good, misguided brother is far too trusting.

“Well,” I said, as though accepting this point as fact. You really can be trusted with my and my brother's secrets–such relief! “I look forward to finally meeting her.” And carving and slicing and dicing her.

I must have forgotten to include that last part out loud, and thus Dexter had no objection–even sounding strangely relieved by my show of good faith in at long last having this introduction.

“See you tomorrow night,” he said, and my lips formed a little smile–instinctual, without any warmth.

“See you then,” I said, then hung up.

And now; here I am. Back in the ever-enchanting sunshine state. My former playground of frozen, meticulously broken toys, and it feels much more like home to be back than I even expected, with just the small matter of ridding you from these sentimental, familial walls.

Walking the concrete pathway to Dex’s Palm Terrace place was nearly surreal, assaulting the walls of my person with waves of distant memories. I’d broken into his beachfront apartment so many times before. Snooping around, getting to know him. Leaving gifts tied up with little red bows. I was basically murderous Saint Claus.

I had only one bag, having traveled here light–a black leather crossbody, which I thumbed the broad strap of whilst knocking with mild knuckles against the door.

Silence. Then, footsteps. Then–

Dexter throws open the door, a smile formed ear to ear like a big, goofy animal. 

“Brian,” he says, and somehow it melts me. Chips slightly away at all that frigid, cold frost round my cruel, vacant heart. And his eyes dip over the state of me. The longer hair, dark curls well past my ears, now; just long enough to tuck back but not long enough to stay there. The dark scruff which coats my angled jawline in the absence of shaving for so long.

“Dig the beard,” Dexter says. “Quite the disguise. Bet the ladies love it.”

I smile at the compliment, though if he'd hated the look I'd feel much the same. “One does what one has to to effectively blend,” I return. And it’s hard not to feel somewhat warm, somewhat seen, understood, by my brother before me. The only person in this world who accepts who I am.

Well, not wholly.

Thanks for nothing, Debra.

Still. Since the death of our mother, Dex is the only place I’ve ever belonged, and seeing him now I’m abruptly struck with just how long it’s been.

I don’t wait for him to welcome me in–he’s probably too cordially stunted to properly welcome me, anyway. I just step right up and throw both my arms around him, my baby brother, my other half; cuffing him firmly on the back as I breathe him in.

“It’s been too long,” I say, holding him there for a moment, before pulling back.

Dexter’s expression is torn into a million indecipherable things, but amongst them is his affection for me. The brother who’ll always see him for who he really is. Who truly fathoms that insatiable beast inside him.

The bliss of our reunion’s forced to end, however, because this house has a rat problem. And as I hear a small, feminine throat being cleared from the fluorescent-lit depths behind my brother, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Time to finally put a face to the name I’ve been loathing for weeks.

And there you are. Standing before a metal-limbed armchair nuzzled inside the living room, like you’d sat there then stiffly stood up; uprooted at the sound of my knocking. Frozen, now; lingering. Like you’re caught in a trap you don’t know your way out of. Hands fidgeting as they twist at the hem of your shirt. 

It’s like you know you don’t belong here–that this moment is Dexter’s and mine–and for the cleverness of that, at least, I must inwardly applaud you. Though that’s decidedly where all my praise ends.

This is one of those social situations I’ve learned so well to navigate through life in the foster system, masking my aberrance. Awkwardness. Other people’s–not mine. And though I could so effortlessly put you at ease as you stand there fidgeting, I find it more entertaining to draw that part out. For a while, at least.

I must admit, I hadn’t pictured you at all in my head. What you’d look like. Not as anything more than an aggravating, compromising blip I’d soon snuff out the threat of. But if I had pictured you, I wouldn’t have imagined you looking, so…

…Well.

You’re not…

Unnatractive. 

I feel one dark brow slowly raising.

And you’re only a friend…?

Whatever must poor Rita think? Seeing the two of you together?

Dexter. You dog.

My eyes trace your expression as you awkwardly hover there in the length of my speculative pause. Myself perfectly content to allow you to hang there in a noose of discomfort all night, and then some. Though eventually I know one of us will have to say something.

This is our fated and much anticipated formal introduction, after all.

So at what feels like long last, I throw you the lifeline that is my smarmiest smile. Knowing full well you won’t know it’s not real. No one but Dex ever does.

“And you must be the friend I’ve heard so much about,” I greet you pleasantly, my deep voice threaded with warmth. Though, peculiarly, that unsure tension in you remains stubbornly in place. Seems if anything only to grow, despite my intent to disarm it. 

Huh.

Oh well–it doesn’t deter me. Killing you will be so much easier if you don’t see it coming, so I’m keen on you liking me, letting your guard down. Thus, I graciously continue:

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having you right in front of me.”

Maybe a bit of truth will lube you up. And I watch as your lower lip’s sucked in between your teeth for just a moment whilst you eye me; the motion drawing my studious gaze like a shark’s to blood. 

“And why is that?” you ask, which admittedly I wasn’t expecting. Such a nervous mouse, yet you’d put me on the spot.

I can’t place your nerves. I’m perfectly charming. And yes, you’re aware I’m the notorious Ice Truck Killer, but I’m not sure why that would be alarming. Not with the company you keep; namely, my murderous brother. So it must be something else.

And I so hate not knowing things.

“So I can be introduced to you in person, of course,” I say, like it’s obvious, and it should be. Striding in past Dexter as he steps aside to allow me in, shutting and latching the door behind us all; a roomful of killers, or so I’ve been told.

Our eyes never stray in my steady approach; not yours, not mine. My height soon towering over yours, which isn’t unusual for me when meeting new people, nor when standing near almost anyone. Offering my hand and a smile I’ve been told is quite dashing. “Dex has had such wonderful things to say about you.” And I’m sure he has, I just couldn’t be bothered to remember any of them.

My smile could melt steel as if it was butter.

“I’m Brian.”

I won’t lie, I expected you to crumble. Most women love this move. The confidence, the approachable self-assurance. But you eye my outstretched hand as though I might pull you into the fires of hell with me were you to take it, before craning your neck to meet my gaze once more.

“Charmed,” is all you say; unmoving.

Something about that irks a small ripple up my nape, but I just allow my hand to drop graciously back to my side. All practiced, svelte charm still in place. It’d take a lot more than that to dischevel me.

“So,” I say, by all appearance unconcerned by the lack of civility in my brother’s ill choice of friends. “It almost feels like I already know you, what with the way Dexter’s gone on and on.”

Your gaze steals over to Dexter, hovering there in the distance behind us, before you smile up at me again in a way which feels forced. And I suppose you’re not the talkative sort, though why you keep glancing at Dexter as if waiting for something from him, as if he’ll swoop in and save you, I’m uncertain about.

In due time I’ll figure it out.

“But there’s still one thing I’m curious about,” I say, turning to make myself comfortable. It has been a long trip to get here, after all. 

I plop down like a wolf amongst sheep atop Dexter’s hideous couch, legs spread like I own the damn food chain. One arm draped out along the length of its backrest as I eye you somewhat expectantly, still rigid in how you stand. Imagining what you might look like strung upside down by your ankles with a lengthy strap of duct tape kissing those soft lips, holding them shut for me. 

The shadows beneath my eyes pinch.

It’s a lovely image.

Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

“And what’s that?” Dexter asks–bravo, Dexter–at least one of you’s courteous enough to ask. And I tilt my darkly curled head at him.

“How exactly did the two of you get to know one another?” I ask. Watching him. Eying you. Hoping my focus might rattle you–just a little. “I’m sure it’s an interesting tale.”

“I’ve already told you,” Dexter says, and he probably has, at least in his unabbreviated sense. “We work together at the precinct.” He dons his playful tone I often find so silly but right now I find I detest. “The lab geek and the cop~”

“Right. But that’s not what I mean,” I slice into his futile comedy routine, “What I mean, is: how did our friend here come to know you’re one of Miami’s most heinous, uncaught serial killers?”  

The other, of course, being myself; excepting the whole uncaught thing.

Dex is lucky I’m so forgiving.

I put it forth bluntly, with little room for either one of you to wiggle out of answering. And though my radiance of charisma remains, my intensity’s keen. ‘Cause I must admit; now that I’m here, I’m curious about you. Especially when you seem like such a rabbit in a household of jackals. Weren’t you supposed to be some like-minded killer or something? Perhaps I should have paid closer attention whenever the unwanted topic of you had come up in mine and Dexter’s conversations, instead of bitterly tuning you out. 

Strangely, Dexter doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither do you. Like the story’s too long, too elaborate. As though there's pieces the two of you’d rather omit. 

Fascinating.

“She helped me out,” Dex says at last; monotonously shallow, like the words aren’t even his, like he's rehearsed this. “In a time of need.”

I quirk a subtly mocking brow at him from where I’m idly lounged on the couch. 

“Why do you sound like a generic thankyou card?” Why, indeed. “C’mon, baby brother–I want specifics. You can tell me.” My dusky gaze passes from him to his lovely, curious friend, hovered opposite the ugly coffee table before me. “We’re all friends here, right?”

It would seem that my smile unnerves you. Which might be annoying if it wasn’t so entertaining a thing to see.

Dexter sighs before trying a more human answer, leaning one bulky shoulder against his white, open-backed bookcase that separates his living room from the office attached. 

This whole effectively communicating thing is hard for him.

“It was sort of an accident,” he says, like that’s far more telling. The lacking details seeming to spur you to chime in. 

“It was really just me being in the wrong place at the right time,” you elaborate, with the passive front of one pretending the ice they walk on won’t at any moment begin to splinter. Folding your arms against that pensive look I toss you, which I tilt my head in silent question of. Why so nervous? I’m far from daunting, aren’t I? 

“I was called to check out an anonymous tip,” you continue, averting your gaze from me far more often than one normally does. “Some sort of suspicious activity at an abandoned storage shed near Palmetto. Myself and my parter.” 

You glance at Dex, as if he might continue the tale for you, might rescue you from this, but when he merely quirks a little smile with a similar shrug, you’re forced into proceeding.

“It was supposedly related to a case–which it wasn’t, not that that matters, but…” You let out a breath. Seeming to steady yourself, the recollection, though for all your nervous fidgeting your tone is surprisingly calm. “I walked into the storage shed, it was unlocked, and… And I saw Dexter. Sawing someone’s arm off. Someone who was strapped down to a table in a plastic fucking tutu.” 

You glance at Dex, as he detachedly watches you. 

“Someone I knew from a previous case,” you continue. “Someone who deserved whatever it was Dexter was doing, and much more than that, too. Which is exactly when I shut that fucking door and assured my partner there was nothing to see here, and we left. Left Dexter to do what he does, undisturbed.”

That’s the end of your story, and I picture the scene, all while some predatorily protective part of me insists on clarifying, “So… That’s it? You saw my brother chopping a man into pieces, and were immediately okay with it? Go Team Dexter? Just like that?”

I try very little to hide my disbelief, ‘cause I don’t buy it. In my experience with cops, and I’ve had plenty, you all tend to be such sticklers when it comes to casual bloodshed and carnage. What’s more, your uptick in nerves isn’t exactly selling me.

My lashes lower in my deliberate examination of you. “Why’d you really not turn my dear brother in?”

In lieu of answering, you once more eye Dex, and that look between you says something.

“It’s complicated,” you say at last. Like you’re waiting for Dexter to speak, but he’d rather wait on you.

The pair of you. Really. You’re like a couple of tongue-tied, helpless kittens. Must I string this conversation on for you?

“Enlighten me,” I say, with something of an edge.

Perhaps I should’ve kept the disarmingly fake smile, because if anything you thrust your guard up.

“Look, I don’t owe you a full explanation of what Dexter and I have been through, okay?”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” I viperously put forth, my pretense of pleasantry slipping. “Seeing as how you know so much about myself. And all without my express knowledge or permission.”

An impermanent issue. One I won't leave Miami without personally seeing resolved. You know far too much–you’re an issue. For Dexter’s sake and for mine, we must unfortunately bid you bon voyage.

“I’d say it’s only fair I know a little more about you,” I continue, cordiality slipped back in place. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The delicate line of your jaw tautens, eyes wavered with wariness and doubt. Refusing to spit out any more, though the longer you’re subject to my critical appraisal, the more the twine of your stubbornness unwinds.

“I… I need someone dead,” you admit at last.

Ah.

There it is.

“And, after seeing Dexter doing… what he does…” You bite your lower lip, as though struggling to recollect straying thoughts. “I need his help. I need his help to kill someone.”

I take my time mulling about your words. Piecing together the part you still aren't saying.

“So… You won’t turn Dexter in, so long as he helps you kill someone. Did I get that right?” 

You bite down harsher–immediately shake your head. “No, it’s–it’s more complicated than that!” 

But by now I’m barely listening. Turning instead to lift a wry brow at my brother, who’s watching this whole fiasco with a can-I-please-leave-yet look plastered upon his face.

“This is the friend you’ve been telling me about?” I wonder vaguely. “The cop who’s blackmailing you into helping her kill someone?”

“I’m a detective,” you cut in, like that matters, like I care, and I feel my eyes already rolling.

“Detective,” I sarcastically amend, with a scathing glance at you. “So sorry to offend, Detective Whoever-You-Are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m talking to my brother.”

When you mutter back your name under your breath, I make a show of ignoring it.

“So, what?” I instead ask my foolish, good-hearted kin. “You’re actually going to help her kill someone?” 

His lack of answer’s enough. And at his arms-folded silence, I ruminatively tut my tongue.

“Doesn’t seem like you, Dex… Not the edict-ruled brother I know.” I try not to let my tone grow too ingratiating whilst goading, “What about your beloved code?” 

Dexter exhales a stiff breath. Putting forth, “It’s more than that.”

“More?”

“Like she said, it’s complicated.”

“Has the word ‘complicated’ been redefined as ‘indescribably moronic and impossible to explain’ sometime in the last fifteen seconds?” I return, incredulously flat. Eying their strange and stilted silence with dwindling patience. “What aren’t the two of you telling me…?”

You’re biting your lip like you’re biting back words, and I watch, waiting, biding my time for those bit-back words to get the better of you–though surprisingly, it’s Dexter who breaks first. 

“It’s nothing about that, it’s…” He rubs the back of his sand-colored head, roughing his hair up with tense distraction. “Well, it is about that, in a sense. I didn’t know how to bring this up. I just… I have to leave town for the weekend,” he finally gets out. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m headed out.”

I’m too nonplussed to hide the creeping edge of my bemusement.

That’s what he’s been having trouble saying?

He drops this like it’ll land like a bombshell on our entire reunion, before rushing at whatever my bland expression, “It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back Monday bright and early.”

To be honest, I’m mostly confused about why this seemed so hard for either one of you bumbling idiots to tell me. Or why you’re bumbling about it at all. Why should I care if he’ll be gone for forty-eight more measly hours after we've been separated for almost a year? And for many, many years before that? Does he actually expect me to mourn him till Monday?

“Big plans with the family?” I venture coolly, and Dexter’s broad shoulders bunch into a shrug, as though he’s cornered and a shrug is all that might save him.

“It’s a whole thing,” he explains. “Cody has a scouting trip, then Rita wanted to make a whole weekend out of it with the grandparents–I’ll spare you the details.”

Yes, thank you for that.

Dexter the family man. It’s so sweet it’s nauseating.

“So you’re taking your fake kids camping so you can keep playing domesticated dad to a woman and children who’d hate you if they knew who you really are?” My smile’s so feigned it hurts. “Sounds like a great time.”

My brother, the shrugger, shrugs once again. Doesn’t even try to defend my interpretive accusation. “I gotta be there.”

“Well have fun on your little adventure,” I muse; side-eying him. “Not sure why it took you this long to tell me. I’m sure I’ll find some way to busy myself in the meantime.”

You and Dexter exchange that look again. That look which betrays how you still haven’t shared whatever’s so lodged down your throats and wherever this is really going, and by this point it’s driving me toward wanting to just rip open your necks to drag whatever it is out, myself.

“Well, actually,” my brother begins, struggling once more with saying things. “I’ve already got an idea that’ll keep you busy in mind.”

I steady him in the crosshairs of my vision. Well. Now we might be getting somewhere. And I can’t deny my interest, much like my frustration, is piqued. 

“Oh?”

“A favor, really,” he adds, without elaborating, and I really am going to rip the words right out of him.

“Are you going to tell me what that favor is?” I’m finally forced to ask, before glancing exasperatedly at you. “Or perhaps I should defer to your translator?”

There you go, nervously rubbing that elbow again, though I find myself oddly mesmerized by the motion of it. I can’t say for what cause, other than I’m not blind, and you’re obviously attractive. Watching you anxiously stand there is becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

“I, um,” you mumble, so quietly I almost can’t hear you. A nervous mouse again, one my nature is stirred to chase. “Well. Dexter was going to help me with–you know… What I was saying before. We have everything planned for tomorrow, and it has to happen tomorrow.” You seem strangely adamant about this, and I don’t care enough to question the ‘why’, just as I don’t care for the ‘who’–I’ll take your word for it. “But, um, with Dexter out of town…”

Helpless, as if to say any more’s an impossible task, you glance to Dexter for support.

“Really, the two of you,” I lowly muse. Eyes glistening between the pair of you, alight with my wicked amusement. Stretching out more broadly on the throne of Dexter’s hideous couch. “You could almost put a full sentence together so long as you tag one another in after every breath.”

The taunt’s enough to unlodge wherever Dexter’s tongue’s at. 

“I need you to help her kill this guy while I’m gone,” he finally says bluntly. Arms folded, expression stern, yet hinted by what may as well be him begging me, which in itself, is…

Well. He’s never asked me for anything. Not like this. Though I certainly don’t owe him any favors…

“I know you know how to set up a proper kill room,” he states, and he should–he’s seen my imitation of his plastic-drenched kill room, firsthand. I’ve studied his work more than anyone. Emulated it to perfection, and all for a happily-ever-after he refused to take part of, spat cold in my face.

For a moment, I feel almost human in how I can’t seem to react or respond to this request. Though as I watch the mirrored hope in you both, as the idea of this slowly settles, I find that it doesn’t completely bore me…

My eyes drift to you. Singling you out. Stringing round your anxious expression. And you’ve mettle, at least, to not look away from the barbs of my musing intensity.

So. This is why you’ve been acting so sheepishly inept. You need big bad Brian’s help with something.

It’s laughably cute, the idea of you killing, and already I know I’m going to do it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make you sit in it a little. Take my time in toying with you, first.

“You want me to babysit your blackmailing little friend here,” I say to Dex, with raven-dark eyes still on you, “while she attempts–and correct me if I’m wrong here–her first kill?” 

I can tell you can feel how my gaze is dissecting you. Pulling apart, piecing together, assessing every piece and shape and shade of you. It makes you squirm, and I love it; sparing a moment to slide my tongue over the sharpness of my teeth as I feast on such a beautiful reaction. 

I turn back to Dex. “What makes you think she’s even capable?”

“I’m capable,” you insist, drawing my gaze again. And even through those nerves roused in my presence, you appear quite convinced of it. 

Interesting. 

“I can do this,” you again allege. With such frail confidence, but confidence nonetheless. “I just… need a little help.”

I tamp down the rearing head of my inquisitiveness. Ensure my interest remains vague in how I lackadaisically eye you. 

“Help with what, exactly?” I slowly ask. And it’s not a no, which I’m amused to see is so surprising.

You blink a few times, eyes growing wider, more determined–before you’re explaining, quickly, as though whatever luck this is may run out.

“Getting him to the kill site,” you say succinctly, with all the puffed-up bravado of a fluffy little rabbit pretending that they’ve slayed a fox before, and it really is amusing. “Moving the body. Clean-up.”

I let my watchful silence drag on. Held in supposed indecisive contemplation. Should I? Should I? Until, when I can nearly hear your fretting heartbeat, I feel one corner of my lips slowly quirk up. Watching every minor movement of you like a fox might a meal, might a rabbit, and find I really wouldn’t mind taking a bite. 

“Don’t need help doing the deed, then?” I subtly ask you.

Your eyebrows flicker to a knot. Lips pressing flat, before you shake your head at me. “No.”

“You sure?” I further goad, with silken smoothness. Loving those little cracks of hesitation along your lovely surface so much I’m inclined to hammer in even more of them. “‘Cause I won’t kill him for you. You have to do that, yourself. And what’s more, if you for any reason chicken out on me and can’t follow through with all this…” I calmly smile. “I’ll simply leave you there all alone with whatever maddened mess of whoever this man you’ve left behind.” The idea of it sparks a delicious flame somewhere deep below my cavernous lack of heart. “After ensuring he’s woken up, first, of course. Aware. Pissed off. Untied.” 

I smile my cheshire smile as that resolve in you flickers in place; the smallest glow, so nearly snuffed out already. 

“So?” I spur in your uncertain silence. “Do we have a deal, little killer?”

And still, you hesitate. Seeming to weigh my words with care, along with the cost of your own, which I certainly appreciate. You’re not as stupid as I’d originally believed, in any case.

At long last, you nod, but I don’t move, don’t even blink from how I wolfishly watch you from my throne of Dexter’s couch. Not until you say the words out loud. And you will, if you want my help. You have to.

If that’s a flash of resentment within those pretty eyes of yours, it only causes my broadening smirk.

“Fine,” you say at last, after thickly swallowing. “We have a deal.”

And surely light must dance in my entertained eyes as I bite back just how pleased I am by this answer. 

This should be fun.

✧˖° chapter 2

[princessbrunette]

all of a sudden, jj suddenly felt severely underdressed in his black muscle tank and cargo shorts. it’s not that he hadn’t been in a strip club before, he’d just never come to see pogue!bunny!reader at her place of work.

you’d left your shoes at the chateau after one of the many infamous pogue parties that you’d been invited to. if it were any other kind of cheap shoes, you’d probably just said forget about it. but for some bizarre reason, you’d worn some of your prettiest shoes that cost you an arm and a leg from the bills thrown your way at the club, so you’d been damned if you let those just get tossed in the trash because guys don’t know the value of things.

jj had actually used it as an excuse to slide into your instagram dms. shooting you a super casual ‘hey, left your shoes at the chateau. want em back?’ to which you responded ‘my hero!!!! <3’ and so on. anyway, the agreement was — he’d bring your shoes to you on your break.

it’s not as grimy on the inside as it is on the outside, but he doesn’t have much time to look around before he’s hearing the slapping of bare feet through the hallway — and suddenly a scantily dressed figure is throwing itself into his arms in the dimly lit space.

“holy— jesus christ.” he catches you anyway, though you can tell he doesn’t know where to put his hands, settling on the fat just beneath your ass. he swore you were put on this earth to tempt him.

“you came!” you smile in that melodic voice, unhardened by your surroundings. hell, he nearly did come.

“well, you called.” he shrugs, trying to be all nonchalant about it. he swings the shiny pink heels around his fingers and you squeal, taking them from him. “yeah— so, uh— if that’s all i could probably just see myself ou—” he juts a thumb towards the exit, going to stuff one hand in his pocket and missing all together as he backs away. he wasn’t sure why he was being so awkward, aside from the fact you were just stood infront of him wearing a tiny little triangle bra and a g string.

“stay!” your brows furrow adorably and it physically pains his chest, infact — he’s pretty sure he had a physical reaction, face screwing up with a wince. how does one tell the girl he’s attracted to that if he stays any longer he will pop a hard on? “s’the least i can do. come watch the show. i can hook you up with wings and some beers for free?” you bat your faux-lashes, the glitter on your cheekbone glowing in the low lighting as you tilt your head sweetly, putting on a show to convince him.

“wings, beer n’ boobs? you’re talkin’ my language young lady.” he smirks, unable to hide his usual ways and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“yay, follow me!” you grip his hand, long acrylics scratching against his wrist and he rolls his lips together, eyes practically following each jiggle of your ass cheek as you walk before he even realises he’s in the main section. you settle him in, a little booth that usually probably occupies pervy businessmen— which really makes the blonde feel out of place. he came alone, and now he was sat here — occupying a booth. what kind of creep comes to watch strippers alone?

he’s about to jump up and make up an excuse to leave in pure embarrassment, but you’re smoothing your hands along his shoulders, batting your lashes and telling him you wish you could stay and chat but you’ve gotta go dance, and that his wings and beer will be coming soon. he blinks at you, under a trance and settles into the worn and suspiciously sticky leather arm chair.

soon you’re up on that stage and he wants to sink into the fucking ground. you’re unbelievably hot, and now it’s like something out of a porno he made in his mind, watching you saunter around the pole, dropping down to the ground and arching your back, shaking the meat of your ass effortlessly as faceless men throw money your way. he had nothing to throw but some receipts and old nickels in his pockets and he didn’t think you’d appreciate that — which didn’t matter anyway, because he was somewhat stuck to his seat.

he lifts his hands to adjust his cap before realising he’s not wearing one, and just as he realises his dick is sitting hot, heavy and hard in his shorts— you’re off stage, bounding over with everything jiggling. lord help him.

he thinks he might die when you clamber confidently onto his lap, straddling him front on.

“so how was it jayj did you like it? i know it’s a lil’ weird seeing me up there, i’m your friend n’all but was the song choice good atleast?” you tilt your head like a befuddled puppy dog before wriggling around— crotch to cock. “oh, nevermind. i can feel that you’re like super hard so i take it that you liked the show!” you smile, like you’d just said the most innocent sentence in the world. jj blinks, lips agape.

“uh— y—no, yeah it was… well, y’know. the body doesn’t lie.” he bucks his hips lightly in gesture before immediately internally questioning why he’d do something so creepy. luckily, you giggle — but he’s not sure if it’s because you liked it or because you’re well trained.

“well, next time you get paid come get a lapdance i’ll fix that problem jayj, even give you a discount.” you let that giggle slip through again, but there’s a breathiness to your tone that feels all too real. his brows jump up, eyes flickering unashamedly to your tits as you lean forward to his ear. “or jus’ get me drunk again next weekend? will probably do it for free ‘cus i like you.” you admit, looking all nervous when you pull back. you just shook your ass on stage, yet jj maybank was making you flustered.

“for sure. yeah uh— can… can definitely do that. yep.” he plays it calm and collected, sees you out with another bone crushing hug against your tits before speed walking to his company truck that he drove over here. his shift was over, so he wasn’t rushing to get back to work. moreso to beat off in the parking lot thinking about pulling that g-string of yours to the side.