#if i cant sleep neither than you get fucked

[carr10nb1rd]

my upstairs neighbors are threatening my roommate and i bc we told them to not blast music at night so the second quiet hours are over tomorrow morning im blasting weezer bc i know theyre asleep at 8 am

[rubyneo]

gonna fucking kill myself lmao

[cxffecoupx]

asking to place lipstick marks on 'it'

seventeen x reader 18+, nsfw, svt down bad warnings: suggestive content, love making wc: 1.0k author's notes: such a CRAZYY thought to have, so i decided to do it :) but i cant believe it took me this long to finish writing this (read: uni is kicking my ass). anyways, wouldn't say i'm very satisfied with it, but i really hope you guys like it!! also, special thanks to @simpxxstan for giving me ideas for a few members

➼ choi seungcheol

very interested in the idea. would get so excited for this. would ask if he can select the shade of lipstick and runs to your dressing table when you agree. but most likely would end up buying a new set of lipsticks because the shade he wants 'is not there' (it's an excuse for him to buy you a new set). by the time you're able to finish your mission, you're over three rounds and he's a sweaty, moaning mess. neither of you sleep that night.

➼ yoon jeonghan

would become so smug when you suggest it?? like full on smirk on his face and just goes, "if you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just said that." but will eventually agree when he sees your boba eyes and gets excited seeing your excitement. will probably squirm and whimper because of the sensations at first, but the sex later on is crazy.

➼ hong jisoo

confused eyes. looks so adorable you end up smushing his face and kissing his lips in fondness. man is actually so clueless at first, but then ever more confused when he realizes what you meant. becomes beet red until you promise him it's just for fun and not necessary until he's okay with it, hearing which he quickly agrees cause if you're gonna have fun, why would he not indulge you? would become so adorably shy when he sees the result. makes you cum with just his fingers and mouth as thank you.

➼ moon junhui

mindblown by your idea. becomes so excited; it's like a child waiting for candy. so endeared by you that he ends up making you smooch all over his face. then he starts kissing all over your face. the lipstick marks meant for his dick end up on your faces, but neither of you could be happier than at this moment. slowly turns into a gentle love making session.

➼ kwon soonyoung

you ask him in a very usual way, but it's only after he accepts that you realize this is a great opportunity to tease him. asks if he can record it (because he's very amused by this idea) and searches for the perfect lighting and angle while you prepare. thinks he's so prepared for it, but starts shaking and pleading the moment you start kitty licking his tip. by the time you're finished, he's panting and wanting for more.

➼ jeon wonwoo

you ask him while he was gaming; he leaves the game so fast you wonder what went wrong. but then he goes and picks up a random shade of lipstick and pulls you in between his knees as he manspreads on his gaming chair. holds your hair as you work on him. hours later, the lipstick and your clothes lie forgotten by the bed.

➼ lee jihoon

wants this whole event to occur in his studio. literally agrees when you offer to come to the studio for it. he'd be acting so nonchalant but you can clearly hear his heart racing in his chest and his ears going red. also likely to voice record the whole thing with your consent to use as 'inspiration' later (will use it to get off during desperate times).

➼ lee seokmin

another one who'd get red. very shy. "woah where do you even get ideas like these?" as he goes wide-eyed and still manspreads on the couch to invite you in. goes weak in his knees when he sees you make eye contact with him as you look up from between his knees wearing a shade he considers sexy. you have to abort the mission because he ends up pushing your face few many times.

➼ kim mingyu

GIGGLY MESS. you don't understand what he's been giggling about ever since you proposed the idea, but you're currently down on your knees in front of his naked body and he just cant stop giggling??? when you ask him about it though, he says he's way too endeared by this whole task and wants you to kiss every inch of his body. so, an hour or so later, you're panting, straddling a happy mingyu who's entire body is covered with lipstick stains. time to make a new folder in your gallery.

➼ xu minghao

lowkey becomes concerned about you. he already suspected you were upto something when you approached him with a cheeky smile, but he never thought it'd be this... wild? almost instantly rejects until he sees you get down and look at him with such hopeful eyes that he cant resist. still finds it weird as you mark him, but gladly indulges you. takes photos of it (without you knowing,,, or so he thinks) because you are the artist, and he ends up liking the art a little too much.

➼ boo seungkwan

lowkey judges you first, before highkey agreeing to it. it's one of the "how dare you make stupid decisions and do them without me" moments. judgmental most of the time: "is that the shade you're choosing? it doesnt look good on my skin tone," "the lip shapes arent perfect, pucker them a little more," etc etc. after lots of advice and nagging, you finally finish the job. you get up with a satisfied smirk as you look at his pretty pink cock and his spent form.

➼ chwe vernon

deeply contemplates it. quickly nods when you say, "it's for the art" and asks for some time. leaves. comes back saying "okay, let's do it." when you ask him where he went, he goes "i had to be clean and ready." waits for you to prep for it, but almost cums then and there when he sees you naked, wearing only his favourite shade of lipstick. by the time you could finish the task, he's lost all his marbles and begs you to ride him. finishes with his cum painting your chest and stomach.

➼ lee chan

turns red as a tomato. one moment you suggest the idea, the next he has to physically pull his head outta the gutter because his thoughts escalated into something else. and no matter how hard he tries to deny that he was indeed having very mature thoughts, the blush creeping to his cheeks screams the truth. asks somewhere in between if he can mark your chest with his lipstick marks, and honestly? who are you to resist? by the end of the night, he's spent and at your mercy and you havent yet completed the task.

[orchidyoonkook]

PG | KTH

Title: PG 

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point. 

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends. 

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother. 

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out. 

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too. 

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two. 

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay. 

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him. 

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long. 

Every time you could get it. 

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team. 

For four years. 

And then the university swim team.

For another four. 

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then. 

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would. 

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim. 

Thank god for sunglasses. 

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you. 

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet? 

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile. 

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong. 

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you. 

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung. 

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt. 

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that. 

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more. 

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught. 

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt. 

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually. 

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart. 

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water. 

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.  

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool. 

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days. 

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun. 

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really. 

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped. 

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking. 

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that. 

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches. 

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets. 

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?” 

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat. 

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes. 

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?” 

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him. 

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager. 

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit. 

And it works like a charm. 

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that. 

Definitely not.  

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again. 

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding. 

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. ��Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air. 

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend. 

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say. 

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand. 

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end. 

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother. 

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction. 

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen. 

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool. 

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel. 

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you. 

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch. 

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge. 

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell. 

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims. 

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven. 

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday. 

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for. 

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids. 

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you. 

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed. 

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break. 

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you. 

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually. 

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit. 

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer. 

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks. 

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close. 

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you. 

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there. 

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed. 

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends. 

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays. 

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating. 

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother. 

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall. 

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent. 

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained. 

And yet. 

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot. 

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you. 

But you push him away. 

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t. 

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend. 

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’. 

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more. 

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment. 

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air. 

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages. 

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself. 

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did. 

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left. 

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist. 

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think. 

Because Fourteen isn't here. 

And old habits die hard. 

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising. 

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner. 

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him. 

Safe. 

You’re safe. 

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body. 

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous. 

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years. 

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung. 

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan. 

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety. 

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions. 

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight. 

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood. 

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor. 

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment. 

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by. 

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?” 

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now. 

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth. 

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth. 

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed. 

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back. 

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it. 

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him. 

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black. 

Oh you are so fucked.

 “As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like. 

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine. 

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point. 

My Girl.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once. 

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up. 

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth. 

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips. 

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does. 

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes. 

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck. 

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows,  the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing. 

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it. 

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine. 

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it. 

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night. 

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. 

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you. 

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone. 

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part. 

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently. 

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end. 

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.” 

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders. 

It makes you smile wickedly. 

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw. 

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you. 

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick. 

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything. 

Yet.

 “Can you behave for that long?” 

You smirk. 

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe. 

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well. 

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby. 

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need. 

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs. 

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae. 

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky. 

Mesmerizing. 

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his. 

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him. 

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge. 

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat. 

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a  low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure. 

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you. 

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks. 

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips. 

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees. 

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it. 

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well. 

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you. 

Taehyung. 

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung. 

Wants you. 

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving. 

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned. 

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side. 

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming. 

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess. 

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis. 

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes. 

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again. 

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time. 

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly  deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed. 

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again. 

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it. 

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out. 

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth. 

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time. 

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents. 

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact. 

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.” 

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine. 

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and  delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.” 

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled. 

Blissful. 

Then pushes back in, methodically. 

Torturous. 

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is. 

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over. 

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas. 

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well. 

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you. 

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough. 

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own. 

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless. 

It’s a great move but it’s exerting. 

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone. 

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around. 

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass. 

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain. 

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance. 

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you. 

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care. 

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane. 

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be. 

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you. 

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion. 

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and  drown in once another’s embrace. 

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another. 

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. 

Before consequences kick in and regrets form. 

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets. 

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning. 

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away. 

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning. 

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out. 

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies. 

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground. 

“All of it. Any of it.”

There. 

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him. 

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened. 

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts. 

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself. 

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion. 

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg. 

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place. 

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move. 

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right. 

An idea strikes. 

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door. 

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

[mysicklove]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄

DAY 10: SOMINOPHILIA

With: Levi Ackerman

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: gn! reader, sub! levi, nightmares + insomnia mentioned, oral (m! receiving), handjob in dreams, implied age gap, set in around season 2 timeline? im kinda forgetting which season erwin was in... kissing..lots of kissing, reader being puppy coded and levi is sick in love

A/N: sorry this is late!!!! i hope this also isnt too confusing considering it switches back and forth between his dream and irl. idk. also title is named after a song by The Mamas and The Papas that i LOVEEEE

Levi Ackerman finds himself plagued with nightmares. It was always like that though, since he could remember at least. Three to four nights a week he awakes in the middle of night dripping with sweat with his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He has grown used to the lack of sleep by now, it barely bugs him anymore.

That is, until he found someone to share his bed with. 

You were his light, as dramatic and sappy as it sounds, and something he will never admit out loud. But it was true, finally in this dim world he finds himself in, you came crashing in, brighter than the sun. He had fallen for you in record time, and you, drawn to his stoic and feisty aura, came tumbling down after him.

It's been a year now since you've gotten together, and Levi swears the nightmares are getting less frequent. 

Well, at least in the nights where you lay beside him. The nights where you hold him, and he has easier access to your heartbeat. The steady rhythm of your chest rising and falling. Alive.

He doesn't go into too much depth about the nightmares, but you know the general scene of them, usually relating back to his comrades deaths. He has mentioned that the recent ones involve you, and it makes your heart crumble for your beloved each time his voice cracks through the explanation. You don’t press too much on the matter – the nights he wakes up in a cold sweat, you are there to ease him back to sleep, reassuring that you and he are safe. He almost gets a full night of sleep with you around.

But alas, you aren’t all sunshine and rainbows, and neither is he. Nope, you happen to be one of the most erotic people have ever met (though, he hasn’t met many). A sick brat is what he calls you, or sometimes a disgusting pervert, if he’s feeling extra grumpy. The nicknames fly past your head, as you pepper his face with kisses. It was all in good spirit, is what you remind yourself at least. 

“Soooo, Hange recommended–”

“No.”

You pout at the man, pulling away from his chest to glare at him. “You didnt even let me finish my sentence.”

His cold face doesnt let up, even if his eyes hold a playful light to them. “I am smart enough to recognize that anything having to do with Hange is a bad idea.”

You playfully hit his chest, and the man raises his eyebrows at you. A smile pulls at your lips, and Levi cant help but stare whimsically at you. It was unfair, really. “Fine, get on with it, brat.”

“How would you feel if I woke you up with a blow job?” His reaction is immediate, first shock, and then as a couple seconds go by he seems to be much more inclined to agree, but then finally settles on an scowl.

“Why were you talking to Hange about these things?”

You cock your head to the side, tapping on your chin. “Well, I mentioned that your nightmares have started again, and they told me that oral sex helps stop them. Something neurologically with your dick and brain? I don't know.”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, bewildered at your explanation. But, he realizes quickly what is up, and he immediately pinches the bridge of his nose with a long sigh. “They are fucking with you, idiot. Just trying to get me laid. Hange has always been like that.”

Your face falls at the words, and Levi swears you managed to master the kicked puppy look. He grabs your hands and pulls you back onto his chest, rolling his eyes when you hum into his skin. The warmth brought him comfort, and he finds himself more at peace. “I mean…It won't help with the nightmares, but who would turn down waking up to a blowjob?” Levi mumbles into your hair, while rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

You twist to look up at him, the familiar grin back on your face. “Yeah?”

He scoffs at you, an embaressed blush coating his cheeks. “Just dont wake me up early, alright. Just gonna piss me off.”

He swears he can see you wagging a tail. “Of course, Captain!”

Two weeks have gone by, and Levi has not woken up to your face anywhere near his dick. He has awoke to kisses along his cheeks, and neck, but that wasnt new, you were always disgustingly affectionate in your half awake state. He holds a content (half) smile for about ten seconds as he shuts the door of your room, only for it to drop when he sees Hange.

He wasnt the one to complain though, maybe you were just teasing him. You always did like to press his buttons. He wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of knowing he wants it. So, the dark haired man continues on, nightmares and all, through the weeks.

By the time a month came passing by, he knows that you forgot all about your stupid little promise – your stupid naive words that only worked to piss him off. He glared at you from across the halls for a whole week – never daring to actually show you real signs that he was upset. But after you accidentally caught him frowning at you from across the training grounds, he was immediately dragged back your shared rooms, and fucked lovingly, as you apolgized for everything you could think of that would piss the man off.

You didnt mention the blowjob, but Levi was content with the disheveled hair, and the hickeys and bite marks littering his body, so he forgives you. 

He forgets about the blowjob after two months. You were more horny than usual, so the two of you were at it multiple times a week. He would end up too exhausted to hold any real dreams, including his nightmares.

Levi was okay with it.

9 am. Levi, for the first time ever, was oversleeping. Of course when you woke up at 8 am, on your day off from training, and found your lover by your side, you couldnt help but be shocked. He was usually gone by 5 am to get to training. 

But you heard him woke up multiple times in the middle of the night. The nightmares were back. His shaky hands wrapped around you, and he panted into your neck, trembling like you've never seen before. You don't know what triggered it, but Levi seemed to have a really bad night. 

He deserves to sleep in. So, at fifteen past 8, you scamper to Erwins office and beg the commander for Levi to have a day off. He always did have a soft spot for you. For one, you brought happiness to humanities strongest, and also because his friend silently threatened him death if he was to mistreat you. Erwin agreed without much hesitation. 

You crawl into bed next to your lover, and begin to trace his content face. At least the nightmares were gone for the night.

Then, the realization hits you. This was the perfect time for you to finally do as promised.

You waited months because you wanted Levi to forget about your words. Of course, you assumed he forgot them after a couple of days, paying no attention to your promise, but you waited it out just in case. 

And now, the both of you dont have any plans today. A once in a lifetime experience, it has got to be.

So with one more glance at your lover, you kiss his cheek, hold back a small giggle, and slowly remove the blanket from his lap. Then, you slide yourself down on the bed, and carefully manevuer yourself in between his legs. He doesnt sleep with much attire, growing hot in the night. Plus with the addition of the cold sweat he often finds himself in, he learns that going next to bare was easier. 

You pull down his boxers, and are immediately exposed to a dark patch of hair. It's trimmed properly, but he prefers to have a little hair down their over being completely shaven. Something on the lines of protecting his dick from germs or whatnot. You dont listen to the details, only thinking about how hot it is.

The boxers make it past his thighs, and you glance back up at the man. He doesn't even seem to flinch when the cool air comes into contact with his skin. He snoozes peacefully into the pillow, his dark hair covering his eyes. 

His dick lays limp against his leg, and you pick it up slowly, careful to not wake him up. You run your fingers over it a couple of times, and then, holding the back of it with your fingers to support it, you run your tongue from bottom to top of the length. 

Levi doesn't move. You take that as a sigh to continue. 

Another stripe of the tongue, and then two more, and nothing happens. You grow bolder by the moment. You place his still soft cock into your mouth, and this time you do hear a reaction. Its a quiet sigh, but it was something. His eyes still remain shut.

Slowly, you begin to suckle on the tip, finding it easier to fit it in your mouth while soft. Your tongue roams the shaft, and you press sloppy, wet kisses to his veins. Blood rushes to his cock unconsciously, and Levi still has not stirred, even with his cock now hard. You chuckle with amusement, but dont stop your movements, now dragging your hands along his thighs to appreciate his body.

Levi was having a good dream. It wasnt like the past couple of nightmares, no, this one seemed to have a light hue. It was just the two of you, laying with your backs against grass. A open field, far away from everyone, and not a threat in sight. Titans were gone.

A peaceful world for the two of you. A world Levi craved. 

His hands trace your face, and he stares at you, admiring every crease and divot of your skin. You slide your way over toward him, leaning forward to kiss him. “I love you.”

He hums, eyes falling shut, as he wraps his arms around your body. “Yeah, yeah. Love ya too, brat.”

You giggle at him, and suddenly the smile on your face shifts. It turns soft, the tips of your mouth curling up in an almost feline way, while you eyes become hooded. He watches you lean forward and press your lips to his. The man doesnt stop you, gently kissing you back while your tongue slips into his mouth. Levi gulps when your hands trace down to his pants, and he quickly looks around the meadow, afraid to discover an unwelcomed guest. Of course there was nobody, it was a dream, not a nightmare. Your hand slips into his pants, and Levi’s back arches in the grass.

He twitches in his sleep and you smile fondly at the man. The tip of his cock rest against your cheek, as you admire him for a second too long, only to be rewarded with jolt of his hips from the source unknown, sending it slapping across your face. You hold back a laugh, and then grab at it again, mumbling out a, “Even a brat in your sleep, huh Captain?” 

You lean forward and wrap your lips around him again.

“D-Don't stop!” Levi groans out, hands clutching at your shirt while he squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn't stop the sun from getting past his eyelids, so he moves closer to you to hopefully block it out. You press your lips to his neck, nibbling at the space just beneath his ears.

“Would never,” You purr, and the man glances at your hand. His pants are pulled down completely now, and your pace was rutheless in its up and down motions. It sends him shivering, and covering his face with the back of his arm. He breathes through clenched teeth, and tries his best not to let out a whimper. The man hears your giggle, and before he could stop himself, the whine slips out.

The first noise of the morning was a low whimper. Not much, but definitely there, and unbelievably cute. You grip at his hips and try to take him deeper, but his hips thrusts back into your mouth with another paired whine. Your eyes widen, and you gag out at the unexpected movement, having to pull away to catch your breath. His dark hair whips back and forth, and he continues to make low mewling noises. “Huh, and you call me the pervert. What are you dreaming about, pretty?”

Levi moans into your mouth, wrapping his arms around your neck. His hips buck up into your hands, and you playfully bite his lip, earning a dramatic grunt in complaint. He grips your hair and pulls you back to his lips before you try and let out another teasing remark. Precum leaks onto your hand, and he swears that it provides more of the makeshift lube then usual. Your hand feels better than normal, strangely damp, and so warm. Did handjobs always feel this good?

He can feel his high approaching and his breaths come out quicker. “Gonna..cum. Fuck!”

You detach yourself from his lips. “No, no, no! Not yet!” You tease, voice light and almost giggly. It wasn't the first time you denied him of his release, but it was rare. You always di did pamper him. 

The man scowls at you, borderline on the cusp of baring his teeth. “Why?” He demands, short and simple, but shows exactly how peeved he is. Levi is more than surprised to feel that you didn't squeeze his cock in warning. No, still the warm, tight feeling, that does not make any sense to him.

“Can you do something for me first?”

A demand from you? Unheard of. “Get on with it, I-Im close”

Your hand movements become louder and louder, and it shouldn't sound like that. It's so lewd, and the squelching noise are never that loud. 

You press you lips to his ear, and a shiver runs down his spine at your breath, which is strangely cooler than usual. “Wake up, Captain.”

His eyes snap open immediately and he pants into the dark room. Levi hears it first, before he feels it. A loud slurping sort of noise, and the man feels his cock trapped between something warm, wet. 

A throat. Not a hand. 

He is quick to manevour himself to hold his weight on his elbows, and glances down at you, breaths coming out shallow and quick. You smile when you catch his eye, and for a second you pull away from him. You pepper his length down with kisses. “Well, well, good morning, sleepy head,” You mumble, letting another swipe of your tongue graze his thick blue vein. Then, with little hesitation, you dive back onto his cock, taking it as far as you can into your mouth.

“What are you–Fuck!” His legs instinctually bend outward, and his back arches. His head was still foggy in his half sleepen state. Was that all a dream? Was this real? He grips onto your hair, and does his best not to force you deeper onto his cock.

Levi could feel his orgasm approaching and rapidly, same as the dream. But this time it was real, and by god did it feel that way. His hips buck into your mouth and he lets out loud moans, tucking his face into the pillow to try and muffle them. 

He tries to ask for permission again to cum again, hoping that this time real you wouldnt lead him on. It comes out more as a command, but you just roll your eyes with a smile, the giggle in the back of your throat sending him spiral. 

“Cumming. Oh god. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He chants, and your eyes widen in shock, but you don't pull away from his cock. He was never the one to be polite in bed, the little brat was always barking commands and half hearted complaints. He must be really enjoying this treat if he was to thank you.

You dont have time to dwell on it much, because he forces your head lower onto his cock and cums into your mouth. You wince at the taste, but bear no mind to it as you watch your lover unravel. His back still continues to arch (which you will never get over) while his eyes are shut. The noises he lets out are soft, more of a mewl and a groan, but adorable nonetheless. His whole body trembles and his legs lay out wide, shaking under the force of the orgasm.

You pull away when he is done, and wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “Taste perfect as usual. Always so good on your diet!”

He rolls his eye at you, but it doesn't hold much bite considering that the man seemed to be basking in the post orgasm glow. “You are gross. I know that shit tastes bad.”

“Nope! Anything that the Captian makes is amazing”

He throws a pillow at your face, and you pout at him, a dramatic whine slipping past your lips. “Don't call me that, I am not even your Captain anymore, brat. And stop pouting!” He demands, pulling up his boxers before letting out a big stretch.

“Why are you so mean to me?” You complain, crawling forward to lay on his chest. “After I gave you head too!”

The frown does not drop from his face, but he does trace his fingers along your face. A silent token of affection that you purr into. “Took ya long enough. Thought you forgot about it.”

You fake hurt, taking in a dramatic breath. “Of course not! I would never lie to you.” The words are light, and holds a smile in them. “And hey, dont you think you are a little spoiled? Complaining that you got a blowjob too late.”

Levi doesnt even seem to react, his facial expression remaining neutral, and his words flat. “No ‘m not. Said thank you and everything.”

To this, you do nod, practically vibrating with affection to give. It was too hard to really be upset with him. “Super polite of you! I was so impressed!”

This does make him roll his eyes. “You really think low of me, huh?”

You poke at his cheek with a smile plastered on your face. “Aww cmon dont be dramatic again. You know I dont. Oh! Also, did it help with the nightmares?” You tease, knowing exactly what type of dream he really was having. “You sounded very….Scared in your dream.”

He seems to flush red, but alas, Levi was never the one to be on the losing foot. “....Yes. Seems like you are going to have to do this for me everyday. To stop the nightmares.”

You burst out laughing, and fail to see the small grin that creeps up the dark haired man's face.

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[cashmoneyyysstuff]

I don’t know if This is the place where people make requests but I was thinking Katsuki and y/n have been friends since childhood but as they grow up Katsuki takes the hero path and y/n chooses the villain path it’s like the 2nd year of UA Katsuki knows y/n is a villain and keeps it a secret she’s also in the class. I don’t know how much I’m aloud to ask but hiiii and if this gets picked thank you

ouuuu this is such an interesting request ! i luv me some angst once in a while ! this is also probably the angstiest fic ive written rn lmfaoo ! i tried to honour your request as best i could and i hope you like it ! (also yall keep enabling my katsuki friends to lovers addiction its not me its yall sooo🤥..) also here, reader’s family is part of a crime syndicate sorta like the chie hassaikai !

fem reader, blood n injuries, kinda angsty but i cant bring myself to fully write angst so take the bittersweetness <33 katsuki claims he hates reader but he doesn’t, reader has a sorta traumatic backstory but if u squint HARD, reader feels guilty, slight miscommunication trope, lemme know if i missed something !

"how long are you gonna keep doing this ?"

you're rolling up your bloody sleeves when you hear the question you'd been expecting fall from your best friends lips.

"what do you mean ?" you're playing dumb, you know it. and unfortunately, katsuki knows it too.

he narrows his eyes at you, you ignore him "don't give me that shit." he all but growls at you "how many more times are you gonna come to me all fucked up like this ?" you'd expected him to be louder, but you blame that on the fact it’s so late. angrier isn't the term you're looking for, you've known him long enough to know he's trying to hold back his anger. for you. you feel your stomach twisting at the thought.

"as long as you'll have me" you jest, smiling at him. you never took anything seriously. from the time you were kids until now, katsuki hates that about you. "you'll keep taking care of me, won't you suki ?"

you're spoiled, you think everything is a fuckin' joke. katsuki hates that about you.

he huffs, grabbing your outstrechted bruised and bloodied arm "i won't if you keep wakin' me up so late. we've got school tomorrow, you dumbass." his actions are softer than his words, like they always are. he cleans at your injuries with the med kit he has stashed away in his room for emergencies, emergencies being you. you snort and katsuki can barely cover the smirk growing on his face at the sound.

"you're such a goody two shoes." you sigh playfully, but your tone is more loving than playful like you'd hoped.

you'd been hiding your lifestyle from kastuki until you no longer could. coming to him one night heavily injured because you thought he was the only one you could come to, a decision you regret to this day, even as you sit here in his bedroom again.

you'd never meant to get him involved in your mess. katsuki, who's future was so promising. katsuki, who since the ripe age of 5 with starry eyes and bandaged cheeks proclaimed he would be the best. katsuki, who had wanted you to be together when that moment came.

but you had to ruin it. and you're sure that even as he sits there with you and cleans up your wounds, a part of him hates you for it. you don't blame him, how could you ?

you ruined everything. you always do—

you feel a finger flick against your forehead and when you focus again katsuki's eyes bore into yours.

"don't go zoning out on me, idiot. don't go falling asleep on me either. 'f i can't sleep, neither can you." you huff out a laugh at his petulant demand. you hum as he bandages your arm up carefully. " i think i can do that." you sigh.

"i wasn't asking." he retorts, looking up at you seriously "don't go knocking out on me."

you're left speechless at his words. because despite what he says, you know what he means. you've known katsuki for too long not to.

it’s stupid that such a simple sentence has you blinking rapidly, sniffling away the tears forming in your lash line. katsuki sighs. even when you tried acting tough, you’ve always been such a crybaby.

neither of you say a word as he finishes bandaging up your wounds. he insists on rewrapping up your hand and your heart squeezes because you know he’s stalling and it would be time for you to go soon.

it’s for the better, you think. despite your heart tying itself in knots, you won’t allow katsuki to get caught up in them.

he finishes and no words are exchanged. he stares at you, pleading for something you’re not quite sure about, or at least that’s what you tell yourself (you’ve known him way too long not to know what he wants). you avoid his gaze, your eyes growing misty again when you hear him sigh in defeat before he gets up from his bed and leaves the room.

while you’re throwing your jacket on and tugging your dirty boots back on (katsuki was a stickler about keeping his room clean) you can’t help but look around his room. it makes you giggle how he hadn’t really changed that much at all.

he’s thrown out most of his action figures but it seems he just couldn’t separate himself from the all might one’s. he’s still got the all might poster, his pride and joy that he never stopped showing off when you were kids. and then you see something on the shelf where he keeps all his manga.

katsuki walks back into the room and his shoulders visibly sag when he sees you ready to go. you don’t see it though, you’re focused on something on his shelf, he raises a brow.

before he can ask you anything though, you turn to him with a sly little grin, the grin he knows you have when you’re about to say some dumb shit. he hates that about you.

you’ve got a small rubber band looking thing pinched around your finger and katsuki feels his stomach drop.

"you still have this ? " you twirl the braided friendship bracelet you’d made for him when you were kids around your thumb and index finger, giggling when you see katsuki’s expression morph from curiosity to embarrassment. faster than you could blink, he’s already stomping over to you. he wobbles around a little on his bed to reach over your shoulder to snatch the bracelet back.

“don’t go snooping through my stuff !” his fingers are inches away from the bracelet when you switch it over to your other hand. a struggle breaks out where you push and shove at each other. you end up underneath him with him trying to open up your hand tightly clutching onto your bracelet.

“s’not snooping—if it’s just sitting out in the open !” you giggle. he finally manages to snatch his bracelet out of your death grip with a huff and a pinch at your thigh. you don’t miss the way he inspects it carefully before deciding it was unharmed and placing it right back where you’d found it. your heart squeezes despite yourself.

“either way, don’t go puttin’ yer dirty paws on my stuff. you’ll get your germs on them.” he snickers childishly. you’re just as if not more childish because you blow a raspberry at him. katsuki squishes your cheeks out with his hand in response.

you realize you feel a little too comfy, then realize you’re laying in katsuki’s bed and suddenly spring up to try and leave but a hand pushes at your chest, stopping you from doing so. “where the hell do you think you’re goin’, huh ?”

“home ?”

“don’t think so.” he utters simply, pushing you down onto his bed harshly “you’re not going anywhere.”

“katsu—“

“shut up. none of that bullshit you spout all the time” he leans down until your noses almost brush against each other, you inhaling sharply and katsuki grips the sheets next to your head “ if you get yourself in trouble again, i’m the one you’re gonna come bother and i’m trynna sleep. you’re staying.”

the asshole knows exactly what to say to make you feel bad, even if he doesn’t mean to. so you swallow the lump in your throat and concede “okay, fine” you nod “but i gotta leave super early, so don’t be surprised to see me gone when you wake up.”

“s’less trouble for me if you are.” he quips. he’s mean, he’s always been mean. yet his eyes tell a different story. there he goes again with those pleading eyes. the ones that make you want to spill your entire heart and more, to give your life and soul to him. you turn your face away from him.

“stop that.” he whispers, nosing at your neck, your heartbeat picks up and his does too.

“stop what ?” you're playing dumb, you know it. and unfortunately, katsuki knows it too.

“stop trying to act all hard. you know i won’t fall for that shit. those other extra’s might, but i won’t.” he’s awfully quiet. it almost gives you whiplash how he’d went from wrestling you to doing..whatever this was. you don’t mind, despite yourself. “known you too fuckin’ long, unfortunately.”

“yeah” you choke out “yeah, unfortunately.” you feel tears burning in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, that’d be unfair. you’re not allowed to be upset over something you’d caused.

“for fucks sake’s, yn” katsuki goes from gripping his sheets to gripping your wrists, you close your eyes. “ just—fuckin’—“

“i’m sorry.” you whimper, he pauses.

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have come tonight, or any other night” you sniffle “i should’ve—you should’ve forgotten about me.”

you’re babbling, you always do when you get in your own head. when you refuse to tell him what’s bothering you, determined to do everything yourself, katsuki hates that about you. though it’s something he can’t really get too angry at you for, cus he does it too.

you’re babbling and you’re crying like you always do because you’re a crybaby despite acting like you’re not, and katsuki hates that about you. that’s why he sighs and flips you both over so you’re laying on top of him. immediately despite your better judgment, despite claiming he should’ve forgotten you, you cling to him like he’ll disappear if you don’t.

you’re clingy. you’ve always clung to him. you’re annoying, spoiled and bratty. you make dumb jokes and you never take anything seriously and you cry easily and katsuki tells himself he hates all of that about you.

because it’s easier to say than admit he’s hopelessly in love with you.

he doesn’t care about waking up late to treat your wounds, he’d stay up all night even if it meant fucking up his sleep schedule just to take care of you. he’d give everything he has just to hear you giggle at your own stupid jokes and he’d offer up every limited edition all might figure he has just to stay here and bicker with you over nothing. he’d always comfort you cus you cry easily and he wants to breathe the same air you do constantly, he’d swallow you whole and keep you safe right next to his heart if he could.

you’re clingy, annoying, spoiled and bratty and all of the above but katsuki would do absolutely anything for you.

so he comforts you as you lay crying into his chest. apologizing about something he has no idea about. he’ll ask and he knows you won’t answer him, but he doesn’t care. as long as you’re here.

you fall asleep soon after and you’re still clutching onto him. he reciprocates by holding onto you just as tightly, hoping it keeps you safe as you dream. it’s a stupid thought, he thinks. but it seems you’ve gone and wiped your germs onto his heart.

“you drive me fuckin’ crazy.” he whispers into the air. you’re still wrapped up snuggly in his embrace and his black sheets. in his room where you’d spent the majority of your childhood together. until you came to him with a snotty nose and big wet eyes and told him you weren’t allowed to come play at his house anymore.

fate must think it’s so fucking funny, because despite you not coming over anymore you’d ended up going to the same school every year afterwards, even now ending up in the same class. and with you sneaking into his room almost every night to have him clean up your injuries.

he knows you’ll be gone in the morning, somehow untangling yourself from his snake like grip. with tired eyes and some treat from that coffee shop you know he likes, your stupid way of apologizing to him. katsuki wants to tell you you don’t have to do that because he’d forgive any crime you commit. he’ll turn a blind eye to whatever you do even though he’s studying to do the exact opposite because it’s you and he loves you. but you’ll get in your own head and start assuming stuff. so he accepts your chocolate covered croissants and splits both with you.

you must’ve hit your head extra hard during your late night excursion to think katsuki would ever forget about you. you’re stupid that’s for sure, and katsuki wants to say he hates that about you. but that’d make him stupid too.

[another-lost-mc]

diff anon than the og perv mc and levi anon but id like to build off it: mc purposely setting themselves up for easy panty shots and of course levi cant resist snapping the pic. then one day mc bends over in front of levi in their skirt and they arent wearing underwear and levi short circuits

a/n: I must be in a mood 'cause I ran off with that idea.

levi x gn!reader | nsfw | mdni | 1.2k words

cw: reader in various types of clothing (skirt, panties, sleep/loungewear). flashing, taking dirty pics/videos (with consent but they're both pretending otherwise). mentions of masturbation, cum marking, voyeuristic behaviour (both).

Neither of you are very subtle about what's going on when Levi invites you to hang out in his room. He fidgets with his D.D.D. nervously and glances at you from the corner of his eye. He wants to be ready in case he gets lucky with another show you accidentally (to his knowledge) put on for him.

You have no reason to be wearing skirts that short, and you should know better than to bend over with or without anything else underneath. It's too tempting to resist though. You know he likes it, and he might pretend to look away while your eyes are on him, but he drops the ruse as soon as you look elsewhere.

Even if the item you drop ends up at his feet, he doesn't pick it up for you. He knows you're going to slide off the sofa and bend over directly in front of him to get it yourself, even if you could reach it from where you're sitting.

(You used to stay sitting at first so you had an excuse to lean into his body and press your chest against him, but that got boring after a while - it's too hard to feel his cock through those thick pants he wears.)

For some reason, you're so clumsy when you wear those skimpy little outfits for him. He can't see the grin spreading across your face while he fumbles with his D.D.D. behind you. Sometimes he loses his grip on it with those sweaty fingers of his, but you can be patient. You give him all the time in the world he needs to get his camera app open and ready; you take forever to pick up whatever it was you bent over to reach. It's almost like you have butterfingers too. Oops! You can't seem to get a good grip on it either.

What a shame.

Besides, you'd hate to cut this little show of yours too short. How else will he get a good photo if you're moving around too much? That would leave your thighs and the swell of your ass far too blurry for him to appreciate later, and you wouldn't want that. There should be absolutely no doubt in his mind whose panty shots he's jerking off to later that night.

When you bend over in front of him, you can't help but wiggle your hips a little bit, as if you're trying to entice him to chase after you like a toy. It's frustrating that he's so content to look (and photograph and film) but not touch. Eventually you stand upright and turn around, pretending to tug down that wretched skirt of yours that just won't stay in place. You don't mention the pillow that's now laid across his lap and hiding his erection from view. His blown-black pupils and sharp, panted breaths are proof that he enjoyed himself.

Levi's still hard by the time you leave his room and sometimes he leans against the door in an urgent rush to touch himself. He comes with his D.D.D. in one hand and his cock in the other while he imagines what your bare ass would look like covered in his pearly-white release. It would look nicer than the way it looks on his fingers, he thinks. Fucking you once or twice wouldn't be enough and he has so much he wants to give. He wants to drain his balls inside you and all over you. If he fucks you from behind, he'll pull out and paint your skin with his cum at least once. It would be nice and warm and sticky, oozing between your cheeks and onto the little puckered rim between them.

A few more days of this little game might be the push he needs to indulge in the sweet treat you purposefully dangle in front of him.

Or maybe you're not the skirt-wearing type at all. It's a good thing loungewear can be just as teasing in its own ways.

There's a reason you keep all your threadbare shirts and sleep shorts kicking around when most people would've trashed them by now. The sleeveless shirt you wear to bed is practically see-through and it's so obvious when your nipples harden as your body adjusts to the cool temperature of his bedroom.

Your sleep shorts hang deliciously low on your hips, or perhaps they're a bit too tight. You lay on your belly and watch TV on the floor while Levi stares at you from the sofa; the thin material tightens when you squirm around and get comfy. He can tell by the way the material rides up your thighs and wedges between your legs that you're not wearing anything underneath them. It would be easy to pin you down and squeeze the soft, doughy flesh you're more than happy to put on display for him. He palms his cock through his pants when his mind wanders from whatever movie he's pretending to watch, and you pretend you can't see his reflection on the TV while he does it.

Late-night visits to Levi's room are always fun too. It requires a little pre-planning and a tiny lie, but it works flawlessly every time. When you show up at his door in the middle of the night, claiming you left something in his room by accident, he steps aside without protest. Your housecoat is tied loosely around your waist and he knows that's all you're wearing. The fabric swishes playfully around your legs when you walk - it's such a fucking tease. You flash him with glimpses of your bare legs and thighs, and if he's lucky, a little bit more too.

Sometimes he catches a whiff of something delicious in the air as you walk past him; you smell musky and sensual. He can only imagine what you were doing before you came to see him. The image of you laying naked between your sheets, with nothing but your hand and modest collection of toys to keep you company, flickers across his mind. His voice cracks when he wishes you goodnight; his throat is unbearably dry all of a sudden.

It occurs to him later that you probably didn't even wash your hands before you came to see him, did you?

(Of course you didn't. How else would you leave little traces of yourself behind for him to sniff out and taste later?)

With your task complete, you leave his room and wonder how long you'll have to wait for him to follow you down those creaky steps. You're not as sensitive now; you can go another round or two if you know he's listening.

As it turns out, he's not that patient and you don't have to wait very long at all. Before Levi spits in his hand and strokes his cock with his ear pressed against your door, losing himself quickly to the building heat in his guts, he reminds himself to come back and smell your sheets tomorrow if you won't be home to catch him.

read more: pervy!mc x pervy!levi (part one) | leviathan masterlist

[poppy-metal]

[ literally u dont have to write a single thought for this if u want i js want someone to match my freak BUT ]

stepdaddy art and dbf patrick trailing you to a club one night? its phase one in patrick teaching art his precious baby girl breaks a few rules - which art already knows, but he didn't realise exactly how until they follow you out. you, shining bright and brilliant amongst all your friends, radiant as the sun, alight with fire. its fire, too, like how patrick was, that sharp knack for commanding a room whenever you walk into it, demanding to be given what you want. but in a softer way than patrick did. sweeter, a more girlish light. the way art is: charming, bright, sunny. kind. you, in your little skirt - when a motorcycle blows by it flies up, and they catch a quick glimpse of the cutest little lacy panties - and your tight top, miles of legs and chest and skin. bare.

you, giggling and clearly tipsy, if not straight up drunk, flirting your way past the bouncer with your friends. they follow you in, slide the bouncer a few crisp twenties for his cooperation, and watch. watch you dancing, laughing, all hips and arms and shiny hair as you twirl with your friends, and fuck, its mildly reminiscent of another girl they liked a lifetime ago, watching another girl on the dance floor, waiting for the right moment to jump in and play for her number. hypnotic.

and they watch you. flirting your way into a round of shots for you and your friends. dancing right in the middle of the throng of people. arts pleased to see you turn down any guy that approaches you - "its girls night," you giggle - and patrick has to actually fight back a cheer when your heel stomps on a particularly pushy guy's foot. you're here to have fun, to dance. but you're drunk, and needy, and the guy you do end up making out with has patricks roguish grin and arts soft blond curls, but your hazy mind barely even registers this connection, and all patrick and art see is some douchebag with his hands on their girl. the executive decision is made not to interfere, if only because art knows you'd hate him for it. so they fume until you him away to go back to your friends, and they fume the whole ride home, and they fune when you text saying you're sleeping over with alyssa - who the fuck is alyssa?! - to study, and they fume until they fuck, arts face buried in your sugary-vanilla pillows, patrick wrapping a pair of your panties around arts dick, taking advantage of the fact that art cant really see, but he can hear, hears it when patrick asks him if it "feels good, huh? you want to cum all over her panties? yeah? go on, donaldson, you always were a perv, yeah, cum all over your baby girl's panties-" and art does, whining, sobbing, begging. they both pretend they're cumming in you, even though neither will admit it - art into your panties, patrick into arts ass.

you dont notice, when you return the next morning, that someone changed your sheets. you certainly don't notice the missing panties. art hates himself for it - vows it will never happen again. it will.

-kit (slowly going insane over this au)

I'm going to kill myself, truly im at my limit - @gamesetart

in my head - you and art dont know about eachother yet - its just kink talk, at the moment. he's not sure how either of you'd react - you're so possessive and needy of him. jealous so easily - and art. he's still pretty sure art will beat him bloody when he finds out patricks touched you at all - regardless of what he allows to be talked about in bed.

its just show art that you're grown up - to get art to stop seeing you as someone who needs protecting - look at her, art, she knows how to handle herself, she knows how to use her body and dance and work the men around her - she's not helpless and defenseless anymore.

art sees you differently after that night. he already had a hard time looking you in the eye after that night when he'd imagined you - he just realizes you' dont need him to shield you from anything. not anymore. and he..... doesn't like it. can hardly stomach it - who is he, if he can't be needed? its what hes revolved his life around - around you - around you needing him. you needed him when you were younger and your own mother didn't want you but he did and he was there for you and he took you in and you needed him growing up and you needed him for so many things you needed him to watch scary movies with you because they made you jump you needed him to tie your hair for you for school you needed him to buy you pads and tampons when you ran out you needed him to cook you food and be a safe place to come home to you needed him to teach you how to drive you needed him to pick you up from your friends house you needed him you needed him you needed him you needed him you needed him. you needed him.

and now you dont.

you're all grown up and you dont need him.

does he even know you anymore? will he get to know this new person you're becoming? does he want to not be needed by you?

no, he doesn't want that.

and its all he can think about on the drive home and later when patrick fucks him in your bed and he doesn't even fight it this time - just moans like a fucking whore when patrick wraps your panties around his cock and closes his eyes and thinks about you needing him. in a different way. in a new way.

you needed a dad for so long - you made him be that for you - he can be more - he can be anything - as long as you keep needing him - as long as you dont stop -

"god, dont stop -" its a plea - one patrick grants, wrapping the cotton more tightly around his cock, fitting his balls through the opening and rubbing the fabric into his shaft - fuck - "I'm gonna cum -"

"yeah -" patrick groans. he's fucking art so hard - like he's trying to punch art through your bed, the headboard is rattling against the wall, your stuffed animals falling from the bed. "fill her fuckin panties art - she's been so bad, huh? past her curfew and she's flauntin herself to older men - keeping her old man waiting up worryin' about her - while she's out being a slut - "

if it was any other situation art would knock his teeth out for talking about you that way. at the moment he can't, hes too amped up, hips bucking wildly, he reaches down to grip his own dick - shove it down so his head it rubbing into the patch of your panties where your cunt would rest - rubbing rubbing rubbing as his toes fucking curl in your sheets - "oh fuck -" he grunts, tenses -

when he cums - it shudders through his whole body. hole clenching, strangling patricks dick as his balls empty into your panties- stretching the fabric out lewdly around his cock -

"good boy - if she's gonna be a whore under your roof the least she can do is milk your cock - "

art whines. pulses out more cum weakly. thinks hes going to hell and that hes glad you'll never find out about this. you'll never know. you'll leave and you wont need him anymore and he just needs this to cope - that's all.

[4pfsukuna]

What about sukuna trying to make reader jealous but readers not fucking with it and gets mad instead or something🤔

Jealous? My facecard dont decline!

Heres something for  Heian era because i wasnt sure what time period you wanted but if you submit this request again I’m more than happy to do a modern day plus smut if you’d like💖 i had so much fun with this!

Waking up in a full nelson at the sound of “wake your stupid ass up” is the last thing Sukuna expects…. Like ever. The grip has him ready to pass back out and the only thing keeping him awake is the fact THRILL that it's you. Now you may be wondering:

“what did he do to make you so mad?”

Discussing fabrics with the seamstress was taking longer than it was supposed to but you didn't mind. not only were you the it girl and material girl of the land you were Sukunas girlfriend meaning you could have anything you want. New wardrobe? Yours. Blood of your enemies? You could have their blood and their enemies blood.

It seemed the only thing you couldn't have was alone time to be a baddie. As the seamstress opened up the jewelry box revealing 3 new sets of gold hoop earrings, 5 gold bracelets, an assortment of anklets and necklaces to match it with the different silk fabrics you grin happily when all of a sudden you hear this agitating sound.

“You’ve been at it for hours with this shit” Sukuna growls, walking in for the fourth time scaring the other woman and finally pissing you off. She doesn’t do her best work when she's terrified because her hands begin to shake.

“Would you fuck off” you hiss at your boyfriend completely annoyed at his pestering antics and the way he just cant take no for an answer. And it wasn’t even that you told him no to anything, it was more so that you just wanted to indulge in yourself, it takes time to be a bad bitch.

He was equally annoyed with you as well, truth be told for several reasons. He had no idea what kind of sorcery you’d done to have him this hooked. He knew you were nearly as powerful as him with the ability to summon any snake any size and that your body contained every snake venom known (and unknown) to man. The way your eyes would focus on him when he spoke taking in every word as if it was water and you were dehydrated, the way you reach for him in your sleep and God forbid he leaves bed to finish up work(gossip with uraume) you'd storm down stairs and plop in his lap demanding to be held falling asleep the minute he holds you. Or your lips? The way you smiled at him as he cupped your chin to guide his tip—

“No!” He snaps annoyed he has to fight an inanimate object for your attention and he leans forward causing something neither of you expect it happens to fast.

Your hands grab the back of his head locking into his hair yanking so he's now eye level with you, a dark look in your eyes as your tounge grazes your lips before you can say anything his intensity matches yours.

You expect it because how dare you embarrass him in front of lower levels like this?!

His hand wraps around your neck and soon it's a power battle as it usually is with an underlying sexual tension that keeps things flowing between you, the temperature of the room dropping 20 degrees on your behalf and quickly raising 21 on his. 

Petty king.

You drop your hand not wanting to fight with him and knowing deep down he didn’t either. But how dare you defy the great sukuna.

“By the time i'm done with my meeting i expect you to be done with this” he seethes making sure to set fire to all the plants as he walks past them. How dramatic!

Sighing knowing that was his way of inviting you to the meeting you turn back to the woman sending her a look of reassurance to continue.

Walking down the bare marble halls the only sound of distant footsteps and chatter as you listen to uraume who fills you in on the gossip. You gasp with a wide eyed expression stopping to face them.

“And they were bunkmates” and your jaw nearly hit the ground at the tea. The servants were so messy you wanted to see if Sukuna knew anything about it and if anything would stop your fued it would be gossip.

Urauma glances behind you, their smile falling completely off their face replaced by nervousness before bringing it back but it was already too late.  It's when they try to guide you back to where you had already come from that you get suspicious and turn around seeing Sukuna with one of the servant girls pinned to the wall, his large tattooed arm above her head as he talks.

You almost laugh at the display and at Uraume trying to get his attention, instead you link arms with your boyfriend's bestie and continue to walk past them.

“He couldn't make me jealous even if he tried! I sit on this man's face nearly every night, he buys me everything I want and besides do you see what i look like? My body was crafted! My face was sculpted i cant be jealous when i look like this” you arrogantly spit loud enough for all 3 of them to hear and a slither of you feels bad for the poor girl she had mearly been roped into this and Sukuna feels his heart swell with pride, you were his fucking girl.

But he sees a challenge, he's still a man nonetheless and being a man comes with doing stupidness you couldn't explain.

Like having another woman on his arm at a dinner he hosted with Curses he somewhat respected and neighboring estates just to show off. He was arrogant you'll give him that, and you were livid.

Watching him flaunt this ditsy little flat bodied bimbo around was pissing you off not cause you were jealous but because you were the one that should be meeting all of his allies. You were the one who’s power matched theirs, even rivaled it. You could feel your human eyes turn to snake eyes as your anger rose and roared through you.

It was disrespectful and downright embarrassing! Not only did people not know your status and who you were to him, not only did it make you feel lower than the Queen you actually were not only did you look like a complete fool having Sukunas initial on the gold beads that decorated your butt length braided ponytail but she had the audacity to smile at you as if she won.

He let another woman take your place, let another woman feel like she was above you. He let another woman sit on YOUR throne that is his lap and you can feel yourself losing your composure faster than you ever have.

You want to react in this very moment cause a scene hell even release some of your snakes but you couldn't imagine looking as dramatic and childish as Sukuna did earlier! That wasn't very it girl material of you. Instead you look over at Uraume finishing your glass of Sake, there was no point in wasting it, before shoving it in their hands and disappearing. 

Sukuna would never try no shit like this again.

Uraume sends a pointed look at Sukuna who instantly dismisses the servant smirking outwardly at your silent anger, a nerve wracking thought of if he pushed entirely too hard as the silhouette of you leaving replays in his mind. Were those his initials in your braid. He instantly feels disgusted and wants everyone to leave while he talks to you but swallows the thought.

He was Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses, the king of doing whatever he wanted and nobody could stop him or tell him otherwise. So he parties, drinks and continues the night without a hitch until the sky is at its darkest and he bids a good night showering and laying in his empty bed. 

He spends about an hour tossing and turning unable to sleep not knowing where you are and pissed you aren’t in bed with him.

It's when he finally dozes off at the beginning of a dream playing that he thinks he feels the tips of your fingers in his back trailing over his broad shoulders and all four arms.

“Wake your stupid ass up” he hears before there's a vice-like grip on his neck pushing against his windpipe. He struggles for a little bit to breathe as your wrist digs into his pressure points.

“Y/N!” He shouts your name yet you only grip tighter and he doesn't even fight to get you off just shocked at your murder attempt.

“No dont fucking Y/N me! You tried to make me jealous and only pissed me off! Do I look like some weak willed bitch to you? Do you not see what i look like and you think you can make ME jealous, my king im offended! and the fucking audacity to try” you snap squeezing tighter and his hands come up to grip your arms.

 “Ryomen If you ever treat me like im not your girlfriend… your fucking queen ill poison you, have you an inch from your life and take over your thrown as i watch you die” you whisper the last part in his ear sending a chill down his spine before your grip loosens completely arms unsnaking.

Climbing under the covers you make yourself comfortable before turning on your side instantly falling asleep the minute your head hits the pillow. 

You miss the way your boyfriend holds his neck in disbelief with slight arousal and a tad bit of fear. You were fearless yet angry enough to not only threaten him but attempt to kill him? It’s when he hears your soft snores that actually sounds more like a snake hiss that he knows you're actually asleep.

Not only did you just pull that stunt but you had the audacity to sleep peacefully knowing he wouldn’t kill you. Not even a sliver of fear in your body. It’s like you were testing him! 

He may have been a sick man because he loved every second of it, he doesn’t test his luck by wrapping any of his arms around you, instead just lays close enough to still feel your body heat until you roll over wrapping an arm and leg possesively around him. 

He grins for a woman nearly a foot shorter than him, you may have the biggest ego in the room. 

“Wait, she tried to kill you in your sleep, threatened to kill you once you woke up and you’re shopping for wedding rings right now?” Uraume asks and this is one of the only times Sukuna had baffled them with his madness. Uraume never questioned Sukuna, it wouldn’t make sense to and that’s how it was easy being his most loyal and right hand but this… this was different.

“Yeah, any woman that bold is made for me!” Sukuna grins looking over the rings trying to find the biggest, brightest, most sinister looking ring.

“You think after yesterday's events consisting of making her jealous and ignoring her you should propose?” Uraume stated in that pestering ‘duh jackass’ voice that would usually have sukuna second guessing.

“What? No, she rode my face this morning until she blacked out again and I sent her to the next land over shopping for whatever her heart desires then set up a hair appointment with a stylist from her homeland.” Sukuna picks up a ring with a blood diamond circled by red rubies that matched the red of his eyes. He was sure the ring could be used as an anchor… you’d love it.

“Your highness for the cost of that ring we may have to take over a small village to not have this affect our funds” Uraume advises making small notes of villages near by in other peoples territory knowing Sukuna would start a war if it meant funding his queens lifestyle.

“A village is too small i want kamiro territory, ill kill him and anybody that decides to follow him. I don’t like the way he smells anyway” Sukuna shrugs, picking up a matching bracelet for you.

“You two have more drama than the servants”

[captain-hawks]

Happy spicy sleepover 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

I feel like Wriothesley deserves to fuck someone’s face? Only you can tell me what that’s like.

Xoxoxo

@mojogojocasahouse

wriothesley x f!reader

c: rough oral sex, masturbation, 18+

-> spicy sleepover saturday

Wriothesley probably shouldn’t be doing this.

But with weeks worth of stress from unrest and issues running rampant throughout the prison weighing heavily on his shoulders, the space beneath his eyes dark from a lack of sleep and his mood equally bitter to match, he slipped today.

He slipped, his normally well-contained self control tumbling off the edge as your habitual verbal sparring struck a particularly raw nerve today when he paid a visit to your workstation in the Production Zone.

This was nothing new between the two of you—your dynamic a constant push and pull to see just how far you could push the Duke with your remarks, an endless spew of suggestive comments and argumentative, teasing statements designed to drive him up a wall. But you weren’t the first prisoner to shamelessly flirt with him, and you certainly wouldn’t be the last.

(And while he wasn’t wholly immune to his attraction to you, something he couldn’t deny, that was something he could handle alone with his hands in the privacy of his office.)

But today—today was a problem.

Today, Wriothesley had been absolutely intent on avoiding you, last night’s fantasy of your face covered in thick, hot ropes of his cum as his hips jerked hard into his tight fist still too fresh in his mind alongside a slew of aggravating tasks this morning. 

But his foul mood and waning restraint was no match for your remarks today (“Your Grace, I really think you need to get lai—”), the smirk on your face having only grown wider as he crowded you into a dark corner behind one of the machines and lowly growled, “I would truly love to know what a single fucking day of peace around here would look like, ideally one where you remember who I am, mind your words, and close your mouth for once.”

He should have known your reply wasn’t headed anywhere good, not when you’d taken your bottom lip between your teeth, tilting your head to the side slightly as you mused, “I mean, if you’d like to shut me up yourself, you’re more than welcome to.”

He’d snapped.

He shouldn’t fucking be doing this.

He shouldn’t be staring down at you kneeling down on the floor in front of him in his office, watching his cock disappear between your full lips.

He shouldn’t be inhaling sharply as you run your fingers over his balls, shuddering at the feeling of you moaning around his shaft. 

You’re a goddamn inmate under his watch—a prisoner nonetheless, despite the decidedly petty charges you’d been brought in for. 

(It’s neither here nor there that if he’d run into you above Fontaine’s depths, his gaze meeting your bright eyes and witty smile across a market stall, the two of you likely still would have ended up like this.)

(Somehow, somewhere.)

“I won’t break, you know,” you murmur, lips glossy with spit as you pop your mouth off of his cock and glance upward, lazily stroking him.

He stares down at you, something hot searing in his gut as you continue, “Shut me up like you mean it. I can take it.”

Something hot flares in his gut at the challenge in your words, the way you run your tongue over your bottom lip before engulfing his length in the wet heat of your mouth once more. But this time, you go further, taking the full length of his cock between your pretty lips and moaning as you begin to deep throat him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, marveling at your clear lack of a gag reflex, one hand scrambling in the air for purchase before grasping the lip of his desk behind him.

His hips begin to involuntarily cant forward as you swirl your tongue around his shaft, saliva dripping down your face while you suck him off so deeply his balls are nestled against your chin. You reach out, grasping his free hand and placing it on the back of your head, and it’s then that he fully understands exactly what you intend for him to do.

His arousal flares white-hot, dangerous and molten as it floods his veins and douses the rest of his senses, whittling his thoughts down to a desperate, near feral need. 

Wriothesley gives one experimental thrust into your mouth, and the sultry, needy moan that vibrates along the pulsing length of his cock is all the encouragement he needs.

“Touch yourself,” he murmurs as he begins to fuck your mouth, the intensity of his pleasure only growing hotter at the sound of your zipper sliding down.

It’s the lewd squelch of your undeniably wet cunt—soaking wet for him—as you slip your fingers between your folds that sends Wriothesley past the point of no return, roughly fucking your mouth like his life depends on it. On filling your mouth with so much cum it overflows, dripping hot and sticky from between the barrier of your lips. 

He nearly forgets how to breathe as his pleasure reaches the precipice, his rock hard cock throbbing and aching with so much desperate pleasure he’s on the verge of blacking out, and your watery eyes meet his as you whimper around him, coming on your fingers. And then he’s coming hard down your throat—so hard that he’s not sure when the ropes of cum will cease to stop pouring out of him. And you’re not complaining, swallowing all that he gives you and milking his cock for every last drop.

When he finally pulls his half-hard shaft out of your mouth, one last thick spurt drips onto your lips, and you swipe it away, offering him a coy smile as you lick the cum off of your thumb and ask, “Feeling any better, Your Grace?”

[coeurify]

perfect girl lll | ellie williams

pairing & word count: ellie williams x fem!reader. modern college au, drug dealer ellie. part 1&2 here, read that first. wc: 11.3k

description: ellie williams and you can never seem to see eye to eye, but you always end up back at each other’s feet.

warnings & tags: 18+ . more fluffy than the others. dramatic lesbians who cant stop arguing. mean!reader, slightly less mean!ellie. slightly toxic relationship. jealousy, drinking. in depth talk of weed and smoking it. (i tried my best. may be a stoner but i cant describe it for shit) cut off sex at the start, semi public sex later, name calling (ellie calls reader a slut at one point) and rough treatment. the whole works. a slightly happy ending tho !

The sun isn’t the first warmth you feel against you when you wake. It's much heavier, hotter, unlike the lukewarm dashes of sun that come through your dorm window. This warmth breathes against your bare skin, presses down on your stomach from its spot above you.

The warmth is much more annoying than the light of the sun, and has the name Ellie, which you grumble as soon as your eyes open.

“Ellie,” your fingers move to push her haphazardly thrown arm and body off of you. You aren’t sure how you had ended up tangled together like this, but the weight of her face in your neck and her chest half over you is enough to send a sort of regret coursing through you, a deep ache in your veins. It’s too close, too much.

The other girl groans, slapping a hand out and over your mouth as if to shush you. For a moment you debate biting down on it, but that would probably be against your better judgment. Instead you move your face away and scooch to the very opposite end of the bed. You ignore the way your body involuntarily shivers at the lack of Ellie’s body heat, body turning uncomfortably.

Your eyes search around the room, stomach swooping low at the sight of all the clothes on your rug. The reminder of the night before makes your fingers run against your neck, hissing when you press down on a bite mark. You finally find what you were looking for, the small blinking numbers on your electronic clock. It was about a quarter before nine, and for once you had no place to be beside whatever Saturday party you were sure to be begged to attend later. But you had the sudden urge to get up and go.. go somewhere other than the blinding heat beside you. But no excuse was valid enough in your mind to leave the sleeping girl beside you, despite the uneven beat to your heart.

Ellie had stayed the night. You had slept naked with her, shifted around multiple times through the night to rest comfortably against her, pulled blankets from each other.. you woke up with her lips against your skin..and you weren’t sure how to handle it. It went against everything you stood for. Hiding a guest in the sorority house, letting yourself fall victim to the awful hookup culture with a piece of shit. An absolutely gorgeous piece of shit. One that you hated, but didn’t seem to be able to stick to that particular feeling all too well.

Your nose crinkles at your brain's own thoughts, embarrassed you could call Ellie gorgeous, like that was the most awful thing to admit.. You finally move to sit up, arms wrapping around your own chest to hide the flesh from certain eyes that may pop open. The skin there is slightly sticky with sweat, and you move to disappear off the bed and into your bathroom. You aren’t able to do so, a hand from the side of you pulling you straight back down onto the bed with a thump.

It’s Ellie’s hands of course, tired green eyes blinking at you as her body shifts to the side so she can watch you. The way Ellie’s pupils shift around your face and then off to the wall makes you think she may also be having a moment of anxiety at the current situation, but she seems much better at hiding it.

Neither of you however are good at real conversations that arent insults or fucking, apparently— so its a bit awkward when she says, “Good Morning.” Ellie looks almost nervous, something lingering in her eyes while she looks at you. Almost admiring you.

You can't deny that she looks pretty. Her auburn hair usually pulled half up is instead slightly tangled and all over her cheeks, messy from a night of tossing and turning around in the small college bed. You want to reach forward, push it behind her ears and watch where it falls against her jawline. You can still smell a twinge of weed and whatever cologne she uses on her, but now it's overtaken by the familiar scent of your sheets instead. Something about Ellie smelling like you makes bubbles rise in your chest— and you have to look away for a second before you start actually moving to touch her.

Your tongue swipes over the dry lips it finds, searching for your next words, “Morning. I was getting up to take a shower, you were all over me in your sleep last night.. Im sweaty,” muttering, you find comfort in the, “annoying by the way..” you add.

Ellie relaxes into the banter as well, seeming too happy to rid the room of the tension that had begun to fill the space. “Annoying? I woke up cold as fuck like three times because you stole all the blankets. And you snore.”

An offended gasp rises in your throat. “I do not snore you dick!” Reaching an arm out to shove her, you leave your chest exposed again, the air nipping at the skin. You realize this after a split second, scrambling to pull the blanket to cover you instead.

It makes Ellie snort, barely moved by the very light attack on her shoulder. “You definitely do snore..” her gaze moves to the blanket pulled up to your chin. “And I think it’s a bit too late to cover up for me now, honestly.”

The words make your stomach turn, a burning reminder of the now repeated actions that had taken place with her. She was right, having seen every inch of your body by this point, every spot usually hidden from the outside world had been drunk up by her eyes at least once. Instead of focusing on how warm that made you, your fingers reached forward to pull at the sports bra she wore, smiling when it slapped back into place and caused a surprised yelp to leave Ellie.

“Yea, pretty unfair though, I slept naked and you're all—”

“Not?” Ellie finishes, smiling lopsidedly at you. It feels oddly intimate, joking around with her like this while lounging on the sheets you both had skewed off their places on the mattress.

“Yea.. that’s why i'm all sticky and sweaty and you aren't.. dick.” you scoff, not really all that mad. Not as mad as you wished you were.

“Well..” Ellie moves to tower over you, arms on either side of your covered frame. “Since I apparently smell bad,” she mumbled— calling back to your multiple comments from the last party— “I guess I don't mind a bit of sweat,” and then she's dipping down, sniffing dramatically at your neck. “Ugh, disgusting.. you do need a shower.”

You make a face, squirming under her. “Shut up!” It’s hard to hold back the smile her ticklish breath against your throat brings, hurting your reddening cheeks at the effort.

She responds by pressing a loud and sloppy kiss on your cheek, chuckling in a way that squeezes your ribcage so tightly it feels it may snap. Her leg presses against you just enough to make something tumble around inside you.

“Stop slobbering on me,” you whine, all too loudly. The words drag out too long, the tone too breathy. You both pause, Ellie raising from her place on your cheek.

There's an invisible line you just hopped right over, spilling away from the quiet and sleepy morning and more into something you knew. The hitch in your voice that Ellie had come to know much too well sent you both nose diving out of that too intimate moment and straight back into the burning you had grown accustomed to.

This look, the one where she is much more awake— focused on your parted lips, you could deal with this. There was no awkwardness about her gaze, no hidden affection like that of when she said good morning, the one that made you want to curl away. This look you knew, this look you both knew what to do with.

Ellie let out a breath, something you couldn’t quite understand going on in her mind. Maybe something similar to your own, falling into one of the only two things you know how to feel together, want.

Her head is dipping down again, this time less jokingly and more clearly focused. Her lips press a softer kiss at your cheek this time, and then on your jaw— pausing for your reaction.

“You want me to stop this?” Ellie asks, a tad more breathy now. You suppose neither of you can really help this sort of reaction around each other. It was easier than addressing the other, softer feelings blooming.

You still hated this, the way she always makes you answer her, makes you say what you really want. Hate the way it makes you all dizzy, makes your thighs squeeze a bit tighter. You’re too tired still to put up a fight now though, giving into her much easier. You won't admit that it was becoming harder to deny her, that that absolute anger you used to find from the way she made you feel was slipping steadily away with each new kiss.

“No, keep going,” you sigh out, hand finding her hair, playing gently with the locks that only reach the middle of her neck. When she shivers from the fingers against her scalp, you smile.

Ellie is also smiling, though for a different reason. That being your immediate answer to her question. “It’s really easy to seduce you, ya know?” she jokes against your skin, biting at the flesh near your collarbone.

“Are you calling me easy?” you accuse, a pout building on your lips. God, you wanted to smack yourself, smack away the dripping feeling down your throat of affection that comes from her teases. Like syrupy sugar in your mouth that you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to feel angry again, wanted this to go faster.. rougher. But neither of you had that in yourselves right now, and neither of you really wanted it. Even if you tried to convince yourself.

“Only for me of course, princess..” Ellie continues, thumb pressing over the still sore marks on your neck. When you whimper, it makes her push harder, drawing another sharp whine out.

“You look so pretty with these,” she compliments, bubbling up that odd mixture of push and pull you felt from the all too sweet tone. It's creating something awful inside you. A swarm too violent to be butterflies in your belly. No, these were wasps, evil and mean.. ruining every bit of your insides. You can't get them out, unable to cough out the stinging that each soft touch from ellie inacts.

You only hum in reply, nails still playing in her hair as she peels the blanket off of your body to kiss lower. The air, though warm, makes you shiver. Maybe just from the pure exposure of it, goosebumps pricking at your skin.

“Been dying to taste you ever since the party, can I?” Ellie’s words are slightly quieter due to her lips on the swell of your breasts, and then they wrap around your nipple. your hips shoot straight up from the feel, eyes squeezing shut to welcome in the blackened vision. Heat erupts out of you with the next tug of her lips, burning your skin from top to bottom, numbing your mind with such a simple touch. Her eyes flick up, teeth scraping against the now hard nub.

You nod quickly, “yea- please, el..”

Maybe it should be a bit shameful that you spread your legs so quickly at the words, that while she works on your nipples you are dripping onto the bedsheets under you, something you would have been starkly against if it was anyone else.

The only noises as she continues her trail of kisses down your stomach are your own needy breaths and the slight blow of the air against the trees outside. You can hear the creak of floorboards to your left, all the other girls in the house sure to stir awake soon. The realization almost pushes you straight up, an all too real reminder of your current predicament. Your heart stutters, breath pauses, and even if Ellie can blame it on her lips, you can’t. Shooing the shame away you instead focus on how she’s nearing your thighs, her hands pressing your them open.

“Already wet,” Ellie chides, burning your face as your eyes make friends with the ceiling. You watch the slight texture of the white surface as if it can stop the embarrassment that pools in you.

Her lips find a new mission of a place to mark up, the target being your thighs. The sensitive skin is bitten into, and you clamp a manicured hand over your mouth. Squirming on the bed you breathe into your own palm, eyelashes fluttering against a finger. The smallest of touches from Ellie got you worked up, so her lips so close to where you needed her.. it ruined you. Your clammy palm stops the noises, muffled and quiet. Your hips buck needily, making her head move with it.

“Calm down baby, barely gotten started..” her voice is rougher now, and you can hear her swallow as she takes in your weeping center. Finally pulling your gaze away from the ceiling to instead look down at her, you are met with a very flushed Ellie, lips puffy from their previous assault on your thighs. It’s enough for you to feel faint, eyes blurring at how much it turned you on.

“Ellie..” you whisper, words harsh, “stop teasing.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, tsking at the attitude. “Cant enjoy my girl?”

My girl, My girl, My girl. it repeats in your head over and over, squeezing your nerves around its twisted little syllables, tilting your vision. Two simple words, ones you don’t think Ellie thought even twice about, something she probably says to every girl she's been with.. they send you completely off kilter. You can’t tell if you feel nauseous because you don’t like it, don't like her acting like she was anything to you.. or if the queasiness and watering in your mouth comes from the need to hear her say it again.

But you aren’t. You aren’t her girl, and you don't want to be.

With the first lick of her tongue on your folds, your mind falls back down into the moment. No longer able to focus on the swirl of panicked thoughts in your mind. Your fingers tug her hair harshly, legs wrapping around her as she licks deeper. You let yourself ignore the words she so casually just said, and instead focus on her between your legs.

But as your toes curl, mouth falling opening.. the other shoe drops. A loud knock at your door startles you, enough for you to immediately shove Ellie’s face away, palm pressing harshly at her face as you kick away. It was a bit aggressive, and she pops up from your thighs groaning and pressing a hand to her now red forehead. Her lips are glassy with spit and your slick as she turns to look at the door. It makes your breath stutter.

“Hey, some of us are gonna go out for some brunch to talk, wanna come?” The shrill voice of your sorority sister Ali passes through the wood door, followed by a smiley sounding Dina, “and pleaseee come to the party tonight!”

Ellie watches you carefully, studying the way the color has drained from your face. How your ribs move up and down with hard breaths, how you pull your knees up to your chest to put space between the two of you. Ellie is literally witnessing you completely close back off as a blanket wraps around your frame, acting as a shield from her. The wasps finally are spilling out of your mouth with a jumble of words, “Yea, i'm not busy. Give me like twenty minutes ok?”

You won't even look at Ellie as you stand, shaking like a damn leaf as you kick around the clothes on the rug in a fit, moving after to the dresser. Quickly underwear is tugged over your hips, followed by a shirt.. and a skirt, all in complete silence.

Ellie has not moved an inch, looking on as you run around like a scared mouse about to be caught by a housecat, eyes wide and beady as you make sure your door is locked. She only is made to move when you throw her sweatshirt at her.

“You have to- you have to leave, sneak out.”

The words hang in the air, finally meeting her eyes. For a moment she seems frozen, mulling over the words you said, taking in the way her hair had blown back when you tossed her shirt to her. The moment dies, her face morphing into one of disbelief.

“Sneak out?” Ellie repeats, sounding literally dumbfounded.

“No one can see I have someone in here for a hookup,” the word burns your tongue, “especially not you.”

As soon as you say it, you feel the difference. The air in the room has gone cold, wasps now free from your stomach stinging harshly at both of you, though they flocked to Ellie more with every avoiding language you used.

“You’re unbelievable, really.” Ellie scoffs, sweatshirt pulling over her head. Her voice is low, completely emotionless in a way that makes you feel a little sick again. That light had switched off inside of her too, and you both watched on as the other stiffened, painting over the dreamy-ness of the morning instead with that known anger you feel in regards to each other. The one you had for months, bubbling right back up.

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes, moving to pull on flats, distracting the trembling of your body.

“I spent the night in your bed, I was just in between your thighs..” Ellie stands up, moving across the room as her voice raises, causing you to shush her quickly, eyes widening. As if this was the worst of your problems right now.

“Those are my marks on you. And you’re gonna kick me out and act like nothing happened, again?” Ellie accuses, shaking her head. “You know, for a second I thought- ” Ellie blinks, stumbling over her words.

You pause. Thought what? Thought you felt something? Thought last night changed you two? If Ellie had guessed any of those it would have been a bullseye, an arrow straight into your thumping heart. But never would you admit it.

“Fuck It doesn’t even matter. You are still the same stuck up bitch you’ve always been. I'm over it,” Ellie grumbles, adding another gut punch with the use of your name following it.

“Why are you being a dick Ellie? Its the fucking rules of the sorority.” You shake your head incredulously, motioning to her like she’s acting crazy. Like she has no right to be embarrassed by the fact you were shoving her out like some mistake again, after the fight that happened about the same thing last night. Here you are again, pushing her back and speaking with venom laced in your tone. Acting like that bitch you always were at parties, arms stiff against your chest.

“We both know that's not the reason,” Ellie goes again reading your mind, calling you out on every thorn coated excuse you spit.

“Stop being so dramatic and get out,” you hiss, no longer able to press any sensibility into your actions, too taken over by the feeling you use everyday to shield yourself, anger, avoidance, harshness.

“Okay, fine, no more.” Ellie says suddenly.

Your lips part to ask what she meant, but it's no use, she beats you to it.

“I'm not gonna get played like some toy for you again, the hook-ups,” she spits the word, “are done, i’m not fucking with you again. Not entertaining your game anymore.” The words shove you straight into a bucket of cold water, drenching you with a harsh shiver it brings to your spine.

It's the first time today that you realize you cannot just keep breaking the tip of a pencil and ask it to still write. The wood will scrape nastily against the paper, no words will come. You can't keep pushing Ellie and expect her to allow the little game you have played for months to continue. Especially not the more physical one that began two weeks ago.

Still, you press on, covering your whole body in stone. “Hook ups, Ellie. That’s all it was, haven’t you had them with half the fucking school?”

Ellie shakes her head again, pants tucked back on and backpack over her shoulder. “Yea. That’s all it is.”

She leaves through the door with a harsh slam of it, and you know better than to follow her and make sure no one sees.

Angry tears brush at your eyes, throat closing with the need to scream into something.

Ellie fucking Williams.

Why did it matter so much to you that she just left? For months you were completely fine shaming her to the depths of hell, you were fine with the insults and banter that you got at each party, where you picked out small bits of information about each other in between insults.

But that had changed the minute you were locked in that room with her in that frat party. It changed the moment your voices both pushed out words about how you had wanted this, leaving the admittance that you thought about each other out in the air. It only got worse the second time you welcomed her between your legs, kissing her like she was more than a hookup.. telling her you wanted her to stay the night.. falling asleep on her.

It had all been changing over and over since that first press of your lips to her own. You didn’t like it. Didn’t like how out of control it made you. So you instead will wallow in your own self destruction to keep that sense of control.

You aren’t sure how long passes before you move to change into a high necked shirt to cover the marks and walk out the door, but you will yourself to ignore the thoughts. You find your friends and walk out the door, acting like you haven’t just had the worst morning of your whole year.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

You’re warm again. Your legs hurt from the walking you had done with an empty stomach to this house on the very edge of campus, building a burn in your thighs. The uncomfortable amount of color corrector and concealer on your neck is beginning to feel sweaty, and you pull the neck of your top up a bit.

You had complained to Dina right away when she told you what frat tonight’s party would be at. It was over brunch, where you ordered nothing but a drink, unable to eat anything due to the constant swirling in your stomach. All of your sorority sisters had absolutely beamed when you agreed to go to the party, though your reasoning may be a little.. out of place. When you learned where it would be, your nose tilted up in disgust at the thought of the awful walk you had done a dozen times.

It was as bad as you thought, heels stretching against your shoes as you neared the house. Seriously, who puts a part of campus on a hill like this? It seems a bit inhumane to you.

When you reach the door, your feet pause, bumping into whichever of your friends is right behind you. “You scared or something? Parties can’t bite,” Ali giggled, making you shake your head.

No, but someone who may be inside this party could. One that you had pretty heavily pissed off this morning. The music is heard even from the door, and when you step in, that familiar heavy muggy feeling wraps around your body, curling your lip.

“I just dont get how you all enjoy these things, it feels like a sauna and smells like a fucking dump,” you mutter to her ear.

Dina pushes in, bumping her arm against your own. “You would enjoy them too if you let yourself relax a little. Always so strung up,” she shakes her head and pouts. The comments like those you receive daily usually slide off your back with no second thought, but for some reason that one stuck.

“Maybe,” the next words that you say felt foreign coming from your glossed lips, and a little fake, “I’ll try to relax.”

Dina grins even brighter, Ali clapping next to you like you had just won the fucking lottery or something. A tight smile presses to your mouth as you let the two girls drag you in along with the rest of your group.

The agreement wasn’t for the benefit of your friends, really. It was for your own sanity and a hopeful resolve to the awful sickness in your stomach and tightness in your muscles. You would blame it on the fact you had gotten worked up without relief this morning, not the way your chest hurt at the thought of the girl who had caused it.

Of course your words didn’t mean you would immediately follow Dina into the middle of the crowd of dancing college students, some of whom were embarrassing themselves by trying to climb on a table. No, you were still you. So you called it a cesspool with a scowl on your face when Dina suggested you dance. Instead you promised her you would talk to people and have a few drinks then meet up with them later if you were drunk enough to dance. Dina took what she could get.

So you made your way to the drink table, of which was tucked neatly in front of the sliding door that led to the backyard. You press your hair behind your ear as you lean over it, inspecting all the bottom shelf liquor that was already almost empty. For once you had left your hair mostly down, too much of a fuss to put it up and rid it of all the fly aways. Settling instead for pulling only some of it back with a pretty little bow that matched the shade of your skirt. Again, not exactly frat party material... but when had you ever dressed appropriately for them?

Your nose scrunched as you finally decided on the most untouched looking tequila, pouring a hefty amount into the solo cup your nails scraped against. The first sip makes your throat sting from the taste, but you refuse to add any of the juice that was left uncapped beside you. Always picking the harder option, apparently.

A giggle from behind you pulled you from the spit pooling in your mouth, and you turned to find the lips it belonged to. “Ellie, pour me a drink?” The voice asks, freezing you completely.

A very pretty girl tugs a tattooed arm to the opposite end of the table, the girl’s black painted nails dancing over the worst choice of vodka. Your eyes attach to the owner of the arm she’s dragging, stomach swooping when You are met with the side of Ellie’s face. It had been only a little over 12 hours since you’d seen this view, and it still made you woozy all over. Her face isn’t as hard as it had been this morning, when you fought with her and made her leave. No, Ellie looked generally relaxed, the pretty college girl on her arm probably the cause.

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, alcohol isn’t really my strong suit..” Ellie chuckled, still not having noticed you. When her eyes remove from the head of brunette hair she was focused on, the green instead focused on you. They drop back immediately, paying you absolutely no mind.

It makes your jaw click, unreasonably angry at how she could glance over you like you were a fucking brick wall. Your lips find the edge of the cup again, gulping down too long of a sip. Retrospectively, this was an awful idea, one that left you almost gagging as you pulled away, the liquid dripping from the corner of your mouth as you force down the last swallow. But it got Ellie’s attention on you again for a moment, her words stuttering just slightly as your fingers grip around the bottle, greedily taking that instead of the solo cup. So really it may be worth it. Not that you cared about Ellie’s gaze.

The wasps are making home in your stomach again the moment she looks at you again, almost curious. You swallow their buzzing down with a swig of the glass bottle.

You turn on your heel, annoyance only growing as you see the brunette lean onto Ellie. The tequila induced heat in your belly is fanning the flames already there. You had no right to be mad at Ellie, and a more reasonable part of your brain knew that. But the way she smiled down at the girl made you want to rip your fucking hair out.

Your feet plant heavily a few feet away, leaning back against the wall as you finally feel the liquor start to settle. Your eyelashes flutter, working hard to keep your attention in the middle of the party and not the chorus of voices to the side of you. You didn’t care what Ellie was doing. She was just a hook-up that ended badly. Your inner voice repeated similar phrases, trying to coax you into a false sense of security with the lie. It works only on the surface, your pupils still glancing over quickly every few seconds.

The straw that breaks your back Is when Ellie turns, leaning against the wall so the pretty girl can stand close to her as she fishes out a lighter, placing what you assume is a joint between her lips. The lighter is handed to the brunette, who flicks it to life and leans in even closer, lighting it for Ellie.

She’s fucking showing off, taunting you, you’re sure of it. Even if she doesn’t glance your way once, you are convinced of this. Maybe it’s a little egotistical to assume, but you were nothing if not sure of yourself. The bottle in your hand is brought up for another sip before you set it carelessly down on the floor, marching away from the scene.

It isn’t long before what you were looking for happens, a taller man stopping you in your tracks as you wander aimlessly around the party, avoiding finding auburn hair in the crowd. He smiles down at you, and you almost say finally out loud. One sway of your hip while you walked and they were on you like flies.

Men are too easy. Fun little tools for you to finally use with reason. Tonight’s reason being to distract yourself from a certain body pressed into some corner of this house. A little deeper your mind whispers it’s also to piss off that same someone, who you had no business bothering anymore.

The stench of weed is what you notice first about him, and then the blonde hair. Your nose almost crinkles when he smiles. Its too bright, too confident for how close he is to a girl he doesn’t even know.

Or maybe he does, saying your name as he greets you, “Haven't seen you at one of these in a while, where have you been?”

It takes everything in you to entertain the small talk, fingers toying around to find where you had hidden your lip gloss. Finding it in the waistband of your skirt, you eye him as you apply it with a hum. His eyes follow every movement. Like you said, easy.

“Yea.. I was really sick, What’s your name again?” You tilt your head, blinking curiously.

“Gabriel,” the blonde introduces himself, grinning again in a way you could never find charming. Not how you did with a freckled cheeked smirk.

“Right.. how have you been?” You play into the conversation, which seems to shock the smile right off Gabriel’s face. You were actually giving some frat boy the time of day? It probably would stun anyone around you, more so when you leaned forward and pressed a pretty finger on his arm, dragging it down to wipe at some blue liquid. “You had something there,” you explain, glancing up.

Gabriel seems all too worked up from the smallest touch, sending a wave of confidence through you. “I've been uh— been good. Started selling some bud a month or so back, get it from my dad’s friend..”

“Mhm..” you nod, tuning out his voice as someone walks behind him, auburn haired and laughing as she tugs the same brunette with her still. They find the couch that was nearby, still in your sightline as they sit. You swear you see her look over toward you and stay there for a second, but Gabriel’s voice is distracting you too much to tell.

When it comes back to the forefront of your mind, he was going on and on about selling weed, and you can’t help but think of Ellie again. She was never this annoying about it.

“You know, I give a pretty girl discount..” he says, stepping closer as a hand reaches out to play at the hem of your skirt. You have to fight the urge to slap it away, not wanting his probably dirty hands on the clean fabric. But the comment actually intrigued you, despite your pure hatred for the substance.

Maybe it was a way to subdue that ever growing anger, putting your lips to one of the two things you never wanted to. Your mind had fallen to this place last time you saw Ellie smoke, fogging over your previously bad experiences with weed. That curiosity was creeping up again, and the thought Ellie may see you with a joint in your mouth after shaming her daily for it, it made you a sick sort of excited. It was becoming useless to deny this whole.. scene wasn't about getting a rise out of Ellie, but you would still try as you say the next words.

“Yea? I’ve never really smoked actually, I'm kinda curious..” your voice drops a bit lower, flashing your pretty eyes up at Gabriel. Yea, that definitely was what this was about. Not about the way your throat tightens when you see Ellie throw her head back in a laugh behind Gabriel.

“And I’m kind of curious about this pretty skirt,” Gabriel says quietly, sending an uncomfortable tremble over your body. God, men had some fucking nerve. Still you play into it, leaning on your tippy toes to press your lips to the shell of his ear, ignoring the bile rising in your throat. You’re speaking to him, but your eyes are dead set on the couch behind you.

It isn't his hand settling on your waist that makes you jump, even if he would think that. No, it was the gaze that shifted up to you from the couch, hawkeyed on your lips that began to move against Gabriel’s ear.

“Maybe if give me that pretty girl discount and make it worthwhile— I can give you more interesting things to be curious about,” your breath hits Gabriel’s skin, and you like the way he shivers from it. Nothing else you like however, definitely not the words you pushed from your lips. The tequila made it easier, slipping weightless promises against the boy you would definitely never bother with again.

It works like a charm, your lips dripping with honey as you pull back, smiling while Gabriel scrambles through his pockets, pulling out a rather shitty looking joint. You weren’t exactly skilled on how they should look, but it sure isn’t this. The paper is crumpled slightly in places, building it uneven and a bit sad looking. You don't comment on this, and keep yourself from scoffing when his fingers reach forward to open your palm and place it there, the pads of his digits lingering a second too long.

“Try it and then come back and let me know if it was worthwhile,” Gabriel emphasizes your own words back at you, and your fingers curl around the joint. You couldn’t help but find him stupid for this, wondering how much of his inventory he had lost by girls playing a similar game. It would have been smarter to offer you smoke with him, but the blonde was far from that.

You manage one more brush against him before you send him a smile, turning around. “Will do, pretty boy.”

Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make a point to take the long route to your next destination, passing right by the couch. You can feel heat crawl up the nape of your neck, a strong set of eyes on your every move as you pass by. Purposely you ignore the burn, the refusal to give in to the pull it made you feel.

You swoop around the edge of the room, searching around until you find the head of black hair, bopping around to the song currently blasting on the speakers. You step over wrappers and poorly discarded cups as you trudge closer, unfortunately, to the middle of the crowd. The joint is still tightly tucked in your palm, which allows no space to wipe the grime you can feel building on your body from the shared heat the group was forming.

“Dina,” you call out, making her turn away from who was pressing against her. It takes you a moment to realize it was Jesse, his face bright red from the drinking and dancing. You greet him with an awkward smile before moving close enough to Dina that you can whisper in her ear.

“Do you have a lighter?”

“What?” Dina shouts, ringing your eardrums. You scowl at her, causing a sheepish smile to bloom on her face.

“A lighter,” you repeated, Dina’s eyes shining when she understands.

“Oh! Yea,” her hand leaves its place on Jesse, rummaging through the pockets of the pants she was wearing, pulling out a mini red lighter. “Here babe,” she grins, and you want to kiss her cute cheeks for not asking anymore questions.

You swipe the object with your free hand, saying something about seeing her later before pushing quickly out of the pile of college students, back to the comfort of the edges of the too small room.

Your legs push you forward, huffing at the gross feeling lingering on your clothes as you find the sliding door again. You push away the drink table to get through, pulling it closed behind you.

The cool night air wraps around your skin, and you can finally fucking breathe out. It felt like your chest had been building up one big heave all night, only able to escape the moment the cold breeze met your lungs. It pushes into the darkness in front of you, the only light that of the colors that bled outside from the glass door, flashing every now and again. A small flickering tan bulb sits to the side of the door, but that barely lights more than the color of your shirt when you sit directly under it. You stumble slightly, the liquor in you having more of an effect than you would like to admit.

No one else was out here yet, the party still building up in stamina, no one but you willing to tear away from it for fresh air. You pull your skirt under you, regretting it instantly when you shift against the concrete stair. You could practically feel the threads ripping. That was the smallest thing on your mind however, instead opening your palm to show the tiny joint.

Honestly, you hadn’t a clue what to do as you raised it between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it. Your free hand fiddles with Dina’s lighter, sparking it.

You swipe through film reels in your mind to try and remember the proper way to light it, and every single option has Ellie’s face. Any semblance of an idea you could find regarding this type of thing would always include a memory of Ellie. Ellie at some party, spitting remarks at you as your eyes trace the way she holds whatever smoke she has between her lips. Ellie handed a neatly sealed bag to some student, fingers flipping through the cash she received for it. Ellie showing someone how to smoke for the first time.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. A strange lump rises in your throat to know she isn’t the one actually here to help you with this, but you swallow it down as you dip your mind back into each red coated memory, pausing on one in particular, a clearer study of Ellie’s fingers slightly twirling a joint as she lit it, looking to get an even burn.

You follow memory Ellie’s actions, and sigh when a red ring wraps around the tip of the joint. You debate for a long second before bringing it to your mouth, sucking in. It felt wrong to do, completely alien as your gloss sticks slightly to the tip. The long pull you take draws a large cough from you as you lean forward and pull the paper from your mouth, throat burning.

If anyone else was around you would be embarrassed, your usually steady demeanor totally falling down as you shake slightly from the tipsiness and bad hit you just took.

Your throat aches, but you much prefer that burn to the one that sat heavily in your chest all day. The rising level of dazedness continues as the tequila works its way though your system, now accompanied by the baby hits you continue to take from your burning joint.

You can’t be sure it's even doing anything, the quick intake and push out of the smoke you have going on. If someone was here to teach you, maybe it wouldn't be burning to ash faster than the hits you were taking.

Your eyes fall in front of you, at the almost pitch black backyard, thrumming with the sounds of crickets and leaves. It’s more comfortable than the base you can feel pounding against the door. Tilting your head up, you let your dizzy eyes focus on the stars, tracing constellations you could find. Sometimes something like this could be your only source of peace.

Your hand raises, covering the light with your pinky, watching the way it still spills out from the sides. A particular patch draws too much similarity to the freckles that coat Ellie under eye, something you would much rather trace with your finger. The moment of peace dies.

Your hand drops at your mind’s tricks, unable to go even a moment without some vision of her clouding your actions. The awful games your conscious plays on you continues with the scraping sound of the sliding door, a voice too similar to Ellie’s asking “You out here alone?”

It sounds like her, but you assume you misheard. Waving one of your hands back in a ‘fuck off’ motion to whoever it may be. It happened to be the hand holding your joint, causing a bit of ash to fall against your hand with the rough movement. “Ouch,” you pout to yourself, assuming the stranger would turn on their heel and leave, as they usually do.

The motion only pushes this person on though, slamming the door closed, feet padding on the concrete.

You turn, ready to berate whoever was ruining your alone time, but it really is Ellie. Her shirt is slightly hanging off to one side, hair pressed behind her ears. Its the closest look you’ve gotten so far tonight, and the devil on your tipsy shoulder says you should tell her pretty face to fuck off.

You don’t, made completely wordless as she leans down over you. Ellie rips the joint from your fingers, inspecting the flimsy paper and wet with gloss tip. You had only gotten a third of the way through, apparently. You blink quickly as she steps to you.

“You're smoking, and it's not even my weed,” the taller snickered, letting the still burning joint ash off onto the cement while she towers over you. You want to slap her, demand she gives you back your shit and leave you alone like she had claimed to be doing from now on. Instead you just start talking.

“How’d you know it was me?” You ask, eyeing the auburnette as she fiddles with the object between her fingers.

“No one but you would wear a fucking bow in their hair like that to a sleazy frat party.”

Scoffing, you hold your palm out so she can hand back the joint. She refuses, not even paying mind to your motion. It makes you bite down on your lip to keep from swearing.

“His bud fucking sucks by the way, thats why no one buys from him. And he can’t roll for shit,” she flicks her wrist to enhance the words, the uneven and poorly packed joint acting as something to follow with your eyes.

Ellie continues babbling, like this was some normal conversation between friends, “He charges way too much for a fucking eighth of his basically brown, dry shit. I’m sure your throat hurts from it right now, hm?”

“Ellie,” you interrupt, pushed on by the liquor dripping down your stomach. “Why are you out here?”

Ellie’s jumble of words stop, the joint completely out now as it stays clenched between the long fingers.

“I was coming out to smoke,” she shrugged, “I knew the stars were gonna look nice tonight and it was getting too busy in there to sit on the couch. Didn’t exactly expect to find ms perfect had already claimed the smoke spot.”

Ellie mentioning the stars you had just been staring up at makes you swallow into your dry throat, trying not to allow your mind to wander to the questions about Ellie’s apparent knowledge.. or at least like, of the night sky.

You don’t meet her eyes, “don’t you have a girl to entertain?” it's leaking with obvious jealousy when you say it, slightly slurred by your glossy lips.

Ellie dances around your comment, ignoring your attitude. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Are you drunk right now?” you retort, a voice unlike your own— one shrillier and more childish, mocking her. You say it before you can stop yourself, immediately embarrassed by the comment.

You really need to stop drinking tequila, and being around Ellie, seemingly the only two things that can make you this immature and impulsive.

So impulsive that when Ellie throws your joint out into the grass somewhere and takes a seat next to you, you don't immediately stand and hit her. You just keep on pestering.

“Seriously, I thought you,” you raise your digits to make air quotes , “weren't entertaining my game anymore,” your hands wave as you do a very bad Ellie impression, lowering your voice to repeat the words drilled into your mind this morning. Ones that had played in your head like a tune you couldn’t get out, a recording pressed to restart over and over. You treated it like a joke, a taunt.

“I’m not. Just sitting to have a smoke..you just happen to be here,” Ellie muttered, looking at the tree line instead of you.

“Go smoke with that brunette,” you reply in a clipped tone, no longer able to bite back the overflow of bitter comments about the pretty girl who had been longing all over Ellie inside. Ellie doesn’t ignore it this time, hitting back with her own jab.

“Go be a slut with Gabriel for a joint again.”

Your face turns red, ears ringing as she admits she was watching on to your little show with the blonde man. The liquid in your stomach threatens to cause a spree of mean responses at her comment despite this, offended by the harsh words as much as they warmed you. But you only manage, “Fuck you. Maybe I will, you just threw mine out.”

Ellie shakes her head, almost looking regretful for the comment. She pulls out one of her own pre rolls from a little tin in her pocket, the one she always carries. You could never make out the design on it before, always having been much further away when she pulled it out previous to now. It has sharpie drawings all over it, which you assume she does it herself, but she's tucking it back away before you get a look.

This one was much more even and tightly packed of course, no sign it had been pressed together by nervous hands. Ellie hadn’t lied in her ramblings, but that only annoyed you more.

“If you’re gonna smoke, smoke my shit.”

You glance at her for a moment, at the outstretched fingers leaning toward you.

“I don’t even think I did it right,” you admit quietly. It hangs in the trees for a moment, blowing with the twigs that hang from them. It’s a small nudge, an agreement to for at least for a moment ignore the way Ellie was purposefully ignoring every question you asked. Ignoring this morning. “I don’t feel anything but tipsy, nothin like what people say it feels like.”

Maybe weed just didn’t work on you, someone cursed to always be so uptight. Or maybe you just were shit at smoking.

“Well it’s not gonna feel the same when you’re already drunk,” Ellie scoots a bit closer, just barely brushing your arm as she lights the tip of the paper, watching the even burn follow.

“Gettin’ crossfaded feels different from just being high. You might not like it.”

It's too embarrassing to ask what crossfaded means, but you use the context of the situation to assume it has something to do with drinking and smoking at the same time. “Still wanna try,” your eyes land again on the pre roll, knees turning to face in toward El, jean clad legs bumping against your own bare ones.

“Don't be so needy,” Ellie mumbled as the joint is pulled just slightly between her lips, taking in a much larger breath than you had ever done.

The word makes your legs shift, warm and searching to rid the slight pulse it caused. Ellie’s eyes immediately glance down to them, noticing the reaction even more than yourself. She doesn’t comment on it.

She takes one more hit before passing it to you, steadily slotting it between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Wipe your gloss off,” she instructs, making you look at her curiously. “You don't want to make this part wet, and only put your lips on it a bit.”

You follow her directions a little too well, free thumb wiping across your lips, a blaze of green following the motion intently. Then the joint is placed, this time more gently, between your lips.

“Good,” Ellie nods, making you shiver slightly. The word wraps around your throat, squeezing like fingers, dizzying your head more than this smoke ever could. You internally slap yourself, screaming to get a grip, to stop this flood of feeling again.

“Now take a breath in, a big one, but if your throat starts to sting even a little, blow out right away, don't try and finish the hit. It’ll make the cough worse.”

The step by step instructions help just as you had imagined it would, a much smoother drag happening following Ellie’s words. She watches on carefully, and from the corner of your eye you can see her swallow at the same time the smoke pushes past your lips, out into the backyard air.

“Take another,” Ellie adds after a beat of silence, and you doubt this one is for your own sake. You listen like a dog being bribed with a bone, your version of treat being Ellie’s attention fixated solely on you. With another pull, your head tilts back and up to the stars again, copying a move you had seen Ellie do at countless parties as you blow out.

The joint is pulled from your grip before your chin even tilts back down. Ellie’s gaze is set straight ahead again as she takes a few puffs of her own, jaw much tighter than before.

You can't help but ask a little slower, “Did I do good?”

The game Ellie vowed to take an axe to was starting up again, pushing the line between you two again, like you had any right to do so. Like your scissors had any right to cut the string threaded between the two of you. But it was already fraying, blade taken to it one too many times.

Ellie does her best to knot it back together, “You did,” falling from her muffled lips stiffly. But her metaphorical hands are shaking, unable to tie that knot as your eyes glance at her hand that’s near her mouth.

“You did good,” she repeats, smoke puffing out with her words.

You nod, settling for this as an answer as you tear away from watching her smoke, staring up to continue finding pictures in the sky.

A few moments pass, building the thick fog of tension between you as the feeling finally hit. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, the whole damn planet spinning for a second before it settles into a more liveable feeling.

It's the first time your body doesn’t feel heavy, first time you aren’t acutely aware of your skirt dirtying beneath you, hairs falling from the white colored bow. For once you don’t give a fuck what you may look like— though the crossed feeling may not be the only component to this, the person sitting next to you also seeming to lull you into an unusual allowance to let go.

“How does it feel?” Ellie questions, you can feel her hot breath on you now, her face turned to face your cheek, watching your chest move slowly.

It takes a moment to find your voice, a little embarrassingly too far gone from such a small amount of hits, though you guess mixing this with the tequila was probably more likely the cause. “good,” you lick your dry lips.. frowning slightly when not met with the usual wet gloss. You don't mind too much right now, instead set on answering Ellie’s question.

You aren’t even sure how to describe the feeling, words not being able to mesh together correctly to find a proper explanation, only able to ask, “I wanna take another,” head nodding toward her.

You turn your head, still tilted back slightly as you raise your fingers to take the joint. Before you can, it’s already against your lips. Ellie is holding the joint for you, and that string that laid between you two has fallen completely to your feet. The game back on.

You catch her eyes as you take a breath in, her pupils blown wide and slightly red, just as high looking as your own.

You aren’t sure what pushes you to make your next move, maybe the weed, maybe how pretty Ellie looked when she pulled the joint away from you, lip trembling gently with a breath. Whatever it is, it pushes you forward, pressing against her lips.

Her lips part slightly immediately, opening up as the smoke from your hit pools out between the kiss, hot enough to burn your eyes that quickly close. Her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, wetting it a bit more before pressing into a deeper kiss again. You aren’t sure where her joint has gone, but soon both hands are free and on your cheeks, pressing into the fat there, forcing you to stay connected as lomg as she deemed.

By the time she lets you pull back from the now sloppy kiss, drool pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you’re wheezing for a breath. But you still chase her lips, only pushing her further back.

“We have to stop doing this,” Ellie whispers against your neck as her hands move to grip under your thighs, lifting you up to her lap, your eyes meeting the glass door— reminding you again that if anyone looked a little too closely they would see you. You blink hard, not making out any bodies near the table.

It takes another second for you to recall Ellie’s words, “doing what?” you ask, a little more breathy as Ellie’s lips find your jaw.

“Fucking instead of talking. Never ends well,” Ellie says, still continuing her trail of wet kisses, pausing to wipe away the makeup covering your hickies. She doesn’t bite over them this time, instead just lazily pressing soft lips over all of the half covered bruises.

“Third times a charm?” You try, eyes deadset still on the flashing colors of the door.

Ellie’s hand falls down your chest, pushing up under your shirt to find your boobs, kneading the fleshy fat, tweaking your nipples a little too meanly, sending a wave straight down to your lower belly. You whine, mouth falling open with a small series of gasps.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me,” Ellie whispers against the ear closest to her cheek, words willing your head to not fall against her neck, instead pulling back to look at her, grumbling when her hand falls from its place in your shirt.

You knew how she played by now, sensing her next movements before she can even play them, so you don’t dare ignore her question. “The door.. was making sure-” head spinning deliciously when her cold hand pressed under your skirt, pushing your panties to the side, swiping the pad of two fingers over your weepy slit, “making sure no one was looking.” you finish.

Her hand appears again from under your skirt, a devilish grin pulling at the features of her face you can barely see. “Doesn’t really seem like you give a fuck if someone sees,” Ellie chides, the fingers popping into her mouth, you see her cheeks indent slightly as she licks your wetness from her fingers, replacing it with that from her own tongue when the digits fall back out of her lips, and back down to its original spot, sliding over your cunt again.

“Maybe that's what you need,” Ellie begins, tracing you by only dipping the finger in very slightly, feeling the throbbing muscle. You know where this is going, you can already taste the degrading words about to come on your tongue, and you happily will lap at whatever insult she has coming. Your head is dizzy enough already, limbs slow moving as they grasp at her shoulders, trying to grind yourself down into it.

“Maybe you need to get caught,” Ellie hums as one finger finally bottoms out in you, a sweet whine drawn from you at the sensation. “Maybe that’ll get you to stop acting like such a bitch about sleeping with me..if its all out in the open,” she emphasizes the words with a slow thrust, the wet sound echoing in the air, the thumping beat from inside the house behind you falling as a backdrop to the much louder sopping wet sounds.

“You want that, princess? Want someone to find me fucking you open on my fingers? Maybe that asshole you talked to? Bet he’d love to see my girl bouncing on these fingers.” Ellie continues, a possessive tilt to her voice. You have half a mind to bring up the brunette she was with, but then she’s pressing another finger into the mix and scissoring them inside you ever so lightly, exploring the walls that squeeze around the long digits. The pet name falls so easily from her lips that it takes you back to before this morning, when everything was just slightly less messy.

“Fuck,” you whine, forehead falling against her’s, willing yourself to hope that the drink table in front of the door covers you enough, that if someone passing by looked all they would see was two shadows likely kissing. The shaky logic just made it even more exhilarating, grinding down on her fingers. “No, I don't- don’t wanna get caught,” you whimper, but make no effort to stop the movements.

Ellie’s breath mixes with your own as you keep yourself close, chin tilting in to speak directly against your lips, “too dark for anyone to see..” she assures, easing your mind slightly, “unless they look a bit too hard,” Ellie murmured, then pressing forward to kiss you again, which you graciously accepted.

Her fingers move in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace, playing with you before speeding up gently when you cry out at the curl of her fingers. “El, more— please,” you ask against her lips, words swallowed by her greedy mouth, kissing you again with swollen lips.

“Askin so nicely,” Ellie praised, rewarding you with a quickening pace, sucking a large gulp of air into your lungs. Your head swirls above your body, too overwhelmed by all of the mixing sensations to continue the kiss, just breathing into her mouth, nose brushing against hers. For being in such an open place, it feels rather intimate and soft, directly opposite to the words that spew on from Ellie’s always moving lips.

“You wanna come? Wanna soak my fingers for me? Right here where anyone could walk out?” Ellie cooed the words, taunting you again with the one thing you feared. It doesn’t matter anymore, the tangles in your belly making it useless to fight her words. You nod dumbly, any speaking choked in your throat.

“Words, baby..” Ellie chatisizes, slowing her fingers. The loss of friction has you babbling quickly, whiny sounding and completely out of it, “No, el please keep going. I w‘na come, please let me come,” you beg against her, loud enough for her but a whisper to the rest of the world.

Ellie makes a noise of approval from your rambling, quickening her pace again, this time rougher, tips of her fingers always hitting that spot that makes your knees buckle and hips buck. The high that's settling over you like a fog only makes it feel even better, each touch of her other hand against your skin has you trembling, feeling like a thousand little satellites lighting across your body. Your head falls, watching the leaf ink of her arm move back and forth with each push of her fingers, your folds drooling around her fingers. Her thumb come to circle your clit— which has you trying to slap her hand away at the burning feeling, almost too much.

Ellie’s free hand dances up you, fingers finding home on your neck, squeezing enough to make you look up, forced to meet Ellie’s searching eyes. “You can take it, keep looking at me,” she breathes, squeezing her hand enough to make you sputter, eyes burning. It pushes the lightheaded daze you're in further, even stronger now as you feel yourself clenching around her, a new wave of wetness following each slick sounding plunge into you.

You follow the order, blurry eyes focused directly on hers, pulling your heart in five different ways as you blink quickly, tears clinging to your lashes as the squeeze on your throat continues. Ellie is looking at you like you are the only thing she’s ever seen, enamored by your parted mouth, sticky strings of spit connecting your lips, by your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. She’s looking at you like you are the stars above her head, and thats what sends you tumbling into your orgasm, that look.

It comes with a loud cry, struggling to bubble through your tightly gripped throat, searching for another gulp of air as you shake in her lap. It's the most intense orgasm you think you may have ever felt, ten times stronger due to the connecting details that lead to it. The high, the fear of being caught, her hand, that look, it all makes the feeling even fucking better, and you can feel how much you’ve soaked her hand when she pulls out. You feel out of your body, like you have been released from your skin and instead into the air, ready to float up to the stars. The only thing that holds you here is Ellie’s soft voice against your hiccuping cheek.

“Gotta breathe baby, you did so good for me,” Ellie kisses your cheek, and you can feel her messily wiping her fingers against your thigh, something you would have complained about if you were any more in charge of your brain at the moment.

The next set of breaths come a bit slower, finding place in your body again as you come back down, closing your eyes and slumping into Ellie. Your eyes flick to the door, happy to see no one there, and no one nearby.

You both sit in silence for a moment, not sure what to do next. Ellie dashes any hopes of a quiet and easy end to this hookup with her next words.

“Let me take you on a date,” Ellie says quietly, tone out of that harsh one and back into a much softer one. It's totally at the wrong time. But nothing you two did was ever timed right.

“Fuck off,” you reply immediately, making her pinch your hip. “I mean it you asshole,” Ellie grumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. That was fine by you, as your heart hammered so hard against your ribs you were convinced it may jump out if she looked at you while saying this.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you rasp, throat dry and quiet as you respond to the ridiculous situation, still riding out the aftershocks.

“Yea,” Ellie nods, “Been wanting to ask from that first fucking party, always played into your fights cause it meant i got your attention, picked on you so I could—” Ellie babbles, burning your cheeks a bright red. You search for a way out of the conversation, a way to avoid the festering emotions it brings. But you can’t, not anymore. The words are too real, no longer tiptoeing around the truth like you two loved to do. Too much to push off without completely breaking what was going on here.

“Stop,” you beg, making Ellie stiffen slightly. “Stop embarrassing yourself, I’ll go on a date with you,” you finish, reveling in the way Ellie relaxes. It takes a lot to say, ripping away all semblance of control you felt over the situation. You were finally giving in to your own feelings, to Ellie’s.

“Who knew all I had to do was ask you after an orgasm?” Ellie jokes, again with the awful timing. You shove her half heartedly, shuffling your panties back into place as you clamber off her lap, movement stumbly as you settle next to her, thighs still shaking.

“Stop talking,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your eyes, still feeling high. Ellie grins beside you, looking like she had just won a prize despite your targeted words. It tugs at your heart again, descending it into the pit of your stomach, where it rolls around and sends an uncontrollable giggle past your lips. It feels wrong coming from you, and you press your fingers to your lips to stop any more.

“You-“ Ellie starts, but you make a quick noise to stop her calling you out on the giggle.

“If you stop talking I’ll walk out the party together with you,” you hold out your finger to stop her words. Ellie seems to be a talkative high tonight, much to your own disadvantage. It hurts your cheeks and chest from how hard all her words made them pull.

Ellie hums, eyes narrowing slightly. It was a big enough step for the both of you. Not a promise of anything serious, but your own way of an apology for all the sneaking around, all the fights and bitchy moves you have pulled these last weeks. It’s a promise to at least give it a shot.

Ellie makes the same promise as she stares at you and nods, “Deal.”

[seattlesellie]

mirage

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie doesnt like you. she cant. and then she does. but fuck, she cant.

warnings: suggestive themes, cursing, not proofread, lowercase on purpose

authors note: just wrote this on my phone. lil blurb abt ellie and u on a hot summer day and theres nothing i love more than ellie being pissed and reader being a sunshine, literally.

it was a hot, summer day. one of those days where your lips get swollen from the dryness of the air, and your breathing gets heavier with every step you take. the sun was cooking you up, quite literally. you could just feel the stinging pain of the sunburn forming on your shoulders.

what didn’t help this situation was at all was patrol. neither was the fact that your patrol partner was ellie. ellie motherfucking williams. the one girl that made your blood boil, the only person in the world you had to walk on fucking eggshells with, since every word you said, every sentence you formed, seemed to piss her off. she was like a mosquito to you, buzzing in your ear, not letting you sleep, never giving you any peace. was it your sweet voice that made her mad? was it your light steps, compared to her heavy ones? was it maybe the sound of your laughter filling up the room - every time she walked in? you couldn’t quite point your finger at it. something about you ate her up alive, biting forcefully.

“just fucking walk already” she said, dominating as ever. it wasnt her fault the flowers bloomed so beautifully - you had to get another look.

you stared her down, frowning at her demand, still crunched up with your nose deep in the blossom of the white daisies.

“i just wanted to see the fucking flowers, ellie. lighten up, jeez” you said, getting up quickly, trying to hide the fact that you were hurt at her words. it wasnt like you liked her or anything, but something about her made you want, no, need her to accept you. everyone else did. dina fucking loved you from the moment you walked in to jackson, all hurt and disheveled, jesse thought you were the fucking coolest and hell - even joel took a liking to you. everyone but her.

“just be useful for once and walk” she demanded, yet again.

you picked out a small flower, sighing at your patrol partner’s unwanted words.

“we need to clear this house and then you can go flower picking or whatever the fuck” ellie said, rolling her eyes so far back into her head you thought she might have an aneurism. her voice was stinging you harder than a bee.

“fine” you muttered. if you weren’t so small, figuratively speaking, compared to the auburn haired girl, you might have even cussed her out. told her she could go fuck off, do the patrol on her own and abandon you. but you couldn’t, because you were you, and she was ellie, and she always got the last word.

“fine” she spat back, and threw her hand ever so carelessly at the air so you could get the clue and follow her lead.

you followed her, keeping quite a large distance between the two of you. somehow, you swore to god himself, you could feel her. she wasn’t even close to you at that point, and yet her presence was still haunting you in the most physical sense of the word. her steps on the drying leaves - loud, stomping them. mad. her backpack - slamming against her back, making a small thump with every hit.

“could you walk any louder?” you said, raising your voice so she could hear you over the sounds of her own stomps.

“i could, actually” ellie retreated, sarcastic as ever. her voice was dry - was it her annoyance at her inexperienced, ever so easily distracted patrol partner? or was it the hot, dry, summer air bathing in her lungs?

she started purposely stomping even harder, all in order to piss you off. she loved seeing just what made you tick. one step closer to breaking you completely. for some reason - she needed it. needed you to tell her you were done, needed you to tell her to back off, to stop being so fucking mean. but you never did. the why of it all killed her. why didn’t you just put her in her place? why didnt you snap already? and why did she need to know so damn bad?

“real mature” you said, followed by a deep sigh. honestly, you were too busy focusing on how your sweat made your white tank top stick to the bottom of your breasts right now. too busy by your own uncomfortableness to give in to her bickering.

and then - you spotted it. the clear water almost blinding you with the reflection of the glistening sun. a lake. the lake. dina told you all about it, how when you take this patrol road, theres the most beautiful lake hidden by a number of trees. how jesse and her were convinced they were hallucinating as a result of the glaring sun, but when they realized it was real, not some mirage, they ran so fast dina almost tripped on a wire and took a dip, getting lost at the feeling of the cool water against their burning skin.

“ellie!” you shouted with excitement, like a little kid who spotted his favorite gummy at the candy store. when she didnt turn around - pretending to ignore you, you ran so fast to her you practically almost bumped into her back.

“ellie, look!” you exclaimed, pulling at her backpack and physically turning her around. she seemed startled, looking for any signs of danger, ignoring the huge smile on your face that would have pointed to her that the only danger was you.

“what? what?” she said, a bit frantic, already reaching over with her hand to grab her trusty switchblade. infected she could handle - but you and infected? she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pull through.

“the lake!” you were jumping up and down, still holding the back of her backpack, making her move with every leap.

she looked at you with a confused face, eyebrows squint together, her nose slightly scrunched. if you didnt find her so insufferable, you might have even thought that was the cutest face youve ever seen.

“wha…- what lake?” she said, eyes scanning the area. ellie williams - the ever so diligent.

“are you blind? look-“ you said, pointing at a bunch of trees.

“are you okay? are you having a heatstroke?” ellie said, half serious - half amused, looking at you up and down.

“just-“ you said, and grabbed her arm forcefully in order to guide her through. she didnt know if you could feel it, or if she had imagined it, but the contact of your small hand on her wrist made her pulse fasten. or maybe - it was the possibility of danger. she would definitely have preferred the latter. that was her reason to her heart dropping to her boxers. danger, not you. not the touch of the pretty girl, definitely not that.

she let you guide her - while her conflicting thoughts ate her burning skin up.

“faster, ellie c’mon!” you said, panting as you walked faster and faster, dragging the girl behind you.

jesus. those words, coming out of your delicate lips, they arose something in her, yet again. did she wish you said them in a different context? shit up, stupid fucking brain, shut the fuck up. the green eyed girl thought to herself. not her.

“i swear to god - if youre trying to kill me or something, ill fucking stab you” she said, still following your lead.

“you would be dead” you extorted back, with a stupid grin on your face you were grateful she didn’t catch. as if.

finally, you were there. you weren’t hallucinating, this was a fucking lake. and if you weren’t with that certain auburn haired girl, you would have taken all your clothes off and jumped right in. gosh, it was so fucking tempting.

“ta da!” you said, beaming, borderline salivating at the thought of the cool clear water caressing your skin.

“no” she deadpanned and walked away slowly, eyes glued to the lake, and then to you.

“i’m not doing that” ellie said.

“what? you cant swim?” you said, poking at her shoulder.

playful. you were being playful. and she didn’t know how to fucking react.

“i can fucking swim” she said with a sigh, hand forming a fist. what an grumpy toddler you thought to yourself.

“were on fucking patrol, y/n, i’m not going in” she said, certain of herself. she wasn’t supposed to lose control around you.

“suit yourself, williams, i’m taking a dip” you said with a sly smile, batting your eyelashes sarcastically at the girl. she let out a small chuckle, and then coughed.

she doesn’t get to have you like this, ellie, get it fucking together.

and then, without warning - you started stripping, desperately trying to get the sticky fabric away from you.

“jesus” she said with a loud voice, panicked look on her face - as if she walked in on someone doing the wrong thing. her eyes were flickering over everything that wasnt you. the tree, the ground, her feet, the lake. she could have turned around, she knew she could. but that wouldve made it even weirder.

first - it was your tank top. and then - your pants. and stupidly enough, you thought you could make her laugh. so what you did - was starting to unclasp your delicate pink bra, almost taking it off.

“what the fuck?!” ellie panicked again, and this time - she turned. it wasn’t because she didnt want to see, she didnt want you to see. her face was burning up - cheeks red as a rose.

“i’m fucking kidding, jesus ellie - i wasn’t gonna skinny dip… not with you around, anyways”

the joke landed terribly. ellie didnt find you stripping in front of her to be funny - it was anything but.

you kicked the sand under your shoes, awkwardness sending a shiver down your spine. you started fighting with your bra, trying to clasp in back on, but your clumsy hands, and the fact that you had your underboob on display in front of ellie made your hands shake even more. what the fucking hell were you thinking.

“fuck” you murmured, followed by a bunch of annoyed grunting at your failed attempt to clasp it back on,

“shit!” you were full on battling with it now.

ellie was just there. standing still, fidgeting with her hands.

“help me?” you said in a quite voice, shameful.

she let out a breathy laugh followed by an “ahh”

“fuck you, fix your own mess” she chuckled to herself.

got you.

“s’not funny, i cant do it!” you said, visibly frustrated.

“nope” she said, popping the p. she sounded so fucking satisfied with herself.

“fix your own mess” you mimicked, mocking her with a high pitched voice.

“did you just fucking mock me?” that was the last straw. she turned around, crossing her hands, still somehow trying to avoid your gaze. she was in her element now. and the element was anger. embarrassment, awkwardness, she couldn’t do - not anymore. but anger? that was her.

you were still fidgeting with your stupid bra, but somehow managed to keep your tits from spilling out.

“help. me.” you demanded, shooting arrows at her with your gaze.

“beg.” she extorted, eyes filled with pride. she couldn’t let that one go.

“pfft” you rolled your eyes- trying to ignore the butterflies creeping up on you. why did she make you feel like this?

“never” you said, trying to keep your composure, hands flailing behind you.

she walked towards you, slowly, like an animal who found her prey. she was a lion - you, a lamb. a half naked one.

she got even closer.

“then i’m not helping” she said, ever so casually. her her eyes - everything but casual.

part 2?

[waddei]

full story behind these images (6.5k words open at your own risk)

pacing back and forth in the damp grass roman bit his nails waiting for tomas to pick up the phone.

“cmon…cmon…”  

his boots splashes on the muddy puddles, staining his soles.

“fuck..” 

a small click from the phone made him jump.

“tom thank god-”

“what do you want” his friend whisper shouts. voice as always a strange mix between quiet but assertive.

“i need your help” he says with far too little shame for someone calling in the middle of the night.

the wind hit his back harsher than before now, dark clouds swerved above him and he could only pray that the night ended with a storm. He can imagine himself, staring through the window at the flooding street with a grin, watching the rushing  mud and sand wash the town clean. 

tom doesn't  answer,but thats normal by now.

“its important” he begs, a ‘please’ goes unsaid for his own egos sake.

“lets meet at our spot shall we?” he sounds as frantic as his heartbeat feels, tom mooks him from the comfort of his home with an intentionally loud sip of his mug.

he doesnt let the distance stop him from feeling those hollow green eyes stare down at him

“what did you do” tom asks, impatient. for what though, roman doesn't know, that sense of hurry around him never faded.

he swallows as he looks down at his feet. resting next to them in the grass was the man's head, his nose had long stopped bleeding and lifeless eyes stared up at him in long ignored plea of mercy, they were starting to gloss over. roman bit back a sound of disgust.

“i cant tell you right now.just come here” 

tom gave a long heavy sigh “my brother’s sleeping” he said, like it mattered at all.

“do i look like i care?" he snarled “bring your bike too if you're coming”

the body below him caught his eye again. it was fairly tall,only a few inches short of himself,which was impressive in its own right. 

“two trash bags too if you happen to have any”

“two?” 

“yes… two”

tom huffed and the call was cut with no goodbye, again ,not unusual but it never failed to annoy him.

with a groan he squats down in the grass, careful not to stain his jeans neither green nor red. 

he feels unseeing eyes  burn his back.the body had not moved, obviously, its mouth hanged open after having its last words die on his tongue.

He doubts he would have had anything of value to say anyways.

The bastard,miserable not unlike himself, chose to go down swearing until the very end when, after the reality of his situation dawned on him, he began pleading and bargaining like he was talking to the devil. which, if you where to ask anyone else, he was.

his last words where as nonsensical as they were a threat.

Roman doubts it'll amount to anything, after all the plan was to not get caught.

as for the rest of ‘the plan’ as he likes to call it: it didn't have any more steps for now. at least until tom got here, he'll figure it out from there.

He looks up at the moon,bright and unusually big. She sat in the sky directly above him like an otherworldly spotlight parting through the clouds with little struggle,he revels in it even if just for a moment. his childish fascination with her never quite faded.

the wind continued to ruin his moment, swaying tree branches dangerously close to his face, his jacket wasn't enough to keep out the cold, shamefully he wrapped his arms around himself.

a leaf smacks him in the face. He rips the small branch out.

‘tom should be on his way already’-he thinks to distract himself- ‘if he's even coming’.

he's sure he will, where else would he go?

man of habit he is,he’ll find his way here eventually even if roman hadn't called him, he's sure of that.  hed make his rounds like he always does and, eventually, they'd meet again even if he didnt move an inch until then.

he doesn't want to move really,not at all. feeling like he's putting his life on the line if he leaves the corpse alone.

walking through the dense vegetation wasn't easy, he envies the ease tom seemed to have with it.

He makes it to a clearing in the bushes, a familiar checkpoint when traversing the landscape that tom had originally shown  him.

he skips right through it this time, heading for a particular tall tree that stood out against the horizon.

at its base was everything he ever needed. 

Tom, with his bike and two large trash bags pooling out of his cammo vests pockets.

his head snaps to look at him once he crosses the threshold to ‘their place’.

a nice, semi enclosed area by the base of a tree older than everyone they've ever meet where a fallen log made a makeshift bench. tom was sitting on it with his bike next to him. 

wordlessly and shielding his shaking hands he motions for him to follow and  Tom does so with a disinterested look.

roman begins leading him to the scene.

tom jumps over the bushes roman had gotten his pants caught on before. “what did you do?” he asks, verbatim as he had done so on the phone. roman ignores him and hops over a hole in the dirt, tom follows and he helps him haul his bike over it.

they reach the clearing, small drops of water already drizzling made each blade of grass sparkle.

 tom stares at them as he always does,roman assumes a certain fascination with it might exist but the boy's eyes remain as painfully neutral as they always do.

he does not bother hurrying him up as he too takes a moment to stare, only he looks up at the moon instead, trying to  steady his trembling hands.

they move on once tom grows bored of watching the ants or whatever. Roman leads him to the other semi cleared area where he knew the body was.

parting the bushes for tom like the gentleman he is, he lets him take a good look at the scene before saying anything. He takes note of how wide his eyes grow as he scans the ground in front of him. a horrified look begins to paint itself on his face.

it doesn't last much, the small flash of emotion was quickly drowned out by  his usual apathetic look. 

“what did you do?” he asks for the third time, carefully looking at him up and down with a hint of disgust showing through the ice.

“i think its obvious”  roman jumps over closer to the body and further away from tom.

“i fucked up..” he sais with his hands on his hips in a vain attempt a showmanship. “went a bit too far this time”

tom crouches down near his foot and near the man's head, his eyes go wide again when he makes eye contact with it. he watches incredulously as roman, nonchalantly,  nudges an arm with his foot.

“i think i might need some help” its a bold thing to admit for someone like him, tom doesn't fail to notice it.

greyish green eyes narrow on him like a hawk and with a single precise motion he throws the trash bags at his feet.

“im not touching it” he declares with a tone that leaves no room for argument. 

 that's fine, a sensible boundary even. all he needed was the bike and the bags. He opens up the folded bags and lays them in the ground next to the body while avoiding his friends stare.

“welp” he announces to no one, for he knows tom isn't paying attention. “lets get to work”

with more effort than expected he sits the man,dead as he was, against a short stump.

a  phone falls out of his pockets in the meanwhile, tom immediately smashes it below his foot. roman jumped “whats your problem?”

“they can track that” he stomps on it again for good measure.

“i could have sold it-”

“tell me what happened” 

tomas isn't someone he’d call intimidating. the boy was as thin as one can get and a full head shorter than him, but he was hard to read. impossible even. it scared roman in a very specific way he struggled to explain. 

he sighs, with the stars as witnesses he pulls the man's legs closer to his chest.

“well we were just supposed to fight. fucker slipped me a note with a date and place and i just came-uhmp!” He struggled with folding the arms over the chest.

“and?” tom pressed.

“well i had a bad day! and He was pissing me off more than usual..” he takes one last look at the mans’s face, ridden with  bruises and with an undeniably broken nose, his eyes couldn't glare at him anymore. “so once i had him down i just kept stomping on his head”

it felt strange to admit it so easily. tom winced and looked away back to the clearing.roman  took this as a cue to finally fit the first bag over the corpse's head. it covered it all the way to his hips as he expected.

the legs turn out to be much harder to lift than anticipated but he makes due without help. Once the two bags meet he ties them both together at various points until the body is fully secured inside, clumsily  wrapped like a home cooked meal.

he giggles at the thought,Tomas glares at him again.

"we have to get this out of sight somehow" he mumbles "do you still have that shovel in your garage?"

Tom doesn't answer, but he does not freeze either. He stares intently at him, watching him struggle to balance the body on the bike;he sets it with its legs between the front bar where he,while driving, could hold it still.

struggling to drive the bike through the bushes he almost misses Tom silently walking away.

"hey!"  he almost loses hold of the handles. "where are you going?" 

the boy jumps the bushes into the clearing. his hair  sways violently with the wind but Tomas never seemed to mind the way it covered his eyes at random.

"you want the shovel right?" he spits,not bothering to look back at him.

A smile creeps up his face and he bares his teeth like a child;far too giddy even for his own comfort he watches his friend walk away. 

in the meanwhile a thought emerges, unwanted and uncalled for, a little voice inside himself that trembled and stuttered at every word like he's sure he used to  'what if he tells on you' it whispers into his ear 'what if he tells his brother' 

he groans, pushing the bike up another bush. tomas wouldn't, he barely fucking talks in the first place. that won't happen.

the bag slumps forward,too distracted to catch it he lets the corpse hit its head against the front wheel.

he snorts imagining how it's nose must have flattened against it. his shoulders immediately sag after, there's a dirty feeling that comes with laughing at a corpse,no less one you've killed.

He reaches a big rock, too big to jump over,too heavy to lift and too annoying to push the bike around.

scanning the skyline he sees nothing but short,spiky bushes and scattered trees in front of him. the already dim lights of the town were completely lost from sight. the wind lifted up the sandy ground into his eyes but aside from that? it was a perfect spot.

He sets the bag on the ground, letting the bike and himself rest.

now he waits.

He can do nothing without something to dig with. He can get as many rocks out the way as he wants but that in the end doesn't take too long.

he looks up, the moon hadn't moved much from when he last saw her,now without branches to bother him the ghostly light pools over him.The stars shine brighter here in the open field, they occasionally peek from behind the rapidly moving clouds. He lets himself relax,leaning over the hard rock. even with the cold freezing his face a sigh escapes him, carelessly he kicks the bag away and rests his legs over another rock. thunders threatens to make the sky fall on him,he cant bring himself to care.

the beating inside his chest slows down for the first time since the man's head hit the floor. leaves and sand fly at his face so his eyes shut on their own.

'hes taking too long' the meek voice whispers. Tom's house was not too far, but without his bike it's quite the trip. He's not taking detours, his brother was asleep. 

‘shut the fuck up’ he mentally yells at it.

his head drifts and he slowly sinks down as he lets himself lay down more and more against the rock.

ignoring the way the cold bites at  his skin he rests.

with his eyes closed he can't tell if hes asleep or not until  he feels movement on the bushes.

before he can open his eyes to check he's smacked in the stomach with a blunt object.

roman jumps to his feet, hands balled up and ready to fight but before him stood tomas. with a shovel.

"thank God" his hands fall to his sides again.

Tom's hands extend, silently offering him the shovel.

he takes it with a quick remark."you scared me"  

tomas ignores him again and sits down on a different rock a few steps away, staring at the floor he snaps a branch off one of the nearby bushes.

"well!" he dusts his pants off, mostly to amuse himself "I better get to work now! 

the shovel was small, not meant for anything more than some mild garnering or playing in the sand. it stood to about his knee when he stuck it in the ground;still he had to make this work.

bit by bit he began shoveling the sandy dirt out of the way,he would have been sweating hadn't he already been freezing.

"y'know when you mentioned-" the shovel struck a rock, he struggled to lift it up again "having a shovel I wasn't expecting it to be so-" the rocks pops out the ground successfully "small"

he complains to the wind, because tom wasn't listening and even if he was he was not going to respond.

"should have told me it was more of a toy than anything-"

"there's blood in your hands now" tom cuts him off, fancying himself a cryptic bastard all of a sudden.

roman scoffs "no there isn't,I get any on me" 

the conversation, if you could even call it that, dies there. buried with the other guy most likely.

dry grass swayed, some of it stuck to his hair, some brushed at his arms and legs.

most of it he ripped off.

Tom's wordless stare burned on his back, but at least he wasn't alone. his own heartbeat set a rhythm for the shovel going in and out the dirt. the mount behind him grew bigger as the stars moved closer to the Horizon.

"it's 4:36 already" the boy  spoke up eventually.

roman took the last bit of dirt off the hole. "I'm almost done" carelessly he began pushing the bag into the it  with his foot.

tomas waits for the wind to quit loudly howling on their ears to speak again . "my brother wakes up at 5:30" 

he clicks his tongue, being a little meaner than he intended  "I don't care-" 

"he'll notice if I'm gone,give me the shovel back"

roman ignores him, instead hitting the bag with it, making it go down further into the dirt.

"give me 5 more minutes with it" he argues, not bothering to wait for a response.

quickly he covers the hole back up and, as soon as he dusts his hands and before he declares his work done, tom rips the shovel out of his hands. roman doesn't protest when their eyes lock for a second too long.

he stares at the ground where he knows the body is. only shooting a goodbye to Tom once he hears him pick his bike up.

he doesn't doubt the boy waved at him.

he always did.

He picked  his bike up and drove through the terrain like it was nothing, roman knows he has been here before, but he doubts he'll come  back.

confidently roman adds ‘corpses’ to his (mental and very short) list of things he knows  tomas does not like.it sat comfortably next to some classics like: ‘talking’,‘strawberries’ and  ‘staying still’

he giggles at it, although more concerning probably was that he couldn't name a single thing tom liked aside from walking and probably the color green, nor a single other  person he knew aside from himself and his brother.

a brother that to this day remained unnamed. 

He has fun imagining what he'd be like sometimes, there's plenty of time to kill during the day after all. 

‘he probably wouldn't like to meet you’ a weaker version of himself comments, he ignores it.

a single drop soaking through his jacket was enough to drag him back to reality.

the clouds had grown darker, they obscured the moon completely now.

he fills his chest with the salty humid air one last time before turning his back on the burial and heading back the same way Tom had.

he avoids the kill site and prays to no god in particular that the rain was enough to wash it all clean. it was starting to pick up now so the world might be on his side after all.

He reaches the port before he does any roads, the rotten wooden docks left much to be desired but he was used to them now, as a child he had enjoyed watching the crabs that lived under it bury themselves in the sand. the river led directly to the sea. Fisher boats rested on the sand,some new and shiny, most  rusted and abandoned for tourists to take pictures next to.

bright yellow street lamps made the raindrops much more evident. 

taking the chance he looked at his reflection in a closed storefront, he looked as he always had,just a bit more wet. his mask was getting a bit  uncomfortable but it stayed on.

the paved road was the longest way back but he takes it anyway,more mud on his shoes wouldn't be ideal. He blindly walks until he reaches one of the two main roads in the town with a stoplight in it.  he turns right, avoiding walking by it for too long, the backstreets being even more empty if this was possible.

thunder roared above him and a smile tugged at his lips. almost immediately the light rain turned into a violent outpour,but that didn't matter, he could see his house from here already.

doing his best to not wake anyone up Roman limbs to his window like he always does though this time the heavy rain helps disguise the noise.

before he sets foot inside,still sitting on the windowsill, he take this shoes off and carries them to the bathroom.

the jacket lands in the floor and his pants on top of the toilet as he tears his soaked clothes off without much care and almost trips trying to plug the hairdryer on.

he sets it balanced against a shampoo bottle and pointing at his jacket, hoping to dry it while he, using a random brush his mom used to clean the ceramic, aggressive cleaned the mud off his shoes in the shower. 

in the meantime the rain got worse-or better if you where to ask him. his mom's carefully pruned garden began to flood and soon so did the street. the dirt ones-he assumes-aren't doing much better.

he gets giddy at what that means for him tonight.

He dries his clothes, washes his hair and cleans his shoes. by the time he's done it's nearing 7am already.

he goes to sleep, the rain still falling above the house served well for white noise.

the trees outside slammed their branches into his window but his eyes remained shut.

the brewing storm outside promised flow but he didn't care.

his brother was snoring again, he could hear it even with the wind whistling louder and louder. javier was a heavy sleeper, tomas envied him for that.

deep breath after deep breath he failed to fall asleep for the third night in a row,though at least today he had more of an excuse. the branches scratching at his window are more than distracting.

he stares at the back of his eyelids for some time, he can feel the gears on his alarm clock ticking,the hands moving 

every second.

every minute.

every hour.

it marked 2:30 am.

too tired to sleep, Tomas springs out of his bed in frustration.

his feet blindly find his slippers and he's off to the hallway in less than 3 steps.

he takes a practiced route to the kitchen, practically blind he feels the texture of the floor change From the more textured tiles of the hallway to the smooth, cream colored ones on the kitchen. he pries his eyes open but the darkness doesn't get any better until he hits the light switch next to the door.

the wind makes the windows shake and creak, it drowns over the sound of the cabinet opening perfectly.

the movement is near automatic when he fills a small pot with water and sets it on the stove. tomas opens the gas tank and lights the burner on.

from a small box his mother had left them behind he takes a teabag while the water boils.

the kitchen small window leaked the same way it had been leaking since they where kids, tomas stepped over the small puddle to grab his cup from the cabinet and brew himself something warm.

as he blows on it, the phone at the corner of the room lights up. 

at this hour and  with this climate there was only one person that could call.

so,at this hour and with this climate tom let's it ring for a minute or two while stirring his drink.

roman is persistent, and eventually he lets himm get his way.

"tom thank god-" wind  came through the other end stronger than his voice.

"what do you want"

he hears roman swallow "I need your help"

aware of how those words burned his tongue yhe lets them sit in the air.

Uncaring, he waits for roman to get tired of waiting.

"it's important" he clarifies uselessly "let's meet at out spot shall we?" he rushed over his words, trembling slightly.

the  cold must be getting to him-tomas thinks. he wraps his hand around the warm mug and takes a sip, loudly savoring it.

he can feel roman grow impatient. 

"what did you do" he asks him, wary of the volume in his voice to not wake his brother up even with the incoming storm raging outside.

roman swallows, he hears  the gears on his head turning even though the heavy winds. his tongue clicks a few times while he's lost in thought.

“i cant tell you right now.just come here” 

tomascarefully eyes the hallway, still dark and with only javi's  snores coming through.he gave a long sigh.

 “my brother's sleeping” he said,more so as a comment than an excuse.

“do i look like i care?" roman  growled at him, needlessly angry like always “bring your bike too if you're coming”

he went quiet again, tomas wished he could see his face at least. He hated talking through the phone.

he hears him take another deep breath, “two trash bags too if you happen to have any”  

the wind filled the silence on both sides,his brother was still sleeping.

“two?” tomas eyes the drawer where javier keeps them.

“yes… two”

he hangs up,taking another sip in the meanwhile.

the dots are not hard to connect, it was going to happen eventually.

his fingers curled tightly around the cup.

with a deep breath tomas dumps the remaining tea down the drain and rushes to the hallway.

at the end of it was his brothers door, halfway open and with its handle poorly painted. 

"javi" he calls out, quiet enough to not wake him up but loud enough that if he where to be awake he'd hear it. 

the only answer he gets is a loud snore. 

avoiding looking at himself in the hallway mirror like always he makes his way to his room.

the curtains where drawn, the orange fabric tinted gray by the dark sky behind it.

He closes the blinds like he should have before going to sleep.

his bedsheets were still in the mess he had left them in and they will stay like that for now.

tomas changes out of his old pajama shorts in favor of a pair of dark jeans, over his shirt he throws on a dark long sleeved one and then a puffy vest after hearing the wind seemingly pick up even more.

he doesn't take his phone with him, roman was an idiot for taking his.

He stands before the wooden door now, heavy and old it'll surely wake javier up if he opens it. the keys dangling were already too noisy for him to feel safe holding them. The 3 locks taunted him. not to mention the extra bar door outside with its extra two locks, he took his eyes away from it when the window creaked once again.

it led to the patio, right in front of the grill they never use.

he took off the teaspoon that had been acting as a lock for years now after the wooden hook had snapped on an storm not too dissimilar from this one.

the wind immediately threw the glass open and he fought to keep them from slapping against the wall.

tomas grinded his teeth, climbing on top of the couch and pilling on the cushions behind him to block the window he eventually took the small leap into the outside.

immediately he doubled over shivering. warm air form his mouth formed vapor clouds in front of him. 

he rushed down the stairs to the street, taking a sharp turn to the garage he where fiddles for a minute with the lock. the gates draw sand with them when they open and next to javiers beat up sienna  was his bike, slightly rusted from pedaling in the sand.

the fig tree swayed it's branches dangerously low to the ground and to his face, it slapped the back of his head as a goodbye when he jumps the front gate.

he braces himself under the yellow streetlight, getting on his bike the wind hits even harder.

knowing the dirt street like the back of his hands he swiftly dodges potholes and rocks. passing by the same houses he always did, Tomas takes the last street along to the beach all the way to the very back of the town.

his heart races when he spots the bushes he's about to go into.

the empty, wild terrain, was uninhabited.tainted only sometimes and near the road with attempts at building makeshift houses or old tent set ups abandoned. he never bothered fucking with any of them.

above the unfinished foundation and trash stood an unfinished two story house, all bare bricks except for it's roof which had surprisingly been finished but now was partially caving in.

he ignored it for now. he knew what it's inside looked like down to every graffiti painted, but it served as a nice checkpoint to know where he was going.

turning a sharp left from the front of the house where  the bushes began to become trees one large one stood out, literally, above the rest.

his second checkpoint.

‘their spot'

he gets there with ease, and now he waits. thankfully not for long.

the cold humid air was soured when roman, panting and trembling, jumped over the bushes to meet him.

he doesn't say as much as a hello. only becoming him to follow.

so Tomas, against his better judgment and like he always does, follows.

looking from side to side every time a leaf swayed Roman led the way, clearly not comfortable having his back turned on him he looks back to meet green tired eyes multiple times. they narrow on him, and tomas is  sure he can feel it.

“what did you do” he asks, just like he had before.

roman stutters in his step, almost tripping on the grass, but he doesn't respond. he silently offers help to haul his bike over a hole,tomas takes it.

they reach a clearing in the trees soon enough. the air became thick and uncomfortable almost immediately. it's an energy tomas  can't describe, but he's sure he knows what it is deep inside.

he stops, bowing his head down to think.

roman gladly waits for him, spelling out that he, in a way, didn't want to continue either;he stares at the moon with silent guilt weighing his eyes.

they moved on eventually, when tomas wraps his head around the atmosphere and roman quits brooding the later parts the bushes for the former.

tom jumps without looking ahead.

previously blocked by Romans back he saw a man, unconscious, laying in the grass.

his eyes glazed over.

his mouth hanged open.

his face with no spot left unbruised.

he saw a man,dead, laying on the grass

“what did you do?” tomas asks for the third time. eyeing Roman up and down with barely disguised disgust showing I'm his eyes.

“i think its obvious”  roman jumps over closer to the body and further away from himself.  “i fucked up” he says with faux boredom coating his tongue  “went a bit too far this time”

tomas crouches down near the man's head, inspecting with a heavy hearth it's expression twisted in a final scream of anguish.

he watches incredulously as roman, with needles fake casualty nudges an arm with his foot. “i think i might need some help” 

tomas, understaiding, tosses the bags his way. “I'm not touching it”

roman huffs.

“welp” he announces, ignoring the way tomas burns his eyes into him “lets get to work”

tomas watches him struggle with the body, trying to make it sit. 

the man's phone falls out his Pockets and he panics. He immediately smashes it below his foot.

roman jumped “whats your problem?”

“they can track that” he stomps on it again for good measure.

“i could have sold it-” roman whines.

“tell me what happened” he more or less barks at him, wincing at the volume of his own voice.

roman gives a shaky sigh, pleading to the sky for strength to help him pull the man's legs closer to his chest while he talks.

“well,we were just supposed to fight” his gaze drifted over the body, faltering for only one second before continuing. 

“fucker slipped me a note with a date and place and i just came-uhmp!” he interrupted himself, struggling with the bodies limbs.

“and?” tom pressed.

“well i had a bad day! and He was pissing me off more than usual..” he splutters, throwing the dead man a Nasty look like he could see it. “so once i had him down i just kept stomping on his head”

his gut twists in disgust. roman, completely occupied with the task at hand, didn't notice.

he turns his eyes back to the clearing where the soft grass swayed in the strong wind.

tomas hears roman fitting the bags over the man.  a soft giggle, tone-deaf if you where to ask him, leaves his lips when he finishes. he doesn't know what came first, if the head or the legs but when he turns his head to glare at roman the man is fully covered.

"we have to get this out of sight somehow”

roman talks to himself.

tomas bites his tongue.‘we is a strong word’

unaware roman keeps going "do you still have that shovel in your garage?” 

not waiting for an answer roman grabs his bike like it belonged to him and,with little consideration for its owner standing behind him, balances the bags on it. 

he hopes he can feels his eyes burning his back. 

he watches, still struggling to believe it all, how his friend handled the corpse like it was no more than an inconvenience, cursing quietly to himself trying to thread the bike over a bush.

he'd love to be surprised to see the utter lack of care on the man's eyes.

he's grown accustomed to it,it always lingered whenever he talked about anything that wasn't himself,though tomas struggled to call him narcissistic; there's a slight difference between believing you're above everything and believing everything is below you. 

a certain nihilism always accompanies the latter. he knew this to be true, roman wasn't particularly shy about it. pessimistic anger coated his every word when they pertained to the world outside their own bubble.

he watches the only person outside his own brother that he's directed as much as a word towards in the last 6 months struggle with the corpse of the man he’d just killed.

silently as always, he makes a choice and jumps into the clearing.

"hey!" his friend calls out  "where are you going?" 

"you want the shovel right?" He avoids romans eyes. not letting him see the guilt welling on his own.

As soon as he's out of sight he sprints through the trees, blindly jumping and dodging until he hits the road again. out of breath he pushes himself, filling his mind with every minute detail of the dirt road below his feet to black out any other thoughts.

his chest burns already when he reaches his own street. With Every step he took  he could imagine his brother, arms crossed in the kitchen table, maybe drinking a coffee, maybe staring coldly at the door. waiting for him.

his voice, always weighed down with worry, would ask him where he went; and tomas, the weak man he is, would not be able to lie.

not to him.

he reaches the crossroad his house sat on, old and weathering with a certain charm that was lost in everyone but him.

the lights were all off still.

he jumps the first ,low, gate.going up the concrete stairs only to peek inside .he saw the kitchen empty. his legs give up in relief but his heart still pounds on his throat.

he went down the stairs again, letting his eyes linger on every leaf the tree besides it had to offer. in summer,it would blossom in beautiful pink but the wind didn't let him entertain that idea too much.

it didn't take him long to find the shovel. he gripped it in his hands like his life depended on it, but he didnt take  off with it, not instantly as he’s sure roman would hope.

he could turn back. climb back up the stairs and go back to bed.

he could call the police too, but the thought of not seeing roman again didn't feel right.

 only once did he consider himself behind bars too, it occurred to him in that moment that he cared very little where he got to spend the rest of his life, only his brother's imaginary disappointed-no- disgusted glare really moved him.

forcing himself to make a choice he again picks the worse one and takes off running again, now with the shovel clenched tightly to his chest

he gets to the crime scene and runs north from there, following the tracks of his own bike in what little dirt was left uncovered by vegetation.

roman;the man of the hour, sleep like a baby on a rock.he envied  him really.

slowly he approached, stalking just above the grass like a predator about to pounce, he sees the man stir as he raises the shovel.

in an anger fuelled attempt at playfulness tomas hits roman in the stomach with non insignificant strength.

roman yells and jumps to his feet, fists clumsily balled up in mockery of what could be a fighting stance. his eyes focus soon enough  tough and he lets his hands fall.

“thank god, you scared me” he lets the shovel be handed to him with no comment.tomas sits down on a different rock a few steps away, staring at the floor he snaps a branch off one of the nearby bushes.

"well!" roman dusts his pants off for show "I better get to work now! 

blindly he hears him struggle and lift the dirt from off the ground, occasionally feeling specks of it fly into his face.

"y'know when you mentioned-" the shovel struck a rock, roman struggled to lift it up again "having a shovel I wasn't expecting it to be so-" he pops it out the ground "small"

he complains like always, not really waiting for a response. even now tomas appreciated it to some degree.

not enough to fully ignore everything sadly. 

"should have told me it was more of a toy than anything-"

"there's blood in your hands now" tomas cuts his rambling off with a warning. a remainder he hopes will make it through that thick skull.

roman  scoffs "no there isn't,I get any on me"  he deflects, simple but effective it sent a very clear message.

‘i dont care’

silence,like always, is king between the both of them until tomas checks his watch.

"it's 4:36 already" he spoke up.

roman took the last bit of dirt off the hole. "I'm almost done" carelessly he began pushing the bag into the hole with his foot.

distantly the wind kept howling. tomas waited for it before he spoke again.

"my brother wakes up at 5:30" 

javier still had work early in the morning on saturdays.

roman clicked his tongue "I don't care-" 

"he'll notice if I'm gone,give me the shovel back"

tomas  demanded,but roman didn't listen, instead hitting the bag with it, making it go down further into the dirt.

"give me 5 more minutes with it" he argues. Tomas doesn't even bother to look back to him, nodding a yes hes sure roman didnt turn around for.

quickly he covers the hole back up and, as soon as he dusts his hands and before he declares his work done, tom rips the shovel out of his hands. roman doesn't protest when their eyes lock.

he runs again for the fourth time that night, reluctantly waving on his way out, mostly out of habit.

hes only a couple of steps away from his house when the sky gives in.

making his way into the kitchen he can hear his brother still snoring  loudly in his room.

He throws his clothes into the washer with the rest of the pile and starts the cycle, careful not to make too much noise, before going back to bed.

[kae-eee]

all my thoughts about apple white i can remember rn because im so unnormal about her

she’s been best friends with dexter forever after, ashlynn and briar are just her main friend group because they’re the most popular fairytale princesses

shes a little envious of dexter who’s allowed to just wear his glasses without an issue

walks into walls and trips on the stairs regularly, she plays it off well

she had the biggest crush on ashlynn when they were like 13, it never fully went away

a little part of why she was so hurt during true hearts day

shes known the charmings her entire life and always took to the twins more than daring

her mother wasn’t happy about that

her favorite color isn’t red

apples make her throat feel fuzzy, what could that mean?

i also think she’s allergic to honey or dairy idk

hella people were scared to tell her who actually woke her up, she didn’t find out till a while later

and she very much faked now being head over heels for daring after she woke up until someone told her

she also thought he was just getting cold feet now that he was avoiding her

wearing her crown so much gives her migraines

and i think it’d be worse for her than other royals because hers is probably bigger

really really easily annoyed

dislikes blondie due to her lack of respect for boundaries, she’s only told raven and dexter this

coldest take but she’s autistic

snow won’t get her tested

queen of masking

does not stfu (yapple white!!)

talks fast as fuck too (yapple white!!!!)

had the biggest fuckin fit when one reflection broke up

i think her and darling were also quite good friends when they were little, but they had different interests and grew apart

im not exactly a dappling shipper, but apple romanticized the hell out of darling once she came to terms with who woke her

also it took her a really, really long time to come to terms with it

super easily annoyed (i cant remember if i already said this)

and her lowest grade is her diplomacy class because of it

shes still acing it though

i think she likes to make jewelry but doesn’t often because it roughs up her hands

like metal jewelry not bracelets made of beads, those wouldn’t mess up her hands

deadliest puppy dog eyes you’ll ever see

noise sensitive

refuses to think about her gender identity and expression because she has a nagging feeling she may bump into something that she’s not ready to unpack

i’d like to think she could hear during her enchanted sleep but then idk how she wouldn’t know daring didn’t wake her

very judgy, trying to unlearn it post way to wonderland

learned it in the first place from her mother

doesn’t text with emojis at all

horrible at replying to messages

hemophilia

broke a bone or two on the way down the well

and those spots ache when it rains

cat person

and she really fucks with orange cats

i wanna say she texts like a grandma

it’s ominous as hell

“hello briar…i’ve seemed i’ve fallen ill…may you inform me on our assignment for princessology… good day..”

the type to remind the teacher of the homework

enjoys to dissect things, but that’s not very princess like is it?

raven snores and apple debates on smothering her every other night

girly needs her beauty sleep

awhile after she’s found out darling woke her up and her destiny may not be as straight cut as she thought, her identity crisis hit her around eleven or twelve at night on a random ass thursday, and raven has to talk down a sobbing screaming apple and get her to go to bed because neither of them are unpacking all that comphet right at that very moment

another cold take but the biggest control freak ever

type of girl to hijack every group project, and come in with her own presentation the day it’s due

a sour over sweet person

but sweet over savory

her mother would’ve dyed her hair if she wasn’t scared that it would get messed up

because blonde hair is better than fried hair

that’s all i’ve got for now, maybe I’ll add to this eventually.

[ken-dom]

Lars and sexual energy

Lars Lindstrom thoughts + gn!reader imagine

∘₊✧ Thoughts: 500 words - imagine: 900 words

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I started writing a few thoughts about Lars and why I’m so attracted to him based on his character, the screenplay and things I’ve enjoyed in the movie, and it ended up in me writing a bit of a smut imagine to go along with it, so I thought it might be worth sharing. It starts with thoughts on Lars’s sexual energy, desires, urges, and how he deals with them. Until you come along. And then he has no idea how to deal with them at all.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, masturbation, possessive streak, rough sex (and soft, tender sex), blow job mentions, making out, crying, switch!Lars, touch starved Lars

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

You know what half the appeal with Lars is?

He’s not supposed to feel sexual desire. At least, he doesn’t let himself. Starting with the basics, he won’t allow himself sleep in the same room — or even building — as Bianca until she’s taken ill. He says right at the start that it’s because he’s religious, and I’m sure that does mean something to him, but I’m also sure it’s not just that.

At the beginning of the movie, he cant stand psychical touch and wears layer upon layer to avoid the excruciating pain it causes him. He sleeps in layers. He eventually says (in the script, but not in the movie) that he’s the one with issues around nudity, not Bianca, who comes from a culture that is very comfortable with it. I think he's reached a point here where he’s experimenting a little. If she’s perfectly comfortable, he could maybe get used to it, too. And maybe he secretly wants to see what she looks like under her clothes out of curiosity or to learn a thing or two from her; but he can’t just take them off without good reason. And she needs her nightly bath, right?

Then, looking back to the script, we have his ‘sexual energy’ which he canonically burns off by chopping wood (in his own words, he’s really good at that, and in Karin’s thoughts, he’s sexy while he does it). When Mrs Gruner asks him about partners, she tells him, ‘Don’t wait too long, it’s not good for you,’ which could easily be interpreted to be about sex. Lars plucks up the courage to ask Gus if it’s sex that will make him feel like a man; both admitting his virginity and in a roundabout way asking his older brother’s permission to lose it. And yet, he never (that we know of) shares any physical affection, other than innocent hand holding, cuddling, dancing and that one tearful goodbye kiss with Bianca. Bianca, a doll who was created for sex.

Add into this that Lars can be possessive. Part of me wants to think that it’s simply in his nature, buried somewhere deep under his trauma and social difficulties, because according to his family, he ‘wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ And in that case it surfaces in the right circumstances, because in all other ways he’s so soft and gentle and caring. The other part of me wants to think it comes from his sexual desires and urges being pushed so far down that he doesn’t know what to do with them and ends up losing his temper and needing to take it out on the firewood i.e. a good fuck might calm him down. Maybe it’s both, maybe it’s neither. Maybe he’s confused about it himself.

Throughout the film, Lars gradually learns to enjoy the sensation of touch, starts to forge meaningful human relationships, experiences jealousy (with little bit of that delicious possession peeking through with it) toward someone he’s scared to pursue despite knowing she has romantic interest in him, and the layers he wears as armour gradually reduce to his underclothes. So we could take from this that given the right conditions, he could learn how to enjoy being physical with someone.

And, with that in mind...

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Imagine being the one who finally turns his head. You catch his eye so unexpectedly, it snowballs faster than he can control it. He’s never felt like this before, never fought so hard to keep his thoughts clean and his physical urges at bay.

Lars, who uses his religion as a reason not to even sleep in the same house as his partner and doesn’t want anyone close enough to touch him, who can’t even get through a conversation with you without scrunching his eyes shut or running away, suddenly can’t get you off his mind. And the pain of carrying that pining, longing feeling around with him far outweighs the pain he might feel if you actually touched him, or so he convinces himself. Something must be done about that.

Chopping wood doesn’t distract him. Church doesn’t distract him. Driving to the lake doesn’t distract him. And neither does reading his favourite book or going to work or even accepting dinner invitations from Gus and Karin.

Lars goes from completely avoiding any hint of sexual desire his mind or body might conjure, to furiously jerking off every time he's seen you, rushing home and forcing down his pants to relieve the ache between his thighs. When he can’t sleep because his mind is buzzing with fantasies of you, his delicate, precise fingers wrap around his length before he can find a way to calm himself, and before he knows it, his thick, hot seed is spilling inside his pyjamas and he falls asleep in the mess, guiltily washing away the evidence in the morning. But not before indulging the wet dream he was having about you first.

It’s filthy. He feels filthy. And he likes it, whatever it is that you’ve done to him.

Lars ‘it’s always the quiet ones’ Lindstrom, has gone from sitting on the edge of his bed cringing at the conversations he’s had with you replaying in his mind because he feels so awkward and embarrassed about them, to daydreaming about his fingers wound in your hair while your soft, wet lips are wrapped around his cock, or fucking you hard against the tree by the lake while his tongue is shoved down your throat, or slipping one hand into your underwear and one over your mouth in the kitchen at work to quickly get you off while you steal a few minutes alone.

All the while, he’s breathless and trembling with anticipation, his hand wrapped tight around his cock as he pumps furiously, or stroking himself, soft and slow until he’s a whining, whimpering mess, moaning your name as his release washes over him.

Through this, he learns how to enjoy pleasure, learns his body, and starts to crave touch. Your touch. His own simply won’t do any longer.

So when he finally gets you all to himself? When you’re kissing him all chaste and sweet?

I hope you’re ready to have your clothes torn off, to be grabbed at until he leaves bruises, to have his fingertips driving into your flesh, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, ‘I’ve dreamed of doing this with you,’ through shaky breaths, to feel the burning heat of his flesh against yours, his mustache tickling at your skin when he stays in the same spot for long enough, his teeth dragging down your throat, pausing to suck at your pulse point, strong arms controlling your movements because he knows what he likes now, and when he’s around you, he loses all semblance of self control and has to have you just the way he’s fantasised.

In the thrill of desperation, he doesn’t even get his clothes all the way off, completely lost in a haze of excitement, but he manages it eventually, needing to feel as much of you as possible against as much of him as possible.

His hair is a mess, his cheeks are burning up, he’s completely ruffled, and he switches wildly from being a possessive, commanding lover to giving you the sweetest, most sensual fuck of your life.

His possessive side takes on a whole new meaning as he completely devours you — soft, sweet, innocent Lars — moaning loudly as he watches you cum from his touch over and over, bunches your hair into a fist to feel the bobbing of your head while you suck him dry, snaps his hips hard and fast against yours, followed by what feels like hours of slow, tender lovemaking while he whimpers needily and drips dirty words and praise into your ear like warm honey between breathless begging, revelling in this new sensation of the touch of another, until he’s spent, trembling and sobbing into your shoulder, overwhelmed and thankful and incredulous. Finding the soothing strokes of your fingers through his hair incredibly calming.

After so many years of repressing all these urges, and not finding any pleasure in touch, it could take a while to tire him out. But even when he’s temporarily sated, he will snuggle into you, press his lips gently to yours, and make out with you in a languid, sloppy kiss that doesn’t end until you’re both so worn out you’re falling asleep humming and sighing into one another’s mouths, limbs tangled together because now he's experienced your skin against his he will never get enough.

As he sleeps with you pressed against his chest and his strong arms keeping you safe with him, he has the biggest, warmest smile on his handsome face, but when he greets you in the morning, that naughty streak is back, and he’s smirking at you with a glint in his eye that you’ve already come to associate with nothing but pleasure.

[moonchildstyles]

oh we’re talking about aster having quickies okay

i haven’t read the new blurb yet but i already know it’s gonna be incredible… but… i don’t see aster as the type to have quickies in like semi-private spaces, like in his office (even though… that kinda happened) or in his car, and if it did i think there’d be a reason but idk what that would be

BUT i definitely see them having quickies pretty much anywhere around their new house, especially when they’re still pretty new to living there- like taking her over the kitchen counter because she came out of their room a little later in the morning than he did and he’s about to make breakfast but she changed out of his shirt into something silky and pretty just to lounge in and he cant help it because… that’s the love of his life walking around with her legs and a little bit of her tummy showing; or on the sofa while they’re watching a random film and he’s got his head resting on her stomach and when he gets bored he starts pushing up her shirt and kissing down her thighs and eventually the film is loooong forgotten, and i see it being pretty late and it’s the weekend and neither of them work the next day so they curl up with the blanket on the back of the sofa and doze off there, and usually he’s so adamant on taking her to bed but something about just having the house to themselves forever now and being able to sleep naked on the sofa is enough to have him falling asleep with his head tucked into the back of her neck and ill literally cry - 🍓

no the idea of him taking her over the kitchen counter is literally going to make my brain leak out of my ears like are you KIDDING!!!!!!!!!! bc I can so see that like including even the bathroom counter or something too like he just sees her looking so pretty in his clothes or something pretty liek you said and hes gotta get to work soon so he cant take care of her like usual but its def still worth it to them for him to take her shorts down or put her panties to the side and bend her over and just fuck her super quick kissing the back of her neck and holding her around her waist and just letting her make all the noise she wants in their empty house together like that is SOOOOOOOOO real to me and then like the idea of him jsut like fixing his hair and everything and then he just goes to work like that evil.........or even the movie idea I love that so bad :((( like idk why I think its so cute but like why if they had little living room sleepovers sometimes like esp when they first move in and everything and they spend the night out there w blankets and snacks like a real sleep over and they cant just....fuck there before dinner and like idk im getting so off topic I just love this bad truly