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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

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[Part 6 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Try to lure the gargoyle (65.3%)

TW: Mild exhibitionism; Soft cum inflation.

New choice! [VOTE]

You can't help but think that pompous-looking blabbermouth isn't going to be of much help, especially not in the sour disposition he sports.

That leaves only one option- Paper bags McGee. Here goes nothing.

" Psst-! " You start, glancing hurriedly between his shadowed figure and the other two.

The gargoyle definitely hears you, pinprick eyes laser focused on you. Both heads look this way and that, even if the other one has no discernable hole to see through. It occurs to you it's a nervous tic, because he's trying to decide which direction to flee in. No, you can't let him leave! He's your only hope right now.

" Pspspspsps... " You don't know how to convince him, there's nothing on your person you can bribe him with. Even if you wanted to use your body as a lure, you can't convey that to him bound as you currently are.

The gargoyle starts to turn around hurriedly.

" No no hey-! " You strain upwards, as if that would help him hear your desperate whisper-screaming better. " Please- Get me out of here, please!

The head with that pinprick red pupil turns to glance at you again. You have no idea what to tell him, you're begging the monster, in total despair and hopelessness, there is nothing more you can do aside from helplessly and silently pleading with him.

Apparently, the monster can read the terror written all over you features, brought to stillness by the urgency you exhibit. It strikes him, for some reason. Spotting this, you try to exaggerate your expression, feeling like the bat you rode to climax only some time ago.

" ... Please... I'm scared. "

It takes a couple of seconds, during which you can feel sweat condensating on your forehead. Just buy it already, you oversized pussy of brute. Slowly, he turns back around on the roof and disappears into the darkness.

Did... Did he actually leave? Seriously?! After you got so close-

THUMP

You almost scream.

Heart skipping several beats -God, that can't be healthy- You get the urge to weep from joy once you spot that pinprick red glow emanating from the shadows. He landed! He's on the floor.

" Yes! " You murmur to yourself, watching the blue monster cautiously approach. He could be coming to tear you in two, for all your really know, but you'll take your chances at this point.

" Quickly! "

Casting one fearful glance at the caped demon, the gargoyle springs to action when he turns to apparently confiscate something off the small imp beside him.

He puts his palms on your legs very tentatively, as if afraid you'll bark at him. Curious. When he tugs, your body can only follow so far, as the strange construct keeping you tied to the bench protests. He puts two and two together fast, edging hard hands upwards before giving a harsh yank that you know is going to bruise later. But it does work, something snaps behind you with a wet noise, and you feel the binds around your upper body loosen to a degree.

For someone who was moving so slowly before, you're dragged off the bench and lumped onto his stony shoulder -Oof!- Faster than anticipated. God damn, he's more solid than you guessed! It's hard to think that something so heavy and dense can move exactly like flesh. You wish your hands were free so you could better gouge the texture of this peculiar skin.

As is, all you can do is try not to scream and trust the monster to have a good grip of you as he prepares to take flight. Now that you think about it, his wings should be a little bigger for his size, shouldn't they? They look... Underdeveloped. Well, you doubt any sort of benevolent god will listen, but you're just about ready to start praying for the best. Because, if he drops you from a decent height, without arms to brace important areas, you'll surely die.

Biting your lip is what grants you enough dignity to not make a scene, muffling the scream that would otherwise startle him into dropping you. The monster's grip on your waist is secure however.

His flight is clumsy and terrifying, as you can very clearly sense him dangerously losing balance at several points, tense like a spring and sweating up a storm while the monster visibly struggles, his little wings trying their best to carry not just him -Already quite the burden- But also you. At some point, you merely close your eyes. Whatever happens happens. Perhaps that's why he was hesitant to come down, he knew he'd have trouble getting back up.

Now more than ever, the chill in the air gets to you, skin covered in goosebumps while he scrabbles to find purchase and lands with less grace than a newborn gazelle. Unlatched from the monster's hold, you're gently deposited on mildly soft, foreign material. Confusion has you finally cracking an eye open.

You must be on the roof, the darkened tiles around confirm it, not to mention how the fog seems thicker from this height. A curious glance down reveals you've been sat on what you think is meant to be nest. Sticks, foreign fur, feathers and several cloths bundled together make up a rather large "bedding", nestled on a corner of a flat part of the roof which then elevates into another gable roof. If you were a gargoyle, you'd probably pick this spot too.

Speaking of, your rescuer, it seems, is apparently stuck staring at you like a deer in headlights.

You can just about see the gears turning in those heads. He got you up here, but he didn't think ahead too much. Obviously, it's imperative you don't let him linger in this contemplative state. He might get funny ideas and dump you back onto the ground, or decide to kill you.

In this proximity, you can finally gouge what the reddish things around his necks is supposed to be. A collar. Does... Is he someone's pet? But he's no animal! He's so much smarter than one, if this monster were no more than a beast, then surely none of this would have transpired, you'd be a bloody stain on the bench by now. Weird. Squinting, you strain to read what's written on the shiny metal tag.

" Pebble. " You start.

Pebble. Pebble? Are you fucking serious? What a name, a snort almost makes it past your lips. Yeah right, he's totally the size of one. The winged monster tenses at the mention of his name.

" Can you please help me out of these? " You flex your arms for emphasis, displaying the strange growths that are reluctant to free you even after being torn moments ago.

Pebble examines the weirdly-colored masses with as much puzzlement as you, exchanging a couple of anxious looks with you before raising one large stoned arm and swiping it down. The speed of it has you wincing and reclining your neck, thankfully not harmed, though the biological constructs around your upper body squirm and... Squeak? Before flopping apart. The opportunity is seized to roll your joints and expand your ribcage, instead of questioning what the Hell those things are.

Seemingly subscribing to your logic, Pebble doesn't give the pinkish things much thought either, grabbing them by the edges as they bleed something unknown onto the roof and flicking them away. One of the longer pieces is launched at another stray gargoyle who wandered a touch too close for Pebble's liking, being met with hissing and guttural snarling from the monster who you have only seen cowering up until now. Huh.

The other gargoyle snorts at the hit and scurries off. How odd, it was smaller than Pebble. Less shapely too, more grayish. You suppose there must be a wild variety of gargoyles out there, just as there are slimes of every shape and color. Seeing your alleged rescuer from the back reveals that, along with two heads, he sports two thin spade-tipped tails.

Well, you're free of binds now, but not exactly free to leave. After all, there's no way you can jump down from this height without breaking something. And even if you did manage to land without immediate skeletal damage, the chances of there being grubby hands out to catch you are high. Just the mental image of being snatched and tugged at by all ends as monsters fight over who gets to keep you is horrid enough to make sure you stay seated firmly in Pebble's wide nest. It's not like you trust yourself to scale the roof either. You're stuck. Back to square one.

God damn it.

Your sigh alerts the other one, who instantly turns to keep you fully in his gaze. Once more, he's nervously appraising you. What is he- Scared you'll bite him? Who hurt this monster so bad that he'll tremble before a little human like you?

Still determined to not let him think over the situation for too long, you extend a hand and sedately reach for one of his. The movement is slow enough that Pebble can reject it at any moment, yet he merely appears to tense, anticipation and dread visibly warring within him.

Soft fingers prod over what feels like solid stone but moves like real skin. You tickle at his palm absent-mindedly, marveling at the way creases of what would be skin still form when he twitches his fingers. Amazing. Apparently, the contact soothes the gargoyle, or maybe incites his own brand of curiosity, because he's closing the distance.

Sniffing rings out when the monster gets close, heads hovering over your own, leaning this way and that as the monster clearly tries to profile you via scent. You can only imagine you reek of Grimbly, sweat and sex. But who knows, maybe he's picking up on something else. Your hair fans out while he takes his time, chest expanding. Not the most pleasant of breaths, but it could be worse. Mostly, you have no issues staying still while the gargoyle familiarizes himself, going as far as to giggle when he starts to prod at your face and neck, paper bags crumpling.

You won't lie, a bit of a thrill starts taking hold of you when his increasingly eager exploration leads the gargoyle to loom over your front, body casting a great shadow upon you, wings spreading, as he shoves his heads onto your chest and abdomen. You can feel hard structures poking your skin where there's contact. Perhaps it's his teeth, or nose. You have no idea what his faces look like, and you're far from brave enough to dare lift those bags. It doesn't seem like a good idea to test your luck in a place that's so very eager to sink its claws into your neck.

Your giggling appears to please the monster, though it soon tapers off into a gasp as something slimy flattens over your dress. From beneath the bag with no holes on the front hangs a surprisingly long tongue, dribbling like a faulty faucet while he tastes the fabric of your clothes. You can't imagine it's particularly pleasant... The muscle trails a path up and dips into your cleavage for a second, causing you to squirm and heat up again. Fast. Your reactions are always too fast and you're not very keen on this jarring loss of control. It's as if every time someone comes along and brushes over you, you can't help but light up, set aflame instantly.

" P- Pebble... "

You don't really know what you're asking him for. Nor do you care to linger on that muddled thought.

The gargoyle, having become nothing short of enthusiastic in the brief time he took to smell you, dips to your nethers, clumsily prodding at your legs until you uncross them on his nest. You know you're starting to get wet, there's no use denying it, you're not yourself today and your body merely reflects it. Both heads seem to war for which one gets to stuff itself against your shielded cunt, his tails dance and twine with each other in the air. Well, if he's content to just fondle you through your clothes, it's far from the worst thing that's happened today. So there's that.

Of course, after all that has transpired, you'd be a fool to place any sort of merit to that statement. Because, predictably, when Pebble straightens up, you spot a fat length between his legs. In great contrast to the gargoyle's pretty azure tint, his cock is a bright red hue that stands out like a sore thumb. Knubs adorn it, along with what you can only assume is a worryingly-sized knot sitting comfortably on the root of that throbbing thing. It's... Well, like most of the monsters who have taken a liking to you today, nothing to sneeze at. Nevertheless, in that moment, you know this stone giant won't rest until he gets more.

The gargoyle seems to be thinking, though less nervously so for once. You're not too sure what's going through his head, considering the monster hasn't spoken a word to you thus far -Maybe it can't- But he nods to himself on both ends after a while. You're only privy to the meaning of such when Pebble grabs the hem of your dress and, instead of tearing it off as you expected, drapes it over his upper half.

Oh-kay...

Crawling forward, the bulky monster makes himself at home right between your legs, face to face with your uncovered pussy, you imagine. Another weird snort sniff noise and, a blue hand crawls upwards too, and you finally realize why he's doing things like this. When the sound of paper rustling is heard, you know he has edged those bags out of the way. Well then, that's one way to deal with timidity. Is what lies beneath those rudimentary coverings truly so horrible? You'd best not wonder.

Or rather, you're not given time to wonder.

The same tongue that sampled you once before now returns with a fervor, edging up your right thigh before slapping onto your cunt. It circles around your entrance, perhaps afraid of something for a brief moment, then flirts with the wetness you've been trying to ignore. Pebble makes a loud rumble, which tapers off into a gleeful moan. Thankfully, he's gentle when he slides a good chunk of his tongue up your used pussy. It's strange- Although he comes off as inexperienced, his demeanor isn't brutish, which is something you can appreciate after today's events.

As life has it lately, your inner monolog jinxes you.

Because Pebble finds a particular taste inside your walls. Something that definitely belongs to the pretty boy you railed on a certain bench. His immediate chuff is ambiguous, your legs are pushed further apart and the gargoyle starts eating you out ravenously. Thighs twitching and arms trembling, you have nothing to hold onto but the protrusions of his horns, grasping them for balance through the thin dress fabric while you moan quietly.

Perhaps eating you out isn't the best description, it feels more as if he's cleaning you out. Removing the mark of the male that claimed you prior. The drool he ends up slathering you in during such efforts is cold, coating your nethers and staining his nest as you squirm. Between his eager panting, your whining and the wet claps of flesh of flesh, you can only hope the bystanders below are oblivious to what's happening.

Not that you honestly care too much at this point. It's just an afterthought for your own safety.

Needily bucking your hips onto the monster's tongue is met with a distorted purr as both heads nuzzle against you, odd shapes poking at soft skin. Misaligned teeth perhaps? If so, he's being very gentle not to nick you on them. Something else joins the commotion beneath your pink dress. Ah, his other tongue? Right, he does have two heads, that makes sense.

The appendage, just as slimy as its twin, trails a path up the opposite leg and slobbers the side of your now quivering pussy, denied entrance by its twin as of now. Perhaps for the best, you don't know if you can take two of those fat tongues at once. Instead, it samples everything around itself, from outer lips to wedging itself between your cheeks and circling the rim of your ass, then snaking a sloppy path back up to slurp above. When it nudges your clit, somehow not exhausted after all this time, you jerk up and gasp, an incoherent noise leaving you as you tug one of the heads closer by its horns.

He misinterprets it as pain, whining out in what you assume is meant to be an apology and beginning to retract said tongue.

" Wait- Wait no, that's good! K-Keep going. "

Fortunately, he does, rather clumsily experimenting with different patterns around your button while the other muscle resumes its cleaning, a surprising level of coordination between the two movements.

The rest of the world melts off your mind in the midst of this mildly gross, but relentless attention to your womanhood. Your soft noises of approval are eaten up by the large gargoyle, whose tails swat and thump at the roof. At some point, you catch sight of his hips moving, and realize the poor thing is so excited he's basically humping the air, panting and shuddering against your pussy, the humidity and warmth accumulating beneath your dress making you sweat. You don't think Pebble gets a lot of attention from others here, he's acting like it at least. Those aimless pumps get you to giggle in between whining.

His tongue retracts from your now clenching hole and the other takes its place, only to slip out a while later. You realize, with a bit of amusement, that he's using both to eat you out, the greedy mutt. Where one darts in, the other waits for its turn, creating a rhythm you didn't think could feel as amazing as it does. God fuck, you're going to come. It's no surprise you're getting worked up so fast either, after the tryst with the waiter that left you high and dry.

One of your hands hurriedly darts to reach under your dress, searching frantically for the monster's own stony one, intending to teach him to flick your clitoris while he works. When it accidentally brushes the side of one of his paper bags however, Pebble chokes and snarls gutturally. You know the sound was aggressive, but your cunt clenched hard, the vibrations rocking your entire body and dragging a jarring orgasm out of you.

The howl you release to the wind is shameful, loud enough that some of the murmuring coming from below pauses entirely, people presumably left confused, or maybe wondering where the show is taking place... You couldn't give less of crap about what's happening below, too busy arching in the gargoyle's mess of a nest and bucking your hips into his faces while he slurps at everything you have to give him. Pebble rumbles in excitement, though slips off your entrance far too quick for your liking, leaving you to pulse through some ripples of pleasure all empty.

The groan of displeasure you make at having a high cut short is interrupted by the monster's intense purring rumble as he uses both heads to nudge you onto your back on his now soaked nest, headbutting you insistently when you merely sway.

" Alright alright okay- " You acquiesce, hormone-drunk, without even thinking too hard about what he wants.

The moment your head rests on that mess of cloths and feathers, you yawn and stretch, laughing quietly when all the gargoyle does for a moment is observe your lying figure, tails wagging and cock throbbing. It's oddly adorable, as if he's wondering how he got a catch like you on his nest.

In a blink however, the male finally decides what to do, grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you closer. Alarm bells start ringing when he pushes your legs up, raising your ass off the nest and pushing them towards your upper body in a position that you worry might strain your back. " H-Hey now? " You call, offering the monster a gaze that implores his caution.

You realize the type of position he's going for when he squats above you, veiled faces peering down at your small frame above the stone hills that are his tits -He's massive and this view really accentuates it- A swollen red cock parked on your outer lips. You're not sure how much you trust this gargoyle not to harm you in this vulnerable position.

" L- Look at me. " You start, balling your dress up at your waist and keeping yourself as well balanced on the edge of his nest as you can. The monster tilts both heads, listening. " Be gentle, o-okay? Slow. Play nice. "

Slightly fearful hues dart between his glowing crimson eye and the length pulsing on your core. You don't think this stone being has the sadism necessary to pull a stunt like Morell, but you have to gouge him anyway. After a couple of tense seconds, Pebble chuffs and nods, wings flapping sporadically as he readjusts.

You get to see the muscles of thoses powerful legs tense when he lines the tip of his cock up and starts pushing, trembling as your pussy welcomes him with few stings of pain at the stretch, having already been thoroughly worked out for the day. Nonetheless, he's still quite girthy, each ridge bumping inside you with each quick little hump he makes to bury his whole cock inside your warmth. Well, most of it, that bulb at the root remains untouched. You can't help but think it'd be easier to take if it wasn't so swollen already.

Pebble makes garbled low cries from both heads at the sensation of being enveloped, squeezing at your legs to ground himself for a heaving moment. He glances down for a second, making sure you're okay it seems, gratified by your teary-eyed, needy expression. Each sweetly torturous drag of his length on your walls is experimental, but the male quickly finds his rhythm the wetter you get, having no issue holding his own weight as he begins to piston down.

Each thrust is deep. Pebble seems reluctant to remove most of his dick from the tight hole he's found, more intent on grinding and rutting desperately than going for deeper, more languid motions. And you can't blame the guy, he seems beyond excited to have anyone in his nest, probably too giddy to drag things out too.

Your earlier doubts considering the safety of this position fade away to nothing but bliss as you realize he's hitting a lot deeper than what's expected, his tip kissing wonderful spots that have your toes curling and brows furrowing, head tossed to let out clipped appreciation noises. Sure, it's a little harder to breathe, but fuck if it isn't worth it. Maybe the gargoyle knows exactly what he's doing, maybe he just enjoys the view. When droplets of his drool fall onto your cheek and neck, you presume it's a bit of both.

The monster's ragged panting turns to strained growls as he picks up the pace, now truly pistoning with the great power behind those taught legs, claws scraping the tiles of the roof for better purchase.

" O- Ohh fff- Ah! Deep! " Is the stellar commentary you have to offer, the gentle nudges of before becoming a relentless hammering of several bundles of nerves that have you twitching and blinking stupidly, lost in a barrage of sensation.

Between his occasional mewled groan, slapping and flapping wings, you can hear the repeated jingling of the dog tag on his collar, bouncing with each rut. It brings you out of the experience for a brief second, giving way for a faint level of awareness in which your sixth sense blares warning sirens. It takes a bit, but your skin breaks out in goosebumps when instincts tell you something's looming, watching.

Frantic eyes dart around, vision somewhat impaired by the blur of your form being jostled by Pebble's enthusiastic fucking, but there, on the wall that escalates into the top roof, is a tall window. From behind it stands a silent figure, witness to the debauchery happening far too close. Your already overheated body sets ablaze the second you recognize who it is. The cloaked guy from before, the one who found you alongside Grimbly. God damn it, he just has to be everywhere, doesn't he?

His head tilts, and you can tell he's somehow returning your eye contact intensely.

It's hard to imagine what must be going through his head, seeing you get tossed around between his coworkers like a free use toy -Which, let's face it, in the current state of things that is essentially what you've become- Only to end up sprawled out on the roof, being bred silly by a bizarre gargoyle. What does he think of you? It seemed like he wanted to take you away for himself earlier, maybe he's upset. Or maybe he's just really into the view. When Pebble bucks especially hard, you moan and flutter around him, making the monster speed his thrusts even more, bending over you slightly. A drawn-out sort of hum has strands of drool hanging dangerously close to your face again.

When you have the composure to search for the window again, still finding the voyeur there, the bump in his robes definitely doesn't go unnoticed. You hate that it only excites you further, that the pleasant shock of his presumed size is written all over your face. As if some part of your lower brain expects him to climb out the fucking window and shove himself in your mouth. You're depraved.

Sharp as he appears to be, the hooded figure knows exactly where you're looking with those glazed eyes, ash-colored fingers flirting with his own covered length before you. It's a promise. It's a filthy little lure- And if Pebble wasn't plowing you so good, you'd probably have crawled the roofs on your own for him.

Speaking of, he's getting a little too rough. Or maybe you're just sore and finally beginning to feel it all, it's hard to tell.

" Hahn- Slow down- Slow boy- Nnh fuck! "

He's not listening, even when you drag a hand up the gargoyle's hard abdomen, trying to ground the softly growling thing, all he does is lean into the touch and strain to fuck you deeper, probably taking the contact as encouragement. And, honestly, when the waves of a rapidly building orgasm start rocking you again, it's hard to care. Groping at the monster while he stretches you out is more gratifying. You're licking your lips in anticipation when the glow coming from his paper bag veil brightens and he seems to steam hot puffs of breath out, fanning the edges of the thin tissue.

Pebble isn't asking you for permission, but you nod at him anyway. He makes a strangled bray that quickly becomes a howl, and fucks down with a force that leaves you winded. There's a pause, and for a couple of vapid seconds, you don't quite grasp why he stopped moving, and why he isn't filling you yet. Then the pressure starts.

Your eyes bulge, and only now do you recall the shape stationed at his base, the thing he's now trying to push into you. Naturally, hormones and slight dread have you squirming under the monster, wondering if that's safe at all to take, but the gargoyle has an iron grip of your legs, giving out warning chuffs.

" Wait! Wait wait wait- PEBBLE! "

You scream to the skies as soon as soon as he forces the entire thing in with one devastating blow, popping that fat knot into your cunt mercilessly. The stimulation is so fast and so intense that your second orgasm hits you like a punch to the gut, rendering you a squealing, mewling mess around the other. Pebble makes his own desperate noises of approval, his entire girth seeming to pulse and throb inside you -Knot included- As what you can only describe as a torrent of cum washes your insides. He grinds himself aimlessly in the midst of both your highs, slowly, so as to not overstimulate himself.

As you lay there, legs twitching and heaving for breath, the gargoyle reaches a shaky arm out to pet you on the head soothingly. He looks aware that this is hard to handle for a human, wanting to reward you in some way or another. The fact that he seemingly keeps cumming should worry you, yet the arousal lingering within you welcomes everything he has to offer.

Predictably, when the frenzy of lust starts dying down and you both have recovered a fair amount, you look at your visibly swollen womb and pale a couple shades. Holy shit that's all him, that's way too much... He's not in heat, is he? You can feel it all pooling inside your body, a foreign weighted warmth. Comforting in an obscene way.

The exhaustion of being in this position for a prolonged amount of time starts getting to you in a couple of minutes, at which you tap Pebble's leg. He appears to get the message, but instead of pulling out, he whines and readjusts, letting you rest more of your body on the nest while he blankets your body. Much to your increasing surprise, Pebble extends his small wings and uses them to shield you from the world, resting his upper body onto you.

Is he... Is he just not going to pull out?

Given his massive weight, even if the monster's taking care not to crush his little nest mate, he's in no position to be dislodged. When his breathing slows, you grow alarmed. If the gargoyle decides to settle down and sleep now, how are you supposed to find your way back down, without severely injuring yourself that is?

" Hey. Hey now, Pebble. " He doesn't give much of a response beyond chuffing. " Pull out, please. " When there's no reaction, you assume he's blatantly ignoring you.

Annoyed, you actively start trying to squirm from beneath the gargoyle, though immediately, he makes a sharp cry of pain, the noise turning into a vicious snarl while he yanks you back into place, claws making it extremely clear you are not to move a single fucking millimeter. Alright, okay, message received.

Right. The knot... It's even more swollen inside of you now, plugging everything, there's no way you'll slip off it any time soon.

" Alright, o-okay okay! " Palms up seems to do the trick, placating him.

The gargoyle hums, veering his body slighlty to the side so as to not crush your ribcage when he settles down to rest. You groan, resigned to being trapped.

Time passes. As always, you can't be sure how much. It could be minutes, it could be hours. You can't sleep, not after falling unconscious several times. Instead, you stare at the sky, watching it get darker and darker, until the stars become visible behind the warp of the fog that seems to shroud this foreign establishment. Moving is a terrible idea. Even if your legs are going numb and you're the furthest thing from comfortable, the smallest shift might trigger another fit from him.

It's not your immediate safety that has you concerned about the events. After all, he's shielding you somewhat, and Pebble is significantly bigger than the other gargoyle you saw, so chances are you're much safer on this roof than you would be on the ground, where people have gathered. Of course, you're not exactly thrilled by the notion that your goal of making it out of here is getting delayed further, slipping out of your fingers the more you stall, like grains of sand.

Pebble sleeps, both heads snoring softly beside you, tails twitching, hips occasionally rutting. In a moment of blind hope, your head snaps up to search for the tall window from before, praying the hooded figure is still there. It's completely abandoned. Figures, that would be too easy.

Having nothing to do and no means to pass the time, you fantasize about what you would rather be doing, what you need to do as soon as you make it out of this blasted place -If you ever do, a small voice pipes up. What kind of therapy can help you get over this? Have you been changed forever? Would people believe you?

Is this real?

The sound of sudden loud flapping has you wide alert. Brought out of focus, you can't tell where or who it's coming from, so you cling to Pebble's back in fear. Perhaps it's another gargoyle, having come to pick at the scraps. Your scared whimper causes the male to stir awake as well, making disgruntled sounds when something lands not too far away.

A pallid white figure dressed in black.

It's only after a pause of vapid squinting that your brain registers who that is. The angel. Or, at least, that's the only thing you can think to compare him to. He's a mystery to you, only recalling vague instances of his demeanor, when the day was still young and you had been spit out onto the floor by a startled mimic.

He stands straight, a firm grip on his staff, three eyes scrutinizing the sight before him silently. Not that there's much complexity to it, you're being held captive in the nest of the gargoyle that happily bred you stupid. Now that you're getting a second look at the guy, the feathers on his wings are as white as the ones on Pebble's nest. They know each other? Well, if the two-headed monster isn't freaking out, you'll assume so.

He is tense however, it's hard not to sense that when he's glued to your front.

" For goodness' sake- " A lightly furred hand drags down his peculiarly shaped face. " This is where I find you, of all places? "

The fucking nerve of this dude.

It was either the gargoyle or the spiky-haired demon that looked more likely to use you as a human carpet than be remotely helpful. He's looking at you as if you decided to come here of your own volition, to get roped into a bunch of sexual escapades for funsies- Like it's a hobby of yours.

" ... Would you rather find me dead in your cook's kitchen? Torn to pieces in this garden? " Hiding the snark in your tone proves itself to be harder than expected.

He glares at you, a decidedly intense look that inspires a primal wave fear in your body. " Quiet. " The angel's attention shifts to your nest-partner. " Pebble. Release the woman. "

Pebble's only reaction is to stare at the other monster and clutch you closer to a sturdy body. Something about the red dot that comprises his eye reads as a warning.

The angel scoffs. " Don't be ridiculous, come now. We don't have time for this. "

When he steps forward, he's instantly greeted with a nasty, vicious rattle of a snarl that has you freezing for a long moment. Jesus fuck, so that's what he sounds like when he's actually angry.

The angel reels back, lavender eyes widened in shock and mild hurt, though humorously, his chest appears to puff in an instinctual response to the aggressive call. " Pebble?! What is the meaning of this! "

The gargoyle seems to cower for a second, but it can't escape the situation, and the squeezing you feel makes it clear he doesn't want to let go either.

" Release her. Now. " The staff is slammed onto the tiles, ringing. You can feel the atmosphere get really tense and you're not sure how much danger you're currently in either. Might as well try to de-escalate it.

" I- We... We're stuck. " You murmur. He's slightly deflated, giving your pussy a bit of relief, but not enough for his exit to be painless.

The other blinks, his posture slouches slightly, exasperation making him tug at a growth on the back of his head. " Krulu give me strength. "

Who?

" Pebble. I know you like the girl, she's a very pretty lesser, yes. " He starts, gentler in his approach. " But the girl is special, you know? We need her. U-Untangle yourself from her. "

Did... Did he just stutter when telling the gargoyle to pull out? Okay then.

Despite his efforts, the other male doesn't seem quite convinced, snort-growling intensely.

" You've forced my hand. "

The pale monster sighs, his wings rise high and open swiftly, a challenging display if you've ever seen one before. His eyes start glowing, the brightness causing your head to pound, an ear-splitting ringing forcing you to look away and instinctively shield your head. Pebble seems afflicted as well, peeling back from you as far as he can, still connected to you by the pelvis.

By the time you recover from whatever the fuck that horrifying thing was, you find yourself being held above the now lying gargoyle by a chalk-white arm coiled around your abdomen, another holding the sharpened edge of an axe down to Pebble's throats. The gargoyle's furious noises turn to quiet whimpers, he looks mortally frightened.

" Our lord is very disappointed in you. " The angel tuts. " Do not move. "

Next, he addresses you. " Brace as hard as you need to, but I must... Dislodge you two. "

Again with the hesitation. This monster's surrounded by sex and depravity, and yet he his language is so flowery. Regardless, you take his advice to heart, wondering who this "lord" is, while you inhale and wait.

The yank upwards has both you and Pebble keening in pain, the angel stuttering something incoherent and awkward behind you two before he tugs again, harder, and that red cock pops out of you with a miserable sting.

" Mother of FUCK- "

" Language, you depraved thing! " He squawks.

Said misery is followed by an incredible wave of relief as accumulated cum seeps out of you like an obscene cascade, coating the gargoyle's still hard length, making a mess of both of your thighs. Each oozing glob has you panting and shuddering in alleviation. Finally, the bump in your lower abdomen recedes, thank god.

It's clear the angel doesn't really know what to do with you in this state. In fact, when you glance at him, those three eyes are all laser focused on your gushing cunt, frozen there. Pebble breaks the awkward moment by batting the staff away and scrambling out from beneath you, soaked in his own cum, clumsily darting to the shadows. You can hear him take off to the ground while the remaining monster helps you stand straighter.

A terrible idea, as even more globs of cum drip down your legs. It's a shameful sensation, you can only clench to try and helplessly stop the flow.

" U- Unbelievable. Cover yourself, what a disgrace. " The angel fusses, sharply averting his gaze. You note, interestingly, that his fur seems to be fluffing further and further as this goes on. Flustered perhaps?

The moment your crumpled dress is rearranged, now but a mockery of what it once was, the angel slides his staff behind his back and holds you bridal style, the eyes on his head decidedly still looking away from your debauched state even as he takes flight and lands, a lot more smoothly than the gargoyle thakfully.

You'd ask how he did that without looking forward, but then recall the third eye on his chest, the one that is now staring back at you. You can't help but think it's beautiful, in a very inhuman, striking way.

As soon as you're on the ground, the small crowd of mostly demons starts heckling the angel, which, in hindsight, shouldn't really be a surprise. Raunchy comments about him wanting sloppy seconds and being just as pervy as the rest of them are swiftly ignored, anyone who gets too close is quickly swatted away by powerful wings.

A frown takes over your face when he carries you back inside that rotten shithole, though you had yet to see the entrance of the place. This breed between a lounge and a game room, several pool tables and whatnot spread around the large place. Though, sitting squarely in the middle is what must be the main attraction, a fancy, stylish looking bar with all manner of drinks advertised, many of which you don't recognize. But you do recognize the loosely shaped yellow figure operating it, the yellow slime. As if thinking about him is enough to summon his attention, a piercing red eye finds you with eerie precision, pinkish green widening as he waves.

Creepy fucker.

" Let- Let me down, please. " You try, not liking that you're being carried around to who knows where.

" No. You have trotted around enough today. It is time to put an end to this. " You don't like the sound of that, even less so when he gets into the elevator.

" But where are you taking me? "

He pushes a button and stands firmly, the two of you try to ignore the sound of cum droplets hitting the ground. You're sure you've been making a little trail this whole time.

" To a spare room. "

Again?! How many times will you land on one of those? What for? Is that supposed to be your waiting room before another sickfuck comes to fetch the human for their own entertainment? Or is he just going to lock you in a random room for the rest of the night?

Sure enough, when the elevator doors part, you recognize the long hall of doors as the same one the incubus lead you to. He opens one of the nearest doors in a rush, fast enough that you couldn't catch the number, and deposits you carelessly on the bed.

It's a much less lavish room than Santi's. Barren almost. All dark minimalist tones you don't care for. You hold onto the purple sheets and pull yourself up, ready to try to plead with the winged monster when he makes a b-line for the door again.

" Wait! Don't just- "

He interrupts you, sharply turning around. " You are to stay here and behave until lady Admin comes to collect you, am I understood? "

Although his tone is serious, and you recall hearing the name "Admin" somewhere already since the start of this mess, your stare drops to the outline of his hardness and you can't take him seriously anymore. Given how tight to the skin his outfit is, not a lot is left to the imagination, giving away a flat-headed shape and decent proportions. Is he even aware of his own state? As a matter of fact, his fur is still fluffed. Seeing the results of you getting busy with Pebble was enough to put him in that state?

" ... You're hard. "

The angel blinks several times, glancing down at himself, meeting his own neglected dick. You nearly cackle at the dumbfounded look he offers it, as if questioning why it exists. At the smallest hint of your quiet snickering, large wings fan themselves to cover his front. He recovers quickly, you'll give him that.

" Nonsense lesser, don't be disgusting. Stay absolutely still, I will come back. "

He intended to look irritated, but the way he struggles with the door knob and scurries out the room betrays great shame. The door shuts and there's a distinct click. You curse out loud.

Bastard locked it.

Fuck... What do you do now?

Well, you can't just stay still like a sitting duck, waiting to possibly die. You only have a few cards left to play here, which means the stakes are higher this time. Either you bet on trying to find a way out of this room, or you have to disorient the angel somehow.

On the one hand, this entire location is bizarre. It definitely doesn't obey the logic and laws of reality as you know it, if the garden's structure is any indication. So chances are that, maybe, you can find something here that'll help you break out of the room, somehow. A loophole.

On the other, that angel... He's already flustered and feeling awkward, maybe if you push the right buttons, you can get him to lead you somewhere else, can trick him. Maybe he's your ticket out.

#Pebble oc #Belo oc #terato #monster x reader #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terat0philliac #monsterfucker #monster smut

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luna-lokisdottir · 1 year ago

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Meeting Wilbur - Music Giant AU Pt. 2

------‐---

"Tallulah!" Tommy heard a voice call out from the cave entrance, the blonde watched as the giant gasped.

"Papa!" and then gently dropped him on her bed, Tommy made a small 'oof!' as he watched her stand up to greet the other giant at the door and then parroting:

" 'Papa!?'" There were more of them!? oh gods.. a baby giant was bad enough, but a full-grown one? who knows what might happen, especially since Tallulah had said he wasn't very fond of humans. What was he going to do with him?

His thoughts faded as he heard the little giant exclaim, "Papa! Papa! you're back!" "Tallulah! mi niña!" The Giant exclaimed with the same excitement his daughter had given him; the little one giggled as her father ruffled her hair a little, Tommy smiled a slight bit as he watched the brunette fix her hair back up and then she seemed to have remembered that he was there because the first thing she did as she exited the hug was:

"Oh! Papa, guess what! I have something to show you!" Tommy could feel his stomach drop as she said this, watching as the other giant raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

"Oh?" The ground shook as her father knelt down. To her height, Tommy could make out his brown fluffy hair and glasses as he did so. "What is it, love?" Tallulah giggled as she ran over to her bed and picked the blonde up from the covers and placed him into the palm of her hands.

"Oh! up we go!" He exclaimed. She giggled as she ran over to her father, "Close your eyes!" The brunette said, the elder giant chuckled as he did as he was told.

"What's this about love?" he asked now with both of his eyes closed."You'll see! hold out your hands, too!" he held out his hands, Tommy yelped a little as the toddler put him into her father's hands.

"Okay! you can open them!" Tommy sat uncomfortably watching as those big brown eyes stared down at him. From the look on his face, he could already tell this giant didn't look too happy that he was here, he watched as the giant looked down at him and then back at his child as he cleared his throat and spoke:

"You brought a human into our home?" Tallulah's face fell as he spoke, Tommy watched as the young one rocked back and forth on her two feet.

"Well.. no, " she replied as her father raised an eyebrow, "Technically he brought himself into our home, he just.. woke me up so-" her father took a deep breath as he stood to his full height and even though he wasn't a fan of the little one, Tommy was kind of surprised to see how gentle he was being with him, he was also a bit terrified because this giant was BIG at least several feet taller than his child.

The ground shook as the giant moved closer to his child, putting a hand on her shoulder as he said, "Tallulah, I've told you how dangerous humans are they're smarter than they look.. they could kill us if they had the chance. Do you think I want to see you end up like your mo-"

"I know, Papa!" she quickly interrupted, "But can I just keep him, please?" Tommy panicked internally.

'Keep me?'

"Keep him?" the Giant replied, "Lulah, he's not a dog or cat he probably has a family to go back to. You wouldn't want--" "Pretty, please?" he chuckled as his daughter gave him puppy dog eyes. How could he say no to that face?

Tommy just kind of vibed in the giants hand as they talked it out before beginning to weigh out his options while being stuck with two giants didn't seem ideal. He really didn't have anywhere else to go at the moment, and since no one really enters the enchanted forest to begin with, it would be the perfect place to hide out in at least for a little bit.

So before he changed his mind, he began to speak up, "I- *ahem*" he cleared his throat, catching the other males attention he laughed nervously those big brown eyes were intimidating to look at even if they meant no harm at the moment.

"I actually wouldn't mind staying here with her if that's alright with you?" The giant raised an eyebrow suspiciously as Tallulah gasped in excitement. "Are you sure? You don't have any family or friends who are waiting for you back there?"

He shook his head no, as the giant sighed and then looked over at his child. "Then.. I guess he can stay" Tallulah exclaimed in excitement as she grabbed the little human from her father's hands.

"Yay! oh, thank you, Papa! I'll take good care of him!" she smiled as she gave her papa a big hug he laughed as he ruffled her hair again.

"Oh, since you're going to be staying here, I'm Wilbur, by the way." The giant- Wilbur introduced as he crouched down to eye level with Tommy lifting a finger as if he was holding his hand out to shake.

"Tommy." The human replied, reaching his hand out to shake his um.. finger Tallulah giggled at the exchange, and then she took Tommy to her room.

"I can't wait to show Chayanne, Quackity, Tilín, and Uncle Philza! I wonder what they'll say.." she ranted as Wilbur watched her take him into her room. He laughed before going off to do other stuff.

[Tags: @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @i-am-beckyu ]

#giant!wilbur #dsmp g/t #g/t community #mcyt g/t #g!wilbur #giant!tallulah #qsmp g/t #giant!philza #giant!chayanne #giant!tilin #giant!quackity #all mentioned #tiny!tommy #t!tommy

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blackjackkent · 10 months ago

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:O Karlach also wants to talk in camp!

Hopefully this is a cute romance thing, but odds are strong that she's either a) going to tell us more about how she's going to die because the engine is burning up or b) going to rant about Gortash. Place your bets now, and the winner is....

"I've figured it out. Exactly what I want to do with you!"

...I'll be damned, it actually is a cute romance thing. ^_^

All of Hector's available response options here are excellent:

[snickers]

#3 is very, very tempting (especially since I am quite sure the two of them are fucking like rabbits on the regular whenever their campsite allows enough privacy), but Hector is a smidge too dignified still, tragically (and far too deep in the feels side of things). XD

And it's true, really - he would do anything she asked of him, in the end. And he's had a long day and that also seems to tend to make him sentimental.

He smiles slightly at her excitement as he walks over; coming to a halt a little in front of her, he inclines his head in a mock bow, one fist to his chest. "Your wish is my command," he murmurs.

She gives him a slow, almost shy smile and fidgets back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes glowing bright in the dimness. "I want to go on a date," she says firmly. Her shoulders are squared as if she's expecting a laugh, a disagreement, a dismissal, and is determined to push on anyway. "A first date. No weapons, no monsters, no mysterious voices. Just you and me and dinner."

She swallows and meets his eyes. He is astonished to see the level of nervousness there; one would think she was asking him to walk off a cliff. "Please say yes," she says earnestly.

Hector blinks at her a few times - he is thrown by this, not because it's something he doesn't want to hear, but because she seems so intense about it that he was fully expecting her to talk about something much less welcome. Then a smile spreads across his face.

Gods, I love you. Yes, of course I want to. Of course I want to spend time with you, be seen with you, experience the world with you... forget all of this for a while. Of course... and you need never fear I would say no...

"What did you have in mind?" he asks, smiling and reaching out to take her hand.

Her eyes brighten and her grin widens eagerly. The words come out faster, spilling over each other as they do when she's particularly excited. "There's a little spot I know in town. Out of the way, but the view of the city is incredible. Say you'll go. My treat!"

For a moment he thinks he can almost see the younger Karlach bleed through - 20 years old and still feeling like she could take on the world, at home in this city, knowing it like the back of her hand. And wanting to share it, this place that is hers, with him.

He tugs her hand to his lips and kisses her palm gently. "I'd love to go out with you," he says softly.

"Yes! Amazing!" Her smile splits her face from ear to ear; he's almost never seen her smile so wide, not since the first night they kissed at Last Light. "Put on your least bloody tunic and meet me back here."

She squirms from foot to foot, her hands flailing in all directions in her elation. "Eeee..." she squeaks. "I'm so excited!"

He finds himself grinning as well, unable to take his eyes off her. He could look at her in these moments of joy forever...

(A/N: I took a brief pause here to put Hector in the Solemnity outfit and have Karlach borrow Shadowheart's Opalescent outfit because OBVIOUSLY we're going to have them get dressed up for dinner. ^_^ EEEE this is so cute.)

"Give me a bit to run ahead. I want to make sure everything's absolutely perfect. See you there!"

(A/N: Look at his FUCKING smile, you guys. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I love them so much. [sob]

Date in next post. ^_^ )

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #karlach x tav #eeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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autisticandroids · 2 years ago

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best meatless chicken salad

btw if you skip the meat part and are not as gung ho about letting it sit in the fridge it will also work for normal fish or chicken salads.

the meat:

ok this is the simply part. go to the freezer of your local store-that-sells-fake-meat and pick up some gardein teriyaki chik'n strips. they have to be those ones because of the texture. but also if you experiment with substitutes please tell me how it works out. the important part is to find a meatless chik'n with

- no breading

- a nice texture (on the tender side)

good flavor is always preferred (and i do like the way the gardein things taste) but is entirely optional because this shit is gonna be flavor blasted. actually now i think about it like. a Whole Tofurkey like you might get for roasting might do the job. but you would have to roast it first. also if you try it and it sucks know that you could have used gardein like i said.

anyway assuming you're using the gardein, open up your packages (to feed three people for several days i usually get three packages) and fry up those chicken strips in olive oil.

DO NOT ADD THE SAUCE.

DO NOT.

you can put the sauce aside for later if you think you'll use it or just toss it. but you do NOT want your chicken strips sauced.

anyway. fry them until they are tender but minimally crispy, then set aside to cool.

the fixings:

these are the things you will add to your chicken salad that complement the meat. between one third and one half of your bowl should be fixings. like, they should be way more emphasized than in your average chicken salad.

there are two types: big fixings and small fixings. the big fixings are things that are good to have taking up a lot of space volume-wise. by volume, most of your fixings should be big fixings. small fixings should be more like a garnish. you aren't necessarily getting them in every bite. also, all fixings should be diced quite small, not longer than a half inch in any direction and that's an absolute maximum. this goes double for small fixings, which should be sliced almost as though they are spices.

anyway here's a list of possible fixings. obviously don't put all of them in one salad, and add your own as you see fit, but these are fixings that i have added to salads in the past or plan to add in the future. generally speaking my recommendation is like, maybe 2-5 big fixings, and as many small fixings as you think build a nice flavor profile. one thing you should NOT do is omit all pickles. pickles are essential. there are many types of pickles here but you need at least one. your big fixings should also include at least one fresh fruit/vegetable or the final salad will be absolutely overbearing. anyway.

potential big fixings: celery, apples (something with crunchy crisp flesh that will stand up to a bit of abuse. i use honeycrisp. i wouldn't use, say, a macintosh because i like them but the texture will quickly become gross in this context because they will get smashed up from the mixing), shredded carrots, shredded cabbage would probably be good but i have never tried it in this recipe and it might be too tough, heart of palm, pickles (i always use spicy pickles because i love them but regular or sweet pickles would work too), sweet pickled beets (i prefer safie's but any are fine as long as they're something you would willingly eat plain with a fork), fried tofu (firm or extra firm. cut into smaller than half inch cubes, marinate in soy sauce for fifteen minutes, then fry in a half inch of olive oil until crispy enough on the outside to have a slight crunch but still quite soft on the inside) (i know i know don't deep fry in olive oil it will burn. well, this is only a half inch, and the tofu should fry quickly and not require a super high temperature).

potential small fixings: pickled jalapeños, pickled cherry peppers, really any pickled peppers, roasted beets, olives (i tend to use castelvetranos because i'm a wuss but if you're braver than me you could use like, kalamata), dried cranberries/cherries, raisins, pickled ginger, i don't really like the texture of nuts in my chicken salad but flavor profile-wise i bet pecans would kill in this, walnuts would be okay too, pickled radishes, giardiniera, basically any pickled item you have that's crispy (no pickled eggplant), canned artichoke hearts, sweet relish, fresh mango, fresh avocado (IF you are planning to eat the whole bowl today), fresh herbs (i personally opt for dill (LOTS of dill) and chives and parsley, but i bet cilantro would also work, or lemon balm, or green onion, and someone very brave could add some fresh basil or rosemary or mint if they wanted to see what would happen), lemongrass paste (i've never managed to get my hands on fresh lemongrass so i don't know how to work with it but i encourage experimentation!), ginger paste (JUST a little), lime flesh (as in: the innermost flesh that you would have to peel out of the clear filmy skin), grapefruit flesh or canned grapefruit chunks, roasted salted seaweed (NOT too much, and make sure it's in small pieces, because it will get soggy), spicy chilli crisp, chunky cherry jam, you could definitely add roasted garlic here but although i am ordinarily a garlic forward person this particular recipe demands a light, tart flavor that too much garlic would interfere with.

anyway. shred the chicken a bit with two forks, and mix in the fixings as you cut them so you can maintain a reasonable ratio.

do NOT add mayonnaise at this stage.

the spices:

anyway, your next task is to raid your spice cabinet and get everything out including the weird stuff in the back that you never use. when you are adding spices, always remember to taste. when i'm adding a spice i haven't tried in this recipe before i get a spoonful of the chicken and fixings and put some of that spice on top and if it's good i add it in. anyway one important thing to remember when spicing is that a lot of spice mix type things have salt in them, so be careful not to accidentally oversalt your chicken salad.

anyway, the most mandatory spices in this recipe are old bay seasoning (enough that you can taste it in each bite but not enough that it makes everything salty), and paprika (if it's not smoked, turn the whole bowl orange. if it's smoked, be gentler, but not too gentle).

anyway here's a list of other potential spices: cayenne pepper, basically any pepper powder (i have a friend who has some smoked ancho powder that i'm DYING to use for this recipe), msg, i would be a lot more gung ho about dried basil than fresh, all the herbs i mentioned above in the fixings would also be good dried, basically any herb in your cabinet actually, caraway seeds would be interesting but be sparing, celery seeds (do NOT be sparing), celery salt, mustard powder, basically anything that can reasonably be considered a pickling spice (as long as it's not too big so e.g. no whole mustard seeds or peppercorns), sesame seeds, black pepper, furikake, almost any spice mix that is intended to be added to a finished dish would probably work (e.g. trader joe's everything but the bagel), powdered ginger, garlic powder but again be sparing and i wouldn't use course crystalline garlic powder i would get the fine stuff, lemon zest, orange zest, you could definitely experiment with garam masala though i haven't tried it on this yet, ditto with cumin, really anything in the spice cabinet is fair game as long as you taste first. the only thing i regularly use that i absolutely would not add is mushroom powder.

anyway now you're spiced. mix it all up and taste to see if you need to add more.

you have now completed the big bowl of stuff you're gonna be putting in the fridge to eat out of later. do NOT put mayo on until immediately before eating, as this will help it keep.

the mayo:

okay now here we are. the final step. this one is pretty simple. grab a serving from the big bowl (or several servings, if you're about to eat with others). into this smaller bowl you are going to add mayonnaise (just plain ol' regular mayo is perfect, but i like to use olive oil mayo instead sometimes instead because it makes the chicken (which was fried in olive oil) pop) and mustard. it doesn't matter what kind of mustard: french's, dijon, spicy brown, it's all fine, but you NEED the mustard to make the salad get up and go.

anyway there's lots of other stuff you could add here if you wanted, but it's all optional and you shouldn't go crazy with it: hot sauce, lemon juice, rice vinegar, plain yogurt, liquid smoke, vegan worcestershire sauce, vegan fish sauce, sriracha mayo, any aioli you have kicking around your fridge.

anyway. you're done. congratulations and bon appetit

#recipe

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wristbandsblog · 2 years ago

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Are you wondering, how Tyvek wristbands vary from paper ones?

We'll forgive you if your wristbands weren't made with the same meticulous attention to detail as ours were. A one-time-use band that can be discarded after a single use is the common mental image of a wristband for an event. Hence, you probably haven't given much thought to the differences between paper wristbands and Tyvek ones. Have you seen a change? Can you tell the difference between the two, or are they the same? This piece examines the key differences and similarities between paper and Tyvek wristbands.

Do paper wristbands function the same as Tyvek ones?

Well, yes, paper wristbands can be exchanged for Tyvek ones. Nonetheless, Tyvek should not be mistaken for paper. In spite of its natural-looking appearance, Tyvek is actually a synthetic material made from strands of high-density polyethylene. That is to say, it is recyclable plastic. They are popularly referred to as "paper wristbands" due to their papery appearance and feel.

Paper wristbands are convenient since they may be customized and worn for a short period of time without causing discomfort. They're used everywhere from water parks and theme parks to hotels and resorts because of how quickly and cheaply they can verify a guest's identity.

Could you tell me if we could get paper wristbands? The material Tyvek is used to produce paper wristbands.

Wristbands are a prominent point of criticism in user reviews, with many users noting that they are discolored and waxy. Because we were really skeptical, we decided to go out and get a pack to try for ourselves. What first stood out to us was the way it felt. There is a risk of abrasion from the edges. The ill-fitting nature of this material may become unpleasant after prolonged use. You may think of it as wrapping your wrist in scotch tape. To test the band's durability, we snipped a small hole in it with scissors. With a simple wave of my palm, the band snapped in two and fell off my wrist. But, you shouldn't wear these wristbands when engaging in physical activity where they could sustain even minor harm.

I'm not sure what kind of material to use; could you please advise?

No joke; you can't skimp on quality. The appearance of cheapness and fragility in the wristbands you present to your guests will have a significant impact on their initial impression of your event or business. Tyvek paper wristbands are the best option for this reason. These wristbands are made of durable Tyvek and can be worn indoors or out for an extended period of time. It is comfortable to wrap the elastic bands around one's wrist. Even better, they may be tailored to your individual needs.

Wristbandseurope.com is your one-stop shop for premium paper and Tyvek wristbands. Organizations that distribute promotional wristbands are among their clientele. Its custom-printed wristbands are used by many different sectors across Europe. Nightclubs, festivals, organizations, and hotels may all find what they need at www.wristbandseurope.com, which offers customizable vinyl, fabric, Tyvek, and silicone wristbands.

#wristband for an event #paper wristbands #promotional wristbands

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ladyyatexel · 1 year ago

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So here's the deal with my postal nemesis.

I go in there pretty frequently because I'm mailing buttons to people on a pretty regular basis. If you've bought buttons from me you know that they come in a teal bubble mailer with purple writing on them and the package makes a nice clickety-clackity sound. They are kind of hard to miss.

I also am difficult to miss! My hair is currently neon green and I'm usually dressed like a Hot Topic threw up on Lisa Frank.

So I've been going into this post office nearly weekly with the same shit over and over and it is primarily the same guy behind the counter.

Many of you will know by virtue of living in a different country than me that I frequently send buttons to everyone and so sometimes I need to send a teal envelope to Poland and sometimes Argentina, it just happens. International packages it turns out take a lot longer to process than anything contained in my own country. Fine makes sense the formatting is different and they have to make sure I'm not exporting human remains or something.

This dude glares at me through the entire process.

A process which takes a long time because he only has two functioning fingers.

I'm not exaggerating about this. He's clearly got some kind of thing going on where only two fingers work on one of his hands and the other one is held very close to the other side of his body. When he needs to move something off the table he has to bring up his entire other arm and just kind of slide the mail with the side of his palm into the bin.

I think it is great that someone properly gave somebody with physical limitations a chance at the same kind of employment everybody gets, this is not the issue.

The issue is that this dude is a dick. He lets out these big angry sighs with every single thing he has to type. Everything he says is a syllable best and just sort of a sound at worst. I have worked in customer facing retail so I understand that there's really no money on Earth that they can pay you enough to give a fuck. You aren't being paid to be happy or to like it there you're being paid to push the buttons and put the mail in a box.

But I'm in there all the time and every time this dude glares at me and I watch him enter International addresses with one finger. And then probably in a rehearsed motion that he has been using to compensate for the fact that he's only got the one finger to work with, he blasts through every option on the menu.

How many times have I told this man that I need tracking on these envelopes and that I need the receipt emailed to me? Dozens.

You know me dude I can tell that you know me because you look upset every time I walk in there with my gay hair and my teal envelopes.

I get grumpy right back at you every time you override my request for an email receipt.

I need them because it's much easier to put them into PayPal to prove that I'm not scamming people if I just have it emailed to me rather than copying it off of a receipt that I will inevitably lose in my wallet you catastrophic shithead

I don't know what solution you want me to have about sending pins to people in Europe. I'm going to keep doing it. This is what your job is actually. I know you are facing a pretty unique situation. I myself have historically been standing in front of you in absolute agony with a cane because you were taking 45 minutes to send six envelopes. I sympathize with working while disabled because I was technically doing the same thing by mailing out the objects I had designed and made while you were standing there angry and growling at me with every keystroke. I've also been still in the room walking away while you apologize to the people behind me for me choosing to send things internationally.

Neither of us is having fun here bro.

And so now that this man and I mutually recognize each other and are each very unhappy to see the other and yet he still can't remember that I just want my fucking receipt in my email could you please stop overriding everything I do and just say hello

he is my post office nemesis

Today I am mailing a print, buttons, and a Furby

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dracowars · 2 years ago

Note

Can you please do a Draco×reader... After the war when they are going to get married in a month or two and she tells him that she can't conceive as she's infertile and feels terribly bad and want to call off the marriage... But Draco comforts her and tell that their are many options out their for having a kid and she don't need to think about the society... Do only if your comfortable... Thank you ☺️

strongest | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: where y/n tells draco she can’t conceive

a/n: i hope i could make this justice <3

warnings: angst, mentions of infertility, mentions of pregnancy

universe: harry potter

Turning in all different directions in front of the large mirror framed with silver ornaments, you contemplate your form. Dressed entirely in white, you meet the eyes of a bride whose sadness is almost unbearable. The white veil fastened in the bride’s hair falls to the ground behind her and combines with the long lace train of wedding dress.

Again and again, your gaze and your hands wander to your abdomen, your palms absently stroking your belly while dark memories make their way into your thoughts.

“Y/N will give birth to an heir to the Malfoy family.”

“Y/N is perfectly suited to continue the Malfoy bloodline.”

“She will make us happy with a boy.”

“She will make us all proud.”

Exhaling heavily, a tear runs down your cheek, which you immediately wipe away with your thumb and take a closer look at the woman in the mirror in front of you. She will never make anyone proud, you tell yourself. She just can’t.

The dull knock on the door startles you and you quickly take a last look in the mirror before you get down from the small platform and walk barefoot towards the door. As soon as you open it a crack, you meet your fiancé’s content eyes.

“Draco! You can’t see me like this yet!”, you cry out indignantly and hide your body behind the door so that only your head is sticking out around the corner.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, but we should choose the wedding cake when you are ready”, he says with a smile at the sight of you, his future wife. The affection he has for you is clearly written all over his face and he does not even try to hide it. Not then, not now.

“Give me a moment and I will come downstairs”, you nod in agreement, lean the door ajar and slip out of the expensive wedding dress as carefully as you can, removing the veil from your hair while doing so. Quickly, you throw on your dark dressing gown, which hugs your body just in the right spots.

Before you can leave the room, however, your inner self pulls you back to the large mirror, in which you look at yourself from the top to the bottom again. You do not notice how Draco, who has now opened the door wider while waiting, is watching you.

“You are so beautiful”, he breathes, completely in love as he sneaks up on you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind so you now both look at each other through the mirror. He rests his chin on your shoulder and his eyes meet yours in your reflection. His hands slowly slide over your body and finally rest on your stomach, which suddenly puts your entire body on high alert.

All of a sudden, you reflexively push Draco, who has just planted kiss after kiss on your bare neck, away from you with unintentionally much force.

“Don’t”, you say so softly you can barely hear it yourself. Concern then spreads across your fiancé’s face after he sees your devastated form and he cautiously takes another step towards you, this time one level down since you are still standing on the pedestal.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”, he asks you concerned, his eyes giving you clear indications that he does not understand what is going on and why you are suddenly reacting like this when he has not actually done anything. And that is what hurts you the most. He immediately looks for the fault in himself, what he might have done wrong that he caused such a reaction in you. What he does not know, however, is that you are the one at fault.

“I don’t think I can do this, Draco”, you admit, slumping down at the end of the huge four-poster bed, your face in your hands. Your heart is pounding in your throat and your hands are shaking as fear washed through your veins. You always wanted to hide this vulnerable side of you from him, but you can no longer even control your body and your thoughts when he touches you, let alone looks at you.

“What do you mean by that?”, Draco asks carefully, and you feel the mattress next to you sag a little as he sits down next to you. You do not even have to see him to know the worry is all over his features. In his voice, however, you can hear fear as well as concern. “Please, Y/N. Talk to me or I can’t help you. Is it about.. the wedding?”

His words make you laugh out a little humorlessly, followed closely by a deep sob as you finally look up and search for his hands, which you then clasp with yours on your lap to reassure the both of you. For him to even consider that you would not want to marry him is completely silly considering that there is nothing you would rather do in this world. But he does not know that and everything he sees at this moment gives him the wrong signals. His fiancée seemingly collapsing for no reason because her future husband touched her.

“.. do you not love me anymore?”, Draco speaks up insecurely and you feel him squeeze your hands a little more to reassure himself that you are still here, even though he is absolutely not sure for how long you will be.

“I love you with all my heart and more than anything else in this world”, you reply immediately, and you can clearly see how his stature relaxes a little. A small, sad smile creeps onto your lips before you look away and, freeing yourself from his clenching grip, you smooth the velvet fabric of your dressing gown with one of your hands.

“Then what is it? What is bothering you, darling?”

“I- So- This wedding-“, you stutter out, not sure how to put it, while simultaneously fighting the urge to fall into his arms and cry. You have already lost far too many tears, which is why you look at the ceiling and quickly blink them away as they threaten to fall. With the tip of your ring finger, emblazoned with your brilliant engagement ring, you gently dab the skin under your eyes before taking in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what lies ahead. If you can even prepare for it.

“I can’t wait to be a part of this family and to call you my husband, Draco. It’s just.. I know there are certain expectations of me, but what if I can’t meet them? What if I just.. can't?”, you breathe softly, seeing Draco frown, not really understanding what you are trying to get at. “You are the heir to the Malfoy family and at some point, you will need an heir as well. Your family wants me to give you a child. But I can’t.”

A sense of relief takes over your body after you finally say those terribly heavy words out loud, lifting some of the load off your shoulders after all these years that you hid this secret. In Draco’s eyes you meet sadness and at first wonderment, which is quickly replaced by acceptance and pure adoration.

“I would never end things with you just because you can’t give me a child, Y/N. I don’t love you for that, but for the person you are. My parents might want an heir so they can rest assured that their empire is in good hands, but never in my life would that affect how I feel about you”, Draco replies earnestly, running his thumb over the soft back of your hand. “I love you and if we actually want a child because we want it, then there are other ways we can. We can make it happen.”

“D-Draco.”

“I am incredibly proud of you for telling me, sweetheart. I can’t even imagine how much you must have suffered under this extreme burden”, he smiles at you encouragingly and gently strokes a strand of your hair behind your ear, resting his warm pam on your cheek. “You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and I can’t wait until you are all mine.”

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wheelsup · 3 years ago

Text

kissing lessons

summary: one of your classic movie nights with spencer turns into a learning opportunity

A/N: this is really fluffy, but the whole story centers around kissing. use your own judgement! i’d say it’s at worst 16+

category: spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff (with a bit of spice) best friends to lovers (sorta)

warnings: just kissing, a brief implication at the end

word count: 3k

Occasionally, the team will spend an extra night in their hotel before heading home from a case. Be it due to poor weather conditions, or the fact that your case wrapped in the dead of night, the reasons for flying don’t ever matter. Because the majority of the times when you have to stay that extra night, you and Spencer have sleepovers.

The routine is pretty much the same. You’ll stock up on gas station snacks – sour peach rings for Spencer, salted microwave popcorn for you – and reconvene in one of your hotel rooms. Preferably, whichever of you got the better deal that week – a bigger tv, a room further away from the ice machine. And you’d rent the cheapest movie available on-demand, the options spanning from low-budget sci-fi to poorly written rom-coms. That night, the viewing fell under the latter category.

Spencer perched at the foot of your bed with both feet tucked under his legs, criss-cross style, while you laid against the headboard to watch. Every now and then, you tossed out your commentary and he’d ignore it. He always says you’re too critical of movies and you’re of the belief that he’s too forgiving.

“I don’t think they should end up together,” you mumbled, words slurring around your mouthful of popcorn. You pulled a face right as the movie approached the romantic climax, after spending the past ninety minutes actively rooting against the couple. Spencer ignored you, pretending to be engrossed in the movie to spite your disparagement of it. “They both suck.”

You groaned, slumped further against the pillows, and shoved your sock-clad toes under Spencer’s left thigh in a call for attention. He jumped at the intrusion, but ultimately, your efforts were futile.

And then the big kiss commenced, and your booing finally piqued his interest. “Gross! I feel bad for people who kiss like that.”

A small bell went off in his head and he took a curious glance at you over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stopped chewing and the piece of candy in his mouth pushed out his cheek, giving him an adorably innocent look. His brows scrunched in the middle and his nose had a tiny crinkle in it, utterly confused.

You scoffed and matched his expression. “Are you serious?” You jerked your head in the direction of the television and Spencer whipped his head back, squinting. He couldn’t figure out what you were pointing out, what it was that was so obviously wrong to you. “Spencer, he’s swallowing her chin!”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed.

Feeling dumb, he muttered, “I thought that’s how you’re supposed to kiss…” It wasn’t the deepest confession to admit to you that he lacked some knowledge when it came to kissing, but he still refused to look at you as he said it.

“Spencer, please tell me you haven’t been kissing people like that.” You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head, sitting up straighter in bed. He shrugged and lowered his head, focusing on his snack as his fingers dug into the packet of gummy rings in his lap.

He popped another piece into his mouth, pretending to be occupied with eating so as to avoid your prying. “I dunno.”

It didn’t occur to you until that moment that Spencer might have learned everything he knows about kissing – among other things – solely through watching movies. How else could he look at that and think it’s normal? And you’re left wondering if he’s ever even practiced it with another living human. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but unfortunately, that only heightened your interest. You had to know.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You kept your voice low, your tone implying that you were ready to exchange this secret with him. You wouldn’t judge him if he admitted he hadn’t.

He scoffed loudly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you’re positive he rolled his eyes too. “Yeah, of course.” Then quietly, he added on, “But it was only like… for four seconds.”

You nodded thoughtfully, considering how this new piece of information adjusted your existing view of Spencer. For some reason, you couldn’t tell if you actually expected him to be experienced or not.

He didn’t exactly scream that he’d… gotten around, for lack of better words, but you’re still surprised to learn that he’s barely done it at all. You supposed he was objectively cute, that maybe you could see it if he weren’t your best friend. And yeah, he’s a little awkward, but he’s smart and kind, so he has three great things going for him, and you’re surprised more people haven’t swooped him up yet.

Your lips curled down in thought, brows raised in curiosity. “And was it good?” It was a genuine enough question, because you’ve never really thought about Spencer Reid and kissing in the same sentence before. As it turned out, there was a lot of missing information relating to those two things.

“I don’t know! I didn’t get, like, a feedback form,” he grunted, angling his shoulder even further away from you. If you could’ve seen him, you’d notice his face boiling and turning red with heat. All this inquiring made him think harder about his … talents … than he’s ever had to before, and he’s not a fan.

You were prepared to do some more digging when the slump in his back made you feel a tinge of guilt. It was your fault he looked so defeated. You pressed too hard, disregarding his boundaries just because you wanted to know more. And now, he was wondering if there was something wrong with him, because you wouldn’t leave it alone.

He barely noticed as you swung your feet from under his thigh and rocked onto your knees, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with your palm. It hauled his attention out of his thoughts and back into the room. You wanted to apologize, but instead you settled with “I’m sure you’re fine, Spence.”

He nodded unconvincingly. By the glow of the screen, you could see he was still gnawing on the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes as he played with a loose hangnail on one of his fingers. It made you feel even worse. “Are you actually worried about it?” you asked, laden with concern.

“What if I am bad at it?” He whispered, like saying it too loud would make it true. “And that’s why it’s only happened once?”

A large exhale puffed out of your nose as you weighed your options.

You could go back to your original plan and apologize for setting him down this path of doubt. But that wouldn’t do anything to stop him from worrying, anyway. You could tell him there’s no correlation between the way he kisses and how frequently it’s happened; that you’re sure the reason isn’t because he’s bad. But you don’t know that for sure.

So, fuck it, you thought, grabbing a fistful of his pajama shirt and tugging him closer to you roughly, pressing your lips onto his.

This way, you’d at least have an informed opinion to be able to tell him if he was good or bad.

His lips were softer than you expected – not that you’d thought about them often, they’re just impossibly softer than they look – and invitingly warm. But they were completely stiff.

You could tell he was trying to kiss you back by the way his mouth ferociously moved over yours. He was trying to be a passionate, engaged partner, but he forgot about the aspect of tenderness.

His lips felt like two solid objects just sliding around on your face. They didn’t move in any sort of accordance with yours. There was no push and pull, your lips didn’t mesh perfectly together to form a solitary unit as they moved in unison.

It felt more like his lips were your opponent, putting up an attack and defense play against the actions of your own.

You pulled away, resisting a giggle at his bewildered face. “You’re not so terrible,” you swipe the corner of your mouth, smudged with Spencer’s flavored chapstick, “But it could use some work.”

He was at a loss for words, mouth gaping open as his eyes darted around the room and all over you. Maybe he’d find an explanation for what just happened carved into the walls somewhere or written across your forehead.

What happened was that you kissed him. And he was a little bit bad. Simple as that.

“I-I wasn’t ready!” he stammered, chucking up his hands defensively. He’d process the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend at a later time, right now the bigger concern was the slight cringed look on your face. He sulked and folded his arms.“What was so bad about it?”

“Well,” you scratched the back of your ear, trying to gauge if he’d react well to getting some advice, “my first tip would be to relax your lips.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And don’t think too hard. You should react to what’s happening in the moment, not worrying about what your next move is gonna be.” You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to envision what that would play out like in a real situation. “You wanna try again?” you offered, figuring he’d learn much faster if he was more hands-on about it.

He nodded, and you leaned in close, waiting for him to go for it. His heart quickened under the pressure of performance, eyes screwing shut as he closed the gap. His mouth smashed into yours as he dove in hard. It was toeing on the side of too harsh, but you let that one slide in hopes it was just a byproduct of his nerves.

You had to tap his knee to remind him to relax, and he loosened some of the tension he had in his lips. He slotted his between yours, allowing them to be pliable to your movements and remembering to react, not plan.

He moved his mouth leisurely against yours, trying to match your pressure and pacing. They actually started moving in time with yours at some point. The kiss took on a shape of its own as he started getting out of his head, letting himself enjoy the kiss for what it was in that exact moment.

It was already better than before. Leaps and bounds better. But then he tried to deepen it, building on its intensity but adding more… something into it. You couldn’t even tell what it was he was trying to do.

“Okay, second tip…” you inhaled sharply, pushing him off of you with a palm against his chest. Whatever it was, it needed to stop. “You kinda do this thing like… where you’re blowing air into my mouth?” You scrunched your nose, punctuating your dislike. “That feels weird. Don’t do that. If anything, do the opposite.”

“I’m supposed to suck the air out of your mouth?” His face contorted, voice already slightly exasperated. He barely understood what the air thing was that you claimed he did. He didn’t realize in the process of trying to add pressure to the kiss, he was just forcibly blowing against your mouth.

“Not literally, no.” You laughed a little, rubbing your palm in a comforting pattern on his chest.”But you can use your lips to suck on mine, or my tongue… just nothing involving the exchange of breath. We’re not in CPR training.”

He eased up a little with your joke, adjusting to your advice he gave it another try. After a few moments, he latched onto your bottom lip with his own, sucking it softly into his mouth. “Yeah, like that,” you mumbled against him, voice pitching high in encouragement. He sucked on it with a little more greed, holding it for a second, then eased up, varying the pressure of his movements just like you did before.

You made a mental note to praise him for that at a later time, deciding to instead part your lips to see if he’d venture into further experimentation.

He caught on quickly. He parted them further, prodding his tongue against them as you opened to allow him entry. Just as you started to really enjoy it, he ran his tongue over the inside of your mouth, moving it fast and roughly like he was a washing machine.

“Stop,” you grimaced, tearing away quickly. You had to swipe your hand over your mouth to get rid of the excess saliva that really shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, given how brief the frenching was. “Your tongue is way too aggressive.”

Overwhelmed, he tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a frustrated grunt, slapping his hands down to the top of his thighs.

There were too many factors to worry about. He had no idea how you looked at him with a straight face and told him not to think too much when there were a million things he needed to remember all at once; he needed to vary his moves to keep it interesting, but make sure he’s not ruining the flow by changing things up too much, and to be gentle but not timid.

All of this was second nature to you, but it was brand new to Spencer. Could you really blame him for not getting the hang of it right away? You decided to stop your list of critiques short for this round to spare him. He’d get there eventually, but not if he felt discouraged too soon.

“I don’t see why people like it in the first place,” he huffed, his head returning to it’s normal posture. In Spencer’s eyes, there truly wasn’t any appeal to kissing with tongue; it looked sloppy and unnecessary, and as you’d just confirmed, it actually was.

You thought about his statement for a second. There’s a certain allure to it, and you didn’t know how to describe it to him. So instead you cupped his cheeks in both your palms and slid your mouth over his again. As his jaw slacked its tension, you slowly pushed your tongue past his lips and gently pressed it against his own before swirling them together.

You sighed softly into his mouth, running your fingers through his hair and tugging carefully at the ends. He made a small noise against you, something like a whimper, and you swallowed the vibrations of it. As you retreated, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a light, teasing tug. You soothed it again with your lips before releasing it, a proud giggle forming in your chest as Spencer chased after your lips as you broke apart.

“That’s why.” You smirked at the dazed look on his face. His eyelids remained closed longer than necessary, still feeling the ghost of your mouth on his and a tingle where your fingers were in his hair.

“Oh.” His voice came out meek as he slowly came back to reality, brows wrinkling up his forehead as he opened his eyes.

He put both his palms down on the mattress, one laying flat on either side of you, and dove forward to resume the kiss right where you left it. A surprised squeak left you as his mouth collided with yours with an insatiable hunger. You brought one hand back to his hair, and he was a goner.

He unfolded his legs from under himself and shuffled onto his knees, following his hands until he practically crawled into your lap. Each of his legs hooked onto either side of your thighs as he hovered over your lap, leaning his body entirely into yours.

The physics of it didn’t hold up; he’s taller than you are, and his chest was too heavy for you to carry. The balance was off center and it sent you tumbling back onto the mattress, bringing him down with you until his chest laid on yours.

It was the perfect force – the weight of him on top of you. He tasted like peach candy and sour sugar, and you found yourself craving more of it.

You shuffled higher up the mattress, giving him space to stretch out his body as he followed yours. One of his hands found your waist, gripping tightly, while he placed the other on the mattress beside your head, using it to steady himself. Sliding your legs out from under him, you wrapped them on the outside of his hips, using them to pull him closer down to you.

It only broke off in moments when both of you absolutely needed to get air, gasping as you pulled apart for brief reprieve before colliding again. He followed every word of your advice, getting better with each passing second until he exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Your fingers weaved through his hair, passionately tugging the wavy strands to angle him against you and igniting his nerves under your touch. A soft moan leaves him and you’re encouraged to tighten your grip on them. His hips bucked reactively at the sensation, and he quickly pulled back, a slight embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. He got too carried away.

You took in his flushed face and swollen, kiss-bruised lips. They’d turned a shade of red brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and it was all you could do not to dive for them again as his tongue sweeped over them, soothing the burning heat you’d left on them.

Before he could apologize for his eagerness, you nudged your nose against his, your smile skimming against his lips. “So what else don’t you know how to do?”

☆

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loving-lucissa · 3 years ago

Note

Lucius and Narcissa telling their children about their wedding❤️

A/N: so I had good intentions to write this as requested, but it kind of got away from me. So please feel free to hate me if this wasn’t what you hoped it would be 🙈

Lucius stood in the doorway of his son’s room, watching in amusement as Draco struggled with his bow tie. The poor boy had tried and failed numerous times at tying it so Lucius finally felt bad enough to step in and help.

“Here, let me,” he said, walking further into the room as Draco threw his hands down in defeat.

“Stupid thing won’t work,” Draco muttered under his breath as his father approached and turned him around to face him instead of the mirror.

“It takes some practice to get used to,” Lucius said, getting right to work until a wave of nostalgia washed over him. “You know, the last time I tied a tie in this room was the day of my wedding.”

“Oh yeah? How did that go?” Draco asked, still pretty annoyed that he couldn’t tie the stupid bow, himself.

———

“You getting nervous yet?” Rodolphus asked, appearing in the mirror behind Lucius, fully dressed in his finest formal robes.

Lucius fixed his tie for what felt like the millionth time before turning around and facing his best friend and soon to be brother-in-law, “I don’t get nervous.”

“Fantastic, because they've actually sent me in to tell you there’s been a slight hiccup. No one can seem to find Narcissa…apparently, she told Bella last night that she was having second thoughts.”

“What?!” Lucius breathed out, his eyes going wide and the anxiety he had been feeling all day had suddenly become very visible. He tried to make a dash past Rodolphus, “I have to find her. I have to–”

Rodolphus was quick to grab his arm and wretch him back into the room. “I’m just messing with you, Malfoy, but it’s good to know that you don’t get nervous,” he remarked with a laugh.

Lucius only glared in response before walking towards the window on the far side of the room. He subtly wiped the sweat from his palms on his pristine dress robes as he looked over the back gardens. There were still a few elves scurrying around, arranging things before guests started filing in. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, only an hour until he was a married man.

“Did you feel…different…after marrying Bellatrix?” Lucius asked softly, turning his head towards Rodolphus.

“Not really. I mean the only thing different was that Bella and I didn’t need to sneak around anymore,” Rodolphus answered with a smirk. He watched as Lucius gave a somber nod and turned back towards the window. With a small sigh, Rodolphus walked over to the blonde and slapped a hand on his shoulder, “Look, there’s still time. As your friend, I can do you one last favor and sneak you out of here and you could be gone before any of this starts. You’ll probably have to change your name, but–”

“I don’t want to leave,” Lucius sneered, moving his shoulder out from under his friend’s grasp.

“Then what’s the problem?” Rodolphus asked, standing his ground.

“I’m afraid!” Lucius let out in a frustrated yell as he turned around to face Rodolphus.

Rodolphus was shocked, to say the least. Lucius wasn’t the type to admit any sort of weakness, let alone admit fear. Thinking fast on his feet, he had two options, get to the bottom of this and try to help or tell him to man up and get over his stupid feelings.

Trying to shake the confused look from his face, he looked back at Lucius who was now looking at the ground but still visibly shaken, “What are you afraid of?”

Lucius glanced up and let out a sigh when he saw the sincere look on Rodolphus’ face, “After today, things are permanent…it won’t just be me anymore, it’ll always be me and Narcissa.”

“Are you afraid she won't be enough for you?”

Lucius shook his head, “No, I’m afraid I won’t be enough for her. I’m afraid that I might mess up at some point and she’ll get hurt because of it…I just want the best for her and I’m not completely sure that I’m what’s best.”

Rodolphus had just opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a soft knock at the door interrupted him. He quickly held up a finger at Lucius and moved to the door, opening a crack to see who the person was. There, on the other side of the door, was the bride herself, all ready in her beautiful white gown.

“Cissy?” Rodolphus gasped, causing Lucius to scramble to the side of the door, standing flat against the wall so he couldn’t see her, but still hear what she had to say, “What can I help you with?”

“Can I speak to Lucius, please?” She asked sweetly, waiting for the door to open more.

Rodolphus glanced over Lucius who was furiously shaking his head, “Uhh, I don’t think he wants to see you right now…you know, the whole bad luck thing.”

“Oh, that’s okay. We can just talk through the door, if you don’t mind leaving us, Rod.”

Rodolphus gave a slight nod and carefully stepped out of the room, making sure to keep Narcissa concealed as he exited, leaving it open just a crack for the couple to talk. Lucius moved to the door, making sure he kept his back to it as he heard Rodolphus whisper to Narcissa that she looked beautiful and a quiet “thank you” from Narcissa.

“Lucius?” He heard Narcissa say as Rodolphus' footsteps could barely be heard in the distance.

“Yes,” he answered almost shakily, his fears from earlier only enhancing due to his bride’s close proximity.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her manicured hand appear in the doorway holding a small black box, “I wanted to give this to you.”

He reached down and took the box from her, opening it to reveal two white gold cufflinks, both shaped like his house crest, the “M” in the centers were encrusted with tiny diamonds. They were beautiful!

“Do you like them?” He heard her whisper. She must have heard him open the box.

“I love them!” He said, eager to take off the plain ones he has been wearing to wear them. Once he successfully had them swapped, he reached his hand out the doorway, searching for hers to hold. “Thank you!”

“I just wanted to show you how grateful I am to be joining your family…” she began, her voice then got quieter and more unsure, “I promise I’ll be a good wife, Lucius.”

He squeezed her hand a little tighter, feeling some of his fears begin to melt away, “You don’t have to make any promises, Narcissa, because I already know you’ll be the perfect wife. You are so much more than I could have ever dreamed of and I promise you that I will wake up every day and try to be the best man I can be for you - from this day until my last. I love you…forever.”

“Forever,” she repeated as he brought her hand up and left a lingering kiss on the back of it.

———

“Dad?” Draco said, bringing Lucius back out of his thoughts.

“Oh…I’d say it went pretty well. I mean, you’re here, so it must have worked out.” Lucius teased with a small smirk, pulling the bow snug against his son’s neck.

Draco turned around and admired himself in the mirror. “Good thing it did work out. If you would have married someone else, I don’t think I would look this good,” he teased back, giving his own little smirk to his father in the mirror

Lucius couldn’t help but laugh and nod his head in agreement.

#narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #lucius malfoy #lucissa #ship: lucissa #lucius x narcissa #draco malfoy #rodolphus lestrange #LovingLucissa Misc

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

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You and I - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry comes over to fix your computer

Warnings: reader is a henry fan, pandemic theme, lockdown and quarentine-ing, little bit of second-hand embarrassment?, heatwave, henry is feeling deprived in this one, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), dirty talk, brief hairpulling, the name of God in vain, Henry’s monster dick, laughing and teasing while fucking, hand over throat but no actual choking, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex

Word count: over 3k, ‘cause I got no chill

A/N: this was inspired by a tik tok someone requested me to write a fic about it. Obviously I took it in a different direction because can I ever follow guidelines? No. I do love this fic, though. Thank you to @lokiscollar for giving this a read for me!

Y/N’s P.O.V

Driving to a secluded location to spend lockdown in felt like a wonderful idea. There was a working wi-fi connection, so I could work remotely from the seashore cabin without any problem whatsoever, and the view was obviously to die for.

I did not expect someone else to have the same idea as me. The cabin next door had been occupied on the same day that I arrived, and much to my surprise, I recognized my new neighbor as someone I never expected I’d come to meet in my entire life: an actor. An actor I actually had a crush on.

Thankfully, the situation didn’t exactly call for mingling. I ran off to hide inside my cottage as soon as I realized who he was, occupying myself with fixing everything for the next day instead of daydreaming about the man next-door.

There would be time for that later, once I got in bed. But weirdly enough, that was the only time I really thought about him during those first weeks of quarantine. Every once in a while I’d get the random wave of curiosity about what he was doing - what did Henry Cavill get up to while spending lockdown by himself? But that was pretty much it.

I woke up every day, had breakfast, worked and then went to bed. Sometimes I’d sit by the balcony and watch the birds fly, taking in the scenery and breathing in the salty water. Even as a kid, I’d always loved the sea. It was comforting, so it made sense for me to turn to it in such a stressful time.

Sometimes I’d hear a bark or two, reminding me of the man who was staying in the other cabin, and it made me smile. I always did like his dog, whenever I saw pictures of him.

I hoped they were alright and that the absence of any human contact wasn’t getting to them, even though it was getting to me. I could feel my own social abilities - which weren’t exactly stellar before - slowly becoming decrepit, and I was scared to think of what my first human interaction would be like once lockdown was over.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be come so soon.

The morning began as it usually would. I took my shower, I had my breakfast, and I sat in front of the computer with my coffee in hands, ready to start working for the day.

Only the computer wasn’t ready for it, too.

“What?” I talked to myself - something that had become more usual the longer lockdown went on. “Oh, no, no, no…” The situation was looking drearier the longer I stared at my lifeless screen.

Looking up at the clock, I considered my options. Even supposing I could get someone to come to this middle of nowhere to fix it, there was no way I’d be able to get it done before work started.

Sighing, I pushed away from my designated desk to call my boss. Thankfully, he understood and I was left to repair the damn thing and come up with a solution for the next day.

My heart ached at the prospect of having to abandon my refuge because of an electronic malfunction. And that is, if there even was anyone willing to fix the damn thing, considering the pandemic and the rules of social distancing. That’s when suddenly, an idea popped up.

I remembered all the fuss a few months back over a video of Henry assembling a computer all by himself. There was no way someone with that much hardware prowess couldn’t at least know enough to fix this simple laptop.

With that thought in mind, I gathered all of my courage to leave my little shack and make my way to the neighboring cabin. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and after a few seconds of silence - he was probably surprised and certainly not expecting anyone - a voice sounded from within.

“Who is it?” Now, I had thought this through. If this man came as far as I had come to this damn forgotten town, it was because 1) he wanted peace and quiet and 2) he was as terrified of the virus as I was. So I knew what I needed to say - what I would like to hear if the roles were reversed.

“It’s your neighbor. My name’s Y/N. I’m so sorry to disturb, but my computer broke and I need it to work and you’re the only person I’m 100% sure has been socially distancing for long enough not to put my life in risk.” After all, I would have seen if someone had come to visit him. I didn’t need to say this because both of us knew it. “Would you pretty pretty please come and check it out?”

Silence followed my question and I sighed, rubbing my sweaty forehead as I knew this was a long-shot. “I understand if you’re unable or uncomfortable doing so, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks anyway!”

I had already turned my back to his front door when I heard it swinging open, the pitter patter of paws following close behind. My eyes took in the man in front of me for only a second before looking down at the dog at his feet, head tilted in interest as he analyzed me.

Immediately, my eyes lit up. “Kal!” I exclaimed, kneeling down to let the animal sniff me so I could pet it. My heart stopped working for a second when I realized what I’d done, though.

“Sorry!” I looked up at him from my kneeling position, trying to ignore how awkward it was, considering what I was close to. “I-I do know who you are, I’m not gonna lie about that.”

I straightened up as he kept looking at me in a way I couldn’t quite define. Neither could I determine how it made me feel, just that it made me avert my gaze so I’d stare at my feet.

“So… Are you gonna help me?” He chuckled at my question, closing the door behind him and taking a step in my direction, making me fumble as I instinctively stepped back.

“Sure.” It was the first thing he spoke to me, but we walked back to my own place in silence. He had his hands in his pockets as Kal followed us closely, his tongue hanging outside his mouth as he happily explored the outside for this little while. “Come on in.”

The way the cottage was set up left little space for him to wonder where he should be helping me. The desk in which I had prepared my set-up stood right by the wall to our left, and there he went without me having to point it out.

I watched a drop of sweat roll down the nape of his neck and fall under his tank top, distracting me as I licked my lips at the sight of it. Then his head turned to look at me and I realized that he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, huh?” He chuckled again, making my face feel warm - an not (only) because of the overwhelming heat.

“Is it okay if I disconnect the wi-fi?” I wave my hand dismissively, shrugging.

“As long as you’re able to fix this, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I got the impression that I amused him, but he didn’t say anything else as he got to work on my (seemingly) dead computer.

Minutes went by of complete silence, safe from the sounds of typing and metal as Henry worked on the machine and I tried not to bite my nails. Finally, he pulled away from the screen and put his hands on his hips as if assuming some sort of decided stance - but if it was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me, doctor.” I asked, pushing myself away from the sofa to approach him. The smell of a man’s sweat really had no right to be this arousing. “Is it life or death?” Henry turned to stare at me with a quirked eyebrow, and in the seconds it took for him to answer, I was once again distracted by just how hot he was.

“Sorry, what?” I asked when he became silent and I realized he’d asked me something I hadn’t heard once more. His smile said he was annoyed and entertained at the same time. “Sorry, you’re hot, it’s hot, and I can’t think straight,” I sighed, brushing the hair away from my eyes as I pressed my palms against them, trying to pull myself together.

“I swear to God, I’m not crazy.” I tried to look him directly as I said that, but was surprised at what I saw when our gazes met. There was a peculiar sense of yearning that he exuded, something I couldn’t quite place but that took my breath away all the same, especially when he took my silence as an invitation to invade my personal space.

“If you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask.” Silence fell heavily and I was out of breath just from his words - not a good sign. My throat felt dry, too dry, so I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip as I struggled to say something.

“W-why, though?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes inscrutable while he judged my question, trying to understand where it came from just like I was trying to understand his interest in me, when he suddenly smiled.

“I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay me back.” It took me a second to understand what he was referring to, and then my eyes darted from the computer to him, my mouth falling open in offense until he started chuckling. “I’m joking!” But even so, the question remained…

“Sweetheart…” He spoke, voice low and velvety as two strong hands suddenly enveloped my hips. “You’re seriously underestimating how hot you are.” I didn’t know what to say, so I had to make sure I’d hear him right.

“M-me?” A predatory smirk took over his face, slowly. I gulped under its intensity, feeling much like prey as he started to back me against the couch. I fell on top of it with a gasp, and another one escaped me when he used my ankles to pull me closer.

“I wanna eat you out.” It was all I got as an answer, but I can’t say that I minded it. As he dropped to his knees before me, pulling down my underwear before spreading my legs for his eyes to take in, it felt like I got a response from the gesture in itself.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I ate pussy?” The unexpected question made me choke on my own saliva, as he chuckled darkly in amusement at my bashfulness. I could only breathe through my mouth when he leaned down to run his tongue on the edge of my lips, slowly acquainting himself with my taste, making me moan softly.

“I-I definitely and decidedly don’t.” He seemed to like this answer, understand that it delimited exactly the type of fan that I was: the kind that knew what he was and what he liked - his dog, his computer - but not someone who was obsessed with his entire dating history, eager to know his every secret.

The longer Henry ate me out, the clearer it became just how long it’d been since he’d done this. It was obviously something he liked - the way he buried his face against my cunt and engulfed it entirely with his open mouth showed so. And the fact that he licked me and sucked me like he was a starved man? This was a man denied of a pleasure he genuinely enjoyed, that much I was certain of.

“Do you like this?” He asked once he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of me, already stretching me beyond what I could do with my own hand.

“How could I not?” I managed to moan a response, making him chuckle.

“Show me how to find it,” he instructed, eyes sparkling with determination. “I want to find your sweet spot.” I’d never had someone I was with so interested in giving me pleasure before.

Hypnotized, my fingers circled his wrist as best as I could, slowly moving him to run his digits over the top of my channel. He knew when he found it because I cried out for him, closing my eyes momentarily.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, and how could I deny him that, especially when he was looking at me with those darkened eyes? He milked my orgasm until my pussy had stopped clenching around him, but the second that it was done, he growled, getting up to his knees. “Gonna fuck you now.”

He pulled me by my hair, making me moan out loud as he slowly inserted his monster cock inside of me. “Oh, God!” His groan had me panting, cunt clenching around his thickness. I couldn’t understand how I was able to take it, but I was glad that was the case. “So… tight…”

Through his grip on my hair, he pulled me to deposit quick kisses down my jaw. “You take me so well, darling.” It was a compliment I was proud to receive, even though I wasn’t too sure how I managed to earn it in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted, gasping when he slowly dragged his cock out to slam it in me, but I instinctively pulled my hips away, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Come back here,” he ordered, already pulling me back to spear me with his painfully hard length. I’d have to be inhuman not to cry out at the feeling of his bulbous head bumping against my cervix. “Are you scared?” He joked as I bit on my bottom lip not to give in and laugh. “You think I’m too big?”

“You’re more than enough, I’ll tell you that.” Now, that had his own laugh escaping his chest, making my body tremble underneath his, inadvertently getting some friction between the both of us. It earned me a moaned out, “Yes…” that got his attention back to where I hoped it would be, and as his eyes settled on me, I briefly wondered if I was prepared for what was to come.

“But now that you got all of me inside of you, do you really want to go?” The whispered question made me shiver. I never expected him to be the type to talk dirty, but then again, I never expected I’d be fucked by him, either.

“No.” It was all the permission he needed.

“Then let me fuck you hard.” And hard he did fuck me. He was hard inside of me, it probably would have been painful for him if he wasn’t so desperately trying to alleviate it by frantically fucking me against the couch.

It was the most deliciously torturous experience I’d ever gone through. I had to bite my lip while I held onto his shoulders for dear life, trying to stop my moans from escaping because I was sure that for once, I’d become a screamer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Henry didn’t appreciate my efforts to keep his ears from deafening. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, fingers tightening on my hips. “I thought you wanted this.”

Confused, all I could think to say was, “I-I do.”

“Then let me hear you,” he insisted. “You know you can scream all you want. We’re all alone up here on the coast.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. And with that reassurance, I allowed my head to fall back and my mouth to fall open, my moans flowing freely from my body as Henry kept fucking me.

“This is so much better than touching myself in search of a release,” he mumbled at some point, like he was talking to himself. “I was so damn lonely and you have such a tight little pussy.”

Being fucked by him felt like a religious experience. Henry somehow knew the map to my pleasure, easily bringing me to the brink of bliss before I had even managed to wrap my head around this turn of events.

My moans grew louder as I climbed higher and higher, but before I could fully tip over his hand curled around my throat, not constricting any air, just calling my attention.

“Ask for permission, baby.” Just the order had me clenching around him, prompting him to release a moan of his own. All the while, I was groaning in frustration, trying to control myself or say what he wanted me to say, but all that came out of me was, “Goddamn! You can’t say stuff like that.” Henry’s laughter flowed freely once more, making my heart skip a beat. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a fucking movie star and I am not up to fall in love with you.” That had his eyebrows raising in surprise, the smile disappearing from his face before it came back as a teasing smirk.

“Oh, so this is a one-time thing.” The taunting manner in which he said it surprised me in turn, so I hesitated before nodding. I mean, of course it was, right? He didn’t even know me. This was strictly sexual and physical, I would not be fooled by my own hormones. “My cock is not enough for you to want to get to know me some is that it?” … Was he testing me?

“Yes.” His smirk only grew at the word. “This is a one-time thing.”

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers ran down my body to graze over my clit. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it in, knowing I was going to lose. Eventually, as my thighs began to tremble, I gave in altogether.

“Please, let me cum, please.” His eyes softened at my broken and desperate plea, hand gripping my cheeks as he finally nodded.

“Keep staring at me as you cum,” he commanded, still just as bossy. “Show me how pretty you look when you cream all over my dick.” That was all I needed to succumb to the pleasure he was subjecting me to.

I felt his cock, still hard as it pumped rope after rope of cum inside of me, and by the time I was able to open my eyes again, he was panting over me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face.

I didn’t have the time to think about what I should do - push him away, try to pretend this didn’t happen - because the second I began to adjust on the couch, he pulled me to rest against his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a little while,” he quietly asked me. “Then we’ll figure out if there’s enough room for me to take you in your bed.”

#my fics #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #smut #henry cavill request #henry cavill requests #my requests #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader #henry cavill reader insert #henry cavill reader inserts #rpf #fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings: protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him.

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention.

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again.

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.”

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?”

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up.

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though).

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me.

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!”

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.”

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him.

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement.

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin.

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin.

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared.

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them.

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace.

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened?

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older.

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just—

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours.

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too.

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter.

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin.

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—”

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t.

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.”

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin.

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight.

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his.

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out.

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.”

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear.

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.”

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more.

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps.

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.”

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer.

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously.

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.”

***

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universitypenguin · 3 years ago

Text

Steve Rogers - Sex Headcanon

Warnings: Smut, Light bondage, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: Too long, as usual.

First of all, Steve Rogers loves sex.

He’s a bit touch starved after waiting for the right woman, but when he finds you and things move into the physical affection stage, he’s all over you.

During sex, Steve loves that he can pick you up with little effort

He likes doing it against the wall

Standing, almost any position

Likes that he can hold your hips still even when you start to squirm when he hits the right spots

In general, holding onto your hips, your butt, and even when he gets to curl his hands around to grasp your inner thighs, Steve is thrilled. Captain America is an ass man.

He loves your legs too, though.

Likes to pin you down for prone bone.

He hates to admit how much using his strength against you turns him on.

But you love it too and when he realizes that you like the same positions he does, it gets more intense.

Like, he’ll pick you up while he’s standing and lift you to his shoulders, draping your legs over his shoulders to eat you out.

When Steve learns that you not only can orgasm multiple times, but that you enjoy it, he starts to let go a bit more.

At first he was careful in bed. He kept things slow and gentle, not being entirely sure of his strength. But once he gets comfortable…

He goes feral

It starts when you ask him to tie you up. The idea is only familiar to him from Tony and Thor’s jokes about 50 Shades of Gray.

Steve hates 50 Shades of Gray. He thinks Christian is an ass who doesn’t respect women.

But back to the topic: bondage. He’s willing to hear you out about why you want that. And eventually, he says yes.

The conversation about bondage goes like this:

You’ve never done bondage before. Despite having several past relationships and experiences, you’ve never trusted a man like that. Erotica tastes aside, reality is a beast of its own.

And without the feeling of complete safety that Steve Rogers inspires in your heart, you won’t have even brought it up.

But you trust him without reservations.

The idea of bondage for you is totally psychological. To have your hands restrained and be blind folded takes the pressure off of you. Sometimes your mind starts going during sex and it ruins your enjoyment.

It’s not like you’re thinking about the groceries or anything, just that you start planning your next move. Should you kiss him now, or do you need to moan louder? Does your moaning sound like a dying cat? Maybe you should keep it down.

So the blind fold is important.

And you don’t want to be able to move because you’d try to plan that too. Sometimes you put a lot of pressure on situations to be perfect. Perfect because you made it perfect, you mean. Your expectations are of yourself.

This is one reason you hate not being able to achieve orgasm. That matters to Steve a lot and he always but your pleasure first. The man is selfless and sweet. And when your mind decides to shut down the orgasm buttons, you hate disappointing him.

Steve is sold on the idea of bondage once he understands that it’s only an option because you feel safe with him. And he likes being the only person you’d trust to be this vulnerable with. All the 50 Shades objections vanish for him once you explain that part.

When you tell him that your struggles orgasming sometimes are from your own pressures to be good in bed, he gets it.

He loves that about you, your desire to please him and make things good. It motivates him to accept the offer of bondage.

Because it makes perfect sense that being forced to be the recipient and having control stripped away would fix that for you.

Steve says that you’ll have to let him make the plan. Which is *so* Steve Rogers it’s almost funny.

On a random Tuesday you get dinner with a friend and come home late. The lights are off which is weird because you expected Steve to be home. When you step inside you call out for him but no reply. Kicking off your shoes you wander to the kitchen and when you reach for the light switch, a hand grabs your wrist.

You give a small scream as a body presses you into the wall. Then you recognize the feel and the scent of his aftershave.

Steve has you pinned to the wall, wrists on either side of your head, feet spread apart and his big body caging you in.

It’s happening. It’s so happening. And you feel thrilled and scared and outrageously excited.

He’s excited too, you can feel it pressing into your back. The man’s been planning and fantasizing, clearly.

“Do you still want this, honey?”

His first words to you are the reason that you want this. It warms your heart at the same time your panties are growing wet.

“Yes, Steve. So much. Please.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his body against you and you can’t control the moan that passes your lips.

“Red means we stop. Yellow is slow down. If I’m going to do something that I think you need to consent to, I’ll ask ‘is this okay?’ and you’re going to say “Green” if you want it. Understand?

“Pick a safe word, doll.”

Eagle is your safe word. Your mind just liked the whole patriotic motif, you supposed.

Once the ground rules are laid out, Steve turns you around and with a tap on the curve of your ass, signals you to jump up.

With your legs around his waist and arms curled around his neck, he carried you upstairs to the bed.

Blindfold goes on first. Then cuffs that are lined with something soft that feels like shearling.

You know without asking that he picked them because he thought handcuffs would be too aggressive. Again, your heart flips.

“I’m going to push you, baby. I want you to wring every bit of enjoyment you can out of this. I’m going to make you come hard. You with me on that?”

You’re with him. You’ve waited a long time to try this.

“I have a plan for aftercare too,” he says.

And that’s your first hint that he’s about to go feral on you like he sometimes does when he’s keyed up from a mission.

Steve Rogers has freaking stamina for days. The man could kill you with sex if he wanted to.

(His sex drive is high… all that waiting for the right girl makes a man horny)

He undoes the halter tie of your dress and pull it down, slipping it over your legs.

He uses his mouth first. And it’s frustrating that he left your panties on.

(The outfit was something he’d suggested. You’d thought he just liked the sundress and had been complimented when he’d said you’d look great in it today. Now it was clear he’d been planning all day. Probably longer.)

He’s been planning since the night you told him two weeks ago. Before the conversation was even over. You felt safe enough with him to ask for such a private and vulnerable fantasy and that turned him on in a mental way he can’t even explain.

So he starts by teasing you.

He kisses your mouth, slow and sensual. His tongue flicks against yours but never quite for as long as you’d like. And he knows how you like it by this point in the relationship. So you’re well aware he’s teasing you.

His mouth begins to wander to your neck and he laps at the sensitive spot. Your thighs clench in response. You’re soaked now, so wet it’s a little bit embarrassing.

He finally finds your breast with his mouth, taking an aching bud in his mouth and drawing on it. Softly. Gently. Lapping and teasing without the friction you needed to enjoy it.

Your breath came in pants now and you spread your legs to open yourself to encourage him to continue. Because there’s somewhere else that really needs attention.

Instead he turns to the other breast and gives it the same attention. Slower. And softer. Stroking with his tongue until your nipple was painfully tight.

His hand trailed up to cup the breast he wasn’t sucking on. The pad of his thumb made teasing circles and you moaned, arching your back into his mouth.

He chuckled and released the aching bud with a pop. Fingertips swirled the nipple he’d just abandoned, coating it with his saliva. He pinch it just right and your hips jerked.

Arousal was a living breathing thing inside your body now, clawing at your lower belly, turning breath into unsteady pants.

“How are you doing, baby?”

The bastard knew you were dying. Sweat was starting to burst from your pores. Your entire body was hot with need.

“Please, Steve…”

“Mmmhh? What do you need, doll?”

“I need your to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My pussy. I’m so wet for you, please touch me. Get inside of me.”

He purred. This was the moment you realized that you’d created a monster. Because he was getting off on the power play.

(This wasn’t actually when the monster was officially created. No, that would be later when you were done and he got to see your dazed face and tear filled eyes from the magnitude of what he’d drawn your body.)

He let go of the nipple and flattened his palm on your ribs, sliding it down inch by inch until he paused on your low belly.

He toyed with the band of your panties.

“You’re wet for me? Does this needy pussy want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both!!”

He laughed again. But he went ahead, so it was worth it.

And heaven help you, there were fireworks. The bondage was working wonders for your mental need to be out of control. But Steve took it higher when he forced your legs wide and pinned them to the mattress.

And while spin class workouts did amazing things for your thighs, nothing topped super soldier strength. You were stuck. Legs pushed flat to the bed, hands cuffed to the head board and nothing stopping the extremity turned on man with his head between your legs.

He lied about giving your his mouth and fingers. At first he only used his mouth on your clit, licking around it, touching the tip of his tongue over it in slow flicks, then finally, finally, sucking.

Your body seized at the shock of pleasure, white hot and raw jerking through nerve endings frayed from lack of fulfillment.

He knew what pitch he needed to hear you moan at before he added his fingers.

He knew it because Steve Rogers is a man who studies all the angles of a situation and knows his enemy. Or in this case, knows his lover.

He rubs at your G-spot with the pad of his finger and you scream.

Your head falls back on the pillow and tears start to flow because it’s not enough.

“More, oh, please. Steve, I need-“

He growls. “I know what you need, babydoll. And I’ll give it to you when you’re a good girl and you hold back that orgasm for me. I don’t want you to come yet. Don’t you dare come. If you do I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”

Just the idea of him spanking you almost makes you lose it.

He backs off the intensity. And you start to sob from the brutal frustration of being taken so high and left without release.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a litany, as you start to beg.

“Steve! Please, I want to come!”

“Not yet. Hold back. You be my good girl and hold back. I don’t want to spank that sweet behind until it’s red, but I’ll do it.”

Your scream is gargled by a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body roll as it rips through you from head to toe.

“Let me come, damn it!”

Smack. He’s light and there’s a sting on your right inner thigh.

“Hold. It. Back!”

Screams become sobs. You can’t hold still. You’re fighting the restraints and trying to move but he’s not allowing it. All you can do is clench around his fingers and cry.

“Come for me, baby.”

Release floods you in a second when he gives permission.

The cord of tension snaps. Your muscles lock. The scream you felt building is nowhere to be found. Your voice disappears in the violence of the orgasm. It’s totally silent as your body takes control.

Your channel clamps down around his fingers. The orgasm pulses through your body like being set on fire.

Then you scream. And the muscles that had gone stiff suddenly quiver with release.

If Steve hadn’t held you down through it you’d have been snapping your hips and arching into the sensations, away from them.

He keeps going, pushing you through it until the orgasm is finished.

Then you cry.

Honestly crying, because of the intensity of the release.

You’d expected to get off. You hadn’t guessed that you would get obliterated by the world’s most intense orgasm.

Steve immediately crawls up and takes off the blind fold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. Hold on to me.”

You move, trying to reciprocate when his arms go around you, but they’re still cuffed.

This makes you cry harder.

Steve rips them open, letting you free.

And then you’re in his arms and you can cry properly.

He rolls over with you in his arms, one arm tight around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

What shocks you is that he’s not nervous, apologizing, or asking if you’re hurt. He’s petting you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere. Hold on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The warm hand moving over your back is a delicious comfort. Almost as good as being held to the strong chest by arms thicker than most people’s legs.

When the storm of emotions passes, you blink up as Steve, a bit confused.

His smile is gentle and his eyes are filled with warmth.

“I did my research. You came down from that hard, didn’t you?”

Your answering “yeah,” is slurred.

He kisses your forehead. If you weren’t already boneless from your release, that would have finished you off.

“You were such a good girl for me. I can’t wait to do this again.”

With a tired smile you arch an eyebrow.

“But we can’t be done. I haven’t had you inside of me yet, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the remark and you smirk.

“I still need you to fuck me, baby. I need to feel you finish on top of me and collapse into my arms. Please.”

You said please. And if he didn’t get assist a lady who needed his help, what kind of a hero was he?

#steve rogers #captain america #headcanon #smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #lemon #lemon rambles #chris evans #reader #steve rodgers x reader

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