#in the time it would take me to load and sort through and find the name and then book an appointment via the app

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[actualaster]

Let's also not forget that sometimes the "new" way of doing this is a shitshow.

Like they just never fucking bother to improve it beyond "you can do it" and it's a mess and a hassle and is just way harder if not impossible to actually use.

Its okay they could call me on a rotary faster than i could explain to them I’m old enough to know what a rotary phone is

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? 🤭

Finders, Keepers.

16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates

Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 1185

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

The Roommate Collection.

Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.

It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.

He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.

He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.

You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.

"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"

Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.

"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."

You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.

You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.

Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"

"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."

"Waffles it is."

Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.

"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.

The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.

"Is that my shirt?"

You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."

"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."

You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.

"Are you... alright, Carmy?"

"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."

"... like what?"

"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."

He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.

He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.

"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.

"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."

You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.

Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.

He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.

As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.

"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."

You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.

"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?

You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.

"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."

You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.

"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."

When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.

"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.

"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"

[yeonbinwyd]

you’re a creep

pairing: sub fem!reader x dom! Jake

synopsis: you moved into a new neighborhood closer to work. Jake was already living next door, fascinated by you and everything you do. He was always looking out for you, like the puppy dog he was. One day your plumbing wasn’t working and being the good neighbor he was, he let you stay over a bit till your apartment was up and running again.

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni, peeping, stalking, breeding kink, shower sex

Word count: 1465

“Nah dude that’s weird. You’re a creep” Jay tells Jake. The two were at the laundromat the same time as you but Jay was minding his business. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The way you would bend over to put your clothes in the dryer. The way you were sorting all of your clothes by color. He loved how responsible you were. It peeked his interest. He’d do the same. Jay would try to set him straight but Jake didn’t care. He was in love. He wanted the chance to treat you right. To show you he was capable of being the man of your dreams. Better than the men you’ve been with. Providing for you, fucking you good and giving you babies to care of. He wanted to do that for you.

Jake was a few rows behind you but watched you closely. Jay was too busy on his phone.

“She’s into me man. I know it” Jake is determined. Jay decides to take off

“I’ll see you later” He leaves. Jake still tending to his laundry. He finishes up his load just as you were.

“Oh hey neighbor!” Jake greets. You had your basket filled with your delicates. You struggled a bit but Jake grabbed them for you. He takes a deep inhale as he grips the basket. Even though they’re wash, it still reminds him of you. You don’t even realize.

“Thank you. You’re always too nice to me” you point out. He giggles with a burning red smile. You got a text from your landlord.

“Damn my water is off again. They’ve having trouble with my plumbing for a while I’m not sure why. They’re turning off the water this time. “ You were so upset. It was the weekend and weren’t able to shower. “Maybe I can go to a spa or the gym and shower” you suggest.

“You can come by my place. My water is working fine” he recommends. “Really? Thank you so much! It’ll be quick” you give him a hug around his neck. He hugs you back, one hand holding your basket and the other on your lower back. He snickered behind your back, excited his plan worked. He had a feeling that since they were doing construction up stairs, he could mess with your waterline to make you come to his place. He didn’t know if it would work for sure but success fills him with excitement. You pull away and he walks you back to your apartment.

“Let me get some things and I’ll be over soon.” You take your basket from him and he heads inside his place, waiting for your arrival. Just the thought of you wet and naked in his shower gave him knots in his stomach. He was getting hard at just the thought. He bites his lower lip and caresses his tip through his track pants. A knock on the door, brings him back to reality.

“Thanks again!” You come in and his place to well kept and fairly organized. Surprising for a guy honestly but you liked his set up. He leads you to the bathroom, grabbing an extra towel for you too.

“Let me know if you need anything”

He shuts the door but not all the way. He wants to be able to sneak in to catch a glimpse of you. The water starts running, he hears your clothes drop to the ground, shower door opening. He open the cracked door to see you inside, facing the other direction. Your ass in full view, your back starting to get wet. He feels himself getting harder at the sight of it all. His imagination running wild.

“Come join me” he’s picturing you say. He would drop all of his clothes in a heartbeat for you. Getting all sudsy and wet together would be such a dream. Before he knew it, you were wrapping up, the water shutting off. He slips back out of the door and finds that he’s rock hard in his track pants. Jake curses to himself, fleeing to the kitchen. If only he could get her to shower again.

“Thanks again I really needed it” you thank one more time. He instinctively opens his soda bottle, causing it to explode on the both of you.

“Damn a waste of a shower.” You complain. Jake takes off his shirt, exposing his skin. “I’m sorry about that. Let me get you one of my shirts” he offers. His abs smiling bright your way. You thought he was enticing as well, also spotting the monster in his pants. Who could hide that? A dry spell had been hitting you hard and maybe someone new is all you need.

“It’s not too bad. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Maybe we can watch a movie” you imply still watching him as he goes to change his shirt.

“No plans. I’m down.” He hands you his shirt. After putting his shirt on, he leads you two into the living room. After taking a seat next to him, he accidentally rests his hand on your thigh. You keep his hand there and his eyes widen in excitement. He couldn’t tell if he was fantasizing. You lunged forward to press against his chest. He holds by your hips, caught off guard. You make the first move and give his ear a small bite. His pupils dilate also taking a deep breath, it was very real.

“We don’t have to watch the movie” you hint, pressing your chest against his. He initiates locking lips with yours, sucking on your bottom lip, hungry for you. He attacks you with kisses all over your body, quickly taking off your shirt. He licks against your sticky skin. giving him an idea. Jake wraps your legs around him, picking you up, taking you into the bathroom. He gently sets you down on the counter. Jake starts taking off his clothes while you do the same of whatever is left. He turns you around to face the mirror. His erect cock, already dripping pre cum from before is ready. He roughly enters you from behind. You holler at his penetration, alarmed at how big he was. He felt so good though, you couldn’t help but feel each thrust to your cunt. He made eye contact with in the mirror, taking you in at every angle.

“You’re so perfect. I love it” he calls out. He places his hand under your chin, pulling you back for kisses. He releases you for the moment to turn on the shower. If he was going to have you, he wanted it to match his dreams. The stream filled the bathroom, but you felt his hands guide you. Jake places you both under the shower, drowning you in smooches. His tongue licking every last bit of yours. His hands exploring your body, indecisive on where to grab you. You felt his smooth skin and ran your hands through his hair with small tugs. Jake turns you back around for reentry. This time he takes his time like the shower calmed his nerves. He holds your tummy for your support. His toned arms, staying strong as he strokes you from behind. You felt your legs going weak but he held you tight, making sure you weren’t going anywhere. Gaining speed, he wraps his arms around you even tighter.

“Let me take care of you baby. I’ll treat you right.” He offers as he kisses your back.

“I’ll do anything for you.” He continues. You, dominated with pleasure, just agree with a nod. Seeing you agree turns him on more.

He moans, hitting your gut even harder. You gasp, feeling the sharpness of his cock not letting up.

“I’m gonna mark you and fill you up with my cum” Jake admits, holding on to you like his life depends on it.

“You’re gonna take it all too” he demands. His cock twitches in inside you, making you cum all over him.

“Ooh yes baby I feel you. I love it. Take it. ” he praises. His momentum becomes the strongest it’s been. Jake even grabs your neck from behind. You lightly suffocate, cuming again from aggression. He whimpers with his last few pumps in you . He cums in you, filling you up like he promised. You fall to your knees as he lets go. The water, now cold, is still pouring over the both of you. He turns back up the heat.

“I guess we should take a real shower now.” He says while helping you back to your feet. He helps you get clean and grabs another towel for you. As he opens the cabinet, you see the plumbing tools he used. Did he? Nah ..

[carlsangel]

FREE TO FUCK

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have a hideout.)

tags: oral sex (f!receiving)

masterlist here!

There were a good couple times where you and Carl had gotten caught. There was an occasion where you were having your weekly morning sex and Rick walked in, also one time Eugene sort of interrupted Carl eating you out in a truck. It was like you guys couldn’t win. There was almost never a time where there wasn’t a risk of you guys getting caught or interrupted.

You guys thought it was fun for a while and then it got irritating, it felt like everyone was constantly in your business. So, you were on a hunt to find a solution. You thought maybe just reducing your time together to nights but that wasn’t really an option after learning that Rick never cared to knock. During the day wouldn’t be a huge issue, but for some reason it didn’t feel safe in Alexandria. To have sex there, that is.

It’s not like it felt safer in the woods, in fact that’s the opposite but you just wished you had a nice hideaway. Somewhere where you were free to fuck. But anyway that wasn’t your top priority.

One day, while walking to your date spot with Carl in the woods, you decided to take a longer walk and return back to the tree later when you were less energetic. So you walk further along the trail with you almost never do. You come across a small cabin that Carl doesn’t quite pay any mind to. “Woah…” You slow down your steps and turn towards it, causing him to stop as well. “Oh yeah I found that a while ago. Cleared it, nothing really useful.”

You look over at him and nod, looking between him and the cabin but an idea. You practically dragged him over and bursted through the door. He did clear it, but it was still a mess. There was random papers and books all over the floor, the bedding for the bed was halfway across the room and the couch was missing some cushions.

“You know if we fixed this up a bit more and brought stuff from home we could make this such a nice place to hang out.” You ramble as you look around each part of the cabin as to what you could bring or how you could fix some parts. Carl wasn’t really following. “But why?” He’d ask, standing in the middle of the cabin looking around it just thinking it’s a total dump.

“Carl imagine coming here when everyone’s home. All we have to say is that we’re going on a date in the woods and we can come here. Mess around, hang out with the possibility of no one bothering us.” It all started to click in his brain and he began to imagine every little thing you both could get up to while alone here. It also didn’t have to be so sexual, though. He imagined just sitting in the cabin quietly, reading comics or listening to music together on the bed just enjoying eachother’s company. The only thing that was missing was a bath you two could sit in.

Regardless, you both got to work. You got a car and loaded some stuff inside that you knew some people in Alexandria wouldn’t miss. Before you knew it, the cabin was ready. The bed was ten times nicer (you stole a comforter and such) there were bean bags and books around that you’d enjoy and it was a lot less cluttered. Very quiet with warm lighting (you also stole lanterns and candles) so it was quite cozy.

─── ⋆⋅ 𐚁 ⋅⋆ ───

One particular day, a day before a large trade fair would take place in Alexandria, it was insanely chaotic. You were yelled at multiple times by seven different authoritative figures and there was a bit of pressure when in all reality it wasn’t that serious. Afterwards you really needed to wind down, so you dragged Carl somewhere far away.

To your cabin.

There, you’d settle into your guys’ bed into the comfy blankets which you’d take the opportunity to rant about your shitty day. “Also Tammy had such an attitude with me for placing the fucking crate of apples on the floor instead of the wobbly ass table Eugene was trying to level. What was I supposed to do, let them topple all over him? It’s complete bullshit.”

He rubbed your shoulder while you talked. He loved hearing you speak, hell he loved hearing you make noise. Which gave him an idea. He slowly pulled away while you continued to speak, silently propping himself between your legs so he can tug down your shorts. You were aware but you just let it him because it was sort of like a routine. It was either him fingering you while you ranted or he ate you out. Today was an oral type of day.

He’d start with just plain kisses on your thighs, looking up at you from between your legs. You were still complaining. “Also when I went back to the moving truck to get a box out, my jacket snagged on the hook that holds the plastic thingies and- Carl that feels so good- and it fucking ripped the pocket off.” You explained, still quite irritated. Carl however was still focused on you. He’d gently run his tongue over the fabric of your underwear and once he felt your hips jerk slightly as he grazed over your clit, he pressed a kiss at the direct spot. Your sentences were interrupted by your soft moans which just made him smile a little.

“I dunno. Mmh-I felt like everyone was out to get me today.” You end your rant there and Carl slides your underwear to the side to press a kiss to your actual skin before starting it gently lap at it. One after another, you got more and more wet which allowed him to suck your clit quite easily. “Oh fuck.” He moaned at your words as he found a nice steady pace to rock his head at, the vibration of his voice doing wonders against your heat. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you weren’t quiet for a second. “This is a really good way to shut me up by the way.” You tell him between moans, he smiles against you and lifts his head up so he can talk to you.

Just the sight of him was absolutely beautiful. His lips were red, like always. Your slick was just all over his chin but he looked at you so perfectly. Like you were the only being to exist. “I’m just trying to relieve your stress.” You look down at him quite happily and wait for him to continue. “Also you taste good.” He tilts his head and he just looks so sweet. At least sweet enough for you to sort of giggle at before your laughter was interrupted by Carl prodding his tongue straight into your hole.

You respond fairly loud, you’re very grateful for the cabin otherwise it’d be very awkward if you were in the house. Anyway, he slid his tongue up and down your folds, his eyes shut as he moves his head in circular motions with his tongue flat against you. He practically nuzzled into your pussy, flicking his tongue in and out fairly rapidly.

“Tha-that’s perfect.” Literally every word and every moan that came out of your mouth made him feel absolutely amazing. He loved knowing he was doing good for you, that he was pleasing you. He strived to make you feel loved. He continued the movements with his tongue, but his hands moved up your body and under your shirt to pull your bra down, giving him access to massage your breasts while he worked on you with his mouth. You’d smile at the amount of pleasure he was giving you, sort of giggling at how great it was.

You couldn’t keep quiet, everything he was doing was absolutely perfect. As you got closer he just flicked his tongue quicker, sucking harder; he could tell you were close because you started to squirm a little bit. He slid his hands down from your chest to your thighs to hold you down. “Please don’t stop-” You’d clutch his hair in your hands, gently tugging it every time he hit a spot just right. Everything was just turning him on as well but he was so focused on you, he didn’t even think about himself. He just wanted you to cum.

He knew you were getting close but you were speechless, he’s just depending on your noises and how your body feels to determine when you’ve finished. Between harsh flicking of his tongue and the sloppy noises coming from your heat and his mouth, you were right on the edge. You prop yourself up on your hands to watch him. He was intensely focused. His eyes were shut and he was licking long stripes up your cunt. It all began to be too much.

It didn’t take much longer before you came all in his mouth.

You fell back on your elbows and Carl pulled away, looking at you shyly. “You’re so pretty.” He blushes a bit before fixing your underwear back, then your bra. “You are.” You reply, watching him get closer and settling in on top of you. Once you’re all back to normal he gently holds the sides of your face to press a kiss to your forehead in satisfaction. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck.

“Feel better?”

“Way better.”

a/n: i feel like im so bad at writing smut LMFAO like this physically pained me to write bc >_< it’s so shit BUT ANYWAY i loved this little idea of having a little cabin with him i think it’s sweet. I HOPE U LOVE IT

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[starboye]

pairing: cheating!nick nelson x slutty!male reader

warnings: smut, cheating, handjob, cursing

summary: nick needs more of you at school so you give it to him in your own way

"I need you" is the first thing you see when you open your phone after getting a notification "what" you text back "meet me in the bathroom in ten" nick texts last, you huff as you close your phone "who was that" charlie asks peering over to your phone "no one just a friend" you say smiling a little.

"and what exactly did the friend say to get you so frustrated" charlie asks now rasing an eyebrow "charlie it's really nothing" you chuckle "fine" charlie says going back to his work, you raise your hand and ask the teacher to go to the bathroom.

as you walk to the bathroom you feel sort of guilty knowing that you're fucking your best friends boyfriend behind his back "what if he finds out" you think to yourself before entering the bathroom to find nick in the stall eagerly awaiting you.

"finally" nicks says pulling you into a kiss "woah what was that" you say pushing him back a little "I dont know I just did it" nick say smiling "what did you need help with" you ask rolling your eyes "this" nick says pulling down his pants and his hard on springing out.

"damn why not just jerk off" you say "I tried that but I still wouldn't go down, I need you" nick says "fine but let's not make this a frequent thing" you sternly say before dragging nick into the stall and locking it behind you.

"drop 'em" you order to which nick quickly does "spit" you say holding out you hand to nicks mouth, he coats your hand with saliva before you mix yours with his and smear it over his dick before stroking it lightly.

"fuck" nick lightly curses dropping his head on the wall "you like this" you ask "mhm" nick groans through tight lips "don't be shy let out those sweet moans I heard this morning" you whisper tightening your hand around nicks dick.

"ngh mmm" nick stammers "yeahhh just like that" you say, the only sounds being heard in the bathroom are the slickness of your hand stroking nicks dick, you kiss nick deeply as he moans into your mouth.

"m'gonna cum" nick gasps thrusting into your hand desperately "you can hold it longer" you say stopping nicks hips from moving "please" nick whimpers with light watery eyes.

"just a little more" you coo kissing nicks jawline "you got this for me" you say "fine" nick huffs "good boy" you compliment "call me that again" nick says through a moan "what, good boy" you ask "mhm" nick manages to get out.

"you're my good boy" you say running your finger across nicks v line making him shudder under your touch "your hands are so soft" nick whines "well thank you, I'm very talented with them" you say "wanna see how" "yes please" nick nods eagerly.

you rub your thumb along the slit of nick dick, taking long strokes from the shaft all the way to his sensitive tip "fuck it feels so good" nick brokenly moans "can I please cum how y/n" nick pleas.

"fine I guess you deserved it" you say quickening your pace on nicks dick and rubbing his tip extra hard making the whole restroom fill up with nicks vulgar sounds "nghhh" nick longingly moans as he cums all over your hand"

"you can really cum loads" you chuckle licking the cum off your fingers as you stare at nick "we could go again" nick grins with lust in his eyes "mm as much as I would love that I gotta get back to your boyfriend aka my best friend" you smile "c'mon you could spare another couple of minutes" nick pleas

"nope a few minutes for you turns into an hour for me, and I know from experience big boy" you joke rubbing nicks cummy tip one more time before putting it back in his pants "fine" nick whines pulling his pants back up before trying to go in for a kiss.

"still a no" you say blocking his kiss "so then what would you call this" nick asks "a friends with benefits" you smile as you walk out the bathroom and walking back to class with a big smile as you sit down."and what has you so chipper" charlie asks "nothing just happy" you say before getting back to your work.

[astrophileous]

Also the thought of Derek holding up readers bump once she’s farther along? The Tik Tok couples who do it and the immediate relief on their partners face is so sweet 😭🖤

wait omg this is actually a rlly cute concept. I'd like to imagine that it was JJ who shared this trick with him and he couldn't wait to test it out as soon as he found out about it askkjdsk

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek looked up from the plate of chicken in front of him at the sound of your whimper. It was quiet, but it was the fifth one Derek had heard since you sat down for dinner. You were quick to school your expression after that, smiling at him as if nothing was wrong.

As the clock ticked nearer towards your due date, Derek noticed that your stamina was rapidly decreasing as well. He would hear muffled groans and tiny moans slipping past your lips several times throughout the day, but as soon as he went to ask you what's wrong, you'd put on your perfectly crafted smile and wave him off. Derek made sure to soothe your ache and fatigue in any way you allowed him--feet massages before bed were becoming a routine that he was looking forward to do every single night--but Derek kept thinking that there must be something more he could do.

"Are you finished?" Derek asked as he began stacking all of the dirty dishes together.

"I can do the dishes," you offered.

"Nice try, Bug." Derek made a swift work to grab your empty plate, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead in the process. "I got this. You go rest somewhere, 'aight?"

"That's all I seem to be doing these days," you grumbled. "Resting."

"As you should be."

Once the dishwasher was loaded and started, Derek checked to see if the message he had sent promptly before dinner had been answered. He smiled when he saw the respond that the other person had sent. Exiting the kitchen, Derek put himself in an urgent mission to find you.

"Bug? Sweetheart?"

"In here!"

He followed your voice all the way to the laundry room. "I thought I told you to rest."

"You did."

Derek raised an eyebrow at your answer.

You continued to sort through the laundry as you glanced up at his face. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, actually." Derek moved closer until your whole body was caged between him and the washer. "I wanted to try something."

"Try what?"

He kissed your shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

He chuckled. "You should."

Derek's hands sneaked around you then, from your waist and all the way to the underside of your belly. He told you to take a deep breath, which you obliged, before he slowly and carefully lifted your bump.

"Oh."

You were practically melting in Derek's arms, with the tension gone in your shoulders and the stiffness dissolved from your back. He watched with a fond smile as a relieved sigh fell from your lips.

"Does that feel good?" Derek asked.

"Very."

Derek laughed at the blissful expression that had taken over your face.

"Where did you even learn about this?"

"I consulted an expert." When your curious eyes searched his, Derek simply said, "JJ."

"Hm. That makes sense."

"I'm gonna let go now, okay?"

As careful as he had been when he lifted your bump, Derek slid his hands out from underneath your belly, kissing your temple when they finally secured themselves on your hips.

"That was amazing. Thank you." You turned around in his arms before wrapping your own around his neck. "You do know that you're obligated to do this for me at least once a day from now on, right?"

Derek's responding grin couldn't be any bigger. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

[cofigelly]

ೀ SIX EYES

——————————————————————————pairing; college au!gojo satoru x reader

synopsis; you couldn’t help but notice a pair of wandering eyes during your 10am lecture

word count; ~2k words

contents; sfw, f!reader, no curses au, rich college student gojo, cocky/playful gojo, six eye/infinity references

notes; THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LIL DRABBLE IDK WHAT HAPPENED? i <3 run ons and sentence fragments apparently

——————————————————————————

the first thing you noticed about him were his eyes.

well, technically, his eyes noticed you first.

in the midst of your monday 10am lecture (known for its lengthy, soul-wrenching talks about finance), you felt his sharp gaze pierce straight into your soul. it was a brief, quick glance — but it was an intentional glance, nonetheless.

you simply brushed it off. it must’ve been him zoning out, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. that was until you caught him repeating the same habit again. and again. over the course of the next three weeks.

that same, hungry gaze, taking in every intricacy of your features. a look that felt like it set your entire body on fire, despite the icy blue hue his pupils reflected each time you returned a glance. his stare would only last a few seconds at most, but something about it felt so intense, so overbearing— it made hold your breath each time.

in all honesty, you didn't mind the attention. in fact, you kind of reveled in it — a handsome, 6'3 guy always ogling at you every lecture. it even had you thinking that maybe he was into you?

but that was at first. as more weeks passed, the more your ego shrank. 'is there something on my face,' you wondered, patting at your cheeks to search for some sort of makeup residue or food crumb, 'do i look stupid?' the large, echoey lecture hall felt evermore revealing as you struggled to find a way to shrink into your plastic-clad seat. but you couldn't hide, not from a stare like that.

paranoia getting the best of you, you slide your phone out of your pocket as you send a hasty text to your best friend, “bro who is this guy? he keeps staring at me EVERY lecture,” you send a 0.5x photo, clearly taken from afar.

just as quickly, your friend responds, “NO FUCKIN WAY is that gojo???” “who the fuck is gojo?”

you could almost feel her attitude burst through the text bubbles, “bro… GOJO. his family is literally loaded?? did you not see his dad surpass bill gates on the global ranking of billionaires?” that text takes you a little by surprise, alternating your eyes between him and the message upon your screen. “okay maybe it’s starting to sound familiar, but still. what’s he doing cosplaying as a broke college kid in my finance class?” you sigh as you continue to tap on your screen, “idgaf that he’s loaded it’s pissing me off that he’s staring at me like 🧿🫦🧿 every lecture.”

your friend reacts with a quick “haha” to your text before responding, “idk man maybe you just caught the attention of the richest guy on campus ;)”

you decided you’ve had enough after reading that text. you’re not about to feed your delusions this early on a monday morning. you’ll admit, he’s a good —no, stunning— looking guy, but you have no time to babysit a boy who was never taught that staring was rude. not to mention, this boy isn't even in the same tax bracket as you. 

brushing it off yet another time, you let out a deep sigh as you flip the page, copying your professor’s notes on the board.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a whole month has passed and this gojo guy is growing more and more cocky with his stolen glances. he's not even trying to hide it anymore.

this fateful wednesday, as you walk into class, he immediately locks onto you. his bright blue orbs follow you from the door to your row, not releasing his gaze in the slightest after you settle into your seat. your grit your teeth in annoyance as you flip through your notebook pages. who does this guy think he is? it’s been a month and he hasn’t even procured the balls to say a single word to you. yet, he’s feasting on you like you’re his final meal on death row. 

the second the class is excused, you immediately beeline towards his seat — stopping in front of his leaning frame while he packs his bag. “dude, what the hell is your problem,” scowling at him as you approach, “i’ve seen you stare at me for weeks now and it’s getting straight creepy."

his ears perk at the sound of your voice, haphazardly zipping up the final pocket of his backpack. when he looks up, his eyes glint with a hint of mischief as he scrunches his nose in a grin — a grin that’s somehow even cockier than his stare.

“i’m just taking in the view, princess,” he jeers, delight in his tone. 

you stare at him incredulously as you take his confession in. so he really has been staring at you? “for one, i’m not your princess," you scoff at his clear disregard of your concern, "second, you might want to think again before you decide to stare at me one more damn time.”

he hums amusingly, shaking his foot in a steady rhythm, “you’re right. i might think about it again.” his grin is even wider now, “why, what are you going to do about it?”

“—look, i don’t know what you’re getting at,” your eyebrows furrow deeper, “but if you keep this shit up, this won’t be the last time you hear from me.”

briskly, you swing around, completely ignoring his bickers as you head straight out the hallway door. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

to gojo, everything you said on wednesday was music to his ears.

he strolled into the next lecture, on monday, with the same shit-eating grin on his face. ‘this wont be the last time he hears from you?' god, he hopes that was true. it made him wonder why he didn’t just stare at you harder in the first place.

everything about you captivated gojo satoru.

from the first day of lecture, he was already mesmerized — by the wafting scent of your cologne as you walked past his row, the way your head cocked to the side whenever you thought through a problem set, the distant clicks as you tapped the end of your pencil against your arm nervously.

he simply couldn’t help but steal that initial glance. he also couldn’t help but steal another one the lecture after.

and another. and another.

he knew he was getting ahead of himself, being so selfish with his dangerous stares, but you just had that effect on him. an effect that he's never experienced with anyone else. he bit back his pride when he couldn’t even approach you first, as he normally did with his prior interests.

there was just something so serene, so heavenly about you. he almost wanted to leave you undisturbed, opting to observe you from afar — not wanting to disrupt his delicate masterpiece from behind the red rope at the museum.

but the day you approached him changed everything. ‘how can someone so innocent have such a mouth on her,’ he chuckles to himself, taking his ipad and apple pencil out of his backpack before laying them flat on the table.

you were completely unlike his initial impression of you, much to his amusement. he prefers it this way —actually— he likes a girl who has a bit of a bite. besides, he finally has an excuse to talk to you and do what he knows best: get under your skin. metaphorically (and literally).

he glances at the door as he hears the familiar clanking of your keychain against your water bottle, more excited for the lecture than he's ever been before.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

there is no fucking way.

gojo satoru is now sitting in the seat directly next to your unassigned assigned seat in this 300-person lecture hall. the entire classroom is almost packed too. how early did he have to be to even get that seat? why is he in that seat? your thoughts are cut off as he waves his hand at you, muttering a short "yoohoo~," ushering you to sit next to him.

hell no. you still have no idea what he's playing at. is he stalking you? does he have some sort of ulterior motive? what if his scary billionaire family kills you, a dirty plebeian, for sitting so close to their perfect, trust fund baby?

you immediately switch gears, practically running away to find a new seat, catching a glimpse of his pout in the corner of your eye. you ignore him and situate yourself in the very front row, directly in front of the professor's podium. you let out a deep exhale as you unpack your notebook when you hear a loud shuffle next to you.

this guy has no shame.

gojo, in all his glory, happily claims the empty seat next to you —unloading the entire apple store (or so it feels like) onto the desk. "good choice, doll. more leg room up here," he stretches his long, lanky legs before crossing them — making sure his knee briefly makes contact with yours.

"are you serious right now— bro your entire apple ecosystem is getting onto my side of the desk," you scowl at him once again as you shove his macbook closer to him. "serious about what?" he mocks, that signature smile gleaming down on you.

"whatever this is? are you obsessed with me or something," you mutter the last part under your breath, but he takes note of you rolling your eyes at him. "hmmm," he taps his chin all philosophically, "if anything you're the one obsessed with me."

wow, this guy really is insane. you felt your eyebrow twitch in anger as you jerked your head up, "me obsessed with you? how does that even make any sense—" "you said you noticed me staring for weeks," he muses, still looking straight at you, "but you don't think i noticed you staring back?"

you scoff, "i was simply just returning your gaze; not everything is about you!” “untrue.”

after refusing to make eye contact, you finally meet his eyes. "i'm not gonna play this damn game with you, look—"

you've never seen him this close before. you've never seen anyone this close before, really. in this cramped lecture hall, with its seats compressed like sardines, it felt like he was only mere millimeters away from you. your breath hitched as the air seemed palpable, heavy. he was so close, but it felt like he was untouchable — almost as if an infinite void was cast between you two.

for the first time, he dropped that condescending smirk. he dropped the facade altogether. beyond the icy blue hues, his eyes glistened a shade that he only shows to you, a shade you've never noticed in all those times you two locked eyes. they were powdery blue — the same softness as the edges of the clouds in the sky or the frothy, tidal waves lightly crashing against the beach sand.

it made you wonder if it was physically possible for one person to hold so much power in just their eyes. a power that felt like three whole people, six eyes-worth, were constantly peering into every fiber of your being. except this time, it was intense in a whole different way, completely unlike before. the closest feeling you could think of was a warm oven, fresh after a batch of cookies — an inexplicable warmth in contrast to his icy appearance.

lost in each others' eyes, he parts his lips as if to finally say something—

"i would really appreciate if you two kept your eyes on the board instead of on each other," a voice boomed from the podium in front of you.

you both tense up, quickly spinning your bodies around to face the front as the snickers began to fill the classroom. you completely forgot about how close you were sitting to the professor.

you felt a tinge of heat start on your cheeks, creeping its way up onto the cartilage of your ears. the embarrassment was more than enough to shut you both up for the rest of the period, but you knew.

you knew you wanted to feel this way again.

——————————————————————————

final notes; i wrote this in my actual lecture hall instead of taking notes guys😎😎 (i am severely ill)

[aklxojjk]

Chica Tímida

[ Gekko x Fem!Reader ] Gekko looks through your phone and finds the Spanish lessons Reyna was giving you.

note - This has the smallest amount of lore, reader understands Spanish but doesn't know how to speak very well, i got most of my Spanish from my Mexican friend so if its wrong please let me know. ALSO ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SORRY FOR THE GRAMMAR.

w/c - 2k

warnings - Smut, praise, dirty talk, dirty talk in Spanish, very passionate, riding, fingering.

purple text is Reyna and green is Gekko in case y'all get confused.

MDNI

You sit up in your small but comfortable bed rubbing your eyes, looking at your clock it shines a bright 7:00 AM at you. Groaning slightly you get up and make your way to the bathroom, turning the lights on you start brushing your teeth immediately. After getting done with your daily skincare routine you change into more acceptable clothing, since you sleep with just panties and a shirt on every day.

Making your way to the kitchen you see a bare-faced Reyna drinking some black coffee. 

"Good morning chica." She says in between sips.

"Morning... I just had the worst sleep ever, felt like I just took a nap, you?" Yawning you make your way to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and some scrambled eggs with bacon.

"it was alright, our work has been pretty complicated lately" She looks at you with a sly smile. 

"Why are you looking at me like that Reyna... What did I do this time?" you give her a smile taking the seat in front of her, taking a sip of your coffee.

"How have you and Gekko been?" Her tone is playful.

"We've been good unless he told you otherwise…?" your statement comes out more like a question.

"No, he told me you guys were closer than ever... but he wishes you were closer if you know what I mean." she sips her coffee nonchalantly.

"I see, I mean the only reason I've been hesitating is because I wish I could talk to him more you know... sensually but in Spanish." looking away from her, you feel your cheeks grow warm. 

Your relationship with Reyna has always been really good even before Gekko joined the team, but recently you noticed that she has been talking to him more, and that made you feel as if you couldn't share information with her about your relationship with Gekko. Maybe it was the fear that she would disapprove of you guys relationship or perhaps you were just too timid to share all the details.

"How about I teach you some phrases?" 

"Please do" Pulling up the notepad app on your phone you give her a nod as if to say 'I'm ready'

"Just give me your phone��I'll write them down for you"

You immediately give her the phone and finish your breakfast, grabbing her empty plate and putting it in the sink. When you come back she puts your phone in front of you, smirking.

"'Okay let's see if the pro has game" You smile at her and pick up the phone.

qué guapo estás

me encatas

estoy loca por ti

Estoy pensando en ti todo el tiempo

estás bueno

cógeme

https://www.spanish_pillow_talk.com

You can understand most of these except for the word before the link, they were normal compliments one would give their partner.

"What does cógeme mea-" Your sentence is cut short when wingman jumps in your lap, meaning Gekko is not too far behind. 

"Hola amiguito" 

"Hi wingman" you say before squeezing the poor little guy.

"Hola mi Reyna, hola mi cariño" his arms wrap around you from behind and you feel his head on top of yours, before you could look up he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and heads to the kitchen to grab his breakfast.

"Te ves guapo hoy." you immediately shift your gaze to Reyna looking for some sort of approval, and she nods slowly. 

"Only today? I thought I looked good every day." His laugh can be heard from far away, that laugh that you so loved. 

"You know what I mean" Rolling your eyes you click on the link that Reyna had left on your notes, the website took a while to load so you just went to get water. 

"Gekko you've got training later today with Harbor, I totally wish I could stay pero yo tengo una meeting con brimstone" Reyna stands up making her way out the door.

"So I was thinking we could hang out before you have to train" You come back to the table water in hand, and as you sit down you notice your phone is missing. 'Where is my phone?' you thought lifting the table cloth and checking all of Gekko's pets to see if they had it, but your phone was still missing.

"So what exactly do you mean by "hang" before I train" he has a slight smile on his face, he's holding your phone reading something off it.

"just hang out in your room- Oh." you quickly snatched your phone off his hand, checking what he was reading. Your phone read: 'Pillow talk in Spanish' 

“just hang?”

"I was asking Reyna how to uhm compliment you in Spanish and she… she recommended that website!" your nervousness gave it away, he knew you were lying.

“so Reyna recommended you to talk dirty to me? no necesitas mentirme, estoy tan duro pensando en ti” He’s no longer interested in his food but rather you.

You look down at your notes analyzing everything you could say to him right now. “okay maybe we won’t just hang, but please speak slowly so I can understand you.” Eyebrows dropping as if begging him for mercy. 

“Of course,” He took his time throwing all the trash out and leaving the dishes in the sink, but once he was done he lifted you making your legs wrap around his waist. “I’ll do whatever you ask me to”

As he walked to the room he kept giving quick pecks on your lips and cheeks, making you blush as you looked him deeply in those brown eyes of his. Gekko is okay with PDA but knowing you don’t like it, he chose to not embarrass you in case someone comes out of their room.

Stopping the kisses to get the door open, he sits down on the edge of the bed with you still in his lap. He pushes his lips against yours again when all of a sudden he bites your lip softly and you open your mouth just enough to let his tongue in, the heat is intensifying and your moans start getting more audible. Your hips can’t help but grind against his clothed dick, which he responds with helping hands deepening the friction. You both break the kiss to catch your breath but when you are about to go back in he makes you stand, then spins you around so your back is facing him and he sits you down again on his lap. 

“Relax cariño,” You feel his warm breath as he gets closer to your neck, then your shoulders, then up to your face… teasing you slowly as he leaves a trail of kisses. His hands caress your hips just above your panties, his digits twirl around the cloth, he subsequently slides it off your thigh then drops it on the floor. “Estas tan mojada” he whispers in your ear as his hands roam all around your thigh but not where you need him most. One of his hands leaves your thigh and you feel his digits go up and down your slit, spreading it, collecting some of your wetness.

your hand covers your mouth making it very hard for him to hear you, you didn’t mind that since this whole situation made you so timid.

 “Why are you so quiet.. am I not doing this right?” You feel Gekko’s frown as he kisses your neck before he pushes his fingers inside you, gently pumping you, curving them ever so slightly trying to find your sweet spot.

“Cógeme porfa..” You didn't mean for it to come as a whimper but you’re glad it did because he started fingering you deeper and faster, every pump hitting your sweet spot and making you huff and whimper out his name. 

“I will as soon as you cum” his voice low as he concentrated on making you feel good, his free hand stops roaming your hips now cupping one of your breasts fidgeting with your nipple. He knows you’re close and that's turning him on. “Tan hermosa” his whispers in your ear tickle, you turn your head to look at him with eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. 

“I’m about to- “ his glistening wet fingers slide out of you leaving you with a feeling of emptiness, but that's instantly replaced with pleasure when he starts rubbing circles on your clit. You can’t manage to get any words out as your orgasm takes over you, leaving your legs trembling and your eyes closed shut. 

His fingers start rapidly rubbing your sensitive spot as you're coming down from your high, the movement makes you throw your head back against his shoulder. Once you’ve stopped trembling you hide your face on his neck, kissing it and marking your territory.

He once again makes you stand up only this time though he stands up with you sliding his pants down, he sits back down on the bed with his arms behind him to support him. 

You try to be sexy by leaning down and rubbing him through his boxers but he pulls you in by the waist forcing you to fall on top of him, you lift yourself off of him and pull his boxers down. One of his hands is firmly gripping your waist and the other is still behind him. 

“Me encanta cuando me miras así” This is probably the most you have used your brain to speak Spanish but it pays off seeing the look he gave you. 

“yeah?” the hand on your waist forces you down on him earning a moan from you as he took you by surprise, you both let out a groan as more of him slides inside. Both his hands grab a hold of your ass and start moving you, making you grind on him. You speed up as he adjusts himself inside you, thinking the grinding isn't enough you start to bounce on him. He lays back down pulling you with him, kissing you passionately as his back hits the mattress. 

“qué rico mami, me encantas” He whispers sweetly in your ear while his hands rub your back, his lips giving you a small kiss on the cheek, then your lips, then down your neck. “I love you”

“I love you too” You’re drunk off his love, eyes closed, smiling at anything he says, craving his touch as you push your body against his. All of that comes to an end when you open your eyes and go back to riding on him, he pulls you down just enough to be able to grab your boobs. You look at him sweetly and he does the same to you, he adores you.

His eyebrows furrowed as you picked up a pace and his hands left your torso and are now on your hips again, making you grind faster. One of his hands leaves your side and holds your face making you look at him as he’s about to cum. He wants to see your face when you finish with him inside, he wants to see you throw your head back, your mouth part open, and he wants to hear you moan his name.

His eyes are closed but he tries to keep them half open as he's about to cum, your mouth agape slightly as you feel your second orgasm arrive. You push your lips against his own as you both moan in each other mouth, his hands never leaving you.

Gasping for air you part ways, getting off him and lying next to each other you both stare at each other. Nothing but love in both your eyes, smiling wide you giggle a bit.

"¿qué~?" he hugs you as you both laugh

“you should speak Spanish more often, you sound so sexy” You say with your face in his neck

“you should too, i loved it.”

[d4yl1ghts]

stuck

mark sloan x shy, fem!reader

summary: you and mark get to know each other when you get stuck in an elevator

A/N- i feel like he would love star wars (not as much as bailey tho)? but this gives me such katniss and peeta vibes

-

You read the files that Doctor Shepherd had given you to take a look through because he thought his new patient may have some sort of problem with their heart and cardiology was your specialty. You were currently in the elevator, heading up to find an empty room to study your new case when the elevator suddenly came to a halt. Confusedly you glanced around and noticed Mark Sloan, the world’s number one man-whore was the only other person there.

He glanced up from his papers and made eye contact with you. “What happened?”, he questioned with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. This was the first time you’d heard him so nervous. “I think the elevator just broke.”, you sighed as the realisation just set in once you said it out loud. He huffed to himself. “Hopefully they’ll be able to fix it soon, I have a surgery in an hour.”, he stated, checking the time on his watch.

“Might as well get comfortable.”, he added as he fixed himself on the floor and placed his files beside him. You copied his actions and sat opposite him. “So, what case have you got there?”, he asked you, striking conversation. “Oh, just a new case Derek wanted me to check up on. What about you?”, you awkwardly asked as your cheeks blazed. “Just some boring charts of burn victims, I have to reconstruct their faces, arms and legs.”, he said. “Oh, lovely.”, you replied sarcastically.

You stared at the wall of the lift and zoned out into your own thoughts. It must have been around five minutes of silence before Mark started speaking again: “If we’re gonna be here for a while then we may as well get to know each other.”, he said, looking into your eyes. It wasn’t a bad idea, there was nothing else you could really do.

“Tell me three random facts about yourself. I’ll go first: I used to live in New York (I’m sure you’ve heard about that), my middle name is Everett and I love the Star Wars movies.”

“Uhm… this is actually hard to think about, hold on.”, you said, embarrassed. He chuckled slightly. “Okay, I hate posh restaurants, I also love the Star Wars movies and I have a pet cat named Jack.”

“Cool, why do you hate posh restaurants though?”, he questioned as he turned to you with amusement in his eyes. “They’re just so intimidating and I just generally don’t like the vibe of the, do you know what I mean? Also, they’re so overpriced like you could find some cosy place that sells nicer food for way cheaper.”, you said passionately. You did not like posh restaurants at all. “I get what you’re coming from to be honest. I always preferred a cute and little cafe opposed to a fancy restaurant.”, he reasoned.

“If I ever ask you out on a date, I guess I’ll know where to take you.”, he flirted which left your cheeks on fire, well that’s what it felt like anyway. “I’m not surprised everyone calls you a man-whore.”, you said as you ignored what he previously said. “That’s not my proudest nickname.”, he responded. “I want to change my nickname, I don’t want to be known as that anymore. I don’t want loads of hook-ups and flings, I want a real relationship.”

He gazed at you. “I swear we’re having a whole confession session here. Oh my God, it rhymed.”, he laughed to himself. You laughed along with him, he was pretty funny and cute. If you looked past his reputation, he was a nice guy.

After another fifteen minutes of talking and joking, firefighters had arrived and gotten the two of you out of the elevator. “Hey, Y/N, do you wanna hang out one day? Not in an elevator, of course.”, he asked you, almost anxiously as he awaited a response. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“I promise I won’t take you to a posh restaurant.”, he added as he walked away and charmingly smirked at you. You laughed to yourself and waved him off. “We can work out a date.”

[zara-renata]

Not my type | ao3 | part 8 of this series

a tragicomedy starring Sylus and his clueless crush

Summary: Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc This story contains: slow burn, angst, grief, banter, stalking (Sylus), an ongoing one-sided misunderstanding that will be resolved in the next instalment in a way that hopefully won't destroy the romantic tension, mc with self-esteem issues, mentions of self harm, Kieran and Luke and some ocs that hopefully you'll like.

In the days following your utter humiliation at the hands of the Hunter Association’s most wanted criminal, you’re doing fine. Really. You are Fine.

You had a great time at the bookstore with Xavier, who kindly said nothing about your state of dishevelment or the glaring human bite mark on your shoulder when you answered the door that morning. You both lazily wandered between the bookshelves, leisurely reading summaries and showing each other finds that you thought the other would also enjoy. You stopped at the bookstore café and loaded up on sugary iced coffee.

“Here, try this, I think you’ll like it,” you offer your iced mocha with caramel drizzle and whipped cream to Xavier as you begin walking back home together, each carrying a shoulder tote full of manga stuffed with hot guys and big swords, after having spent probably half of this month’s paycheck in one impulse-fueled spree.

“Okay, but then you also have to try mine,” he smiles, holding his own cup out to you. You look at it dubiously, recalling from hearing him order that it had some sort of peppermint flavor in it.

“No way I’m drinking sugar-flavored toothpaste,” you grimace, shaking your head.

“What? Noo, it’s really good, I promise. The peppermint is really subtle. You can’t only just consume chocolate and caramel in your desserts. You’ve got to be a little more adventurous, or you might miss out on something surprising,” he earnestly advises, blue eyes wide, a little pout on his lips.

You eye the offending drink again, and then figure, why not? You’ve gone through much worse, recently, in terms of unpleasant experiences. You should try new things, of the food variety. Because you’re done trying new things of the people variety.

You take his cup and hand over yours, and you both quietly sip for a moment. Your eyes meet again, and both of you grin. “That’s really good!” you admit, and Xavier gently knocks your shoulder with his. “I told you so,” he smiles serenely.

“All right, all right. I’ll listen to my partner more from now on,” you exchange drinks again.

It was nice. Back at his place, you both lazed around on his soft couch and bean bag chair and read until the sunlight drifting through his windows was the golden-tinge of the setting sun, and his persistent yawning was so frequent that you decided to put him out of his misery. You couldn’t punish him by overstaying your welcome simply because you didn’t want to go back to your empty flat with all of your racing thoughts.

“Thanks for today, it was a really nice break,” you tell him as you’re gathering your manga volumes and slipping them back into your tote bag.

“It was,” he yawns again, tears forming at the sides of his clear bright eyes. “We should do it again soon. But I’m going to be out of town for a little while, starting tomorrow.” He gives you an apologetic look.

“Hey, no worries. I wasn’t going to demand you spend all of your leave entertaining me,” you smile, genuinely. You always miss him when he disappears mysteriously, but he’s gotten so much better at telling you when he plans to be away compared to how he was when you first partnered with him.

“I know. I just…” he pauses. “If you need me. For anything. Just send me a text, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can. I don’t like the idea of you being left to your own devices for too long.” He gives you a teasing smile. “Who knows what other strange companions you’ll pick up if left alone for too long,” he continues, obviously referring to how you stumbled upon him in the no-hunt zone so many months ago. However, the only thing that comes to mind when he says “strange companions” is the image of narrowed scarlet eyes, a laugh that warms you like a shot of whiskey, and big, big hands.

You chuckle, totally naturally, and not nervously at all, mind racing, trying to figure out if he somehow knows that Sylus was at your place last night, and if so, if he knows who Sylus is exactly. Shit. Shit. Nope. You’re not doing this. Xavier is making an innocent joke about how the two of you met, and Sylus does not get to bulldoze into your thoughts while you’re having fun with your partner.

“I’ll be the paragon of caution, I promise,” you say solemnly. “I promise I won’t talk to any shady strangers while you’re away.” You nod firmly to him.

He smiles, seemingly reassured. “Good. Try to get some rest over the next few days. The Captain is right, you need some R&R. Even I couldn’t decipher your reports, and I feel like I’ve gotten pretty good at translating your … particular style of writing under most conditions.”

“Hey, at least I use actual words when texting,” you roll your eyes, pointing at him. He snorts softly, and you wave and make your way back to your apartment, where you proceed to spend the next few days manically cleaning your apartment and researching online for advice regarding acting, bluffing, the subtle art of reading micro-expressions and how to control your own, and in general all things you tell yourself are useful for your undercover work, and not because you anticipate having to lie to everyone you know and care about for as long as a certain hooligan continues to insert himself into your life when you least expect it.

But as the days pass, you don’t hear anything from said hooligan. The only crow feathers outside your window are of the normal variety, swaying in the branches of trees whose leaves are falling as autumn encroaches on the last days of summer in the city.

You decide, once again, to grab the memory of him by the throat and shove it down deep, with all of the other things you refuse to examine too closely. You’re probably close to running out of storage room, but that’s a problem for future you.

For present you, it’s time to hit the arcade. You haven’t been in a while. So that’s what you do, enjoying the cacophony of games music and sound effects, people laughing and shrieking as they win and lose, the too-bright lights, the scent of fried food. The wall of sound and lights and other people just having a simple, entertaining weekend afternoon is enough to drown out any overthinking you might otherwise be sucked into.

It works for a while. You spend some time beating teenagers at some 1 v 1 fighting games, beat some younger kids at your favorite motocross simulation. You manage to not make anyone cry, although for one poor kid it seemed like a close call for a minute or two, before his buddies dragged him away to get some soda as a consolation drink for being beaten within an inch of his pubescent life by the adult weirdo who demolishes children in video games.

You’re finally trying your hand at getting a few new plushies to bring home when you realize you’ve managed to go a couple hours without missing your grandmother, or Caleb. The only people who knew you, really knew you, as a child, and were therefore the scaffolding holding up the unfinished architecture of the adult you, with all of its missing floors and windows, and all the storage rooms hidden behind walls with no doors. But that scaffolding is gone now, and you can’t turn to them and reassure yourself: I am still me, right? I am still the me who I always have been, despite the scarlet voices in my head that come to me in frightening dreams, despite the endless hunger, the exquisite drowning I felt the one time I resonated with Sylus…I’m a good person. I’m a kind person. I’m a loveable person. Right? You loved me, right?

There’s no one left to ask, now. Just you, looking at yourself in the glass reflection of a claw machine, in a noisy arcade filled with people having fun. You haven’t been able to win even one plushie yet.

You take your hand off the joystick, suddenly exhausted. You will not cry in front of the stuffed llamas and penguins. They don’t deserve that.

Your phone dings.

You fish it out of one of your cargo pants pockets, and scowl when you see the name of the person texting you.

Not My Sy: I feel that Ive been more than generous in giving you sufficient time to draft your little rules, but Im starting to get bored waiting for you to send them.

You just stare at your phone, as the door of the basement that you had just slammed closed where you stuff all of your unwanted thoughts bursts open, flooding you with feelings you’re trying so hard not to feel. Just the sight of the nickname he gave himself in your phone fills you with a rush of anticipation—a thrill that aches. And that is exactly why you hadn’t sent him the rules you had insisted on imposing on his surprise visits to your place. One, because you refuse to reach out to him first and therefore lose. Lose what, you’re not sure, but you’re tired of feeling like you’re losing to him. If he wants to talk to you, he knows your number. Two, there is no longer any point to sending him the Rules. He can’t come to your place if he wants to talk to you, because the deal’s off. He can find some other place to recuperate from headaches and papercuts and someone else to manipulate and to… kiss, and bite.

You will not allow him to affect you like this anymore. You stuff your phone into your back pocket and decide to save all the tokens you still have for another day. Time to pick up some tacos and go home to binge watch a series of films that make you yell at the screen because no one can get shot that many times and not fucking die, what a load of bullshit, but you’ll keep watching anyway because the gunplay choreography is pretty badass even if it’s completely nonsensical. There’s also a dog in it. You’ve never been able to resist an anti-hero with a soft spot for animals.

Your phone dings again. You tell yourself that you won’t look. You have plans, dammit. Ones you just made, granted, but you’re not going to get roped into whatever little scheme Sylus thinks he can run on you today.

You wrap your hoodie tighter around yourself in preparation for the rush of cool autumn air as the arcade’s door swings shut behind you. Your phone dings again. You grit your teeth and reach into your pocket to flick your phone to silent.

Almost immediately, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket. And it doesn’t stop. It just… keeps going. You jerk to a halt and just stand there, feeling it vibrate against your ass, over and over and over again. What the fuck is this lunatic doing?!

Finally, you reach for your phone again and angrily open his messages as you start moving again.

Not My Sy: Hmm, I see youve been busy in your phone settings. Cant say Im fond of the change. Allow me to fix it for you.

My Sy: Much better.

My Sy: Oh, I see how it is. A certain kitten thinks I can be left on read without any consequences. Are we feeling a little sullen today, sweetie?

My Sy: Hmm, I see that you decided not to wear one of my gifts out today on your little jaunt to one of my establishments. Probably for the best. They fit you perfectly, but expose enough skin that theyre not very practical for a brisk autumn afternoon at the arcade. Good call.

My Sy: I also dont think the teenagers you just slaughtered at the arcade could have handled the loss and the gorgeous view.

My Sy: Ah, would we prefer vibration as stimulation this afternoon? Im happy to help with that.

My Sy: Pick

My Sy: Up

My Sy: Your

My Sy: Phone

My Sy: I

My Sy: Can

My Sy: Do

My Sy: This

My Sy: All

My Sy: Day

My Sy: You

My Sy: Look

My Sy: Adorable

My Sy: When

My Sy: Youre

My Sy: Mad

My Sy: Like

My Sy: A

My Sy: Fluffy

My Sy: Little

My Sy: Kitten

My Sy: Back

My Sy Arched

My Sy: Fur

My Sy: Puffed

As the wall of messages load, you stop so quickly on the sidewalk that someone bumps into you from behind. You barely resist the urge to launch them into traffic with a one armed shoulder throw. Two more messages pop up.

My Sy: Oh I like the look on your face now

My Sy: Makes me want to grab you by the tail

The person behind you has the good sense to just keep going without saying anything to you, but that may have something to do with the fact that you’re now spinning in circles, eye darting wildly in an attempt to locate Sylus, or Mephisto, or the twins, or some security camera, so that you can take out whatever eyes are feeding Sylus your image right now.

You: where is it?

Instead of an answering text, your phone begins to vibrate in your hand, and … a picture you did not take appears on the screen along with Sylus’s incoming call.

In the photo, Sylus is leaning against your pillows, one arm leisurely bent behind his head, his bare bulky chest on full display as he lifts the phone with his other arm. You are fast asleep on top of him, face turned so that all that is visible in the picture is your hair—bedhead on full inglorious display. It is clear from the photo that you have your face smashed between Sylus’s man tits. He is smiling wide, the laughter clear in bright eyes that stare straight into the camera lens and now into you, with your mouth agape at finding this as his contact picture on your phone.

He must be texting while letting the call continue, because the notification of a new text pops up over his contact picture.

My Sy: I can work with this facial expression too.

You shut your mouth so fast and hard that your teeth click.

My Sy: While I love your teeth most of the time, well need to work on that bite.

Before your brain melts from imagining what he could do with your open mouth and how he’d handle your sharp teeth, you slam your thumb on the end call button, power down your phone, stuff it back in your pocket, and begin marching toward the metro station to get home. Fuck him. Fuck the tacos. You’ll go to Xavier’s apartment with the spare key he gave you for when he’s out of town, order takeout, and hide for the rest of the night.

Suddenly, your phone begins vibrating once again. You stop again, this time startling a pair of teenage girls who take one look at your face and cross to the other side of the street before continuing in the same direction. Great, now you’re not just pummeling children at video games, but scaring them as well. You open your phone and see Sylus calling again. You stare at the one nipple you can see in the picture. Your mouth waters. You’re not even surprised that he has fucked with your phone to the point that he can simply turn it back on remotely if you decide to turn it off.

My Sy: I told you kitten, I can do this all day. Some friendly advice: might as well accept the inevitable and pick up. Im used to your attention now. I don’t like being ignored.

The phone keeps ringing, vibrating in your hand. You let your hands hang at your sides, and tilt your head to look up into the crisp, sunny autumn sky.

You wonder if you’re strong enough for this. You can eliminate wanderers in your sleep. You can outmanoeuvre, outfight, outgun and outlast most hostile humans. You can even outsmart and outplay most people you meet when you’ve had a proper night’s sleep. But you’ve never met anyone like Sylus Qin. You can’t hide in Xavier’s flat forever. No matter how friendly you’ve become since you first partnered with him, he’d probably throw you out the window if you tried. And eventually, Sylus will come to collect what he thinks you owe him for allowing you to shoot him through the fucking heart. Wouldn’t it better to pretend to be on good terms with him, to make it as painless as possible? Instead of being a stone wall, trying to keep him and all the ways you know he can already hurt you out, you can be like water. Let him and the pain he’ll bring simply… pass right through you. Water is resilient. And if he burns you, well. You already saw it coming, right? You’ll simply dissipate into a puff of steam and float away. With enough time, you’ll heal��you’ll re-coalesce in the atmosphere, and you’ll fall back into yourself like rain. You can survive him, if you can adapt quickly enough.

You lift the phone, dig your earbuds out of one of your pockets and put them in your ears, and then answer his video call.

“Took you long enough,” Sylus’s beautiful voice flows directly into your brain.

“Sorry, I was a bit busy. Can I help you with something?” You close your eyes and will your face to relax, let your shoulders fall. You breathe in, the earthy scent of dying leaves filling your nostrils. You are water. You open your eyes.

He’s staring at you through the phone, a slight frown on his severely handsome face.

“Sylus?” You hold the phone a little closer to yourself as people flow around you on the sidewalk. When you look back, he’s still just… watching you.

“I have to admit, sweetheart, that this is not the greeting I was expecting when you finally picked up.”

“And what were you expecting?” You decide to keep walking. You’ll be fine. This will be fine. Multitasking is good. One foot in front of the other, and Sylus’s face, so distant, but still in the palm of your hand, in a small way. You can be satisfied with this.

He takes a moment, seems to choose his words carefully. “A little more life,” he responds. You let your hand holding the phone fall to your side for a moment. It will take a little while, to fully get into the headspace where whatever he says, can’t affect you. You just need a little more time. You breathe, you breathe, you breathe.

You bring the phone back up to your face, make your way through the crowd on the sidewalk. People must be scrambling to enjoy the last few bright days of the year before the long slide into the dark fall. You hadn’t expected so many to be out and about on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

“One would think you’d be used to me disappointing you by now,” you say, shrugging. “Can you tell me why you called?”

Sylus suddenly looks angry, and you resist the fear-fueled urge to throw your phone. You haven’t seen him look at you like that since… well. For a while.

“Sylus?”

“In what universe have you ever disappointed me?” he asks, voice even, controlled.

You can’t help it. You laugh. The kind of laugh that can spiral into something unhinged, if you weren’t water. Instead, it sinks into you like a stone. “Oh, I dunno, maybe this one, when you literally said ‘How disappointing’ and sneered that there was something wrong with me when I couldn’t resonate with you,” you say drily. You are water. Whatever he says next will simply ripple through you, and then fade into stillness.

But he doesn’t say anything. You peek at the phone screen. He’s looking away, his hand covering his mouth. You can’t tell what expression he’s making. Maybe Luke and Kieran are doing something silly offscreen.

In the end, none of it matters. “Okay, well, if you don’t want to tell me, I’m about to head into the metro. You can send a text if you change your mind.” Your thumb hovers over the end call button.

“I need your … particular talents this evening,” he answers right before your skin makes contact with the screen.

Oh. He really did have a reason to call— he needed your help with something dangerous.

That’s fine. You hadn’t actually had the fleeting thought that maybe he was calling because he just wanted to hear your voice, the way you never, ever found yourself feeling. Even in the past few days, since the Unfortunate Event of the Other Morning.

“And Kieran and Luke are unavailable this evening? Or anyone else from your hoard of henchmen who you can order to come back you up?” You’re being herded in a mass of other bodies into the metro station. You notice for the first time that Sylus is dressed really nicely—some sort of vest over a button down shirt. You find yourself trying to hold the phone discretely to minimize other people being able to see what you’re seeing.

“Kieran and Luke do not possess your particular talents. And besides, why would I want to see them this evening? I have to look at them on a daily basis, the last thing I want is to have to see them on a Saturday night.”

“I see. Had enough of a break from seeing me that you can stomach it again?” You smile, smooth as ice. Ice is just frozen water, right? You can ask Zayne to help—pick his brain to figure out how he stays so calm, in the face of so much chaos, not revealing a damn thing.

Sylus is just staring at you again, silver brows furrowed.

“So is it like, bring a gun to a knife fight kind of thinking? Do you really think that whatever situation you want my help with is too dangerous even for your minions?”

He just continues staring at you, and if anything, looks more displeased. You have no idea why he seems so pissed off. Maybe he’s rethinking asking for your help. You might be able to watch those movies after all.

“I see now that I've made a grave miscalculation,” he finally answers, rubbing his forehead. He suddenly sounds … tired? Or sad? You're so bad at reading other people.

You have no idea what you’re supposed to say to that, but you feel bad that he seems to be so exhausted and it sounds like your fault. You decide that you’ll help him tonight, with whatever he needs. And then maybe you will have finally, finally balanced the scales between you. And then you’ll be free.

After a few moments of you just awkwardly watching him in silence, he seems to come back to himself. “Why bring a gun to a knife fight when you can bring a grenade launcher?” He adjusts the buttons on the deep red vest under his tailored black suit jacket. The black shirt underneath the vest has its first few buttons undone, exposing his pale throat and collarbone. He’s also wearing a black leather collar, and you once again imagine a cute, bell on it, chiming with every one of his movements. You do not think about slipping a finger under the thick strip of leather and pulling him down, down to your level.

You shake your head. “I’m the grenade launcher in this little metaphor? What about you?”

“Do you even need to ask?” He pulls a watch over his hand, something antique and mechanical that probably ticks loudly when its quiet, and it clicks heavily as he fastens it on his thick wrist. You suddenly think of the night you spent searching for his brooch, the handcuffs around those same wrists, how he let them hold him there for you as your hands ran along his arms, under his soft silk robe, across—

“Then I think you’ll do just fine on your own tonight,” you clip out, wondering how much it would hurt if you slammed your face into the metro car’s heavily smudged, reinforced window in an effort to dislodge the intrusive thoughts that have become alarmingly frequent the longer you let this man stay in your life.

“Violence should be used strategically, sweetie. I would prefer to reserve the nuclear option for when it’s actually necessary. And isn’t it your job as an upstanding citizen to de-escalate conflict? Having you by my side will not only be useful for me, but is actually a public service for any bystanders.”

“I serve Linkon City, not the N109 zone.” You don’t know why you’re arguing. You had already made up your mind to help him. But the return of this familiar, smug and argumentative Sylus seems to pull you back into the pattern that is so easily repeated between the two of you.

“What an appallingly shortsighted response from someone who I know has gone to other cities and even other countries to fight wanderers in order to protect non-Linkon City citizens. Are the people of the N109 zone not also worthy of your devotion?”

It’s hot in the metro car, and you’re relieved as your stop approaches. You wait until you’re able to shoulder your way out of the mass of bodies and can breathe fresh air in order to respond freely.

“For shit’s sake Sylus, how did we go from hesitation about whether you actually need me to serve as your bodyguard tonight to me failing my duty to protect innocent people?”

“Is that honestly the only thing you can imagine when I request your talents? When did I ask you to be my bodyguard?” he asks, but before you can respond, he continues, “You’re the one who insists that you aren’t available to help people in the N109 zone tonight.”

“You, Sylus. Not people, you.” You step aside to allow a man with an adorable tiny fluffy dog move past, but it stops and sniffs you instead of moving along. You glance at the man, who’s actually quite handsome in a Finance Guy kind of way, which means he’ll be handsome to you up until the point he opens his mouth, but you can’t resist asking “May I pet this cutie?”

The guy’s face lights up. “Go ahead! Cricket loves pats.”

“Aww, Cricket is such an adorable name for such an adorably doggy!” You kneel down and offer your hand for Cricket to sniff, and then run your hand along the dog’s soft fur. It preens and arches its back, and then curls its hips around to ensure that you give it scritches near its tail.

“Aren’t you a good doggy,” you murmur, feeling the tension melt from your shoulders. You would love to have a pet, if you only had the time to take care of it. You give Cricket one final pat, and then stand back up. “Thank you, I really needed that,” you smile at Cricket’s dad.

“Anytime! Do you live in the neighborhood? Maybe, if you want—”

Suddenly you hear a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and the shock makes you wince.

“Or not,” the man rushes out. “It was just a thought.” He waves awkwardly, and then continues along his way, having to pull on Cricket's lead a little bit as the dog only reluctantly moves away from you.

You’re left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened. You look back down to your phone, where Sylus is looking somewhere off screen with a bored expression on his face. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“My apologies for interrupting your little interlude. It appears Mephisto knocked my phone off my nightstand,” he shrugs. “He’s not as well-behaved as… Cricket, it would seem.”

Interlude? What interlude? Petting a dog? “Uh, okay? I thought Mephisto isn’t a pet.”

“Correct.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he remains serenely silent. “So why are we comparing Mephisto to a random dog on the street?”

“We’re not,” he lies. You stare at him. He seems to think for a moment, eyes moving back to the screen, taking in whatever he’s seeing on your side. Probably an unflattering view of your chin disappearing into your neck as you look directly down at your phone, still trying to weave through people on the sidewalk to get to your flat. You lower your head even further, trying to give him a good view up your nostrils, as a treat. There is no universe in which you care about what you look like to him. None. Certainly not this one. Finally, he speaks. “In any case, back to business. How about I make you a deal?”

In your happy break petting Cricket you had forgotten about the world, including what Sylus is demanding of you.

“If you come to me… and lend me your talents tonight, I’ll owe you a favor.”

You snort. “You already owe me for every day I haven’t delivered your head to my employer.”

“Then I’ll owe you a favor that I actually acknowledge owing to you,” he responds calmly. “Because I think you benefit just as much as I do from not delivering any piece of me, including my … head, to the authorities.”

You do not imagine any pieces of him. Delivering them, or doing anything else with them.

You’re finally within sight of your building. “I see. So you’ll owe me a favor. Any restrictions? Or are you actually offering me anything I want?”

“Anything you want. No restrictions, no conditions.”

“What if I told you to turn yourself in?” you ask, genuinely curious if he actually has no limits on this so-called favor.

“Done,” he says easily. Your feel your eyes widen, and he continues. “But again, for the same reasons that you haven’t already betrayed me, I don’t think that’s the favor you’ll call in.”

“And you’re really willing to place all your bets on that? Maybe I just haven’t turned you in out of laziness.” You watch him slip a pair of gloves on one big hand, and then the other, the supple leather gliding over his hands like a second skin.

“I’m all in on that bet.”

“And why’s that?”

“You are the furthest from the definition of laziness that I have ever encountered,” he says gravely. “And let’s just say, aside from the aforementioned benefits you enjoy with me walking around free, I think you’re more fond of me than you care to admit, even to yourself.”

You make a disgusted noise. “Let’s hope for your sake that your confidence isn’t misplaced.”

“Oh, there is no question that my confidence, in all things, is justified,” he smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking.

His arrogance is so thick, even through the phone, that you could gag on it. “Ugh,” is all you can say.

“Excellent. See you at 23:00. I’ll text you the address. I advise dressing appropriately and to bring the toy I left you when I had a headache, kitten.” And with that, he disconnects the call, leaving you standing in your elevator, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

And now, here you are. Black leather pants, combat boots, a semiautomatic with red flames engraved along the hand grip in your side holster underneath your black leather jacket, various knives strapped along your forearms and in your boots. You brought two duffel bags with you. One is full of toys that might be useful if things get really ugly. The other simply contains something of Sylus’s that you’ve been wanting to return ever since he left it at your place. As you were getting ready, it occurred to that this might be the last chance you have to give it to him.

You’re standing in line in front of some upscale nightclub, waiting for your turn to be judged by the bouncer and either admitted or refused. Likely the latter, if Sylus doesn’t show up soon.

You showed up at exactly 23:00, approaching the long line with trepidation. You hadn’t realized when Sylus sent the address that it was actually a nightclub called Amnesia—a rather exclusive nightclub, with a selective policy regarding who they allow in. You hadn’t realized this until you saw the subtle sign glowing softly in the N109 zone's perpetual gloom and did a quick search on your phone. Most of the club goers are dressed in surprisingly tasteful club clothes—tightly tailored pants, artfully low necklines and backless tops, sensual dresses, except the sequins—so, so many shiny sequins. You squint and wonder how the hell you’re going to get in dressed like you’re ready for a biker rally with an arsenal big enough to stage a small coup. Mission objective number one, adequate renaissance of the target location: failed. But it’s your bedtime and you don’t even want to be here in the first place, so this is Sylus’s problem to solve. You wait. And you wait. The line inches forward. The longer you wait, the more irritated you get. Where the fuck is he? You glance at your phone, but there are no new messages.

So you dutifully stand in line, which continues forward at a very slow pace, quickly outpaced by your anger. You notice that the group of women in front of you have clearly been pre-gaming pretty hard. They’ve noticed you, and are side-eyeing your outfit. You’re worrying they’re going to say something mean, when one of them glides over to you effortlessly on very tall high heels. You straighten your spine and prepare yourself. I am a role model for the Deepspace Hunter’s Association, I will not punch a civilian in the solar plexus for saying something mean to me about the fact that I am a fashion disaster. I will not—

“You look so badass,” she grins, tossing her silky brunette hair over her shoulder. One of her friends sidles up behind her. “For real, and like, really hot. This whole look is a vibe.” She waves one beautifully manicured nail in front of you, to encompass the whole of your outfit.

You squint again, wondering if they’re making fun of you, but the entire lot of them are nodding and chattering amongst themselves. “Is it like, a cosplay event or something? Did we miss the announcement on Amnesia’s socials? I want to dress like I can murder someone with a look too!”

“Hey, I think most of our heels are sharp enough to count as weapons, right?” the first one says to her friend, and then looks at you hopefully for… confirmation? Approval?

“Oh, definitely,” you encourage her, because she really does seem earnest. “You can stomp your opponent on the foot or go for the groin! And you know, if you hold your keys like this,” you say, fishing your motorcycle keys out of your leather pants and holding the long, narrow part of the key between the knuckles of your index and middle finger while clutching the wider base in your palm, “you can use them as an improvised shiv! Just go for the eyes! Or the throat!”

You’re met with a chorus of “Ooooohs,” and wide, perfectly winged eyes. You’re feeling like a pretty good teacher when your phone dings. You fish it out of the inside of your leather jacket.

My Sy: Youre late.

You glare at the screen.

“Can you teach us that look, too? You look like you really want to end someone,” one of the women asks hesitantly. You nod.

You: no, you’re late. i’ve been standing out front since 23:00.

You look back up to your new friend and point at your eyebrows, lowering them to an exaggerated degree. She nods and tries to mimic you. Her gorgeous, perfectly plucked brows form a scowl. You nod and look back at your phone.

My Sy: Youre standing in front of the club?

You: huh, mr. sylus qin’s not as omniscient as he likes to pretend. looks like you should fire mephisto.

My Sy: No such luck, sweetie. Ive decided to put him on permanent kitten observation duty after tonight. Why are you standing out front, instead of going inside?

You point at your chin now, and lower your head so that you’re looking at the club girl like a bull about to charge. She gives you a thumbs up and lowers her head, and then stomps her foot for good measure.

You: because there’s a line. which you’d know, if you bothered to show up.

My Sy: Of course. I should have known youd obey the rules and refuse to jump the line. Another miscalculation on my part. Stay put.

You roll your eyes. Of course he expects you to just keep waiting. Maybe he needs to find a parking spot. You turn to your friend. “Yeah, you look really intimidating now! Do that to the next person who hits on you and won’t take no for an answer.” You grin at her.

She laughs and you two proceed to try to out-glare each other, until you see her eyes go wider than previous attempts. You tense when you sense a large presence behind you, but calmly turn, hand drifting to your jacket holster containing the gun Sylus gave you.

It’s just the bouncer. Or at least, you think she’s the bouncer. She’s tall, muscular, and has a tight black t-shirt with Amnesia written in small, tasteful letters in the middle, right under the collar.

“Are you…” she pauses, and checks her tablet again. “The boss’s ‘sweet little hunter?’” she intones, clearly reading the words against her will, but she manages to keep the look of disgust that you’re pretty sure is trying to fight its way onto her face from appearing with admirable professionalism.

“By boss, you mean…?” You already know the answer. Of course you do. Your anger ratchets up another notch.

“Mr. Sylus Qin,” she says. “So are you the hunter, or not?”

You nod. “All right, follow me.” She lifts the velvet rope, and your new friends wave enthusiastically and cheer loudly for you as the bouncer leads you past the crowd and into the club. You stare at the bouncer's back, where her shirt reads ‘security’ in large block letters. She has an obvious pistol harness crisscrossed over her strong shoulders with two semiautomatics strapped into each holster. This is the N109 zone after, all. It doesn’t surprise you that Sylus’s bouncers are well-armed.

Once inside, she gestures vaguely towards the back of the huge space and says “He’s waiting for you in the Lethe VIP lounge.” And then she’s gone.

You quickly scan your surroundings, assessing threats, noting exits and bottlenecks. The atmosphere is completely different than THE BOOM BOOM ROOM, the only club you’ve visited recently. This place smells expensive. No stale beer and stale sweat, but probably diffusers hidden along the walls that emit the scent of sandalwood and other subtle spices. The music is full of reverb, heavy, with slow beats, sensual—specifically composed to make the listener feel reckless and sexy after a few strong drinks. The décor is a blend of vintage details and modern sleekness, and somehow it works to create the impression of tasteful decadence.

A long, dark wooden bar lines one wall, with standing tables and booths filling the space in front of it. Vases of fresh, dark-petaled flowers sit on each surface. Beyond the seating area, the dance floor spreads out in front of a slightly raised stage, where a DJ is playing to coordinated LED lights. Acrobatic performers, faces painted to resemble crying jesters and theatrical masks, hang suspended by hoops from the ceiling above the dance floor. They slowly twist and arch their bodies through, over, and off the hoops, spinning gently over the heads of the surging dancers.

If nothing else, it has been worth coming tonight to watch one in particular, with curly ginger hair, lean chest bare, arching gracefully through a sequence, bowing their back until their foot touches the top of their head. You wonder what kind of mobility exercise routine is required to attain that level of flexibility, and make a note to do an online search—but you’re here on a mission. Although the longer you look, the less you understand why Sylus asked for your help tonight. The place is crawling with security. He has a small army on staff. Why does he need you?

As your assessing gaze continues to wander, you see two familiar figures at the far end of the bar. And a third, unfamiliar person standing with them. From across the darkened, tastefully lit room, you see a beautiful woman. She’s wearing a tasteful suit, dark hair coiled in beautiful braids. She’s laughing at something one of the twins has just said, her slender hand on his shoulder. They have the easy familiarity of people who have known each other for a long time.

She looks like who you had imagined, as Sylus told you that you had the sophistication of a cactus. You look down at your scuffed combat boots. The clunky duffel bags clutched in your gloved hands, in this beautiful nightclub full of beautiful people. You look back at Sylus’s associates. One of the twins has his masked face turned towards you, but you have no idea if he has noticed you. You turn away.

You are water. You can drown in yourself, before anyone can drown you first. You won’t give them the satisfaction. You focus on the dancers again. The handsome ginger catches your eye, and smiles. Your heart hurts, they’re so pretty.

You haven’t heard shit from Sylus since he told you to sit tight. He didn’t bother to give you proper intel about this night at all. And he clearly already has all the security he could possibly need in this edgy, sensual monstrosity of an establishment. You’re suddenly so pissed you can hardly see straight. You could be watching John Wick 16: the Penultimate Chapter right now, but instead your heart is drowning in your chest and the person he was probably dreaming about the other morning is in the same damn room. You make a fist and pound your chest, once, hard, right over your heart.

The pain brings you back to your senses. You turn away from the dancers, find a staircase leading to the upper floors of the club, and take two steps at a time, relieved that the rooms on the top floor have elegant nameplates, each named after something in mythology regarding memory and the psyche. You stop in front of a black door with the plate reading ‘Lethe’, and kick open the door. What? Your hands are fucking full.

Inside, the room is as over the top and beautiful as the lower floors of the club. You have an impression of deep maroon walls, black leather furniture, low-slung and perfect for fucking, for an orgy really, your intrusive thoughts tell you. There are people: the twins, the woman. Huh. They must have slipped upstairs while you were staring at the dancers again. And there are two men, but you only catalogue the men long enough to determine that they are not visibly armed. No threats. All you can see now is the relaxed man straight ahead of you, at the back of the room, his arms stretched wide across the back of the black leather booth, manspreading as usual.

You reach down, fling the duffel full of weapons over your shoulder, and unzip the other, incredibly full one as you stride towards the smug asshole who summoned you here.

“Finally, I was starting to—” Sylus’s voice hardly penetrates the fog of rage coursing through you.

“I have a present for you,” you interrupt him, and he perks up, a subtle smile lifting one corner of his beautiful mouth, but that’s the last you see of him before you expertly launch the absolutely stuffed duffel bag at him. It lands on his lap, where you aimed it, and the feathers he left on your bed the other morning explode into the air and gently rain down on him, covering him from head to toe in a thick layer of black. At least the landslide that has spread from him to the booth are hardly distinguishable from the leather.

You were right. The only thing you can hear in the ensuing silence is the tick of his fancy fucking watch.

You close your eyes. That felt good. You open them. He’s still sitting in the same relaxed position, but now there are black feathers caught in his silky silver hair, dusting his shoulders, filling his lap. He makes no effort to brush them off.

“You really didn’t have to, kitten,” he says peacefully into the ticking, shocked silence. "You already had my attention without launching another aerial assault."

“I know. But I couldn’t bear the thought of how sad the feathers would be, separated from you. I couldn’t just leave them to suffer on my bed.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you slam your hand over it. Oh shit. If that woman really is his actual object of interest, you just made it sound like something is going on between you and Sylus that most definitely isn’t. You glance at her. She’s watching you from between the twins, and has a grin on her face. Maybe she didn’t hear…?

Someone clears their throat. You turn again, this time sweeping your gaze over the two well-dressed, handsome men, one seated next to Sylus and (you wince) who caught some of the feather fallout, and the other seated across the low table from Sylus. They’re dressed sharply, but not like they’re going clubbing. Almost like this is a… business meeting. But the dude who got caught as collateral feather damage is seated like, really close to Sylus. Now that you're actually looking at him, you realize that he’s really beautiful. Like, as pretty as Xavier. He's looking at Sylus, grinning from ear to ear. His teeth are blindingly white. Maybe it’s not the beautiful woman who Sylus was dreaming about, but this guy?

Why do you even care? You are a waterfall, drowning out any inconvenient feelings about this wanted felon. You are not a psycho who assumes that everyone who breathes the same air as Sylus is a potential romantic rival. Not even a rival, because you’re not competing. This is not a competition, you have no horse in this race, this is neither your circus nor your monkeys, you were just the hired help for the evening and it’s clear that there is a surplus of staff in the security department tonight so you’re going to go home and watch a man murder a football stadium worth of humans because of a puppy.

“Well, I’m so sorry to have interrupted,” you say, as if you had just accidentally peeked into the wrong room, instead of careening in here like a cannonball and launching a full scale feather assault on the owner of the establishment like a lunatic. “I will get out of your feathers—I mean, hair.” You bow slightly, because why the fuck not, tighten your hold on your remaining duffel. Sylus can just keep the other one—you definitely do not want a souvenir from this night. You then stride back the way you came.

You refuse to turn and look at Mister Toothpaste Commercial sitting next to Sylus again as you go. But as you approach the twins, you can’t help but take one last look at the woman since she’s standing next to your exit. You’re just curious. Nothing else. Just a curious little… lake. Because you’re water. And nothing can hurt you if you’re just a placid lake in a serene forest.

Yikes, after getting a better look at her face, you realize she is young. Like, teenager young? Okay, age gaps are fine if both parties have a certain level of maturity. Who are you to judge? You hope if she is the one he wants to bite that they’re happy together. Really. You’re just the bottom of the ocean, and you can survive great pressure.

“Are you just going to leave right after giving me such a considerate gift, without allowing me to even thank you?” Sylus’s sardonic voice seems to fill the room.

You stop, but can’t bring yourself to turn around. “No thanks necessary. It's not even a gift. Just returning property to its rightful owner.” You take another step.

“What about our deal? You still haven’t given me what we bargained for tonight.”

This time you turn your head. “I’m pretty sure you have enough security for your needs tonight. Let’s just call everything off, okay? No one owes anyone anything, and you can offer that favor to someone else.” You look at the girl, but she’s not smiling anymore—rather, she’s looking at you with… confused disgust? Fuck it’s hard to read people. Maybe she’s suffering from intestinal gas. Maybe Sylus carries around lactase tablets for both the twins and his girlfriend.

Someone clears their throat behind you. “Sir, perhaps I should return another time when you’re not so entangled in… domestic strife,” a respectful voice sounds behind you. You whip around. The man seated across from Sylus and wearing a nicely tailored blue suit is glancing between you and Sylus.

“Oh no,” you say, holding up your gloved hands. “No, sorry, this isn’t .. a domestic anything. Like, we are not like that.” You shake your head. The man suddenly looks relieved. You feel encouraged. You don’t want Mister Toothpaste Commercial or Miss Jailbait to get the wrong idea. You’re nobody.

You look at Sylus. He just looks steadily back at you, as if waiting to see what the next spectacle you have to offer will be. Why isn’t he saying anything to deny such an absurd allegation?

“So you are not the partner he wanted to introduce to me tonight, is that correct?”

He wanted to introduce his partner to this guy? Who even is this guy? You know what? None of your business. All you need to know is that he does, in fact, have a partner, and that partner, is in fact, not you, and it doesn’t matter that he helped you fall asleep a few times and touched you like you were precious, because he has a partner and that partner is not you and might be the child bride over there in the corner or the teeth whitening product model on the booth next to him. You are water so deep that you’re the Marianas trench. You’re so deep, no life can survive at all. You ignore the fact that you think you read somewhere that little weird volcanic tube worms can survive down there. Because where there’s no life, there’s no pain: the only solace of death. You’re fine. No tube worms at all.

“That’s correct. Just ask him! I mean, I’m not his type. And honestly, he’s not mine.”

The man looks alarmed for a moment, like he is afraid for you to keep going. But you do anyway. You try really hard to think about why Sylus wouldn’t be your type, when everything about him is gorgeous and intelligent and fascinating and when he wants to be, so, so sweet. “I mean, I’m only interested in someone who is tall. And who clearly spends enough time in the gym. Like, ripped. And who’s actually incredibly bright, who can make running multiple businesses look easy. And someone who seems really scary at first glance, but is actually heartbreakingly sweet when he feels like it. And funny! Who can honestly make me laugh on the worst day of my life.” You trail off. Clear your throat. “So no. Sylus is not my type.” You snap your mouth shut. You rub your heart—it must still ache from when you hit it earlier. That’s all this pain is.

The man, who has nice dark hair, and nicely trimmed facial hair, and nice shoes that may be oxfords or brogues but you have no fucking clue which, nods slowly, as if what you just said isn’t wildly awkward. “Oh, so when you said you wanted to introduce us to your partner,” he looks back curiously at Sylus, then at the woman standing with the twins. “Are you who he meant?”

Okay, is this guy just going to ignore Mister Toothpaste Commercial as a potential love interest? Maybe he’s bi-phobic. You don't know where Sylus's tastes lie. Again, not your business. You’re going to stomp your phone to smithereens the second you get out of here, you’re not going to stay at Xavier’s, because it’s too close to home. You’re going to Rafayel’s, and you’re going to sell your place. You’re going to apply for a hunter position in the arctic. You will be surrounded by snow there, all the frozen water you could ever want, and you’re never going to find yourself in such a fucked up situation ever again.

“I’m afraid not,” Sylus says. “She's not my type.”

You pause, just for a second. You don’t actually want to hear why she’s not his type, because in the end, it’s not your business. And even if you thought she was his partner there for a few minutes, you don’t want to hear him say things that might hurt her feelings. Because you know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Sylus's disdain, and it sucks.

“I’m only interested in someone who is effortlessly surprising." He looks at you. "Who uses their strength to protect the weak, instead of exploiting them. Whose tongue is sharp enough to match my own. A tongue I don’t mind surrendering myself to, to be shredded on again, and again.”

Again, there’s only the ticking of that insufferable, sexy watch on his insufferable, thick wrist.

Your heart doesn’t hurt at his description. At all. You must have just really hit it a little too hard earlier. You're a raindrop. It's your job to splatter all over the ground. You're just doing your job. You've always been very, very good at doing your job.

The person he’s describing sounds fascinating, and the perfect match for him. He'll never get bored with them, and maybe their goodness will rub off on him. Good for him. You had wanted to be friends with him, right? Before you realized that you might actually have feelings beyond hate, beyond wanting to fuck his brains out and then never speaking to him again. This is good. Your friends deserve people they can care about the way he just described caring about this person. Everyone should get to experience that in their life, at least once.

The silence and your thoughts are shattered when Miss Child Bride snorts. “Thank fuck. Cause we already went over why that would be gross.” She turns to Kieran and Luke. “Now I see what you mean. What a shitshow.”

“Right?” One of the twins responds. “So are you in?”

“Yeah. But I see your two weeks and raise you two months.”

The other twin fist bumps her. “You’re on.”

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Clear the room,” he commands.

Kieran, Luke and Miss Jailbait all do little lackadaisical salutes and turn to leave. As the girl walks past you, she waves her hand in front of your face. You jerk back, hand instinctively going to the knife strapped on your thigh.

“Woah there, hunter. No need to get defensive.” She grins at you.

You suppress the urge to see how big she'd be smiling if you swept her legs out from under her sensible heels and then did a diving elbow drop onto her prone form as punishment for invading your space. She might be Sylus's partner and thus owed some respect because you respect him, but you don't like when people you don't know get in your space. “What the fuck was that for?” you ask instead, because you're polite.

“Just trying to see if you're blind.”

One of the twins puts his hand on her shoulder. “Rule number four: refrain from teasing boss’s pet hunter, or else he will get angry.”

“Yeah, cause he likes to do it himself.” The other twin chimes in, putting his hand on her other shoulder. “Let’s go get you to Linda before you're fired before you’re actually hired.” They guide her out the door.

You just stand there. You feel like what just happened is really offensive, to someone, somewhere, but you have no fucking clue why.

The two men have also gotten to their feet and are now moving past you, and Mister Toothpaste Commercial is grinning at you like you just made his night for some reason. Why is everyone in here a nutcase? you wonder hypocritically. You tighten your hold on your duffel and start trailing after them.

Only to be lifted in the air by the scarlet-ink tendrils of Sylus’s evol, its energy making the hair along your arms stand on end. “Not you, kitten.”

Against your will, you find yourself being carried gently to the booth and deposited onto the surprisingly soft leather, right next to Sylus. The feathers puff up, and then settle around you again.

Wordlessly, Sylus slips the duffel’s handle from your shoulder and with a little surprised grunt of effort, sets it on his other side. Yeah, it's heavy. You brought a lot of hardware in case things went south tonight. Which they did, just not in the way you anticipated. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him sweep a look from your head to your toes. “I tell you that I need your talents and to dress appropriately, and this is what you show up wearing?” he asks, as if all of the weirdness that just happened is of no significance. He sounds genuinely curious.

“Well, yeah. I can't wear my hunter gear into the N109 zone, and figured the leather was better than my usual cargo pants and harness. If we had to fight our way out of a group of assailants, or jump out of a window onto say, a gravel surface, this is still a lot more practical than…” you pause, eyeing his attire in turn. The black suit with the scarlet vest he is wearing is clearly tailored to fit him like the gloves stretching over his huge hands. You refuse to look at his hands. The fabric of his suit lovingly embraces his broad shoulders, nips in at his narrow waist, and leaves very little to the imagination regarding what he’s… packing, on both sides of the whole package. You will not think about what he is packing. What you felt against you, the other morning—

“I see. So this is what you consider your talents?” His voice mercifully interrupts your not thinking about bulges and the ‘Is that a billy club in your pants or are you just happy to see me’ dumpster fire in your head.

“This? What do you mean by ‘this’?”

“The ability to be prepared for any violent scenario and meet it with competence, in the service of someone else.” His blood bright eyes bore into you, and you know he’s not using his aether core on you, but it kind of feels like it.

“What else could you have meant?” you ask, genuinely confused. You eliminate wanderers. You fight, apprehend and on occasion, have had to kill humans who would have killed you if you had hesitated. You can’t think of any other talents you might possess that Sylus would want. Or any other talents, at all. Even if you could remember who you were when you were a child, you’ve been a hunter long enough now that it’s hard to remember who you were before you put on the uniform and dedicated yourself to defending those who are unable to defend themselves.

“Yes, what indeed? Good question, kitten.”

“And you didn’t tell me that you wanted me to meet you at one of your nightclubs,” you mutter, the irritation surging again. “If you didn’t want me to show up and embarrass you, ready for a fight, you could have just said so.”

“Is proper intel gathering before going on a mission not part of your hunter’s handbook?” Sylus asks, running a finger along your leather-clad shoulder.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why didn’t you investigate the location of our rendezvous tonight before heading out?”

You look away from him, staring through what you now realize is a one-way mirror. The room looks out over the two floors below, each with dance floors and bars, pulsating lights, tables adorned with those strange beautiful flowers. The undulating bodies of dancers are lit dramatically from the light show pulsing to the rhythm of the music.

You frown. “Since it was you, I just assumed it was some shady warehouse or something.”

Sylus is quiet, but you feel his finger continue drifting along your shoulder until his hand comes to rest on the back of the booth near your other shoulder. “That’s an unfortunate habit you’ve had, since the first time we met.”

You turn to look at him, only to find his face so close to yours that you can count the dark striations in his red, red irises. They’re all you can see for a long moment.

“What do you mean?” you whisper, because anything else would feel like shouting in the quiet of the room, with his face so close to yours.

“Assuming things about me.”

You’re alert enough to know that he’s not just talking about your assumption that tonight would take place somewhere dangerous. Your thoughts flit to your assumption that he had… that he had been responsible for the house explosion. For your grandmother and Caleb. Your assumption that he wouldn’t have a plan for dealing with his enemies at the auction. Your assumption that he would take advantage of your nudity in the hallway of your home by looking his fill. What else have you assumed about him? You remember his bite along your shoulder, and the assumption that it was meant for someone else. “You only tell me what you feel like telling me. How else am I supposed to fill in the blanks?” you ask.

Sylus’s hand along the back of the booth drifts back to your shoulder, over the collar of your jacket, up the sensitive skin along the back of your neck. His fingers find their way into your hair, and he gently runs them through its locks. It feels so good, you have to stifle a groan of pleasure.

“You could always ask me,” he says.

“Would you even answer me? You have a habit of answering questions with other questions,” you sigh, giving in to the temptation to let your head fall back into his big palm, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. You try to let your hands rest at your sides, but jerk a little when one of them lands on his big thigh. You move it, but he grabs it with his hand that isn't busy in your hair, and rests it back on his thigh again. He’s so warm, as always. You shouldn’t want to let him touch you like this if he has someone else. You can’t bring yourself to move.

“Well, you won’t find out until you try, will you?” he asks. You let your head roll in his hand, so you can see his face.

“Who was that man sitting next to you earlier?” you ask. Maybe if you start simple, you’ll lull him into telling you the truth when you ask him what you really need to know. What you don’t want to actually know, because then the illusion of Sylus treating only you like this, the illusion that you’re special, will dissipate like mist under sunlight.

His fingers pause, but then he continues caressing you. “That’s Aidan.”

You wait. He stares at you steadily. “You’re really going to make me ask detailed follow up questions, instead of just answering the question fully?” you scowl at him, but don’t move. His hand in your hair feels too damn good. He smiles, clearly amused by your frustration.

“I don’t give away intelligence for free. I need something in return for providing you thorough responses to all of your burning questions.”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“What do you want, Sylus?” you ask. If the price is too high, you’ll somehow stand up and walk away, and live with wondering for the rest of your life about who these people in his life are, and if he belongs to someone else.

“The price will depend on the quantity of intel you request tonight,” he gently tugs on a fistful of your hair. You are boneless. You are melting into the couch from the pleasure, despite the negotiation.

“I could always use the favor you owe me for even coming out tonight,” you remind him.

“I think not. You haven’t earned that favor yet. The only thing you’ve done tonight is show up late and assault me with plumage.”

“Excuse you, I was here at exactly eleven. It’s you who were late in realizing that you didn’t exactly tell me where to find you. And as for my present, just think of it as me contributing to a more environmentally sustainable lifestyle. I could have just trashed them, but instead I re-gifted them. Now you can stuff a fleet of throw pillows or the body of an enemy to display as a warning to others.”

Sylus laughs softly. “What a delightful image.”

“I'm fucking delightful,” you sniff.

He hums in agreement. You both sit there in companionable silence, with only the distant sound of the club below and his hands moving in your hair filling the space between you. After awhile, he says, “So what will it be? Are you willing to buy now, and pay later for the opportunity to interrogate me?”

You want to know. You don’t want to know. You follow the sharp lines of his face with your eyes: his panther eyes, his aquiline nose, his generous mouth, the cut of his jaw. You’re so tired of making a decision, only to fold and abandon it in the face of his indomitable will. You want off this roller coaster ride already. You need to decide whether you’re in, and want to be a part of Sylus’s life, in whatever form he’ll have you, or out. And then, once you’ve made your decision, you need to have the steel resolve that he so effortlessly displays—if you’re in, you’ll bury your affection and misplaced hope in him, and treat him like any other friend. If you’re out, you will destroy your phone. You will move. You will ask for a transfer that will put you out of his reach for a long enough period of time that he’ll finally lose interest in toying with you. You sit up, and his hand falls away from your hair.

“Do you have a coin on you? The one you do that little villain bit with when your mind is racing?”

His eyebrows lift a little, as if he’s surprised that you noticed that he tends to fidget when he’s thinking hard. The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Villain bit?”

“Do you have it?” you repeat.

“I do.”

“May I use it for a moment?”

He stares at you, amusement fading. Whatever he sees on your face has him letting go of your hand and reaching for his pocket, but suddenly your own arm is jerked forward.  

“What the—” you try to pull away, but only succeed in slightly pulling Sylus’s arm back toward you. You look down and find the scarlet-golden glimmer of the energy shackles linking your wrist to his. You haven’t been linked like this since the one and only time you managed to resonate with him.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

Sylus looks down as well, and then scowls deeply. “Why are you asking me? I was wondering what was on your mind, but was willing to let you keep your secrets for now. However, now I must insist on knowing what’s going on in that busy brain of yours.” He lifts your linked hands and gently taps your forehead with his index finger.

You try to pull away again, but he just grasps your hand in his, tightly.

You glare at him. He stares at you.

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful, kitten. Don’t make offers you’re not ready for me to accept.”

You look away. The club below is fascinating. You will not let him win. Finally, you hear him huff. He brings your clasped hands to his trouser pocket, slipping both into it. You feel his strong hip along the back of your hand through the cloth of his pocket. He pulls your hands out again and releases yours. And then, coin held between his index and middle finger, he solemnly offers it to you.

“Which side comes up more often than the other?” you ask as you take it from his fingers with your unlinked hand, careful not to touch him.

“Tails,” he responds immediately. You don’t trust him for a second.

If it’s heads, you’ll walk away from him and the life that allows him access to you.

If it’s tails, you’ll ask him who these people were tonight and whether he has a partner. You’ll be his friend, no matter what, and close off that needy, delusional part of yourself that hopes for more from him, and you’ll never think of it again.

You toss the coin in the air and watch it as it flashes, twisting in the air. You catch it in your palm. You take a deep breath. You open your palm.

You are the water in a bottomless well. All of the things that can hurt you are down so deep, you’ll never be able to access them again. You let the fledgling feelings for this impossible man slip quietly into the well. You’re a serene pond, reflecting an endless blue sky, and there’s nothing underneath at all.

“Who is Aidan?” you ask.

[vagabond-umlaut]

affaire de cœur

Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone'; gallons of domestic fluff between sukuna and reader; hints of spicy times; no warnings except sukuna is very much sukuna here but you too are there, so he's sort of a better sukuna... [not loads better, though]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Repeat those words after me, my lord."

"No."

The pouty face you vault his way from the other end of the bathhouse makes Sukuna huff an annoyed sigh. Few monsoons back, you would never even see him in the eye, gaze trained on his feet – until he lifted your chin up; even then you would shyly avert your gaze — yet, now?

Now, you show the boldness to wear such a pathetic expression while making such an imbecilic request– nay, demand of him– locking your gaze with his the entirety of the time, no less.

Another sigh finds its route past his lips. Watching the way those sin-filled lips of yours twitch in a tiny smile before dipping into a pout, he groans.

"Alright. Fine," Sukuna grumbles, resting his two arms on the edge of the tub while the other two move to card through his damp hair, "Will you ever leave me for another, woman?"

Your eyebrows rise for a beat, the second the question you chomped his ears off earlier for, leaves his mouth. Your lover rolls his eyes, loud scoffs erupting from him at the utter inanity of the whole situation at hand — you, not beside by him, but beside those damned towels and bath soaps; him, not soaking in the warmth of your flesh but of these bath waters; the humid bathhouse not resonating with the sounds of your whines but with the remnants of a query, whose answer he does not care the least for, for no matter what you say or do, he will not—

"Yes, I will."

Your clear voice scatters his thoughts away, akin a strong wind and a handful of chaff. Sukuna freezes, every crimson eye of his fixed upon your approaching figure– your soft footfalls, your yellow yukata, your simple hairdo, your angelic smile...

Your husband takes a while too long before discovering his lost voice, eyes narrowed, throat tight and chest heavy as he asks you, "You will leave me, pet?"

"Uh-huh, I sure will," you hum in response, sitting on the stool next to the tub and moistening a towel. Sukuna moves to grasp your wrist in his palm but pauses when he catches you switch your attention from the towel to him, a terrifying emotion brimming in your tender gaze.

You draw in a tiny breath before speaking, voice now a mere whisper.

"Show me someone who is the most feared creature to ever exist, yet is a sulking mess if he isn't being cuddled in bed till noon every single day; someone who detests humans like I detest carrots, yet visits the monthly market in secret, to get gifts for his close one; someone who everyone's told me is the worst, yet goes on to prove, again and again and again, how he's the absolute best in this world—"

You stop suddenly.

Chest growing heavy from an entirely different reason now, your lover drinks in the manner your smile widens, your fragile fingers letting go of the cloth to trace those markings on his skin instead – you resume.

"Show me someone whose embraces feel the safest place in all the three realms, and I swear, my king, I'll leave you and run to his arms without thinking twice."

For the first time in his millennium of existence, the two-faced curse feels the same distress of being paralysed, as his mere mien induces in the muscles of his miserable victims— except, it isn't the fear of an end to his life which is causing this abhorrent weakness to him unlike those worthless mortals— no.

It is the fear of the unknown, of the uncharted, which is rendering his powerful self so, so powerless before your blinding brilliance. Sukuna thinks death might be an easier journey to undertake than these odd realisations your voice and touch elicit in him always.

These days, more so.

This moment, very much so.

The addicting timbre of your voice rouses him from his musings, the second time that night.

"Is every–"

"Is that supposed to be a love confession?" Your husband cuts you off before you can finish your question. You slowly blink at him once then twice, before leaning backwards and picking up the forgotten cloth, a visibly coy giggle bubbling out you as you return to washing his skin.

"Yes," you agree after a beat, gaze darting to his face before skittering away again, "That is supposed to be a love confession for my beloved king; though I wonder what my lord thinks of it. Was it heart-touching as I intended to make it? Or did it sound too tedious to him?"

The addressed being deliberately makes a big show of rolling each of his four eyes at your query. "Neither," he says, curling his lip in a show of vexation before they lift a little at the lower lip you jut out, "And you should count yourself to be lucky that you're my wife, not a worthless mortal, pet. For if you were not my wife–"

"– you would've sliced me into halves without a moment's hesitation," you finish the rest of the sentences for him with a fond shake of your head. "Trust me, my king, I know you. I do, I rea– Sukuna!!!"

The startled shriek of his name— not my lord or my king but Sukuna —parts the curse's lips in a smirk, which widens on noticing the warm water slowly seeping into your clothes, making them translucent; and you staring up at him with a disbelieving look etched onto your pretty face.

Sukuna allows his smirk to melt away into a genuine smile, for once.

Nestling your drenched form closer to himself, he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on your shoulder, palms holding you as if you were not a member of the race he lives for the sake of tormenting, but an invaluable blessing, beings he has never believed in, sent earthward for his damned self.

Which is true, the curse reckons. You indeed are a blessing he knows he doesn't deserve – yet will keep for and with himself for an eternity and some more.

Pressing you closer to himself, your husband lifts his head to plant a kiss to your forehead, followed by your warm cheeks — hoping you'll understand the meaning behind every reverent contact he's marking your form with now.

After all, you know him really well, don't you?

[You do— which is only why you reciprocate every brush of his sharp canine over your skin, with a brush of your soft palm over the wicked, handsome, wickedly handsome visage of the love of your life.]

▸ masterlist

[chelseeebe]

there’s a honey

title based on there’s a honey - pale waves

i would give you my body but am i sure that you want me?

the one where eddie’s probably in love with you and yet you can’t even be seen in public with him.

kinda really angsty and sad i’m sorry

18+. mdni. smut. r is kinda very mean to poor eds here, maybe there’s a ltitle redemption/hope at the end.. who knows. modern au i guess.

eddie’s not supposed to be doing this, your number had been deleted and he knows he should’ve just let it ring out.

but he’d recognised those last three digits and hadn’t be able to help himself. at least this time he’d let it ring out a couple of times before picking up.

and now here he was, hand fisting your shirt, pulling it tight around your waist as he slams his hips against your doughy ass, the bed frame matching his pace as it slams against the wall.

he felt terrible.

chrissy was probably somewhere across campus waiting for him to text back while he was here, balls deep in the girl he’d sworn off last week.

they weren’t together, he’s not even sure if they’re talking but he knew he at least liked her. thought she was cute and not mean to him, but truthfully, she’s not you. she’s never going to be you.

and he’s not stupid enough to think that while you’re still in his life, they could ever be anything.

nobody else that he had ever had sex with had ever felt like this, not that it were a long list of people but still. he thinks that’s what keeps him coming crawling back every single time.

“oh my god,” you whine, arms collapsing underneath you as you fall into the mattress. moving back against him in unison, his palm coming to slap your ass, his handprint lingering.

he takes that as a sign to keep going, slamming into you with such ferocity that the sound echoes through the tiny room. the wooden bed frame close to smashing through the drywall.

“fuck,” he grunts, keeping his grip tight on your shirt, “you feel so fucking good,” unable to contain his babbles. breath becoming laboured as you squeeze around him.

your noises are muffled, face pressed into the blanket as you incoherently mumble what he thinks is his name. he can tell you’re close just by the way you’re breathing. he’s had years of experience, learnt every trick in the book to get you there before he was.

he lands another smack to your ass before pressing his chest to your back, lips sloppily connecting to the back of your neck, pressing you further into his rocking bed.

this new position allows him deeper, nudging himself against your sweet spot, just about able to keep his body hovering over yours.

“shit.. i’m close eds don’t stop,” you whine breathlessly but he already knows that. can feel himself teetering on the edge though it is absolutely necessary that you go first.

“i know.. i know,” he pants, sweaty body melting together as his pace falters, giving you everything he had for the last however many seconds.

your legs begin to shake from underneath him, fist balling his tousled bedsheets while his name falls from your lips like some kind of prayer. eddie will never tire of hearing you whine and cry his name nor the way you clench around him, turning to mush right before his eyes.

it’s the only time you’re ever soft, malleable even.

“that’s it,” he soothes, open mouth pressed to your clammy skin, hand finding your hand and resting his palm on your white knuckles as he topples over.

“fuck.. oh fuck,” he pants, slamming into your quivering cunt, painting your walls with his load, his forehead falling to the skin between your shoulder blades, head spinning a hundred miles an hour.

his arms let out, collapsing on top of you, breathing into the crook of your neck as he regains any sort of semblance of control. he eventually rolls off, outstretched on the tiny slither of bed as you come to.

“jesus,” he weeps, pulling his boxers back up around his waist, the elastic dealing a harsh snap to his skin.

you don’t honour his words with a reply, turning to lean back against the pillow, readjusting your t-shirt. you’d be off soon, he can sense it. not so long ago, you’d maybe stay the night but now it was out of the question.

eddie misses it dearly, maybe it was his fucked up way of playing make-believe for a little while but he missed it nonetheless.

“you going to tina’s party?” he asks from the pillow, eyes narrowed as you shift around.

“yeah i think so,” you shrug, readjusting your bra straps. you’re itching to leave, christ, you won’t even entertain him with a little pillow talk now.

“who’re you going with?”

you sigh, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, not willing to entertain this conversation, “i’m not sure yet,” grabbing your discarded clothes with a haste.

“why don’t we just go together?” he asks, knowing that it’ll probably push you over the edge. he can’t help himself, has never been able to understand why you’re so evasive about your relationship.

“oh my god eddie,” you frown before slipping into the connected bathroom, eddie jumps up from the bed, he’s not gonna let you run away from him again.

“oh so you are still doing this?” eddie asks, following you into the bathroom. he stands in the doorway, watching as you comb your fingers through your hair.

“doing what?”

“pretending that you don’t want me,” he pokes his finger into his temple, “playing your weird fucking game that nobody else understands,” he should stop there, but he doesn’t, “you know, nobody cares if you fuck the freak, we’re in college now, right? you’re the only one that gives a shit,” it’s truly cathartic to get it all out but he knows he’s going to regret it.

“what?” you mutter, speechless. confused why he’d just unloaded all of this onto you seemingly out of nowhere. spinning on your heel to face him, still half-dressed and disheveled.

“you heard me. and you know what? maybe i understood why you didn’t want anyone to know in high school but we’re adults now, you can’t pretend that you’re still worried about people finding out,” the scowl deep-set and unbudging on his lips.

“well i don’t want you eddie,” your face turning sour, jabbing your finger into his chest. “maybe you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that this- the sex, means more than it does, but it doesn’t,” you’re angry now, he’s got you riled up, exactly how he wanted, “i don’t care if you’re a nerd or you play board games or whatever the fuck it is that you do, i just don’t want anyone to know that i’m fucking you.”

your words are bitter, sharp even. slicing through his chest with harsh force. it’s not true, he knows that much. it’s no secret that you do care about that shit, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.

he just can’t understand why you still think anybody else cares. everybody’s too busy to give a shit about outdated cliques and who’s fucking who. it’s your worst-kept secret anyway, by the end of the night you were always hanging off of his arm or pulling him out of whichever bar you’d both coincidentally fallen into.

“you’re a liar,” eddie bites, levelling his eyes to yours, “even you don’t believe that,” he steps closer, brows knitted together as you rage on.

“fuck you,” you spit, deciding to do something he could’ve never expected. smashing your lips to his, it’s a short, passionate kiss, your fingers twisting into his shirt before he pushes you off.

“you’re fucked in the head,” he utters, voice full of sorrow. he pities you, truly. because he knows that if you’d just shake whatever weird self-doubt you still carried, that the two of you could be good together.

you push past him, pulling your jeans on as you grab the rest of your belongings. you’ve done this before, plenty of times. stormed out of here because eddie had asked you a question you didn’t like, only to call him up next weekend begging for his attention.

and he gave it, time and time again.

at your mercy, completely.

it’s the only way he’d known, not enough self-respect to end it completely. and even now, when it feels different, permanent somehow, he knows you’ll be back.

“don’t call me again,” eddie calls out, still lingering in the doorway, “i mean it, delete my number, block me, whatever. just don’t fucking come back,” his arms folded over his chest, like he meant it this time.

“oh i won’t, don’t worry,” turning to face him one last time, eyes full of spite before you disappear into the hallway, not for the last time.

-

unbelievably, the two of you had gone weeks of no-contact.

not even a drunken text to lure him over. nothing. nada. zilch.

eddie had taken that as a sign and asked chrissy if she wanted to go to the party together, at least this time he hadn’t been met with slamming doors and a screaming match.

she’d helped him do his makeup, dotted fake blood around his mouth and made them take a picture for her instagram, an incredibly foreign experience to what he’d ever had with you.

you’d taken selfies before, stupid ones that never saw the light of day. lounging in bed with a joint hanging out of your lips, refusing to ever send them to him incase he did something unthinkable. like post them or dare show anyone.

he shakes his head as if to rid his brain of the memory, trying to zone in on whatever bullshit chrissy’s friend heather was droning on about. he can’t focus, not when he knows you’re here.

see, it’s different when you’re apart. he can compartmentalise you, all of your memories, bury you in the back of his brain and enjoy the time he had with chrissy. it’s like you’ve infected him, weaving your web throughout his mind.

eddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling him out of the hole he’d burrowed himself into.

those familiar three digits flash across the screen.

bathroom 5 mins

he hasn’t even seen you yet, not that he had been keeping an eye out (he had). he shifts over from where he and chrissy sat squished on the couch, too engrossed in the conversation to have seen his phone.

“i’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he smiles, guilt running through his veins, “get me another beer?” using that as an excuse to not do anything stupid.

though he knows himself, knows you too and most certainly knows that won’t happen.

“okay,” she grins, none the wiser, making him feel so much worse. her halloween costume was completely different to anything you’d ever worn, opting for a cute little rabbit as opposed to the ridiculously sexy getup you usually had on.

he wonders what you’ve chosen for this year, what low-cut, revealing outfit will have him on his knees, regretting his decisions this time around.

there are hoards of people everywhere, crowding the hall as he tries to shuffle through, not even bothering to knock as he reaches the bathroom.

he slips inside, quickly locking the door behind him as you sit perched against the sink. he was right. you’re in some tiny red dress, horns adorning your head. it’s fitting, really.

“so you didn’t block me,” you state, smug as shit as you lean against the white porcelain.

eddie just rolls his eyes, “is that all you wanted to say?” his hand already clamped around the door handle. it’s an empty threat, he’s not going without a fight, or a kiss, but probably both.

you bite down onto your bottom lip, the red lipstick already slightly smudged, “i missed you,” squeezing the words out, as if they physically hurt to verbalise.

“me? or my dick?”

“can’t it be both?” you smirk, pushing yourself from the sink to near him.

“not if you’re lying about the first one,” keeping his head stood tall, not letting his gaze wander, no matter how much he wanted to peer down your dress.

“i’m not,” placing your hand on his chest, looking at his lips rather than his eyes, “you didn’t miss me?”

you’re so.. so terrible. for him. as a person. whichever.

because he knows that you know he can’t resist. all you have to do is bat your eyelashes and speak softly to him and he’s right back at your feet. eddie wants to be stronger this time. to turn around and march out of here with his dignity still in tact.

but then your hand creeps lower, fingernails dragging down his unbuttoned shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake and he knows he’s fallen for it again.

“of course i did,” he whispers, barely audible because even he doesn’t want to hear it.

“who’s that girl you’re with?” you question, fingers lingering at his belt buckle, gaze flickering between his eyes and his parched lips.

“chrissy,” he feels like a dick for even speaking her name right now.

“she’s cute. she your girlfriend now?” teasing him, drawing a line down to his crotch your finger.

his breath hitches in his throat, wetting his lips, “no.. she’s- uh,” stuttering when your palm meets his dick, already rising in his pants.

“she’s what?” grinning devilishly, hah.

“she’s waiting for me,” he chokes out, just about remembering that he’d asked her for another beer.

“why don’t you run along back to her then?” knowing full well that he wouldn’t. couldn’t even.

the words tangle in his throat, coming out in a squeak, “tell me- tell me that this is just sex and i will,” finding a spurt of courage from somewhere deep within.

you don’t reply, keeping a firm hand on his shifting jeans, “eddie,” more as a warning than anything else.

“or tell me you want me,” swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, “and i’ll stay,” he’s pathetic, begging for an inch of your love, just a little of your heart.

“i can’t.. i can’t be who you want me to be,” you choke, dropping your palm from his zipper, hanging limp as you back away.

“why?” reeking of desperation, pitying himself more than you ever could, “i don’t.. i don’t understand,” the party bounces on outside and eddie can’t think of anything worse than having to go back out there with teary eyes and a tent in his jeans.

you turn away from him, keeping your palms pressed to the porcelain as you stare into the basin, “why don’t you just leave? i’m not going to have this conversation with you again,” point blank refusing to even look at him anymore.

eddie scoffs, swallowing his despair to make one last statement, “you’ve ruined my life,” choking back his cry before swinging the door open, elbowing his way through the crowd.

he pushes past drunk assholes until he reaches the front door, storming out onto the sidewalk, gasping as the fresh air hits his nose. all he wants is to scream, or puke or maybe both. he can feel the eyes of concerned partygoers as he stumbles out onto the street.

everything sounds weird, metallic like ringing through his ears until a familiar voice calls out from the doorway.

“eddie?”

[anon-sect]

Hey I want to get something nice for my younger brothers birthday he is about to leave for college and I would like to be a Fleshlight for him.

Picture source: internet

Jason couldn't be much prouder of his little brother Rey. He had finished up his high school years. He had waited one year to work and save up his money so that he could go to college the following year after graduating. They all did a college going away party for his little brother. Most of the gifts bought were things he would need for his freshman year of college, like a brand new high-end laptop computer, backpack, notebooks, etc. After the party was over, Rey had gone through all the gifts and was appreciative of them.

Jason noticed his little brother did look sad. He wondered why. "Why the long face? You should be excited. You start a brand new adventure tomorrow." He spoke, trying to cheer him up.

Rey looked at his big brother. They had been almost inseparable. He didn't want to leave Jason. "Yeah, but you won't be coming with me. I will miss you so much." He explained why he wasn't smiling.

"I will be a phone call away." Jason tried to encourage him thst it would be okay.

Rey shook his head. "Not the same." He replied, still not smiling.

Jason wanted to cheer him up. He hadn't got him a gift yet. This was the right time to give him a special gift. "I know a way to make you happy." He reached over and grabbed his TF Ray device. He put in a special setting and pointed the device at himself. "I will give you a special gift to take with you. Also, look in my closet. There is a wrapped box with your name on it." He spoke and hit the fire switch.

The device fell out of Jason's hands and onto the floor. Rey watched as his big brother quickly shrunk and turned into a fleshlight on the floor. He was in shock at first as he picked up the fleshlight. The realization that the fleshlight in his hand was his older brother. He looked in the closet and found the wrapped box. He opened it to find an object to go along with his new fleshlight. He realized he could now take his brother with him.

Rey went to his bedroom. He put the fleshlight in the device. Attached his phone and began to pump. The thought that his big brother was giving him a bj crossed his mind. It was slightly strange, but he sort of liked his new fleshlight. After pumping his load, he cleaned it up and packed it away with the rest of his things. "Thanks, Jason. I am sure I will use you many times." He laughed.

Jason was glad to see Rey smiling again. Having to suck on his little brother cock was a little weird, but he was an object now. Just to make him happy was good enough if knowing that he might be stuck this way forever.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (11)

ー☆ Chapter 11: Alkaline

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: none, just a load of fluff hehet ー☆ Word count: 9k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Aaand the new chapter is here! Hi lovelies, as promised, no more waiting a month for updates. I am so excited to hear what you thought of this chapter as OMG was I dying writing it LOL. I didn't think it would turn out to be my favorite, but here we are...there's a lot of realizations happening in this chapter ahaha. I hope you enjoy it and please listen to Alkaline before or while reading this story, however for once, I think it would be smart to listen to it before as...this is a little insight...but the lyrics reflect Mingi's thoughts so well, so keep that in mind too!^^ I hope you enjoy and lmk what you've thought of chapter 11! <3

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Staring up at the unknown building as the Honda’s engine got cut off, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I pouted as I craned my neck to look up through the window at the not too tall structure, wondering where in the hell we were. I heard Mingi unbuckle his seatbelt and then snort, making me look over at him.

“You look like your parents forgot it’s Christmas and didn’t buy you a present.” He noted, making my pout deepen as that sort of has happened when I was a lot younger compared to now.

“I only have a mom…” Mingi’s face fell for a second as I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Where are we?”

“Uh,” Mingi gulped, cheeks tinged red as he averted his eyes, “my place.”

A beat of silence passed as my eyebrows furrowed. I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw another glare at Mingi, “But I said I didn’t want to go home.”

“Exactly,” Suddenly, he was beaming as he faced me again, “and so, I didn’t take you to your home! It’s my home.”

Well, he’s got the spirit but his logic was faulty. I pursed my lips, suddenly curious of what his place looked like, the alcohol having dissipated from my body, preventing me from being a whiney child that was inconveniencing Mingi, not that he seemed too irked by my previous behavior at the pub.

“What about your parents?”

“What about them?” Mingi chuckled, opening his side of the door, “I live on my own, come on.”

I huffed and opened my door as well, feeling a small blush spread onto my cheeks. Was I seriously about to go inside Mingi’s apartment in the middle of the night? And why did I not find the idea alarming or repulsive? There must be something very wrong with me if I willingly follow him up to his apartment without creating even the smallest fuss, “Will you just stand there all night?”

I narrowed my eyes at Mingi and crossed my arms as I closed his Honda’s door, finally letting him lock his car as he chuckled, “I wanted to do something fun.”

“Well, doll, most places are already closed in our little town.” He said with a shrug, placing an arm against the side of the car, leaning his weight on it, “But I guess we could hang out at a convenience store like raunchy teenagers or something—”

“No, that’s outdated!” I cut him off, eyebrows furrowing at the stupid idea. I was well past the age of hanging out in front of convenience stores and causing trouble. Mingi sighed, pushing off the car as he walked around it, approaching me with a gentle expression on his face. I gulped and fixed my posture, pushing my hair behind my shoulders as I suddenly felt nervous due to our proximity. What has gotten into me? The memory of his lips pressing against the corner of my mouth was rather fresh in my mind, and I had to avert my eyes as I wasn’t used to Mingi’s platinum blonde hair yet; it made my stomach coil in a weird way.

“If you’re uncomfortable coming inside my apartment, you can say so, Y/N. I thought we are always direct with each other.” Well, he’s not wrong about that. We are direct with each other, transparent even, as long as it’s not about our feelings. I cursed myself for the direction my thoughts started straying towards and instead looked at him, feeling a little shy, and smiled.

“No, it’s good, we can go.” Mingi didn’t seem too convinced so I sighed and slowly reached out for his hand, “I want to, Mingi.”

“Great!” I have barely finished my sentence as his face lit up with happiness, thick fingers lacing with mine as he pulled me towards the entrance of the building. I chuckled as I followed after him blindly, amused by how easy it was to please this guy. He seemed to get enthusiastic about the smallest things, most frequently when things went his way. I tried to ignore the persistent flush of my cheeks as Mingi led us inside the building by our interlaced fingers and guided us towards the stairs, fishing his keys out of his jean’s pocket. We didn’t say much as we tried to be quiet, and that unfortunately allowed my mind to wander towards thoughts it shouldn’t have. Like Mingi’s tall built and how ravishing he looked in tonight’s outfit for the performance. Or the rawness of his voice whenever he closed his eyes and sung from deep within his soul. The way his nose scrunched whenever he got lost in the music as he stayed on beat while relaying the lyrics. Or the fact that his hair had gotten longer and instead of cutting it, he decided to dye it a platinum blonde which made his features sharper than I thought they were. It made my throat dry as I remembered what his body close by felt like, his warmth, the familiar cologne, the way his eyes crinkled, and crooked front teeth showed whenever he smiled too wide.

I grimaced as I slammed into Mingi’s back, instantly flushing even more as he looked over his shoulder with a chuckle. We have arrived in front of a white door with the numbers 18 on it, and so lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice that Mingi had stopped as he was trying to unlock the door. As if lightning zapped me, I released his hand and cleared my throat, running my fingers through my hair. Was it a smart idea coming here if I couldn’t even control my own thoughts?

“Welcome to my little lair.” Mingi’s voice held amusement as he pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting me enter first. I thanked him quietly and gulped as I mustered up any final courage that I needed to not run back down the stairs and hail a cab, and entered his apartment. It was dark, but only for a second as Mingi’s hand reached for the light switch, and then the door was closed behind us, locked and secured, making my heart race as we were now on our own, in the confines of his safe haven, “Don’t mind the mess, I didn’t expect visitors tonight.”

He seemed a little embarrassed as he stepped out of his boots, rubbing the back of his head as I followed his lead and untied my own boots, glad to have them off my feet—they were rather heavy. He leaned down to fetch us flip flops, and I smiled as he pushed one towards me before he wore his. The flip flops were a tad bit bigger than my own feet, but it wasn’t difficult to walk around in them. Mingi seemed to fiddle with his fingers for a second before he walked towards his sofa, grabbing the blanket off it to fold it nicely and place it back on it neatly. The living room space and kitchen were one big room. The walls were white and the floorboards light, the window open as the white curtains were pulled aside to let in the chilly air of the night. A TV on a stand was placed underneath the window, a huge plant in the left corner of the room, and an electric piano in the right corner, the wall above it lined with shelves and a ton amount of books and mangas that I had no idea how Mingi managed to store there—the place was rather small and stuffed. I didn’t allow my eyes to linger on the framed pictures, but it was hard to mistake the familiar photo of Yunho and Mingi hugging when I’ve seen it so many times before. Then, not too far from the TV, a coffee table and a sofa were placed facing it, and Mingi scrambled around to gather a few empty soda cans off the coffee table, shooting me an apologetic smile as he rushed to the kitchen’s side, throwing them away into the trashcan. His kitchen was small but cozy, the cupboards a dark wooden color, looking rather nice. The table was round and spacious, Mingi’s laptop and notebooks strewn across it, as well as some forgotten croissant that looked a bit too old to eat. I noticed the wall to my right was decorated with framed records and snippets of lyrics from probably his favorite artists, and I smiled as I noticed a quote that I knew too well, ‘Art is a line around your thoughts’.

“I had no idea you knew Gustav Klimt?” I muttered bewildered, walking towards the piece of paper that was plastered onto the white wall. Mingi made a surprised noise, and I felt his eyes on me as I traced the words with my fingertips.

“He’s my favorite painter.” Mingi answered with a chuckle, making my eyes widen as I faced him. How come he’s never mentioned that before? I didn’t even think for one second he enjoyed fine art like I did.

“Really?” I sounded a little breathless as Mingi smiled warmly, shrugging off his jacket, which had me forgetting all about Gustav Klimt as my eyes fell on his bare biceps. Fuck, I can’t be checking him out again. He’s just a man and he’s got arms like everyone else, and it’s not like I haven’t seen muscles before. Why must I act like a Victorian man when he sees ankles?! This was rather embarrassing, and much to my dread, I knew Mingi saw me checking him out again as an amused smirk sneaked onto his lips, one eyebrow raised.

“Really.” He answered, voice a few octaves deeper and I crossed my arms in front of my chest, giving him a challenging look. If he was so confident in himself, shouldn’t he call me out for salivating after him all night? Make me more embarrassed or something, “I’m kind of fed up with these clothes, would you like to change into something more comfortable?”

I hummed and nodded, shrugging off my own leather jacket, not oblivious to the way Mingi’s eyes widened slightly, the flush on his cheeks instant. I tried to stifle a giggle as I tied my hair in a low bun, giving him a soft smile, “Do you mind if I also shower? I’ve danced around all night long…”

“Sure, no problem!” Mingi’s voice was higher pitched and it sounded panicked for a second as he scrambled inside another room, which upon flooded with light proved to be his bedroom. I caught myself grinning widely and then instantly frowned, trying to calm my nervous heartbeat as I watched Mingi throw open a huge closet and rummage through it. The prospect of having to wear his clothes dawned on me just now, and I felt like sticking my head out the window for the cool air to calm my flushed cheeks. I feel like I’ve been blushing ever since I stepped out of his car, and that was embarrassing. These emotions and thoughts were very unlike me, the last time I remember being like this was when…I had that stupid crush on Yunho. A lump seemed to form in my throat at the sudden thought of Yunho, skin crawling now that I realized I was standing in his best friend’s apartment, very probably about to have a sleepover with him. But Mingi and I were friends, there was nothing weird about hanging out at one’s place and spending the night over too. If it would have been weird or inappropriate, Mingi wouldn’t have brought me over. It was weird to realize just now that I completely trusted him and felt safe around him, not having to wonder whether his motives were genuine or not.

Mingi suddenly appeared in the doorway of his room clearing his throat as he glanced down at the clothes in his hands, “I, uh, I hope these will fit you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled as I walked over, feeling my heart go crazy as it started beating even faster, making me so embarrassed I wanted to hide away for an eternity. Mingi avoided eye contact, which was good because I couldn’t handle it at the moment, as he handed me over the clothes and then led me towards a closed door, turning on the light for me.

“There’s clean towels in the cupboard and some make-up remover too.” When I gave Mingi a questioning gaze, completely forgetting that he liked to wear eye makeup, he quickly scrambled to explain himself, “Oh, you know…sometimes Seonghwa sleeps over and he’s always wearing make-up so he left it here for me, since…I also wear some at times…”

“Right.” I chuckled, feeling silly for having Mingi explain such insignificant thing, but unfortunately, my thoughts had strayed to different scenarios, and I was a little irritated for feeling reassured upon hearing his explanation, “I won’t take long, promise.”

Mingi hummed and I quickly hurried inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind myself hastily as I leaned against it and released a long breath I didn’t realized I had been holding. God, it was becoming more and more difficult to behave like a normal being. There was no reason for my heart to race like this, nor was there any reason to be nervous around Mingi. I was merely spending the night, and it was going to be fun, since we’re friends.

            True to my word, I quickly cleaned up, rather pleased upon seeing so many skincare products in Mingi’s cupboard; it’s always nice when a man takes care of himself and cleans up well. The fact that I had to shower with the body wash Mingi uses, and afterwards wear his clothes that had the familiar scent of the softener he uses was…challenging to digest, but because I didn’t want to spiral into a full-blown panic attack, I decided to ignore it, and analyze it another time—when I was preferably alone and not in Mingi’s bathroom. The grey sweatpants he had given me were, obviously, way too big, but he was thoughtful enough to give me one that had strings and I could tie them securely around my hips, the white t-shirt, as expected again, loose around my body, making me look smaller than I was. I have never felt small before in men’s clothing, and it was contrasting with how I have always looked when wearing Yunho’s clothes.

After having walked out of the bathroom, before I could say much, Mingi stormed past me inside the bathroom too, muttering something about not taking long either and that I could drink some water and snack on the chips he had placed on the coffee table. Deciding to wait for him in the living room, on the sofa, I texted my mother that I would be back in the morning as I decided to sleep over at a friend’s house, purposefully leaving out Mingi’s name as I knew she’d go crazy with her questions. I could only hope she wouldn’t text Seulgi, who knew where I actually was.

Mingi, done in under ten minutes, had a towel around his head—much like when he had showered at my place—and I watched from the sofa with big eyes as he opened the bathroom’s door, humming absentmindedly as he struggled to wear his flip flops. I gulped, unable to stop my eyes from raking over his body as he started towel drying his hair, still oblivious to my insistent staring. He wore khaki-colored sweatpants and a loose grey t-shirts, its sleeves reaching just above his elbows and the end past his waistline. His black tinged nails were rather contrasting against the white towel he had finally lowered from his head, and he jumped when he saw me looking, as if he had forgotten that I was here.

“Hi.” I muttered with a giggle, completely ignoring the fact that I was blushing again. Mingi froze for a second before he grinned widely, shaking the platinum hair out of his eyes. It was still damp as it fell flatly against his head, the ends poking out in different directions at his nape.

“Let’s go to bed?” Mingi suggested, sounding rather unsure as I hummed and stood up, wearing my flip flops as he placed the towel on the back of a chair and then switched off the lights, leading the way to his bedroom as I shuffled after him, heartbeat once again starting to pick up its rhythm. I placed my hands behind my back and fidgeted with my fingers, hoping Mingi wouldn’t pick up on my nervousness as he switched on the bedside lamp, clearing his throat as he turned to face me. For some reason, he couldn’t hold eye contact, and so, I took advantage of that and quickly checked out his room. It was simple, much like the rest of the apartment, with its walls white and floorboards light in color, a black fluffy rug placed under his double-sized bed, which was right across from the door. There was a black closet to the left, with a beanbag pressed to the corner and three guitars lined up against the wall. To the right, however, as you entered his room, was a large desk with equipment that he probably used for recording his songs, notebooks laying open with a half-eaten burger in a plate next to them. A few more pictures were hung up on the wall, but I quickly averted my eyes out of fear of spotting Yunho again.

“Uh, so…” Mingi rubbed the back of his head, looking down at the bed before he sneaked a glance at me, “I could sleep in the living room if you don’t want to share a bed with me.”

“Yeah, that’s cool with me.” I said in a serious tone, watching as Mingi paused for a second, looking surprised that I was about to make him sleep on the sofa. But to my surprise, he said nothing else as he went to pick up his pillow, making me chuckle, “I’m just fucking with you, Mings, you don’t have to sleep on the sofa, it looks uncomfortable for a tall person either way. It’s not my first time sleeping next to a guy, you know…”

Mingi chuckled, trying to hide his face as he turned around, his cheeks slightly flushed, “Ah, right, I forgot you had a dickhead boyfriend that made you hate men—”

“That’s not completely true.” I cut him off, crossing my arms in front of my chest defensively, “I mean, he was a dickhead, but it’s not just his fault, you know.”

It felt weird bashing Yunho all of a sudden, especially since Mingi was unknowingly talking about his best friend. I didn’t want him to say something that he’d regret if he ever were to find out my ex is his best friend, it just didn’t feel right.

“You really think all men are like that, huh?” Mingi raised an eyebrow as he pulled the covers back and plopped down on his bed, bouncing on the mattress as he stared at me expectantly. I gulped and shuffled closer, feeling nervous again as his eyes were glued to my form, perhaps lingering a bit too much on the t-shirt and sweatpants I was wearing. I slowly sat on his bed, struggling to breath regularly as Mingi’s familiar scent was even stronger now, vanilla mixed with something flowery, the softener he used, no doubt. If anyone would’ve told me two months ago that I’d be sharing a bed with Mingi, in his apartment, I would’ve laughed in their face and suggested a visit to the psychic ward. But right now, it was as real as it could get, and I subtly had to pinch my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, or hallucinating in a drunken stupor. But I wasn’t drunk anymore, hadn’t been for a while now, and the shower too made sure to sober me up completely. My alcohol tolerance was pretty good, and the key for me to remain drunk was continuously drinking, once I stopped, an hour tops and I was all sobered up no matter how much I had drunk previously.

“Most are.” I muttered as I shimmied my bare feet underneath the cold covers, hiding them underneath as they always got cold rather quickly. Mingi chuckled as he adjusted himself as well, pulling up the covers to our waists as he turned his head to look over at me. Silence settled over us and I chewed on my bottom lip, watching from the corner of my eyes as his eyes bore into the side of my face as he bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed to be mulling over something as he raised his left hand and rubbed at his chin, pressing his fingers against his lip. Overwhelmed with the memory of his lips pressing so close to mine, I flopped backwards and prayed for the covers of his bed to swallow me up and hand me over to the monster underneath his bed. But that, obviously, didn’t happen as Mingi gulped rather loudly, laying down too on his side as he first adjusted the covers, pulling it up to our chests.

“Well, I suppose we’re both tired.” He whispered and I hummed, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart as the room was suddenly coated into darkness as Mingi switched the lamp off. I released a long breath as quietly as I could as Mingi lay on his back, mirroring my position, as we stared up at his dark ceiling. He raised his hands and intertwined them as he let them rest over his chest, and I raised one arm and placed it over my head as I started twirling a strand of my hair. I couldn’t lay still and I feared Mingi could hear the annoying way my heart was racing, making me feel too warm under the thick covers. His scent was too strong like this, and as I turned my head to the right, facing away from Mingi, I was alarmed to find the pillow smelling strongly of the guy laying next to me in bed. Mingi sighed, although I suppose he meant to do it silently as he stuttered mid-breath and paused, making me chew on my bottom lip as I tried not to laugh. Everything about this was so awkward, it made my skin crawl as I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know,” I spoke up, voice shaky for some reason, and I felt Mingi’s head turn as he looked at me despite the darkness of the room, “I never asked why your band name is Noir Zenith.”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Mingi chuckled, making me raise my eyebrows as I turned my head to look at him, “you were too busy shitting on me to care about something so insignificant.”

“I—that’s not—” I groaned and Mingi snickered as I closed my eyes, pressing the heel of my palm into them, “Okay, you’re right. And that was rather assholey of me, so—now I’m genuinely interested.”

“Wow,” Mingi breathed, grinning from ear to ear as I opened my eyes, finding his beaming with something I couldn’t exactly understand, “you actually admitted to being an asshole to me?!”

“I’m not saying it again, so savour it while you can, pretty boy—” Massive fuck. The silence that settled upon us again was mortifying and I turned my head away, contemplating about rolling out of his bed and walking myself over to the sofa to sleep on for the night. I couldn’t face Mingi, and maybe it was better as his tone was laced with smugness and excitement.

“Pretty boy, huh?” He snickered, and I groaned loudly for him to hear, “First you admit I’m hot, then that I’m somewhat attractive, and now that I’m a pretty boy?! I feel like I’m living every man’s dream over here—”

“I think I have asked you a question, Song Mingi.” I snapped as I turned to lay on my side to face him, eyes narrowed at a smirking Mingi, only making him look smugger than he was before, “Don’t change the subject.”

“It’s a little hard when a gorgeous girl calls me pretty boy—” I groaned loudly, pressing my hands against my ears as Mingi started cackling, kicking his legs as if he was a little boy. My eyebrows furrowed as I gave him an incredulous look, making him giggle as he suddenly turned onto his side too, coming face to face with me. I gasped quietly, our faces just a little bit too close for comfort, but Mingi quickly shuffled slightly backwards, making me release a quiet breath as my heart was racing for the nth time at this point tonight.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Mingi grinned as his left hand settled between us, laying palm down against the mattress. I could only hope he didn’t notice my eyes linger on his painted nails as his fingers were ring free for the first time since we’ve known each other, “As you might have realized, I’m the founder of the band, and despite Seonghwa, Wooyoung and I being a team, I knew what I wanted my band’s name to be before I even met them.”

I hummed as I listened closely to Mingi, resting my hands underneath my head, completely ignoring the fact that the pinkie of my right hand was lightly brushing against Mingi’s forefinger, “Noir means black in French, right? And thus, I associate it with darkness and pain, yearning for something you no longer have, loneliness, and fear. Zenith, meanwhile, means the highest point reached in the heavens by a celestial body or simply a culminating point. In the context of our band’s name, however, I use it as the highest point of when you feel hurt, when the darkness gets to you, the point where it feels like there’s no return anymore, that nothing and nobody can help you anymore. The first song I ever wrote—you know it, you’ve heard it—is the lowest I’ve ever been. Ever since then, after experimenting enough, I have realized I am inspired most at my highest—or maybe some would say lowest—points, no matter what I’m feeling. I write best when I’m feeling the most…is basically what I’m trying to say. I hope I’m making sense; this is the first time besides my friends that someone’s asked what the name means…”

I took a deep breath and slowly released it, feeling an immense warmth spread through my chest, close to the feeling of adoration and admiration. I gulped, pondering whether I should do what my body desired to do, and in the end, the intrusive thoughts won over as I slowly sneaked my palm over the back of Mingi’s hand, holding onto it gently, “It makes sense, I know what you’re saying.”

I kept my eyes on our hands as I felt warm all over, too shy to suddenly look at Mingi as he lowly hummed, flipping his hand around to interlace our fingers, “When my emotions get too overwhelming, I grab my sketchbook, or a canvas, and start painting. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling, the point is to empty my mind and let through whatever it is I’m experiencing. My goal, mostly, is to numb my mind and silence my thoughts.”

“Do you often feel overwhelmed?” Mingi’s voice was quiet, shaky a bit and my eyes snapped up, taking in his face as he was biting his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed. He looked troubled, but somehow serene at the same time, like he was thinking of something he couldn’t make sense of yet.

“Yes.” I chuckled and shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing circles against his knuckle, “My mind is a mess at all times, Mings, it takes a lot to silence it. Especially when I’m dealing with emotions that I don’t know how to navigate. I’m afraid of feeling too much because I fear it will consume me, turn me headless, and make me fall deeper into that feeling, blinding me to the faults of the other person.”

“You’re afraid to fall in love.” Mingi whispered and I gulped, never having said it out loud before, but also never having had anyone else point it out. Not even Seulgi, who knew me like the back of her hand. I nodded, our gazes meeting as Mingi had an understanding look in his eyes, as if he knew the feeling.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid of many things.” I muttered, lightening the atmosphere as Mingi chuckled, giving a squeeze to my hand as I hid my face in the pillow, giggling quietly.

“I knew you were just trying to impress people with your fearless bravado.” Mingi teased, narrowing his eyes playfully as I scoffed.

“But I am fearless, it seems like you don’t know me too well.” I raised my eyebrows at Mingi as he gasped, feigning hurt, “Impressing others is the last thing on my mind.”

“Perhaps,” Mingi hummed, suddenly turning serious and making my cheeks heat up with the intense way he was looking at me, “but you certainly know how to leave an impression on someone.”

I paused, mouth opening to say something, but I found myself speechless. Instead, I felt myself blush harder, and I was thankful for the darkness as I knew Mingi couldn’t see the degree of my deep blush despite being close to my face, “Also, you’ve started calling me Mings. I actually love that nickname; Yunho sometimes calls me that.”

Yunho. Something coiled deep in my heart again as the lump was back in my throat and I hummed, gently untangling our hands as I turned back onto my back, running my fingers through my hair. Mingi didn’t move, eyes boring into the side of my face with a confused look in his eyes. I tried not to withdraw myself, but it was hard when I was reminded that the two were best friends, “The little dirt you always have on your cheekbone when you perform—”

“It’s my signature!” Mingi groaned loudly, flopping back onto his back like a child as he kicked with his legs again. I chuckled and bit my lower lip, suddenly realizing that teasing him was rather hilarious.

“It says ‘Fix on’, why?” I giggled as I interlaced my hands behind my nape, resting my head on them.

“Ah, so you have seen it?” Mingi paused for dramatic effect and I nodded, curious to hear his answer, “Well, it’s a lot sillier than the name of our band. I suppose it’s something I wish for others to do, to focus on me when I’m up on the stage, to fixate on me, you know?”

“Sounds like something you’d want, yes.” I muttered, and felt Mingi painlessly kick at my ankle under the convers, making me laugh, “What? You love attention, Mingi, and you can’t even deny it.”

“Well, fine.” Mingi huffed and I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes to see him pouting, “Is that so bad?!”

“Of course not,” I chuckled, turning my head as I fought the glare of my face as my thoughts wandered back to the chick that’s been all over him all night long, “except when you can’t set clear boundaries with your baboons, you know?”

A laugh bubbled past Mingi’s lips, shaking him as my eyebrows furrowed, not finding what I said funny at all, “I still can’t believe you call our fangirls baboons.”

“It’s what they are.” I muttered under my breath with a grimace, turning my head as Mingi suddenly turned his to face me.

“Well, they are nice and they’ve actually helped us become more well-known,” Mingi explained, sounding rather grateful, making me feel bad that I couldn’t stand them, “So, I’m grateful to them.”

“Especially to the blonde one that always clings to you—” I realized my slip up when it was already too late as I felt Mingi press up onto his elbow, leaning a bit over my body as I refused to look at him.

“Doll, besides knowing her name and what she looks like, I have no idea who she is.” He said, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes bore into mine, “And I have no intentions of getting to know her past that level. Like you said, boundaries exist, and I’ve made mine clear with her.”

“That’s why she dies at the sight of you, and is all over you whenever she can.” I huffed and Mingi sighed, reaching out with his left hand as he adjusted my hair, making me freeze.

“I don’t like her.” Hearing him say that made my heart skip a beat, and I averted my eyes, feeling rather pleased to hear him say that, “She’s not the type of girl I’m into.”

I wanted to know what type of girls he was into, but before I could let my tongue slip up again, I nodded wordlessly and searched for a clock. It was on his desk, facing us, and my eyes slightly widened when I realized it was close to 3am, “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Sure.” Mingi whispered, smiling slightly as he settled back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I slithered my arms underneath the covers, closing my eyes. It was silent in the room once again, not awkward at all anymore, yet it felt like there was room to say more. I wanted to say more, but I was afraid I would say something that I wasn’t ready yet to voice. What would Yunho think if he knew I was with his best friend? Worst of all, what will Mingi say if he finds out I’m Yunho’s ex? I was scared of both answers, and until I was completely ready to face the consequences of my own actions, I would stall and enjoy my limited time with Mingi. My gut feeling told me it wouldn’t last for too long, the good and happy, it never did. The thoughts weighted heavy on my mind and I released a long sigh at the same time as Mingi, making the ends of my mouth curve up. Seems like I wasn’t the only one plagued with late night thoughts, unable to go to sleep just yet. Deciding that it wouldn’t work with my head so full and my skin still buzzing from being this close to Mingi, in his clothes, in his bed, surrounded by his familiar scent, I sat up abruptly.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” I had barely finished my sentence as Mingi’s eyes flew open, looking at me with a borderline desperate expression, “Kitchen raid?”

“Kitchen raid.” I nodded and showed him a thumbs up as we hurriedly got out of bed, apparently making it a race of who would reach the kitchen first as Mingi failed to wear his flip flops, rushing after me as I yanked his door open with a giggle, and toppled outside as he tried to yank me back by the t-shirt I was wearing. Knocking into my side—but gently—Mingi passed me and cackled mockingly as he reached the round table first, giving me a smug look.

“Did you think you could race me in my own apartment and win?” For a second, I saw Yunho in him as he stood grinning as if this victory meant anything. Yunho was insanely competitive, making everything a game while we were together, often times exhausting me with them; they weren’t my favourite activity. Suddenly, the room was flooded with light as Mingi switched it on.

“What do you have, pretty boy?” I decided to speak up and ignore his teasing, pushing thoughts of Yunho to the back of my mind as a thoughtful look crossed Mingi’s face.

“Well, if you’re hungry we can whip up some eggs or like make a sandwich?” He rubbed the back of his head, not looking too confident, “Or, uh, maybe we could drink something?”

“As long as it’s not alcohol, sure, I’m not hungry either way.” I said as I walked further inside the kitchen, making Mingi’s eyebrows furrow as he turned and walked towards the sink, opening the cupboard above it. He rummaged around and I decided to sit on the counter, swinging my legs as I placed my hands underneath my thighs.

“I have hot chocolate!” Mingi exclaimed in triumph, and I chuckled as he turned around with a grin, holding two plastic bags containing chocolate powder.

“I’d like one serving then, kind sir.” I bowed my head mockingly, making Mingi’s eyebrows raise.

“You’re rather generous with nicknames tonight, Y/N.” He gave me a teasing look as I rolled my eyes, “Is it just the alcohol talking, perhaps?”

“I’m not drunk, Mingi.” I chuckled, watching him move around the kitchen, grabbing mugs and pouring water into them to heat up, “I have a high tolerance.”

“But you were drunk when you were dancing with that guy.” Mingi muttered, grimacing as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I was tipsy, and I quite enjoyed dancing with Chan before you decided to bother us.” I pursed my lips, giving him a pointed look as he stole a glance at me while placing the mugs in the microwave to heat the water up.

“I don’t have whipping cream.” He said as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the microwave hummed quietly. I couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how I liked serving my hot chocolate.

“It’s fine, I think it would be too sweet right now.” I said as Mingi nodded, his gaze becoming intense again as he watched me sit on his counter. I cleared my throat and looked away, pulling my hands from underneath my thighs to cross them over my body in a comforting manner.

“Well, when guys usually dance with you, they want something more too, you know?” Mingi’s voice had dropped a few octaves, and I looked over with narrowed eyes as the microwave dinged.

“Then do you want something more from me too?” I fired back, giving him a displeased look, “You danced with me too, not just Chan.”

Mingi froze as he had just opened the microwave’s little door, eyebrows furrowing as he shot me an unimpressed glance, “What I wanted was for you to be safe and not taken advantage of, Y/N.”

I gulped, suddenly feeling guilty as Mingi looked slightly hurt by my assumption as he took the mugs from the microwave, and closed the little door a little harsher. I couldn’t help but remember the near kiss, and wonder if he hadn’t done it because he thought I was drunk. I bit my bottom lip as I sighed, watching Mingi’s back as he poured the powder into the warm water.

“I—I didn’t mean to assume anything like that, I’m sorry.” I spoke up, licking my lips as Mingi still hadn’t faced me despite reaching for a teaspoon to stir our drinks, “I know you wouldn’t take advantage of me and were only looking out for me, but Chan was just happy to meet someone that was his senior and shared his major.”

Mingi turned as he grabbed the mugs and then approached me, “I guess we have both overreacted tonight, then.”

“Yes.” I chuckled and took the mug he handed me, “Thank you.”

We took a sip of our hot chocolates in unison, humming at the sweet taste bloomed on our tastebuds, giving each other a pleased nod as I took one more sip, blowing on it slightly as it was too warm, “Since we’re already speaking about it, what did you think of our performance?”

I lowered the mug from my lips and watched as Mingi took another sip, a rather large one, not afraid of burning his tongue, “I think you were really good, all three of you. Like I have once said before, the three of you work well together, your voices blending in a way I haven’t heard before. It’s really beautiful, actually, you capture your audience since the very first note you play.”

Mingi hid the huge smile stretching onto his lips behind his mug, averting his eyes shyly, “What did you think of the lyrics? I’ve written the song around two years ago.”

It was my time to look away shyly, my quick heartbeat not foreign anymore at this point, “They were—poetic, almost. I find your lyrics deep and—genuine, like anyone could relate to it, and I think that’s not something you achieve easily. But I mean, what do I know, I’m just a fine arts major.”

Mingi chuckled as he took another sip of his hot chocolate, and then placed the mug on the counter, resting his left hand close to my knee as he leaned his hip against the edge of the surface. I took a small sip as I tried to stop my eyes from checking him out again, but it seemed rather hard as this was the first time I’ve seen Mingi in casual clothing, looking comfortable, and rather soft. It was weird, but somehow, he looked really good, and I felt myself flush at my own thoughts, averting my eyes as Mingi raised an eyebrow questioningly, “I appreciate all feedback, music major or not, after all, you are also part of my audience. And what matters to me most, is how my audience perceives my music and lyrics, if the message I want them to hear goes through.”

“Don’t fret over it so much, Mings.” I chuckled, holding the mug with both hands as I lowered it into my lap, “The crowd loves you, and it was pretty packed down there tonight. You’ll make it big one day, have more faith in yourself.”

Mingi bit his bottom lip, his hand lightly brushing against my knee, “Hongjoong is a very influential person in our world, he’s even composed music before, so sometimes he stops by to help. He’s working on signing us up with a record deal, actually.”

“What?!” I exclaimed excitedly, eyes widening as Mingi fought a grin off his lips by licking them, “That is amazing, Mingi!”

“Yeah, I finally feel like I’m headed somewhere with my life.” He whispered abashed, looking down at the floor as I smiled widely, feeling happy for him. It was nice to see him so happy and excited for what was to come, coming to the sudden realization that I hated seeing Mingi hurt and mad—especially if he felt like that because of me. I didn’t want him hurting because of me, that’s not what friends do.

“I think you looked very hot tonight.” And once again, I blurted out something I didn’t mean to. Mingi’s head snapped up as he looked at me, eyes widening just a little as his eyebrows slightly twitched, he looked like a puppy somehow, it was almost alarming, “I mean, uh, your costume—it was really edgy. You know, giving rockstar vibes and whatnot.”

Mingi hummed, looking down as I took a large sip of the hot chocolate, licking my lips and averting my eyes as Mingi looked back up at me with a thoughtful look on his face. His eyebrows had slightly furrowed now, bottom lip between his teeth, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on the soft looking skin. My heart had started racing for some unknown reason again as I looked back up into his eyes, gulping upon seeing Mingi’s sharp eyes become more intense, more determined that they were a second ago. My fingers tightened around the mug as I cleared my throat, waiting to see what Mingi would do next. He licked his lips and his eyes fell a little lower on my face before he slightly stepped closer, his hand pressing into my knee now, “I really want to kiss you right now, Y/N.”

I froze, feeling my muscles stiffen as he voiced his desire, my heart racing beyond the point of return, making me feel warm despite wearing a t-shirt—his t-shirt. I gulped and bit my lower lip, eyes searching his face for any signs of amusement or joke, but he was dead serious. And I was dead serious too as I pushed away all doubts and prejudices, voice breathy as our gazes bore into each other’s, “Then kiss me.”

The mug barely touched the surface of the counter when Mingi’s large palms cupped my cheeks, his eyes switching between my right and left one as I gulped, tilting my head back just a little bit. I felt nervous but excited at the same time, and my lips parted as Mingi’s lips pulled into the tiniest smile, before he finally closed the distance between our faces. His lips were warm, and soft—plush as they were slightly plumper than mine, pressing against mine gently, softly as if he didn’t want to scare me away. I appreciated his gesture big time, hearing my own heartbeats in my ears as I grabbed the sides of his t-shirt, needing to anchor myself in something. Mingi seemed to grow more confident as I pressed my lips back against his, more determined and less soft as he had been at first, his lower lip slotting between mine perfectly as I latched onto it, sucking it between my lips, making Mingi exhale through his nose, his grip on my cheeks turning firmer. My own hands released his t-shirt in order to travel up his back, gently tracing his firm muscles through his t-shirt, so that my arms could settle around his shoulders. Mingi’s right hand pressed into my lower back as I allowed him to guide me lower on the counter, welcoming him between my legs as our bodies pressed flushed together, our warmth mingling with each other as Mingi’s scent was the only thing I could smell on me and around us.

His lips tasted like mint, mingled with hot chocolate as they lazily moved against mine, taking his time to savor the kiss instead of turning it rushed and messy as I had expected him to kiss. Not that I wondered often what Mingi kissed like, but that didn’t matter anymore as this was the real deal. My skin tingled anywhere he touched, and I was grateful that I was sitting on the counter as my knees would’ve gone weak when he held the side of my neck, thumb stroking my chin every time our lips moved, covering my skin in goosebumps. I leaned up as much as I could, allowing Mingi to tilt my head back more by the hand he had on my neck, my fingers tangling into the soft platinum strands brushing against his nape. A sigh left his lips at the motion, and I nipped at his bottom lip as I felt my body awaken with a fire I have never felt before. Nobody’s kissed me like this before, so gently yet passionately at the same time, just wanting to feel everything and savour the moment for as long as possible. My hands trembled as I chased after his lips when he dared pull back even the slightest bit, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth as I bit down it, but not to the point it was hurtful, feeling painted fingernails dig into my lower back through the fabric.

Mingi’s nose nuzzled against mine as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against my lips, making my heart swell and almost explode out of my chest as I pulled him even more into myself, to the point it was turning painful. I was sure he could feel my heartbeat against his own chest as it was frantic and making me struggle to intake any air, but that was also Mingi’s doing as he was stealing away every breath I tried to inhale. My knees locked him into place as I squeezed them against his hips, prompting Mingi’s lips to press harder against mine, more insistently. It felt like every single emotion that we tried to suppress and hide, suddenly came to the surface, speaking volumes as our lips struggled to find an even rhythm again, growing hotter and a little more rushed, desire blossoming in both of our chests. My lungs had started begging for air, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull back, to pull away from Mingi, my body welcoming him in like no one before, my mind silent for the first time when I was around someone. There were no questions or doubts running through my mind, just the endorphins that came from kissing the man I have started to adore. Finding it hard to breathe too, Mingi pulled back just barely, his lips pressing more kisses against mine as our chests heaved, trying to inhale in air, our breaths meddling as we breathed in each other’s oxygen. I felt warm all over, jittery and giddy, as Mingi’s forehead pressed against mine, making me exhale shakily as our lips brushed against each other’s just barely. He was breathing through his lips hard, both hands cupping my cheeks again as he gently rubbed his thumbs against my flushed skin.

I tried to find peace again and calm my erratic heartbeats, my eyelashes fluttering open as my gaze ran over Mingi’s elated expression, bottom lip between his teeth before he was breathing through his lips again. I admired the beauty of his perfectly shaped face, naturally sun-kissed, scars from his acne faded, some new ones redder. His tall nose looked sharper from up-close and the tip slightly turned more to the side, his cheeks flushed probably as much as mine. His mole underneath his eye was more visible now that he didn’t have any makeup on, and before I could talk down myself, I leaned my chin up and pressed a soft kiss against his beauty mark, Mingi’s breath catching in his throat. I smiled and cupped his cheeks too, his eyes fluttering open as I couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Mingi’s brown eyes were warm and shone with a glimmer that wasn’t there before, slightly teary, but before I could get worried over it, he chuckled as he pressed another chaste kiss against my lips. I smiled widely and nuzzled our noses together, feeling joy flood my body like never before.

“I don’t know about you,” Mingi whispered, voice deeper and raspier, “but I am actually sleepy now.”

I chuckled and released Mingi’s face, feeling a little disappointed when he did the same to me, “Actually, me too.”

And it wasn’t a lie, I could feel the lack of sleep finally catch up to me as Mingi’s hands rubbed at my knees for a second before he pulled back, grabbing our unfinished hot chocolates as he walked towards the sink. I hopped off the counter as he quickly washed them, drying his hands in his sweatpants as he turned to face me. I knew my cheeks were still flushed, and I feared it wouldn’t go away for a while now as my lips tingled from Mingi’s kisses, body yearning for his warmth and comforting scent. All I wanted was to curl up against his chest and hug him until he became fed up with it, wanting to feel his lips against my skin as he whispered sweet nothing into my hair, into my ears. Alarmed by my own sudden desires, I marched towards the bedroom, Mingi following after me as he flipped the light switch.

My actions were hurried as I swiftly climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin as I lay on my side, my back to Mingi as he settled in beside me, a lot calmer than me. I gulped, feeling the silence stretch on, not awkward but too silent, almost as if we should have said something. I pondered whether I should speak up and bring up the kiss, question what it meant for us, but Mingi suddenly started giggling, it becoming muffled as if he had pressed his hands against his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” I found myself asking, feeling the corners of my mouth tug up as Mingi’s deep giggles continued.

“I—” He paused, sucking in a deep breath as he made me silently laugh, “I fell on the stage, tonight. But it was dark, so nobody saw but Seonghwa.”

I couldn’t help but laugh loudly as I pressed my face into the pillow that smelled completely like Mingi, “You’re an idiot, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“No, I could’ve completely fell on Seonghwa’s drums and ruined the performance!” His words made the both of cackle like mad people, chests shaking with laughter, and tummies hurt by the time we managed to calm down. Mingi became quiet as I chuckled one last time, mouth hurting from how widely I was smiling. Mingi took a deep breath and released it slowly, probably finally settling down, determined to sleep, “Good night.”

“Good night.” My voice was quiet and small, and I gnawed on my lower lip as I braced myself for what I was about to do. Mustering up the last pieces of my courage, I suddenly turned and raised up onto my elbows, Mingi’s eyes flying open in fright as he didn’t expect my sudden movement. I leaned over him as he was laying on his back, and pressed a swift kiss against his lips, his eyes wide as I pulled back before he could turn it into more. I quickly rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, squeezing my eyes shut as all I wanted to do was scream and kick my legs, my heart hammering like crazy against my ribcage, cheeks on fire. I felt Mingi move around too, the quietest cough, and then the soles of his feet pressing against mine, making me fight against all demons in my body to lay still and will my heart to stop beating so God damn fast.

『Not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned

I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire』

❱❱ Next chapter

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^