#is tagging my top three cheeky? maybe

[sycamoreesc]

It's finally time: My first ever upload! Today I'm listing my top 36 of 2024's Eurovision Song Contest. I encourage you to go over there and leave a like and comment if you can

Before I start, I want to point out that I have not included Israel in a protest of their inclusion in this year's contest despite the ongoing conflict, for sending an extremely political act, and for the way their delegation behaved during the week of ESC. In case it means anything to anyone, I would have ranked the song pretty close to last anyway, because it is a pretty boring, middle of the road ballad. Eden has a lovely voice but the song was just not for me anyway. It would have placed near the bottom even if there were no issues with their participation.

Also remember!! These are all just my opinions! Please don't take me too seriously, and I'd love to hear anyone else's opinions as well ❤️

On with the show! I will go from my least favourite to my favourite.

36. Before the Party's over by Mustii for Belgium

Starting off with a controversial one, because I know how many people loved this song and hyped it up before the contest, but it absolutely did not live up to the hype. I'd say it's a fine song in studio, but Mustii just could not sing it live. I do like the ending when everything comes together, but at the same time, he is just shouting the same words over and over again. I'm also judging the whole song, and the build up to that moment, i.e. 3/4 of the song, just isn't worth it for me. So, with apologies to all the Mustii stans, I had to put this last.

35. Özünlə apar by Fahree ft. Ilkin Dovlatov for Azerbaijan

I always love when acts feature their culture in their songs, which Ilkin brings to this song through his vocalisations (not sure what they're called, please forgive me). Unfortunately, that's all it really has going for it. It's pretty boring to me, and I feel like I'm constantly waiting for it to explode into a power ballad, but it just never gets there. And other than that, there really isn't that much to say about this song. I do commend Fahree for sending the first song with Azerbaijani lyrics, though; I love when countries send songs in their own languages.

34. Dizzy by Olly Alexander for the UK

Like many other brits, I have had high hopes for us since Sam Ryder in 2022. But this is just so.... meh. That's the only way I can describe it. It's a very radio-friendly soft pop song, which is fine, but that's it. I also did not like how sexual the staging was either. The anti-gravity box thing was pretty innovative though, and I enjoyed how the dancers made it really feel like gravity was changing around Olly. But that's not really about the song. I remember being really excited when Olly was announced as our artist because I liked a lot of Years & Years stuff, and then being really disappointed when I heard the song for the first time after seeing people on social media hyping it up.

33. Sand by Saba for Denmark

This is another song that is just fine. There's nothing in it that stirs any kind of emotion within me. It's a fine song and that's about it. I genuinely don't know what else to say about it. I liked that Saba had some glittery sand at the beginning of the song to emphasise some of her movements, and I kinda wish they'd figuered out a way to keep sand in the staging for the whole song.

32. The Tower by Luna for Poland

This is interesting for me, because I remember liking it back in May, but I haven't really listened to it since, and listening to it again for this ranking, it just wasn't doing anything for me. I think Luna struggled a little bit with her breath control, but the song itself is fine. I like the chess theme they had going on, but I don't think I really understand why they chose that. Maybe someone can help me understand the significance.

31. Titan by Besa for Albania

I've heard a lot of eurofans say that this song was a lot better in the original Albanian, and of course I always love to see more languages included in Eurovision, but I actually haven't listened to the original, so that has no pull on me. I liked this song, but it's not something I could listen to a lot. The first half is a bit iffy for me, I think because I'm not a big fan of ballads, but I do love a good power ballad, so when we got to the second half, it got more interesting for me. Also, I liked the verse being more of an r&b style. Overall, it's an alright song that gets better as it goes along.

30. Hollow by Dons for Latvia

Ok please don't hate me, Dons has an incredible voice and he deserved to be in the final, but this song is just not for me at all. Like I said before, ballads aren't really for me, so this suffers a similar fate to Titan. I found it pretty boring until the final third of the song when it becomes more powerful. I also thought the staging was a bit lackluster. I know ballads are normally sung with minimal staging, but just having the big circle made me feel like it was missing something. Or maybe that was the point, it is called 'hollow' after all. Also I couldn't take it seriously because of his blue body armour, I'm sorry 😭

29. Scared of Heights by Hera Björk for Iceland

This is a bop and I like listening to it. It's also incredibly generic. Hera is a Eurovision icon and I love her glittery golden jumpsuit, but I feel like the staging was a bit empty for such an upbeat song; some dancers really would have suited this performance in my opinion. I wish I could come up with something more to say but that's literally it, and that's why I can't put it any higher.

28. Fighter by Tali for Luxembourg

Luxembourg has come back fighting (haha) with this song. I think it's a good song and I liked the staging, too. Unfortunately, it just simply doesn't evoke any strong feelings for me, so I would feel like I'd be lying to myself if I put it higher on this list. That doesn't mean it's a bad song though, and I did enjoy the little fast bits after the main chorus (I'm so sorry I don't know the terminology for that, but I hope you know what I'm on about).

27. Mon Amour by Slimane for France

Before you get mad at me, just know I recognise that Slimane has an inredible and powerful voice, and this song is a lovely love ballad. However, as I've mentioned a couple of times, ballads aren't my thing. I think I'm picky with them, because I do have a couple higher up, but Mon Amour is not one I particularly enjoy. Also, as someone who is autistic and struggles with eye contact, his consistent eye contact with the camera was extremely uncomfortable for me, and I have to look in any other direction to avoid his gaze. I do recognise that that's a me problem, though. Overall, beautiful ballad, just not for me.

26. Loop by Sarah Bonnici for Malta

Only just making it into my personal grand final is a great girlbop for the ages. I wasn't super impressed with this song back in May, but rewatching and relistening to it for this list, I couldn't help but dance along. It's really catchy in a good way, and I understand why people were annoyed or shocked that it didn't get to the final. The reason it's down here is because it's just not something I would regularly listen to. It's good, but not great, for me anyway. Sarah's voice is impressive, and so is her dancing, but in general, I'm not much of a fan of interrupting the song for a dance break that takes up a big chunk of it's run time.

25. Liar by Silia Kapsis for Cyprus

From one girlbop to another. I think that Liar got a lot of flack back in May because it got through to the final while Loop didn't. However, in my opinion, Liar is a better song. I like the beat and the cadence of the song, and Silia has proven she's an excellent performer despite only being 17. Having that kind of breath control while doing all that jumping about is pretty impressive. It also suffers the dreaded dance break interruption, but I find it less intrusive than Loop's because it's much shorter.

24. In The Middle by Natalia Barbu for Moldova

I really like this song. It's got a nice aura to it, I like the violins mixed with modern pop beats, and Natalia has a very strong voice. The chorus, while obviously lacking in lyrics, is very catchy and I genuinely enjoy singing and clapping along. The almost operatic chorus at the end caught me a bit off guard, but I wouldn't say it was unwelcome. I also liked the violin break. The only bad thing is that it's just not really that interesting of a song.

23. Zorra by Nebulossa for Spain

Another pure bop from this year, and I completely understand why everyone chants along with the chorus. It's a really well produced pop song and I love the story it tells about reclaiming this word. While I understand that some poeple in Spain thought it was a bit controversial, and also tell me if I'm missing to point here, but to me it's like english-speaking people reclaiming the word slut which I've seen many people doing online in the past couple of years, which I don't take issue with. Anyway, back to the song. I think it's fun and a great song to dance along to. Also, am I the only one who wanted to give those dancers a coat? Their butts must be so cold! 😭

22. Always on the Run by Isaak for Germany

I enjoy this song a lot, though it does seem a little derivitive of artists from the late 2010s like Rag'n'Bone Man. That doesn't make this a bad song, though, just a bit dated. I think Isaak has a great voice; he has the ability to make his voice sound very smooth and soft, to gravelly and rough, which really suits this kind of song. The staging is also simple but effective, with Isaak being in a box for the first two thirds of the song, but coming out of this box for the breakdown and final chorus, which I really enjoy the symbolism of. It's a great song overall, and I still listen to it occasionally.

21. We Will Rave by Kaleen for Austria

When I first heard this song I thought 'wow this is so 2014' but in a good way. Rave songs like this were pretty popular in the late 00s-early 10s, so this song gives me such nostalgia. I know I was just talking about how Isaak's song felt a bit dated, but We Will Rave is a great example of how to take a genre that isn't heard very often anymore and turn it into something that still hits just as hard in the modern music scene. It's a great track, fun to dance and sing along to, and gives me some of that sweet, sweet nostalgia. It does have an Interrupting Dance Break though, but it feels more forgivable here because the song is literally about dancing and raving.

20. Ramonda by Teya Dora for Serbia

Ramonda is a gorgeous ballad that Teya herself said represents having hope despite feeling at your lowest. I love the use of this flower as it blooms in unlikely places as a metaphor for this feeling. Teya also has a beautiful voice that goes from being very soft and almost dainty at the start, to being incredibly powerful at the peak of the performance. I mentioned in the paragraph I wrote about Hollow, that while ballads tend not to have much staging, there's still a way to stage a ballad well, and I think this song shows that. The rocks in the middle feel like they are surrounding Teya at the beginning and making her feel small, but by the end she is triumphantly standing taller than them as the ramonda flower blooms from them, which is excellent storytelling in itself, and also using the smoke machine and the lights to look like clouds and lightning was a brilliant effect. The reason Ramonda is only 20th in my list is because, as I've said, ballads aren't for me, so I didn't really connect with this, although I do appreciate the story being told. It's a beautiful ballad, but I would most likely skip it if it came up in my playlist.

19. Pedestal by Aiko for Czechia

I was really disappointed back in May when this song didn't get through to the final. I really enjoy pop rock like this and I enjoy the message in the song, to learn to put yourself first. Singing along to the chorus of this song is a lot of fun. I understand why they did it due to the story of the song, but the interruption to the argument did take me out of it a bit. It's a fun pop rock song that is pleasing to my ears, but it is also a little generic, and I struggle to connect with songs about relationship issues due to being aro myself. Obviously I do still enjoy the song a lot though.

18. One Milkali (One Blood) by Electric Fields for Australia

This is song is just so much fun and I resent anyone who thinks otherwise! /lh I remember being sad that this song didn't get to the finals, but rewatching the performance, I can see that Zaachariaha did have a bit of difficulty reaching the big notes. I also love their use of the digeridoo, as it's not something you see (or hear) everyday in pop music, although I'm not sure if it was implemented in a very seamless way. It just seemed a bit out of place, but maybe that's just because I'm not used to hearing it. In any case, the song is a lot of fun, I love the music, I love the message, and I just really like it to be perfectly honest. It's right up my street.

17. Firefighter by Nutsa Buzaladze for Georgia

Nutsa's vocals are so amazing. Very strong and powerful! Firefighter is a great song and she really sells it with how she nails her whole performance. The song itself is catchy and energetic, and you're really sucked into it when you listen to it. The live performance does have a dance interruption, but it feels more natural due to it happening right after the intro before the song proper starts. I also really love the sound of violins that can be heard before the final chorus when Nutza isn't singing; it really adds a kind of ethnic vibe to the song which I feel elevates it a lot.

16. Grito by iolanda for Portugal

This is the highest ranking ballad in my ranking. I love the story and the message of Grito, and iolanda has that kind of voice that kind of voice draws you in and entrances you. Or maybe that's just for me. I love that the song starts a capella, with the music building and building until it reaches that break before her big note that clears her mind, and the music is extremely soft after that, almost inaudible. It's an amazing way to show the chaos that can occur in your mind when you are overwhelmed, and then the peace that comes afterwards. Another example of excellent ballad staging. It's a meaningful ballad that just missed out on my top 15.

15. 11:11 by Megara from San Marino

Going from the highest scoring ballad to the highest scoring non-qualifier. I can't help but love this song. It reminds me of a lot of rock songs I used to listen to as a teenager, but it really sticks out as unique in this year's contest. I love the pink and black aesthetic, I love the cartoons they use, and I love the way Kenzy emphasizes her words with her facial expressions. I love the breakdown with more traditional spanish guitar mixed in with this cool rock sound (according to wikipedia, it's called fucksia rock so... do with that information what you will, I guess). In the performance however, Kenzy seemed to either forget the words or just completely run out of breath at one point, and by the end she was struggling with her breath control, so as much as I do really enjoy this song, I can't put it any higher.

14. Zari by Marina Satti for Greece

I absolutely adore how Marina mixes traditional Greek music with modern pop. It's so up my street it's practically on my doorstep. Zari is a very fun song that I can't help but dance along with, and if I knew any Greek I'm sure I'd be singing along, too. I love that the dances are incorporated into the song, rather than having one long dance break, and incorporating traditional Greek dances too makes me very happy. I love the celebration of Greek culture in this song while maintaining a very modern vibe.

13. La Noia by Angelina Mango for Italy

I'm going to start this one by saying I love the instrument in the back that occurs occasionally throughout the song but I have absolutely no idea what it's called and it's driving me crazy! It's the one that lowkey sounds a bit like a kazoo, if anyone knows what on earth I'm talking about. ANYWAY, the song is great. We seem to be blessed most years with Italy sending very unique songs to the contest. While this is a pop song, I would be hard-pressed to call it generic at all. The chorus just makes you want to move your body, and the break in the song makes you really appreciate Angelina's powerful voice. I think the staging leaves a bit it be desired, but I have to admit, there's something about the way Angelina and her dancers walk exactly on the beat that really tickles my brain. Also I love her huge stomping boots, which seem a bit out of place, but I love them anyway.

12. Unforgettable by Marcus & Martinus for Sweden

This song would not have gotten this far up if the live performance wasn't so much fun. It is a pretty generic pop song about a pretty girl, which seems to be standard for Sweden, but I can't deny that it is a whole bop and a half. I actually tend to skip over the studio version, but like I said, the live performance really sells it. Marcus and Martinus both have great stage presence, and the staging being very digital really fits well with the electronic sound. It's also one of those songs I can sing along to while not being serious at all, and being very dramatic. My favourite part is the breakdown at the end (not sure if breakdown is the right word to use here, but it's the part where the're singing "her love, is dangerous and I know it," etc.); it's a whole lot of fun to sing and dance to. Just great vibes all around.

11. Jako by Ladaniva for Armenia

I was actually surprised that this landed outside of my top 10, but unfortunately I just listen to and connect more with the others more often. That doesn't change the fact that I absolutely love this song to bits! Pure traditional music with a modern twist that is just so enjoyable to listen to. Jaklin is also incredibly charismatic and is clearly very comfortable on stage. She exudes a kind of energy that I can only hope to achieve a fraction of. The whole song is just great fun and a wonderful celebration of Armenian culture. While the chorus is only made of la's, I have to say it works very well with this song, and the whole crowd being able to sing along really helps it to shine. Overall a very unique and fun experience.

10. Ulveham by Gåte for Norway

If you're like me, you will also be questioning... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, EUROPE? For this to only make it to the final by a hair, and finishing dead last in the final with only 14 points is an absolute travesty of the highest proportions. Gunnhild's vocals are absolutely on point, the folk elements mixed with metal works perfectly, the staging was great, with the band rocking around Gunnhild in the middle, who seems to be able to control water with her voice??? How did this score so low? Also juries, you're supposed to be judging objectively, and this performance was objectively brilliant, from the vocals to the staging to the music itself. I have to say, I don't often listen to metal, but the way the folk elements weave so effortlessly in with this song is pretty incredible. If you can't tell, I'm a bit incensed by this whole thing, but at the end of the day I do understand that most voters were pooling all their votes into only like 5 songs, and Baby Lasagna would have hoovered up a lot of votes that would have gone to Ulveham in any other year. Or that's how I'm justifying it anyway.😅 So overall, I really do enjoy this song a lot, I think everything just comes together so well, and the only reason it isn't higher is because metal just does not always agree with my ears.

9. Doomsday Blue by Bambie Thug for Ireland

Doomsday Blue is a masterclass in how to create an incredible Eurovision performance. The way they used the cameras to get the absolute perfoct shots at every angle, the way they used their props perfectly (like with the candles), the tasteful costume change, and the acting performace of both Bambie and the demon all comes together to create a cohesive story and an impressive presentation of it. The song itself is very unique, using very distinct individual styles for the verses and chorus that somehow just works really well. Bambie's vocals are also incredible, being able to perform technical screams to being able to be soft and airy in the chorus, to the power in the last verse. Just like with Ulveham, this would likely place higher in this list if it wasn't for the fact that metal just isn't very accessible for me.

8. (nendest) narkootikumidest ei tea me (küll) midagi by 5miinust & Puuluup for Estonia

This song is so much fun. Folk and traditional instruments mixed with rap? Yes please and thank you very much! Nendest, as I will call it here, is such a bop and anyone who doesn't find themselves bopping along with it is either lying or doesn't know what fun means. /lh I love songs that aren't too serious and yet they have a hidden meaning that is often pretty deep. The meaning in this song is the persecution and false imprisonment of poor people by the police because the police think the poor people are all drug addicts. So I just really enjoy how silly this song is while having that kind of meaning. It's a great compsition and it's performed really well, and I think it deserved to be placed higher than 20th (clearly).

7. Luktelk by Silvester Belt for Lithuania

This is a very unique and catchy song that I can't help but dance along to. I know it's about a relationship, and Silvester is asking them to stay a little longer with him, and I mentioned earlier that songs like that don't tend to resonate with me. However, this song is in Lithuanian so I don't understand what's going on there, and I can focus solely on the music and how Silvester's vocals sound, which I like a lot. The music flows so nicely, it has a fast tempo but it doesn't feel like it's rushing, I like that each line in the verses are punctuated with the double beat, and while there is a dance break, it's incredibly short, and it feels natural to have a break in lyrics in any song that has a similar breakdown before it. I also really love the red and blue colour pallette; the contrasting colours work really well with the concept of being unable to make up your mind, like the phrase 'being in two minds' about something. Overall, the song is great and I listen to it often.

6. No Rules! by Windows95man for Finland

One of my favourite types of songs are those songs that are fun and unserious, that I can be just so overdramatic while singing along to it. And that is exactly what No Rules! is. It's so much fun, and singing Henri's parts really damatically and acting out the dramatic moves is an absolute must when listening to this song. I also love that the music hearkens back to the euro-electropop and eurodance of the late 90s and early 00s (think Blue, Better Off Alone, Around the World or even Barbie Girl), while also not feeling outdated or bland. I also really enjoyed how they staged it; from the overuse of denim (and the jegg), to the creative ways they came up with to conveniently cover up Teemu's privates, it just all comes together in one big silly and overdramatic time.

5. Veronika by Raiven for Slovenia

Completely changing tunes from a silly fun-time song, to a dark and mysterious song about the first persecution of a witch in Slovenia. I was genuinely shocked that this song placed 23rd in the final, on account that it is incredibly unique, well staged, and innovative. Raiven's vocals are perfect (I believe she's a trained opera singer), and she has great stage presence. She really sells the story and I love the use of the dancers to bring an animalistic or possibly even inhuman vibe to the performance. I also really love the choice to bring out the screams at the end of the performance, as in the studio version it's more in the background, and I think bringing them to the forefront really elevates the song in a unique and interesting way. Overall, I really love this song for all it's dramaticism and telling of a Slovenian folk tale.

4. Teresa & Maria by alyona alyona & Jerry Heil for Ukraine.

This is an absolutely gorgeous song about empowerment and taking responibility for who you are and who you become. Jerry's vocals are almost ethereal, and alyona's rap verse complements the song in a very unique way. The whole sound of this song feels like I'm almost having a religious experience; it gives me chills, makes me think, and enraptures me all at the same time. The staging, while simple, is very effective. I particularly love the transition from Jerry plunging her mic into the rock as if it were a sword, to alyona's entrance with her taking a knife out of her hair. I also liked how the camera shook during alyona's verse, as if accentuating the point of the song, and making alyona seem large and powerful. Overall, a brilliant song and composition that I think falls into a lot of people's top 10s, and for good reason.

3. Rim Tim Tagi Dim by Baby Lasagna for Croatia

Before the Baby Lasagna fans come for me for not putting him first (honestly I'm scared of you guys), I want to say I think he would have been an absolutely worthy winner (in fact I think any of my top 5 would have been worthy winners), and I am sad for Croatia that they didn't get that first win, but I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't enjoy the other two more. With that being said, I absolutely adore this song and it makes complete sense to me that it won the televote by a mile. It's a very catchy rock song with sentimental lyrics about leaving your home village in search of a better life. Genuinely, I can't find fault in this song or the performance; Marko's vocals are perfect, his stage presence is great, the traditional costuming is excellent (also I love the doilies on all of the instruments, especially on the drum cymbals), and overall the performance comes together perfectly. The song's ability to connect with the audince is awe-inspiring, and you can see how literally everyone in that arena was dancing along in the break. Overall, I only have one word: incredible.

2. Europapa by Joost Klein for the Netherlands

I'm not going to rehash everything that happened a la Joost's disqualification because frankly everything's already been said, and I don't want this post to get any longer than it needs to be. Anyway, This song is such a love letter to Europe (and of course to his parents), and it's such a fun 3-minute journey. I love all the references Joost makes to different countries and their traditions, and how despite how happy the song is, Joost is singing about how he feels uncomfortable away from home, while celebrating all of these places at the same time. I also love how this song, and all of Joost's music really, is clearly inspired by a lot of the electronic and jumpstyle music that was popular in the 00s; I'm particularly reminded of artists like Scooter and Basshunter, although I know there's a lot more hardcore jumpstyle out there that I was never exposed to. All that to say, this music style is another that feels very nostalgic to me while also not feeling dated. Overall, this is such a great song, a real crowd-pleaser in the best way possible, and just a real fun time all around.

1. The Code by Nemo for Switzerland

You guys have no idea how hyped I was that my favourite song won the contest. I've been watching for as long as I can remember and this has never happened to me before! Where do I even begin with this? I guess first off, I love how Nemo incorporates pop, rap, and opera into one song and somehow it's still coherent as one song. It flows together so easily, you wonder why no one has tried it before (not to my knowledge, anyway). I think Nemo has an incredibly creative brain to be able to pull something like that off. I also love the staging; using the rotating disk symbolises the struggles that we as non-binary people go through while learning to accept ourselves and balancing what is deemed 'appropriate' by society. Eventually, Nemo is able to ride this spinning disk triumphantly as they finally feel like they've figured it out. As they say, they broke the code. Nemo's gnc costume is also amazing, and I love the story that they actually picked out their outfit from random stores in Malmo literally the week of the contest. That kind of chaotic energy really feels like it suits the song and performance. The absolute grip this song had on me in May, and to some extent still now (although rn I'm really obsessed with their new song Eurostar. It's amazing and so different to The Code. If you haven't heard it go do it NOW), was palpable. I couldn't get enough. I felt like it spoke to me on some deep level, and maybe that's because it's a song all about accepting yourself, and as someone who is also nonbinary, and has also found out that they are autistic just this year at the age of 26, accepting myself is a huge part of my journey right now. So maybe it wasn't the European public's favourite, but it will forever leave a big imprint on my soul.

If you've made it this far, you are incredible and I love you as much as a person can love a person over a screen that they don't even know.

If you agreed with anything I said, let me know! If you didn't, also let me know!

Thank you so much for reading my ramblings and watching my video, it means so much 💖

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Raisins and Dates

Summary:

A beautiful stranger catches Hob’s eye during a night out at a bar. Spurred on by his cheeky friends and a fair amount of alcohol, Hob makes his way over to court him through the most daring method possible.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7,874

Square/Prompt: C3 - Bad Pickup Lines |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, First Meeting, Pick-Up Lines, Bad Pick-Up Lines, But they both find it cute so it's okay, Drunkenness, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunken Confessions, Temporary memory loss because of drunkenness, Hangover, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Domestic, Kissing, Neck Kissing, French Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Smut, Eventual Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57613603

—

“Look, I've seen you use pickup lines,” Hob reminded his friends, his words only slurring a bit. It was their first night out in weeks because of conflicting work schedules and they might have gotten a bit enthusiastic at downing shots. “Half of you lot got rejected within seconds of saying them. Pickup lines are…” he furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to remember what adjectives were. “Stupid. The only reason you even attempt them is because that's what people do in bars. But not me. I've seen enough of you crash and burn. I've made up my mind,” he took a drink from his beer bottle. “I'm never gonna use any pickup line.”

It wasn't the most world-changing principle to hold onto, but Hob tended to run his mouth whenever he'd had more than a few drinks, and when his equally drunk friends dared him to get any stranger's phone number with a pickup line, Hob suddenly felt like giving an entire lecture about it.

“You're an idiot, Robbie,” Ken called him by the nickname he knew Hob disliked the most. “You're just saying that ‘cause you know you'll get rejected like the rest of us.”

Frank piped up. “Maybe I'll take you up on that dare, Ken. You think a pickup line would work on that lady in the black shirt?” He nodded over to the bar where a woman with curly hair and a nice smile was talking to a man who had his back to them.

“Oh, honey,” Hal gave Frank a pitying look. “I don't think anything you say would work on someone so out of your league. And it's a tank top, not a shirt.”

“And that guy could be her boyfriend,” Ken pointed with a nacho to the man leaning against the bar.

Hob was about to say something, but whatever it was fled his mind when the man turned around to speak to the bartender.

His face reminded Hob of those Greek statues in museums; lined features on smooth marble, cheekbones so sharp that Hob would willingly risk getting his hand cut if it meant he could touch them.

“I don't think they're dating,” Hob managed to remember what he was about to say, but this time he knew he sounded a bit hopeful.

“Oh?” Hal arched an intrigued eyebrow. “Would you mind confirming for us, darling?”

“Hey,” Frank elbowed Hob. “If you get that bloke’s number with a pickup line, I’ll get the tab for our next three nights out.”

“Now, we’re talking!” Ken piped up.

Hob was barely listening, still staring at the man who had now turned his back again to continue his conversation with the woman. He stood up—to the surprised and slurred cheers of his friends—and made his way over to the bar.

The woman saw him first, meeting his gaze over the man’s shoulder. For a second, Hob was afraid that they really were dating, and the woman was about to drag the man away somewhere else.

But she smiled warmly and said to the man, “I think someone wants to buy you a drink, brother,” nodding in Hob’s direction.

Brother. Hob knew he was already grinning.

The man turned to face him, and Hob’s breath hitched, suddenly realising how close they were to each other. Piercing blue eyes fixed on him, before flicking down to the bottle he still held in his hand.

“I do not think you should buy any more drinks,” the man said, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like raisins?” Hob blurted out.

The man looked at him curiously. “I don’t believe they sell raisins here.”

“Well how do you feel about a date?” Hob said cheekily.

The man’s face showed a combination of surprise and confusion, but he wasn’t walking away and Hob was taking that as a win.

The woman laughed good-naturedly behind her brother and patted him on the back. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow. “You are the one who pestered me to go out tonight, and now you will leave me alone?”

“I'll just be over there by the tables if you need me,” she smiled reassuringly before walking away.

The man turned to Hob again. “Do such lines usually work for you?”

Hob chuckled, leaning against the bar. “Nah. I’ve never even used a pickup line until now. I just heard one of my friends use that one earlier.”

“And did it work?”

“Not at all,” Hob shook his head. “The guy didn’t know that dates were a fruit, and it was just an awkward time with my friend trying to explain the wordplay.”

Amusement twinkled in the man’s eyes, softening his features. “Then why use the same line if it proved ineffective?”

“Had to say something, didn’t I? And we’re having a conversation right now so I’d say it’s effective enough.” Hob grinned and finished the last of his beer, placing the empty bottle on the bar. “Y’know, my friends thought your sister was your girlfriend.” Was that relevant? Hob wasn’t sure, but it was something to say.

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “And that is why you approached me? To settle an argument among your friends?”

“S’no argument,” Hob frowned to try to remember. He hadn’t really been paying attention to the table conversation at the time. “Yeah. I just thought you’re beautiful and I’d regret it for the rest of my life if we never talked,” he chuckled and looked down, sheepishly tugging at his earlobe.

The man had a look of mild surprise on his face. “You are… sincere.”

“What? Well, yeah. Why would I lie about that?” Hob asked in confusion.

“Some people do,” the man gave a half shrug. “It’s why I dislike going to these places,” he muttered, eyeing the crowds.

“Oh,” Hob remembered what this man said about his sister just pestering him to go here tonight. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Um, I can just go back to my friends. If that’s what you want…?”

The man looked at him for a moment, then he opened his mouth to answer—

“Here's your order, sir.” The bartender placed a drink and a small basket of pretzels on the bar. He handed back a credit card.

“Thank you.” The man took the card and turned back to Hob. “Do you like pretzels?”

Hob blinked. He looked at the basket and back at the man. “I— Yeah.”

“Then would you care to join me? I believe we can find a table somewhere.” His eyes seemed to glitter with intent before he gracefully turned and walked away.

Hob could do nothing but follow, determined to find out just what sort of intent the man had in mind.

They sat across from each other at a table, and Hob felt a bit more confident at being invited. “I never caught your name.”

“Finally remembered to ask, didn't you?” the man arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Technically, I still haven't asked,” Hob replied with a cheeky grin.

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched up. “Dream.”

“What?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he heard correctly.

“My name is Dream.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob said, playfully skeptical. “Because you look like a dream?”

“I am telling the truth,” the man’s eyes were twinkling with mirth as he took something out of his wallet, then showed it to Hob.

Hob leaned forward and saw that it was an ID card. “You’re a director?”

“For theatre plays, yes.” The man—Dream—put the ID back in his wallet. “The latest production we’ve done was a retelling of Twelfth Night.”

“Ah, Shakespeare.” Hob must have looked unimpressed, because Dream tilted his head curiously.

“You are not fond of The Bard?”

Hob shrugged. “I’ve always just preferred Christian Marlowe. Though I wouldn’t mind having a Dream for a midsummer’s night,” he winked.

Dream’s lips curved into an amused smile. “It is only the 7th of June, weeks away from midsummer.”

“Well I’d love to see you again then,” Hob said easily, endeared by how Dream knew exactly when midsummer would even be.

“I do not tend to have meetings with strangers,” Dream leaned back in his seat with a playful gaze.

“Oh! My name!” Hob suddenly realised. “Right, sorry.” He got his own ID from his pocket and showed it to Dream. “I’m Hob.”

Dream read it with a curious expression. “Your ID says Robert.”

“Yeah, but my friends call me Hob.” He pocketed the ID again.

“And that is what we are?” There were equal parts intrigue and wonder in Dream’s voice.

“If you’d like…?” Hob said, suddenly unsure what Dream wanted out of this interaction.

Then there was that small smile again, and Hob knew he'd do anything to see it more often. “I would. Hob Gadling.”

The way Dream said his name made Hob’s breath catch in his throat. The soft rumble that came out of those pink lips seemed to caress each syllable as if it were something precious.

“So you’re a manager at a coffee shop?” Dream brought a pretzel to his mouth and his tongue darted out to get it.

Hob tried not to stare too much at that and almost succeeded. “Uh, yeah. I came here to meet up with my mates straight from my shift. I’ve switched jobs a lot, though. I’ve been a handyman, mechanic, even managed a flower shop for a few months.”

“I see. And you enjoy this lifestyle?” The evident interest in Dream’s voice made Hob feel heady.

“I do,” Hob nodded sincerely. “I get to meet different sorts of people, and I learn a lot too. There’s so much to see out there, you know?”

Dream stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments. “But?”

“But… what?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows.

“You seem wistful. Do you wish for a job you haven’t tried yet?”

Hob was so taken aback he felt himself sober up a few degrees. He hadn’t expected to be figured out so quickly and easily by someone he just met.

“I apologise,” Dream said with a concerned frown. “I didn’t mean to ask such a personal question.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hob hurriedly said, willing himself to calm down from whatever facial expression he’d been wearing. “I was just surprised, that’s all. No one’s read me that well before,” he smiled to lighten the mood.

“Perhaps they weren’t interested enough.”

“In my experience?”

“In you.”

Hob felt a warmth in his chest that seemed to reach his ears. He chuckled and glanced down for a moment. “Well, um, I always wanted to be a professor. Got my degree and everything, all that's left is to actually apply but…” he shrugged. “Things were pretty rough a few years ago, and I wasn’t in the right headspace to have a career with that kind of responsibility. So I took on other jobs first, and I guess I just haven’t broken that habit yet.”

Dream nodded. “I see.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, and Hob recognised that curiosity.

Normally he would redirect the conversation; people didn’t like emotional baggage being brought up during what was supposed to just be a night of flirting, but Dream didn’t seem like the type to prefer shallow conversations. And Hob wasn’t either.

“It was a nasty breakup,” Hob said. “I proposed. Turned out that while I was spending weeks looking for the perfect engagement ring, she was planning her breakup speech.” He huffed out a chuckle. “Took a while to pick myself back up.” He reached for a pretzel and ate it just to have something to do. He hadn’t talked about it in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

“I was engaged once,” Dream said, making Hob glance at him. “We had moved to Greece for our jobs. Eventually we realised we were too different, and that the engagement was our last desperate attempt to make things work between us. We broke it off, and I moved back here.” He finished the drink in his glass.

“Ah.” Hob searched for the right words to say. “I didn’t mean to remind you of all that, sorry. And now I feel like a sod complaining about what happened to me,” he chuckled lightly. “You had to move countries and you’re still doing really well in your work.”

Dream shook his head. “Comparing our suffering only compounds it,” he said gently. “Better to focus on what we have now. ‘It’s good to touch the earth with your bare feet,’ as my sister would say,” he gave a small smile.

Hob felt himself smile back. “You said she was the one who dragged you out here tonight, right? I’ll have to thank her for this spontaneous date, then.”

Dream made a huff that was almost a chuckle. “A date? I have not even bought you a drink yet.” He raised a hand to call the attention of a passing waiter. “A glass of vermouth, please. Sweet.” He handed over his empty glass to the waiter and turned to Hob. “And for the gentleman…?”

“Oh, uh, a gin and tonic, please,” Hob told the waiter.

“Right away,” the waiter nodded politely and headed to the bar.

“Hey,” Hob turned to Dream. “I was the one who approached you, I’m the one who should buy you a drink, right?” He had been planning to, but Dream invited him to a table and it took priority in his mind.

“Perhaps you could buy me one on our second date,” Dream smirked playfully. “I believe you said midsummer?”

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” Hob said without thinking. He almost said it was just a joke, but the look in Dream’s eyes was far from disapproving.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and placed them on the table. Dream thanked him without breaking eye contact with Hob.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t.” Dream picked up his glass. “Wait that long.” He took a drink, and Hob’s eyes got drawn to the bob of his throat.

“Are we already planning a second date when the first one isn’t even done yet?” Hob grinned.

“Do you object?” Dream raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Hob said, probably louder than necessary. “Just can’t believe my luck, that’s all.”

They talked over their drinks and pretzels, and Dream turned out to be as good of a talker as a listener. Hob enjoyed listening to his deep voice as Dream told him about the process of reimagining the plays at the theatre, and the cat that he had adopted ever since moving back here, a black Main Coon named Sable. Dream spoke of him with such fondness that Hob almost asked to meet him.

Hob told Dream about his varying work experiences, his realisation that he loved learning new things and meeting all sorts of people, and that was why he couldn’t seem to stay in one job for very long. He talked about how he started buying coffee beans and a coffee maker a few weeks into working at the café because he wanted to experiment with his own recipes, and the regulars who always seemed to cheer up whenever they find a misspelling in their names on the cups, and so Hob sometimes misspelled their names on purpose when they looked like they were having a bad day.

Dream listened, and gave those small smiles that Hob was very nearly getting addicted to. They ordered more drinks, and Hob insisted on paying for some, so Dream paid for chips and then nachos. He encouraged Hob to be a professor on his next career change, and for the first time in a long time, Hob actually considered it.

At some point Hob told the story of his first attempt at making his own espresso drink at home, how he had more confidence than skill and ended up spitting out very expensive ingredients. Dream laughed so brightly that Hob sent a quick message in the groupchat with his friends that he wouldn’t be leaving the bar with them tonight. No matter how this night would end for him and Dream, Hob wanted to spend as much time with him as humanly possible.

***

Hob woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. He groaned and moved to roll to his side, then nearly fell off when his body met what felt like a small table instead of the other side of his bed.

He blinked himself to full consciousness and realised he was on a couch. A fluffy black cat was sitting on the armrest at his feet, regarding him with yellow eyes that shone in the dimness of the living room.

I don't have a cat, Hob’s hungover brain managed.

Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in Hob’s mind. Blue eyes sparkling with mirth. A deep chuckle. Rosy pink lips forming a name.

Hob sat up properly and stared at the cat. “Sable…?” he guessed.

The cat's ears perked up and his tail swished once, his eyes still looking at Hob.

I'm in Dream’s house, Hob realised with awe.

He looked around and took in his surroundings.

Thick curtains were drawn at the windows and the lights were off, keeping the room dim, so he wasn’t sure what time it was. The coffee table appeared to have been dragged to be right next to the couch, judging by the tracks on the carpet. On the table was a glass of water with a plastic lid, next to a small packet of painkillers. There was a Post-It note beside it, and Hob leaned over and squinted to read the smooth cursive.

For your headache. -Dream

He felt himself smile, despite the disorientation. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember what exactly happened last night.

“How do you plan on going home?” Dream asked as they exited the bar into the cool night air, Hob leaning against him for support because walking properly was a sober man’s game.

“That’s not fair, you know,” Hob frowned as Dream gently propped him up against the wall. “You drank about as much as me, how are you not wobbling?” he pointed an accusatory finger at Dream.

Dream smiled in amusement. “Did you have dinner at all tonight? Chips and nachos do not count.”

Hob tried to recall the last few hours. “S’pose not. We were gonna order food, me and my mates. But then we saw you and then I walked over and…” he gestured vaguely to nothing in particular. “Here we are.”

Dream sighed, but his gaze looked fond. “If I had known you were operating on an empty stomach, I would have ordered more substantial food with our drinks.” He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Will you even be able to take a cab in your state?”

“Sure, I can call one.” Hob pulled out his phone and pressed uselessly at the unlock button a few times before realising the battery was drained. “Hm. S’just a brick now.” He tapped it firmly on his palm a few times as if jostling it would do anything.

“I live just a few blocks from here,” Dream said, watching Hob repeatedly attempt to return his phone to his pocket and finally succeeding at the fifth try. “Can I invite you to stay at my place? Just so you won’t have to travel by yourself tonight.”

Hob perked up at that. He straightened up to agree, but in doing so left the support of the wall. “Woah—”

Dream caught him by the waist before he fell face-first onto the pavement. “Careful.”

Hob grabbed Dream’s shoulders to steady himself, and realised Dream’s arms were around him. “You’re really nice,” he said with a dopey grin. “Your serious face is a bit scary at first, but under that you’re really sweet.” He tapped the tip of Dream’s nose with his finger.

Dream was trying to hold back a smile and only partially succeeding. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re pretty.” Hob leaned forward to emphasise his point, which made Dream stumble a bit backwards.

Dream chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Come along, my car is parked nearby.”

“Oh my god,” Hob whispered, putting a hand to his reddening face. He probably looked so idiotic last night. He had to find Dream so he could apologise profusely and buy him breakfast or something. Was it even time for breakfast yet?

He turned to Sable. “Hey, buddy. Do you know where I can find your human?”

Sable walked in a circle three times before curling up on the armrest, facing away from Hob. Evidently not wanting anything to do with whatever mess Hob had gotten himself into.

“Yeah, I don't blame you,” Hob sighed.

He straightened up on the couch and took a painkiller, gratefully finishing the entire glass of water. He glanced at the smaller couch next to the wall and noticed that a phone was charging. His phone.

Hob smiled. Dream really was sweet. His drunk self had it right.

He stood up, slowly, because his head still hurt with every movement and it somehow felt very rude to disrupt Sable's nap. The cat had an air of sophistication to him much like his owner; Hob wouldn't be surprised if Dream spoke Greek to Sable.

Hob sat on the smaller couch and turned on his phone. After a few seconds, the screen showed that it was past 10 AM. Bit late for breakfast, then. Where was Dream? Hob doubted that he would leave his house with a practical stranger in it.

A series of notifications on his phone drew his attention. Some of them were messages from last night, replies from his friends in the groupchat when Hob said they could leave the bar without him. They were playfully cheering him on and that was that.

Though the next batch of messages was still coming in, arriving one after the other now that Hob’s phone was able to receive them.

Hal: @Hob darling did you make it home safe?

Ken: how was tall pale n handsome

Frank: guys he’s not even seeing the messages 👀

Ken: probably still asleep

Ken: all shagged out

Abel: what’s happening? i don’t join one night out and suddenly hob’s getting laid???

Hal: hopefully 💕

Frank: holy shit did the pickup lines work

Hob chuckled and shook his head. He began to type out a reply that yes he was safe, and no he was not shagged out by any means and only just made a fool of himself.

He was about to hit send when he realised he wasn’t wearing the same shirt he had on last night. In fact, he didn’t recognise these clothes at all. He was pretty sure he didn’t own a white sweater with the design of a black cat on it, and the grey sweatpants he was currently wearing wasn’t his either.

What.

He locked his phone and placed it down beside him. What else happened?

They stumbled into the living room, Dream closing the front door while Hob’s arm was around his shoulders. He switched on the light and got Hob to sit on the couch. It was cooler indoors compared to the warmth of Dream’s car, and Hob made a noise of complaint when Dream made a move to disentangle himself from Hob’s side.

“I shall get you some water,” Dream explained and stood up.

Hob’s brain didn’t process the words and at that moment he only cared that Dream’s warmth was leaving him. He reached out and clumsily pulled Dream back; Dream gave a surprised shout as they both flailed and fell over, Hob landing flat on his back on the couch with Dream on top of him.

Dream’s blue eyes were wide with surprise, his dark hair looking as soft as clouds. Hob wanted to touch but was afraid of ruining it somehow. Clouds weren’t meant to be touched, only admired. Or else they would disappear into mist or raindrops and be gone.

“You’re beautiful,” Hob breathed, his hands resting on Dream’s back.

Dream’s gaze softened and his lips lifted at the corners, and Hob felt his heart race at being so close to that smile. So close.

“As you are,” Dream said quietly, his warm breath caressing Hob’s mouth.

“‘Specially your eyes,” Hob continued. “They light up. When you talk about your cat. And that bloke Shakespeare. What’s so good about ‘im anyway?” he frowned.

Dream chuckled and dipped his head, lightly touching their foreheads together for a moment before looking at Hob again.

“And then I thought…” Hob tried to find the words. It felt important to say them. “I’d do anything for you to look at me like that. With that bright fondness in your eyes.”

Dream’s smile melted off his face, replaced by a look of surprise.

“And then you did,” Hob’s kept speaking quietly, just loud enough for Dream to hear. “When I told you I’d live a hundred more years because there’s so much to live for. I dunno why you looked at me that way when I said it, but you did. And I wanted to kiss you right then.”

Dream swallowed, his eyes dropping to Hob’s mouth.

“I still do,” Hob whispered. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from Dream’s forehead.

“Hob,” Dream’s tone held a warning, though it was softened by the waver in his voice.

“Dream…” Hob let his hand drop to the side of Dream’s face, his thumb lightly brushing over a pale cheekbone, watching a hint of pink blossom on the skin.

He kept his gentle hold on Dream’s face as they moved closer, their noses touching, their breaths mixing as their parted lips were only a hair’s breadth away—

Hob’s eyes were wide as he sat frozen on the couch. His heart raced and his cheeks flushed at the memory. But… that was it. His memories ended there.

He shut his eyes tight and desperately tried to remember what happened next. If he and Dream kissed then surely, surely, he would remember it? The press of those soft pink lips, the slide of tongue against his own…

He opened his eyes and huffed out a breath in exasperation. Nothing. And he’s wearing Dream’s clothes! If they did shag and he couldn’t remember a second of it, he would never forgive himself. He would swear off drinking forever if it meant he could remember it all.

“Ah, I see you've met Sable.”

Hob’s eyes snapped up to the sound of that voice.

Dream was standing by the other couch and scratching Sable under the chin. Sable was purring appreciatively and leaning into Dream’s touch, and Dream glanced down at the cat with such soft fondness on his face that it calmed Hob’s nerves.

“Would you care to join me in the dining room?” Dream turned to Hob again. “I just finished cooking.” He was wearing a blue apron over a black sweater similar to Hob’s, and black joggers that hung low on his hips.

“I…” Hob had so many questions and no idea how to voice out any of them. “You cooked?” he said instead.

Dream nodded. “Given that it was my fault you didn’t get to eat dinner last night, I thought it only polite to make breakfast for you. Although it’s technically brunch now.”

“Yeah, um…” Hob stood up but wasn’t sure what to say. He still couldn’t remember the entirety of last night—to his eternal regret—and he didn’t know what their dynamic was supposed to be now. “Thanks for charging my phone,” he smiled and gestured to it.

“It’s fortunate that we have the same model,” Dream returned the smile. He gave Sable a few scratches behind the ears before the cat decided to move to where Hob had been sleeping, scratching his claws a few times into the cushions before stretching his body and lying down to continue his nap.

Hob remembered reading somewhere that cats scratched at furniture to leave their scent and mark their territory, and Sable doing that to the place where Hob had been seemed quite telling.

“Shall we head to the dining room while the food is still warm?” Dream asked.

Hob nodded and followed him.

The rest of the house wasn’t nearly as dim as the living room; all the curtains were open and sunlight streamed in, dappling softly on the floor and furniture.

“Oh, should I keep the curtains closed here as well?” Dream must have noticed him staring at the windows.

“What?” Hob turned to him. “No, it’s fine… Wait, you kept the living room dark for me?”

Dream nodded. “Bright light is painful for hangovers. I can draw the curtains here too, if you’d like. Have a seat, please,” he gestured to the dining table before removing his apron and hanging it on a hook in the kitchen.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind the sunlight,” Hob said as he sat down.

Dream took a seat across from him, and without the apron Hob could see that his black sweater was dotted with white stars.

“Hob,” Dream’s voice resurfaced in Hob’s memory.

“Dream…” Hob brushed his thumb over a smooth cheekbone.

Dream’s pupils were blown wide, almost covering all the blue of his eyes. They reflected the light, and Hob could imagine the pinpricks of white to be galaxies, and he was more than willing to get lost in them.

Dream’s weight was pressing him down pleasantly on the couch, and Hob’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath held in anticipation as Dream leaned in closer.

“Hob? Are you alright?”

Hob grabbed the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass, gulping everything down. “Mm-hm.”

He kept remembering that moment on the couch, and he could feel his mind dangerously close to filling in the blanks of what could have happened, and he really needed to cool down instead of fantasising about the man in front of him who he may or may not have slept with.

“Did you take the painkiller?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks for that, by the way,” Hob tried for a smile, but he still couldn’t quite meet Dream’s eyes. He looked around at the food and tried to decide which one to get first.

“I… apologise.”

Hob looked at Dream and saw that his shoulders were tense and drawn up, like he was trying to look formal and hide himself at the same time.

“Is this… too much?” Dream’s gaze was guarded but Hob thought he glimpsed a hint of sadness in them. “You may leave anytime you wish, of course. I just thought… you might want some food.” He glanced down but kept his posture straight. “But if you prefer to go—”

“What? No, Dream—” Hob suddenly felt panicked. Did he just hurt Dream somehow? “I don’t wanna leave. Why would you think that?”

Dream met his eyes and frowned in confusion. “You seem… uncomfortable. I am aware that our agreement was only for you to stay the night, and it is nearly noon now. So I understand if—”

“Dream, it’s not that,” Hob didn’t want him to think those things at all. “I just…” he shifted in his seat. “Why… Why am I wearing your clothes…?” Might as well be direct about it.

Dream’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“I don’t remember, I’m sorry,” Hob blurted out. “I— Fuck,” he breathed, running a hand down his face. “I want to remember. God, the first time I wake up with missing memories in someone else’s home and it’s with you of all people. I’m… I’m so sorry, Dream,” he shook his head in remorse.

Dream blinked, his shoulders relaxing. “Hob. Why would you apologise for such a thing?”

“Well I don't want you to think that it didn't mean anything to me,” Hob’s eyes dropped to his plate and he fidgeted with his fork. “Which it did, whatever it was. Whether it was just a— a kiss or— or something else—” he stammered and looked to see Dream’s reaction.

Realisation appeared on Dream's face, and an amused smile slowly graced his lips and brightened his features. “Hob Gadling. If we had slept together, why would you be on the couch and not my bed?”

“I don't know!” Hob said defensively, his cheeks heating up. “Maybe we didn't make it to the bedroom? I don't remember!”

Dream looked down and was really trying hard to fight a smile. The adorable sight of it began to calm Hob a bit, especially when Dream met his eyes again. “I would have taken you to my bed. I'll have you know I'm a gentleman. Unless requested otherwise,” he added in a low voice and smirked.

Hob’s breath hitched. God, this man was going to kill him.

Then something sparked in his mind, a memory that surfaced after Dream's remark about being a gentleman.

Dream’s lips were so close to his that Hob could almost taste them.

Then Dream pulled away and placed a firm hand on Hob’s chest. “Tomorrow,” he said decisively, a slight tremble in his voice.

Hob opened his eyes.

“Tomorrow. If this is still what you want,” Dream explained, then he pulled away entirely and stood up, disappearing from Hob’s field of vision.

Hob blinked repeatedly, still reeling from the whiplash. Dream was going to kiss him, right? What happened?

“For now, you must hydrate or your mouth will feel so parched tomorrow.” Dream had returned, and Hob instinctively sat up at the sound of his voice.

He knocked over the glass that Dream had been handing over to him, spilling the water all over his shirt and trousers.

Hob flinched back and grimaced. “Cold.”

“Oh dear.” Dream picked up the now empty glass that had fallen on the couch and placed it on the coffee table. “I shall get you a change of clothes. Wait here, and please don't touch anything else or you might hurt yourself. Stay here, do you understand?” Dream cupped Hob’s face and gently lifted it to make Hob look at him.

Hob smiled at the feeling of Dream’s hand on his skin, and he nodded. “I'll wait for you.”

Dream smiled fondly and walked away.

“Oh,” Hob said in realisation, the memories coming back to him.

“You remember now?”

“Yeah,” Hob nodded. “You handed me the clothes and I just took off my shirt right there, because somehow it made sense to me to just change in front of you,” he cringed. “And then that was when you left, right?”

“Yes,” Dream said with an amused smile. “I said a hasty good night and retreated to my room before you decided to take off your trousers as well.”

“Yeah I remember that too,” Hob put a hand to his temple, his headache had dulled but the sudden wave of embarrassment seemed to be worsening it. “Can we eat now? I think I'd rather forget about everything again.”

Dream laughed, a soft and bright one that immediately put Hob at ease. “Of course.”

It was a pleasant surprise, how easily they slipped back into comfortable conversation after all the misunderstanding and awkwardness. They finished eating and Hob insisted that he would wash the dishes since Dream already cooked everything.

“Thanks again for letting me crash at your couch,” Hob said as he put the last of the dishes in the drying rack. “I don't think I've gotten that drunk since uni.”

“I just didn't want you waking up at a bus station somewhere,” Dream quipped and finished putting the leftovers in the fridge.

Hob chuckled and leaned back against the counter. “So uh, do you have any plans today? What do you usually do on Saturdays?”

Dream stood beside him and leaned on the counter too, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “It varies. Sometimes I’d go to a restaurant I’d never been to before, or visit my friend who works at the library. Oh, and there’s a museum a short drive away that holds a different art gallery every month. I try to see the new exhibits whenever I can. I had no prior plans for today, though.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Hob grinned, he couldn’t help it; Dream wanted to keep spending time with him. “I do, yeah. There’s a park here that recently displayed murals because it’s summer, they got a theme going on and everything. I think the artworks are made by high school and college kids. I’ve passed by it a few times but never really got to see it yet. What do you think?”

Dream’s eyes lit up, and Hob knew he’d take him anywhere just to see that again. “I would gladly see the murals with you. Are they accessible at any time or is there a scheduled exhibit?”

“Let me check. They posted it online.” Hob instinctively reached for his pockets but found them empty. “Oh right, my phone's in the living room.”

“Ah. I would check the schedule myself, but I'm afraid something's wrong with my phone.” Dream took his phone from the counter, then unlocked it and looked down at the screen.

Hob furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Your phone number's not in it.” Dream held it out to Hob, a smirk playing on his lips.

Hob just stared in surprise for a few seconds before chuckling in disbelief. Of all the people he would have expected to use a pickup line, Dream wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t complaining about receiving it, though.

He took Dream’s phone and began typing in his number. “Couldn’t wait, huh?” he said playfully. “You know I’m not just leaving, love. We’re still going to that park.” The endearment slipped out without Hob intending it to, and he snapped up his gaze to look at Dream’s reaction. Luckily Dream didn’t seem to mind.

“I enjoyed our conversation so much last night that I had forgotten to ask for your phone number. I would not risk it happening again,” Dream said as he took his phone back.

“I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Hob sheepishly tugged at his earlobe. “I’d been a bit worried that I was too knackered last night and might have made such a fool of myself. I enjoyed our time together too, and I’m glad I remember all of it now, even the embarrassing moments.”

“Oh make no mistake, you were undoubtedly knackered last night,” Dream said with fond amusement. “But I never once thought you were a fool.” He pressed something on his phone and Hob heard his ringtone coming from the living room. “And now you have my number as well.”

Hob grinned. “Am I supposed to follow the three-day-rule and wait three days before calling you?”

“Already planning a second date when the first one isn’t even done yet?” Dream repeated Hob’s words from last night.

“And a third, if you've got no objections,” Hob raised his eyebrows playfully.

“Oh?” Dream straightened up and took a step closer. “And what third date activities do you have in mind?” His gaze lowered and slowly climbed back up, scanning Hob’s body until their eyes met again.

Hob felt goosebumps prickle on his skin as if Dream were actually touching him. He wet his lips with his tongue, catching how Dream’s eyes followed the movement. “I've got a few activities in mind, yeah. Though I don't know if I wanna wait until three dates.”

“Is that so?” A smirk pulled at the corner of Dream’s mouth as he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Tell me, what do you desire?”

Hob swallowed. “You can't just say things like that with that voice.”

“What voice?” Dream took another step and he was near enough now that Hob could see how soft his eyelashes looked.

“Last night, you said something…” Hob reached up and traced with light fingers the star patterns on Dream's sweater, near his neckline, his shoulders, because if he didn't touch Dream in some way he might just implode.

“We both said a great deal of things last night.”

“You said…” Hob lifted his hand to Dream's chin, his thumb sweeping softly just under the bottom lip. “If this is still what I wanted…” he stared into Dream’s eyes, his heart hammering in anticipation.

Dream surged forward and suddenly Hob was pressed back against the counter, Dream’s lips against his.

A surprised—and very pleased—groan slipped out of Hob, his hands flying to cup Dream’s face.

Dream’s hands were on the counter, Hob caged in his arms. And damn if Hob didn't feel a certain way about that.

Hob could have lived forever in this moment, the soft slide of their tongues, the warmth of Dream’s body against his. But Dream’s mouth brushed down his jawline and onto his neck, clever lips and tongue making his blood run hotter.

Hob could only whimper and throw his head back to give Dream more access. He buried his hands in Dream’s hair, soft midnight threading through his fingers. Dream nipped at his sensitive flesh, and Hob’s hips twitched of their own accord.

Dream made a pleased hum and moved his kisses upwards. “My bedroom is nearby, unless you are partial to the couch. I could ask Sable to give us some privacy,” he said teasingly, his breath hot against Hob’s ear.

“Anywhere,” Hob gasped as Dream gently bit his earlobe. “Fuck, you can have me on the dining table.”

Dream chuckled and slid his hands from Hob’s waist to his stomach and up to his chest, fists clenching in the front of Hob's shirt. He pulled away just enough to look at Hob. “Nonsense. Gentleman, remember?” He stepped back and yanked Hob towards the bedroom with a force that was decidedly not gentlemanly.

Dream’s back slammed against the closed door as Hob pressed their lips and bodies together again, the few seconds they were apart becoming too unbearable. Dream managed to turn the knob behind him and they stumbled into the bedroom, only parting long enough to practically tear each other's sweaters off.

Hob fell backwards onto the bed, bringing Dream down with him. They were a tangle of limbs and sighs and groans, then Dream was straddling him, grinding his hips down and driving Hob near delirious with want.

Dream was breathing heavily above him, and Hob wanted more of it. Wanted to see this beautiful creature give in to pleasure.

He reached a hand between them and palmed at the hard bulge tenting Dream’s joggers.

Dream gave a cry of surprise and broke the kiss to gasp, and Hob wasted no time in freeing Dream’s cock from the confines of his clothes. He began a slow stroke, and Dream leaned forward to latch his mouth onto Hob’s neck, lavishing it with attention that sent more heat straight to Hob's groin.

Hob clenched his jaw—even as a moan escaped him—and sped up his hand around Dream’s length, precome slicking the way and causing Dream’s hips to twitch.

“Hob,” Dream breathed against the shell of his ear, and for a second Hob thought he would come just from hearing his name in that voice, with Dream’s hips erratically rolling above his cock through layers of fabric.

“Let go for me, love,” Hob’s voice sounded wrecked to his own ears.

He twisted his hand and Dream came with a whine, burying his face in Hob’s neck and spending all over Hob's hand. His hips were still stuttering when he pressed their foreheads together, his eyelids fluttering as he caught his breath.

Hob slowed his strokes to a stop, his other hand cupping Dream’s face. “Good?” he asked gently, fond and teasing.

Dream pulled away to meet Hob’s gaze, and it was enough to melt Hob’s grin off his face as he saw the intensity in those blue eyes.

Dream shifted to move further backwards, and before Hob knew what was happening, Dream had positioned himself between Hob’s parted legs and pulled down the sweatpants to reveal Hob’s straining cock.

Hob couldn't look away, anticipating Dream’s long fingers wrapped around him, and so he yelped when Dream used his mouth instead, the soft heat enveloping Hob and setting his nerves on fire. Hob’s eyes fell shut, his elbows trembling as he leaned back on the mattress.

Dream worked him slowly, taking him in inch by torturous inch as his tongue swirled in ways that left Hob breathless and squirming and doing his very best not to thrust into Dream’s sinful mouth.

Hob sank further down Dream’s throat, and his arms finally gave out as he felt Dream swallow around him. His head hit the pillow and he clenched his hands into the sheets, a wounded groan reverberating in his chest.

“Dream… Dream… Fuck—” his hips jerked upwards when he felt a light graze of teeth on the underside of his cock. His thighs were trembling, and desperate moans laced with Dream’s name kept slipping past his lips.

Dream hummed around him and moved his hands to stroke the inside of Hob's thighs, all at once soothing and fueling the fire that was very quickly pooling low in Hob’s belly. Dream bobbed his head up and down languidly, and it was all too much and not nearly enough.

“Please,” Hob sobbed. His entire body felt aflame, and he couldn't take another second of it even as he wanted it to last forever.

Dream took him down to the hilt and swallowed repeatedly, his fingernails raking lightly along Hob’s thighs.

Hob arched his back and came with a garbled cry, unable to stop the tremors running through him.

Dream kept swallowing, making Hob thrash his head from side to side as he was flung higher and higher.

Hob must have blacked out for a second, because when he opened his eyes, Dream was looming over him with a satisfied smirk.

“Good?” Dream licked his bottom lip.

Hob was still panting, and it took a few seconds for enough oxygen to get into his brain for him to form words. “I'm so glad we did this today and not last night,” he said breathlessly. “No way in hell I'll forget this.”

Dream huffed out a laugh and nestled himself beside Hob, his face snuggled at the crook of Hob's neck, his hand idly drawing circles on Hob’s chest.

“You can stay the weekend, if you'd like.” Dream's voice was quiet, tinged with hesitance, as if Hob would ever say no to that while of sound mind and body.

Hob regained control of his limbs and wrapped an arm around Dream, turning to face him and pulling him closer. “Sounds perfect, love,” he rested his chin on Dream's hair. “Would give me more than enough time to get you back for what you just put me through.”

Dream chuckled low in his chest. “I would love to see you try, Hob Gadling.”

“Oh, I will.” Hob closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the even rhythm of their breathing, settling into their embrace as if they were always meant to fit in each other's arms.

—

Author's Note:

Thank you to @patchyegg87 for all the help with this fic! <3

—

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[seren1tyhaze]

pls post dive part 2 😓😓 dying over here

Dive Part Two Teaser: Strawberry Sunday

Hi :) I know, I know. It's been so long.

I want to say firstly, your love and support of my Dive fic has been more than I could have ever imagined. When I first published it last May in a fever dream after Doyoung's D&G photoshoot, I never imagined it would be this well received. We are quickly approaching 1.5K notes on the original post and every new comment really makes me smile.

I really am actively working on part two, which is lovingly titled Strawberry Sunday and a continuation of Jungwoo's cheeky idea from part one. For now, I offer a small teaser which of course involves that same religious imagery that everyone fell in love with in Dive. It's also nsfw.

Please comment on this post to be included in the official tag list when Strawberry Sunday is released in full.

Until then, check out my other works and stay well :)

~~

Doyoung gasps for air and slams the palm of his hand down on the wooden surface of the desk hard, digging his fingernails into the varnished surface. His other hand runs through his hair for the hundredth time, grateful he doesn’t have a mirror hanging in his home office, knowing he looks a mess. A groan rips from his lips and it rings out loud, filthy, and filled with pleasure.

He drops his hands and gaze at the same time, reaching down to pull cheeks covered in arousal and spit up to face him, sliding his cock out from surprised lips. He takes a moment to examine the beautiful face looking up at him from the floor, eyes twinkling with mischief and skin flushed a beautiful shade of red.

He takes a moment to breathe, dragging his thumb across a wet lower lip before bringing his thumb to his lips and practically moaning around the digit, tasting himself. His cock twitches and before he can say anything he feels teeth grazing heavily across his length-

“Earth to Doyoung-ie?” comes a sing-song chant through his headset, snapping him back to reality.

Doyoung looks up embarrassed and into the webcam on his computer, clearing his throat quickly. Haechan has a knowing look in his eye and his head is cocked slightly, staring him down through the screen.

“Yeah, yeah sorry, I got distracted by um…an email,” he stammers out, flipping quickly in his open Bible on the top of his desk.

Had he just been standing at his desk, imagining you were underneath it giving him head during his weekly virtual Bible study session? Yes, yes he had been. Was he now having to face the very curious eyes of three of his best friends, the “Lee Three” as they liked to call themselves, and try to lie? Yes, absolutely.

“Must have been some email…” Jeno mutters, taking a long swig from his water bottle. His hair is damp and by the look of his background, it seems like he's dialed in from his phone in the lounge at his gym.

“It’s okay, I think we’re almost done for the day anyways,” Mark offers, closing his own Bible and adjusting the collar at his neck. He didn’t normally wear his costume (as Haechan called it) for their sessions but he was away at a conference and in between presentations.

“Can I ask for some advice before we close?” Doyoung pipes up, closing his own book softly and flipping it over, as if that would help him be less ashamed for what he was about to ask.

“Of course, we are always here to listen, Doie,” Mark replies softly, pushing his glasses up his nose and leaning back in the uncomfortable chair he had been sitting in for the past hour.

“Let’s just say, there’s something that you know someone you care for very much would enjoy. And maybe this thing is something you’re unsure of. And this thing you’re unsure of is something that two other people you care for very deeply suggested but you really aren’t sure if it’s the right thing for you and the other person to explore right now…” Doyoung rambles on, seeming to get lost in the vague grammar of the narrative he was building.

Haechan cuts him off with an exasperated sigh which almost transforms into a whine as he speaks.

“Jungwoo and Jaehyun want to fuck this girl you won’t shut up about and you don’t know if group sex is really the right thing for you do this early in your situationship,” he states bluntly, looking up from picking at the corner of his fingernails.

“HAECHAN!” Mark and Jeno yell into their headphones in unison, Doyoung flushing a deep shade of red and reaching up to clutch at the cross around his neck.

“What?” Hyuck asks, still holding a deadpan look in his face, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Doyoung sighs but nods slowly, looking up to meet an awkward Jeno, who is scratching the back of his neck. He flicks his gaze to Mark who is merely laughing, leaning back in his chair and clutching his stomach.

“Why are you laughing, Father,” Doyoung retorts, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in his chest as he chastises one of his oldest friends.

“Doyoung, please. The three of you have been doing this for years and I don’t know why you get so worked up about it each time. If she wants to do it and you are comfortable with it, just make sure you have open lines of communication with those two devils. You know how carried away they can get,” Mark replies with a signature roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m still scarred from my night with them,” Jeno murmurs quietly, thinking no one heard him.

“Oh shut up, you know you loved that shit,” Haechan quips quickly, leaning close to his webcam as if it would bring him physically closer to him.

“Honestly, go for it, dude. It’s like the least risky situation out there and from the sounds of it, I think she is probably into it,” Hyuck adds, voice becoming almost soft as he finishes his sentence.

“Just don’t do it on a Sunday, okay? That’s all I ask,” Mark chuckles again, waving goodbye to the group before disconnecting from the call.

Doyoung rolls his eyes, nodding to the other two before disconnecting and pulling out his phone to finally return Jungwoo’s text that he had been staring at for weeks.

~~

hope you enjoyed ;) comment to be added to the tag list!

[lilypadlys]

Kinktober Day Three: Temperature Play

Ship: Sunshine/Aether

Notes: Prompt list by @kroas-adtam. Prompt list here

Tags: Temperature play, sex magick nipple play, hand jobs, trans Sunshine mention, praise kink

Word Count: 623

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Sunshine and boredom are two words that one should fear somehow ending up in the same sentence. Today is one such day where they unfortunately overlap. Well, maybe not so unfortunately for Aether as it turns out.

As soon as the quint collapses on the couch after returning from his infirmary shift, Sunshine bullies her way into his lap.

“Hey Sunbeam.” He murmurs into the top of her head. “What’s up?”

“I’m bored!” She announces cheerfully.

Aether snorts.

“I’m tired sweetpea.” He kisses the top of her head before pulling back to make eye contact. “I’m sure Lus would love to play with you. Phantom too; he was just complaining that he was dying from boredom.”

“Noo, want youuuu!” She whines, leaning into him. She presses her face into his neck and gives his collarbone a nip where his scrub top exposes it. “Let me play? You don’t have to do anything.”

He huffs to hide the groan that threatens to escape as her teeth and tongue trace his clavicle. “Alright…” He concedes finally; delaying his acquiescence only to disguise his own growing desire to see where this goes.

That’s all she needs to snake a hand under his shirt to start playing with his chest. She continues to mouth at his neck, occasionally nipping a little to watch dark red marks bloom under his gray skin. With her hand though, she does something a little different. She brings it towards Aether’s right nipple, ready to give it a teasing twist. Just before she does, she harnesses the air part of her elemental mix to turn her fingers much cooler than her normally feverish body temp. It’s not ice cold by any means but still unexpected. Aether flinches.

“Geez, you stick your hands in the freezer?”

She merely giggles, bringing her other hand, this time warmer than usual, under his shirt to toy with the other side.

“Ohh…” He chuffs, “Learned a new trick, did you?”

He lets her continue to play with his chest, shuddering every time her hands suddenly alternate temperature extremes. His eyes slip shut, just enjoying the sensation. That’s when she decides to grind her own growing hard on into Aether’s.

“Hhh…” His eyes fly open and she grins innocently before repeating the motion.

Disguising his arousal no longer, Aether can’t help up reach down to fiddle with the drawstrings of his scrub pants. Sunny frowns and knocks his hand away.

“Told you that you didn’t have to do anything. Let me.”

Undoing the strings, she straddles her legs and kneels on the couch cushions to let Aether lift his hips. When she’s pulled his pants and boxers down, waistbands tucked under his balls, they both settle back into the couch. Sunny finally gets a hand around Aether’s cock and he hums in relief. Only for the sound to turn into a hiss when her warm hand suddenly goes freezing.

He tries to move, buck his hips up or flinch away; he's not really sure. Sunshine just pins him best she can, leaning her whole weight into his chest. She keeps her hand on his dick, rubbing her thumb over the head just to make him squirm.

“Sunshine-”

“Shh, just relax. I’ll even let you cum if you sit patiently.”

Technically, Aether could dump the cheeky little ghoulette off his lap at any point. He doesn’t though; she has him wrapped around her little finger. And even as the cold stings, the slow strokes of her hand feel too good to make her stop.

As her other hand sneaks down to tickle at his balls with too warm fingers, Aether just sinks back into the couch and closes his eyes.

“There you go. That’s my good boy.” She coos.

[codfanficedits]

Before the mask - Part three

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2629 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: White man flirting?

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish?

Tags: @batmanunicorns523

God he could feel his heart swell with pride every time he saw you walk around on base with his hoodie on. Technically you weren’t his, yet. But it felt like he were his, proudly walking around with his last name. It was a clear message to all the other men on base, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

You on the other hand were as oblivious as could be. Sure the hoodie was a little big, and it smelled just like him, and on top of that people were giving you strange looks all day long, but you were at work, caring about a hoodie wasn’t exactly your top priority.

It wasn’t until you were in the restroom, after a day that went on a little too long, that you noticed the white letters on the back of the hoodie.

‘Property of Riley.’

“That cheeky fucking bastard.” But did you really mind it? Yes. No. Maybe?

Fuck it was hard to think about it, part of you really just wanted to be friends, nothing was too complicated at the moment, nothing could go wrong. But the other part was very close to going feral for this man, the way he looked, the way he smelled, the way you had been sniffing that fucking hoodie all day.

You were ready to bang on his door when that same door flung open.

No matter what you told yourself, you were damned the moment those soft brown eyes locked with yours and all the sudden you couldn’t be mad about the hoodie anymore.

“I was lo-“

“I was lo-“

A sheepish smile from the both of you when you started to say the same thing, at the same time.

“I was looking for you.” Simon resumes, he could feel his heart thump in his chest, he had confessed he was in love before, what was making it so damn hard?

“I got permission to leave the base for the night.” He resumed, holding up a set of car keys. “Care to join me?”

You wanted to say no, you were tired, had a long day, you had to rush in the morning AND you had been wearing his stupid hoodie all day, but how could you decline those eyes and that sweet, sweet smile? “Yeah, sure. Might have to change first.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Why? ‘s my hoodie not good enough for you?” Simon teased, pulling you with him by the shoulder of the fabric, just like you had pulled him closer towards you during that skype call. “I figured black would be your taste, given your emo phase and all.” The insecurities he had felt during the night had melted away, seeing you in something that belonged to him had made him strut like a peacock.

“So you did know I was wearing it!” You tried to protest. “I didn’t mean to, you must’ve left it in my room last night.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll make sure to wash it before you get it back.” You promised him, and Simon just responded with a simple hum. If it was up to him you didn’t need to wash it at all.

“Where are we going anyway?” You asked him, as he nearly dragged you towards the car, it was getting dark outside already, and you couldn’t remember there being a reason why he had to drive around.

Simon just shrugged. “We’ll see when we start driving.” He simply responded, it wouldn’t matter where he would go to, as long as it was with you. You gave him those soft butterflies in his stomach, and while he wasn’t comfortable letting you know yet, he would give his kidney to spend five minutes with you.

It stayed quiet when the both of you got into the car, the clicking of the seatbelt being the only noise you could hear before he started the car. Did you have to hold back some drool when he put his hand on the back of your seat to drive the car out of the parking lot?

Yes. Shamelessly yes.

Your knees tilted to his side, just begging to be touched, but neither of you vocalized their longings for the other. And you couldn’t stand the awkward silence that followed, so you leaned a bit forward, wanting to turn on the radio. Simon had the same idea, his eyes on the road, not seeing you already leaning forward. Your hands brushing against each other while Maps from Maroon 5 blared out of the radio.

His hands were warm, hot even, and yours were cold. The both of you pulling their hands back the movements your fingers brushed against each other.

You notice the music was loud so you go to turn it down, you didn’t notice that Ghost’s hand was already on the volume switch. Your hand brushes against his, ice was all you felt. His hands were freezing cold.

“How are your hands so warm?” You ask, putting your hands on your lap.

“How are yours so cold?” He replies, pulling away from the volume switch after he turns down the music.

“Don't answer a question with a question." You chuckled, before you looked out of the window. "I guess I just have bad circulation." You explained. "Now, why the hell are your hands warm like that?"  You leaned back into your seat, your fingertips tracing on the back of your hand, feeling the cold skin under your fingertips.

"I don’t know." He responds, putting his warm hand up to your cold one, making a joke about the temperature difference. "I guess I have good circulation." He adds, jokingly mocking your comment from before.

"I didn’t know this before, but when a cold object and a warm object touch, heat is transferred over to the cold object." He explains.

His warm hand begins to transfer heat into your freezing fingers.

"Here, feel." He says.

Your eyebrows rise up at his mocking tone, but you can't help but laugh about it. Your fingers intertwine, but you didn't mind one bit. The warmth of his hand felt welcoming.

"Just so we are clear." You begin. "I’m just holding your hand so I can warm up a little."

"Whatever you say." He chuckles.

Soon, it was Simon who couldn’t remove his hand from yours. As the heat began to transfer, your hand felt incredibly cold on his. The cold was so inviting that even he couldn’t remove it, despite his intentions of doing so before. He never knew he had craved the cold so much before.

"Did you know that humans generate heat, even when you just touch someone?" He adds, rubbing his thumb over your hand. "But for some people, their touch is enough to drive someone insane." He teases.

"Mhm." You hummed softly, you just enjoyed him talk. "Just make sure we don't crash, will ya?" You squeezed his hand softly, not minding having him share his warmth with you, at all.

“Of course." He chuckles, giving your hand another squeeze.

The car continues driving down the empty streets of the city, the light snow flurries falling down from the sky like silent stars. You two were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even notice that you missed a turn.

You were starting to forget the rest of the taskforce back at the main base. It was only you and Simon in the car, and it felt like you were about to be consumed by the moment.

"It’s a beautiful night." You mentioned as you looked out of the car window.

"Wait. Stop at that gas station for me, will you?" You requested politely, a simple idea brewing inside of your head.

"Sure." He nods, stopping at the nearest gas station.

"What’s up?' He asks, curious as to why you asked him to stop at a gas station.

The snow continues to fall outside of the car, the light breeze causing snowflakes to swirl around in the air like a dance.

You let go of his hand, before you opened the passenger door.

"Stay here." You said, before you went inside. He disliked this part, he wanted to be in control at all times, even in simple situations like this. But he had promised himself that he would try to be better, for you, but mostly for himself.

If you recalled correctly, he had quite a sweet tooth, so you stacked up on some sweet, some soda, and some crisps for yourself.

It wasn't cheap, and you nearly gave yourself a heart attack when you saw the total, but Simon was worth it. With your arms full of snacks you returned, a wide grin on your face.

"If we find a quiet place, we can watch the stars." You said, as you sat back

Simon wasn't expecting you to stock up a bunch of snacks to enjoy together, and it made his heart flutter that you had bought sweets for him, he had told you he liked gummy bears once and you had remembered.

"Sure." He responds, smiling at the gesture.

Once you're both back in the car he starts driving. After a few minutes of driving, he finds a quiet, empty looking spot.

It was just far enough away from the city and main roads that there wouldn't be anyone around for miles. It was a perfect spot for watching the stars, and Simon stops the car.

With a little bit of work you sit down on the cold ground to watch the stars, the snacks and soda divided between the two of them, and you sit on his left side, a different side than in the car.

You hold his other hand, using it to keep her other hand warm, while they stargaze.

Simon is happy to sit down next to you in the fresh snow, which crunches under the weight of your bodies. He holds your hand tightly, still trying to warm up your otherwise freezing hand.

Simon looks over to look at the food and snacks. He picks up a bag of gummy bears and a soda.

He smiles as he watches the stars with you. He leans back on the ground, his head leaning on the car door.

The snow outside of the car had picked up, it had turned into a full-blown snowstorm. The snow was piling up outside, creating a winter wonderland of sorts...

...The snow flurries felt like a flurry of silent stars, swirling and twirling around each other. In that moment, it was hard to believe that there was no magic involved -- how could something so beautiful exist naturally?

"This night is... incredible." Simon whispers to you, holding your hand.

He pulls you closer, using his body to warm it even more, eventually the snow is too heavy to stay outside anymore, so your little idea gets cut short, as you both head to the car again. But the both of you have a smile on your face, and when you turn to Simon you can see a snowflake in his eyelashes, just when you thought those brown eyes couldn’t get prettier, the universe pulls this stunt on you.

“Jezus, it is only October.” Simon huffed. “This American climate is something else. Almost makes me regret going on this exchange program.”

You laugh at his remark. “Speaking about October.” You begin, trying to find something to talk about. “What are you dressing up as for Halloween?”

Simon’s smile fades, and his expression shifts to a serious one, his eyes darkening. “You have to promise you won’t laugh.”

“Okay, okay, I promise!”

“That’s not enough.” Simon teased. “I need you to swear it on something.”

“I swear on my life th-“ You stop your sentence when you see the frown on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. But I’ve seen your life and I want you to swear on something that is worth something.”

The punch you land on his shoulder is harder than you intent it to be, and Simon is pleasantly surprised by your strength. Yet there is an awkward tension. You want to apologize, violence should never be the answer, but he did cross a line. The feelings of guilt seeping in to your soul.

“Shit.” His eyes widen. “I can only imagine what you can do with a plastic bucket.” And with that he eases the tension. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

“I shouldn’t have punched you.” You reply to his apology.

“No, no, it’s okay, I deserved that one. Just remind me that I will never spar with you. I would like to keep my life.”

He rubs his shoulder. “I might even use this as an excuse to get out of training tomorrow morning. Even better, I might tell your dad about it.”

You laugh again. “Worst case I’ll get grounded again.”

As you both laugh, the remaining tension seems to disappear into the thin air. “Right, I won’t make you swear, but please don’t laugh at me.” Simon says and you nod, of course you wouldn’t laugh.

“I was watching The Punisher the other day, and you know how the main character wears a shirt with a skull on it?”

He stops his explanation to see if you’re listening, and you nod to show him that he can continue. “I was thinking about making a skull mask you know, a little something to hide my face, I find those parties a little awkward, and maybe I’ll earn myself a cool callsign or something.” Simon is nervous, worried you’ll laugh at him, but it is just a little smile that curves your lips upward.

“I think that is a pretty cool idea.” You answer, the idea of Simon crafting his own mask seems so endearing to you.

He grins at you. “Thanks.”

“What kind of callsign would you like?” You ask, and he shrugs as he turns the car back on. Your eyes flicker to the clock, and it is indeed getting late.

“The Punisher would be way too cliché.” Simon answers. “But I hope it sparks some creativity around base.”

“What about Ghost?”

“Ghost?”

“Yeah, you move around pretty quiet, and when the enemy spots you, it is already too late.”

“Yeah, but I’m not death.” He retorts.

“That is beside the point.” You answer.

He rolls his eyes playfully before he starts to drive. “I’ll think about it.”

And that answer has to do it for now, you know him well enough to know that it won’t be useful to push it any further.

“What about you?” He asks, his gaze flicking to you for a brief moment.

“Katniss Everdeen.”

A grin forms on his lips. “It would suit you.” He says, but Simon has to hold back a snicker, it is such a cliché, and he loves it so much. In his book, nothing is worse than a person who is trying to force themselves to be unique, it is okay to like mainstream things, and the fact that you’re so content with it, it makes him feel content too.

Before you know it you’re back on base with him, and he stops the car at the entrance. “You go inside already, it is cold and it’s late. I’ll park the car” He says as you unbuckle your belt.

“Thank you Simon, I had a lot of fun.” You say, before you open the passenger door.

Simon smiles, this would have been the perfect time to kiss you, but he is too much of a coward to do it. “I had fun too.”

He sighs as he watches you leave, his eyes lingering on the hoodie you’re wearing. His hoodie, before his eyes shift to your ass, he was a man after all.

[synonomy]

Getting to Know You - Tag Game

Thanks to @theresthesnitch for the tag! I’ve never done one of these before so I might balls it up, sorry. I’m also gonna answer under the assumption this is a HP-centric game.

Three ships: Wolfstar, Wolfstarbucks and— recently— anything with Regulus. Not sure how it happened but I’m now a Reggie convert.

First ship: Wolfstar

Last song: Sea Castle by Purity Ring

Last movie: Cheeky (David movie I somehow missed?? That he wrote and directed?? I’m ashamed to call myself a Thewlis simp)

Currently Reading: I’m loving a lot of the stuff coming out for @marauders-omegaverse-fest. Other than that here’s a few standout fics I’ve enjoyed recently: Not Like It Used To Be, But Just As Good by starrysummernights; Liderc by Caesia; Black Moon by heartofspells; Maybe Later by lurikko; Of Monsters by llassah; Recompense by dalulah and hearts are wild creatures by brightened. Mind the tags for some of them.

Currently watching: Boardwalk Empire. If you like period drama, gangsters, historical fiction and top tier character writing, you need to check it out.

Last thing I wrote: That I finished? The Better Part, which is part five of my A/B/O series Truly Two.

Currently writing: Chapter eight of For My Impertinence — a Regency AU with A/B/O dynamics. Because apparently Omegaverse is all I want to write now.

I don’t know enough fellow writers on here to tag people specifically (I know, what a loser) so if you see this and think it sounds fun, consider yourself tagged!

[larkawolfgirl]

The Gift of Giving (Murayuuram)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M, Multi Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou! Relationship: Wolfram von Bielefeld/Murata Ken/Shibuya Yuuri Characters: Wolfram von Bielefeld, Shibuya Yuuri, Murata Ken, Greta Additional Tags: Fluff, Family Fluff, Valentine's Day Fluff, Gift Giving

Summary: (Part of From Today On, I Start Anew series but you can read without context). Wolfram knows his husbands are up to something when they announce they both need to go to Earth without him.

Read on ao3

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Wolfram shouted loud enough that the guards outside the room, and probably the maids halfway across the castle as well, could surely hear him.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yuuri said calmly, trying to placate him.

Well, Wolfram wasn’t having it, especially not this early in the morning. His arms were crossed and the scowl on his face was unforgiving. “I get that you both need to go to Earth every once in a while, but why the hell do both of you need to go together?”

“You can just admit you’ll miss us,” Ken teased.

Wolfram turned his scowl solely on him. “Of course, I’ll miss you! I’d miss either of you anyway, but leaving me here alone is just unfair.”

Ken wasn’t swayed by the show of anger. He was actually grinning as if he didn’t think for a second that Wolfram would do anything about the anger. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

Wolfram groaned. Maybe he wouldn’t burn his face off, but he was definitely not against chucking a pillow at his face.

“As much as I’d like to stay here with you,” Ken continued, “I really have to go this time.”

“He’s right,” Yuuri added. “You know my mom’s always going on about how I don’t visit often enough, so it’s not like I can skip. But then Ken hardly ever visits his family since they are practically never home…” He trailed off. Wolfram guessed the pause was because he was coming up with some lie on the spot. “Apparently, they found out he hasn’t been home in nearly a year and called my mom about it.”

It was definitely an excuse. He had learned by now how to tell when Yuuri was hiding something. Wolfram hated it when he was hiding something. “That still doesn’t make sense,” he pressed. “Ken could go first, and you could go after. I’m sure Mama won’t mind that much.”

“Well…” Yuuri gave a cheeky grin and scratched his cheek. “Ken’s parents will probably blow up at him over moving out without telling them. So, I should go and support him, you know?”

“Fine, but I’m going, too,” Wolfram said. “I should support him as his husband, too.”

“You can’t!” Yuuri exclaimed. Definitely a guilty response.

Wolfram narrowed his gaze further. If they wanted to go to Earth, he wasn’t going to stop them, but screw them for lying about the reason.

Quickly, Yuuri backpedaled. “Someone needs to run things while we’re gone.”

“Brother can do it. I’m sure he won’t mind. He’s done it plenty of times before.”

“Yeah…” Yuuri agreed. “But we were dealing with important matters. There are three of us. We shouldn’t just throw work on him just on a whim. That’s unfair to him.”

Wolfram grumbled. He hated that Yuuri made a good point. “You know, sometimes I hate that you take being Maoh seriously.”

Yuuri chuckled. “I never thought I'd hear you say that. Before, you'd always call me a wimp for not working hard enough.”

Wolfram scoffed, turning to the side. “Yeah, well, you shouldn't neglect your husband either.”

Yuuri pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“Don't pout. It will only be for a day or two. We'll make it up to you when we get back.”

Wolfram eyed Ken who was still grinning. “You better.”

Ken crouched down with a gleam shining over his glasses.  “We could also make it up to you now if you'd like.”

“Jeez,” Wolfram complained. Didn’t they ever stop? “It's not like that's why I'm annoyed. I can handle a few days without sex.” Unlike two specific someones.

He thought that, but he didn't protest when Ken moved closer to him

After saying a “proper goodbye,” his husbands took their leave. Since it was still mid-morning, this left Wolfram in charge of all paperwork for the day. Both his head and his hand hurt by the time he made it through the entire stack of papers. At least he was able to relax in a nice hot bath, but just as he feared, it was hard to get any sleep alone anymore. The bed was too big and cold without his husbands. As much as he hated himself for waking her, he ended up slipping into Greta’s room to sleep there. It still wasn't the same, but it was better.

It was now morning. He was still tired, but at least he had managed to get a little bit of sleep. As much as he did not want to, he figured he should get up and start on the stupid paperwork. Then maybe the day would pass sooner and his husbands would return and he could actually get a good night's sleep

As soon as he sat up, Greta opened her eyes

“Papa? Are you going to work already?”

Wolf smiled and brushed her cheek. “Yeah. Sorry. I think Yuuri and Ken will be back today. Then I can shove the work onto Yuuri and play with you.”

Greta puffed her cheeks out. “I want to play with Daddy, too.”

He chuckled. “Alright. I'll work hard to get everything done so he can play.”

Greta smiled and latched onto his side.

Getting through the paperwork today was easier since he was doing it for Greta instead of Yuuri.

Still, that wasn’t enough to stop him from feeling annoyed that he was the one stuck doing this while his husbands were off doing whatever. If they wanted time alone they should have just said so. He could have stayed in his old room for a day and would have even offered to help with the paperwork. He would have hated it, but he would have done it. For them. Because they asked. Leaving him like this with an excuse was just rude. This didn’t only affect him either. They should have thought about Greta. If they had just wanted time together, they could have stayed here and at least seen her for a little bit during the day.

They were both being selfish as far as he was concerned. If either of them thought he was giving them any tonight, they were sorely mistaken. And if they weren't back today, well, they better get used to the hottest cold shoulder imaginable.

He worked all the way until dinner, only stopping for a short lunch with Greta in the garden. By the time he was finished with dinner, he had a permanent glare. He was not going to appreciate another night of poor sleep.

Yet somehow, Yuuri and Ken managed to promptly return right after he was finished eating. Greta raced ahead of him to the fountain while he walked casually. He was far too tired, full, and disgruntled to put in any unneeded effort.

Much to his annoyance, his irritation mostly evaporated when he spotted their goofy grins. Yuuri's was expected. That hopeless romantic seemed to lose his shit every time he reunited with him regardless of the circumstances. Ken’s, however, was interesting. It was only two days. Normally, he'd be met with a more reserved smile or maybe a smirk. This made him realize they must have been up to something.

"Wolf!" Yuuri cried ridiculously. He was hugging Greta, but he gently stepped away from her so that he could launch himself at Wolfram.

Greta looked a little disappointed but she smiled at the display anyway and moved on to giving Ken his hug.

“It was only two days, wimp,” Wolfram said but he hugged him back anyway.

After a long moment, Yuuri pulled back so that Murata could hug him this time.

“Greta,” Yuuri said, “Can you go play in the garden? Your daddies need a bit of privacy, then we'll come play with you. Promise.”

Greta glared. “You better keep that promise.”

Yuuri laughed. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“No!” She exclaimed, honestly looking frightened by the statement. “Don't die.”

Yuuri just smiled, unfazed by Greta’s worry. “I won't because I won't break the promise.”

“Alright,” she said still looking a little worried

Shaking his head fondly, Wolfram watched her run off. “You shouldn’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”

Yuuri brushed his thumb over his cheek. “But I will keep it.”

Wolfram could feel himself softening but pushed it away. “You can’t promise what I will do, wimp.”

Yuuri just smiled. “Because I’m sure you want to go off by yourself we’ve been gone.”

Wolfram steeled his face into coyness. “Maybe I do.”

“But we came bearing gifts!” Ken announced, holding up a cutely decorated purple felt bag.

Wolfram eyed it in suspicion. Then he realized that Yuuri had one identical except that it was yellow instead of purple. “What did you bring me?” he asked trying to hide his anticipation.

The twinkle in Ken’s eye showed that he did a poor job of hiding it. “Chocolates.”

Wolfram furrowed his brow but snatched both of the bags. “Why did you bring me chocolates?”

“What?” Yuuri asked. “We can’t just treat our husband?”

Wolfram gave him a look. “This is a lot for a simple treat. Besides, I know you two planned this. What exactly is this about?”

Ken chuckled. “I told you he’d catch on, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sighed. “Oh well. I was going to tell anyway.”

“You see,” Ken started, “today is what we call on Earth Valentine’s Day.”

“Valin Tines Day?”

Ken grinned and repeated the name slower this time. “It’s a day when people give each other chocolate as a sign of affection. Then in Japan, we have another day called White Day where those that received gifts return gifts.”

Wolfram licked his lips. “So, I need to return a gift on this White Day.”

“No,” Yuuri said immediately.

Wolfram tossed his head. “Why’s that?”

“We did this because we wanted to, not because we wanted you to give us anything.”

Wolfram planted his hands on his hips, making sure he kept a good hold on each of the bags as he did so. “Yeah, well, maybe I want to do this for you guys too. I don’t see any chocolates for each other.”

“We did this for you, Wolf,” Yuuri said.”

Wolfram glared. “You’re going to explain to me how to do this White Day, or else I’m going to make you both split these with me.”

“No!” Yuuri cried as if that was a horrible fate. Wolfram had to suppress a smile.

Ken sighed. “Okay, fine. Traditionally, in Japan, girls give boys homemade chocolates on Valentine’s Day, and then on White Day, the boys give girls white colored items.”

“Like marshmallows?”

Ken chuckled. “Yes, you could give those. It doesn’t have to be food, though. It also doesn’t have to be white-colored, just like how it doesn’t have to be girls giving gifts on Valentine’s Day and boys giving gifts on White Day.”

Wolfram nodded his head taking this all in. Then his eyes bulged. “Wait, you made these handmade?”

“Yep!” Ken stated proudly.

Wolfram clutched them to his chest. “I changed my mind. No way am I sharing these with you.” They were precious once-in-a-lifetime treasures. “You can go on ahead of me.”

“Why?” asked Yuuri.

“Because I have to go hide these before Greta asks me to share.”

Both of his husbands chuckled at him, but he didn’t care. He was going to eat all of these chocolates and savor every bite of them.

The chocolates weren't the most extravagant dessert he had ever eaten, but to Wolfram, they were the best thing ever. Yuuri claimed that was to be expected because they "made them with love." Well, Wolfram wasn’t about to be outdone. He could make his own goodies “made with love.”

He didn’t know how to make chocolate. Maybe a cake would be better. No, that seemed too easy. Besides, neither of them were huge on sweets. He’d either have to make one joint cake or he’d end up having to eat some, which was not what he wanted at all. It was all for them! Weren’t there tiny ones you could make called cupcakes? That could work. He could even write little messages in the frosting. Oh! And he could make white cake with vanilla frosting to match this White Day tradition. It was perfect.

Even though he had no clue when this White Day wis, he set to work inside the kitchen the next day. With Yuuri back, he had the day free and he needed to perfect his recipe in time. Of course, his plan didn’t move along without any issues. The maids were not exactly thrilled to have him taking up space and ingredients on his little “experiments.” Plus, it only took a few hours for Greta to track him down.

“What are you making, Papa?”

Wolfram wiped flour off his hands. “Just something for your dads.”

The girl perked up. “Can I help?”

“I…” Wolfram wanted to say no. These were his gifts after all. But looking at her hopeful smile, he knew he couldn’t say no. She was his precious little girl after all. And he was sure his husbands would eat the cakes up even more knowing that Geta helped as well. “Yeah, okay. You can mix the ingredients, and I’ll pour.”

It took 15 batches before they seemed “good enough.” They still weren’t up to the standards the maids would have produced, but they were surely better now. As much as it hurt his pride, most of the success was due to Greta’s help. She had caught that he had turned the oven up a tad too high and wasn’t pouring the batter evenly enough. She had even suggested that they add sprinkles to the mix, which inspired him to add some cut-up fruit as well.

The icing was all up to him, though. That was a job he put his foot down on. He remembered once when Yuuri gave him these little heart-shaped candies on Earth that said cheesy lines like “Sugar is sweet and so are you.” He took inspiration from that, adding little messages in pink icing. Classier messages, mind you. Classy, thoughtful, and personal. His favorite just said “WIMP” in bold lettering. He was sure Yuuri would love that one, too.

There was a skip in his step as he carried the tray of cupcakes down the hall. The guards gave him looks, but he ignored them. They should mind their own business.

“You seem really happy, Papa,” Greta said.

“Of course, I am,” he said proudly. “I get to show them that I am just as capable of giving meaningful desserts.”

Greta giggled. “They’re going to be so happy. I bet they’ll give us both really big hugs.”

Wolfram held back a laugh. Knowing them, he’d be getting a lot more than a hug for this. “Yeah, I’m sure they will.”

He knocked once before opening the door to Yuuri’s office.

Yuuri looked up, and immediately stood up. “Wolf? Is that–”

Wolfram puffed his chest out. “You bet it is!”

An enormous grin broke over Yuuri’s face and he rushed over to them. “You made these?” he asked incredulously.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can bake when I want to.” Wolfram smacked Yuuri when he pursed his lips.

“I helped!” Greta chimed in from beside him.

Yuuri looked down at her. It didn’t seem like he had even noticed she was there. He crouched to her level and put a hand on her head. “Thanks, Greta. I’m guessing you didn’t come up with any of these cheesy sayings did you?”

“Hey!” Wolfram exclaimed. “They aren’t cheesy. They’re heartfelt.”

Yuuri stood up and stared closer at the cupcakes. “Baseball boy?” he asked, holding the cupcake up.

Wolfram turned his head to the side. “Yeah, well you are one.”

“You got me.” He chuckled. Then his voice fell into seriousness. “Ooh…Wolf….”

Wolfram looked to see which one he was holding up now. Till the End of Time . “It’s true,” he said.

Yuuri pulled him into a hug. “Thank you. I love them.”

Wolfram returned the hug, pushing his head into the crook of his neck. “You’re welcome.”

The hug lingered until Greta eventually tugged on Yuuri’s pants. “I want a hug, too.”

Yuuri shook like he was exiting a trance. “Right, sorry, Greta.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you so much, Greta. I’m sure they taste delicious. Do you want anything special next time I go to the market or to Earth?”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “I only helped cause I love you and Papa.”

Yuuri squeezed her tighter. “You are such a good girl!”

She giggled. “Ow, Daddy, that kind of hurts.”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Wolfram smiled and set the tray down on the bit of empty space on the desk. “I’m going to go find Ken to give him his. Meet us later?”

Yuuri met his eyes. “Always.”

Wolfram shook his head at the overflowing sappiness on his way out.

Ken had returned to the shrine to make sure everything was okay after his absence. It took about two hours to get there by carriage. Horse would have been faster, but he wouldn’t have been able to make sure the cakes weren’t messed up during the trip. He could have waited until that night when he returned to give them to him, but he was too excited.

Now that they were married, he was allowed free access to the shrine, so he didn’t have to worry about any shrine maidens spying on his beautiful cupcakes. He found Ken in the back room rehanging a giant portrait of Shinou.

Wolfram grimaced at the sight of it.

“Hey!” Ken said when he spotted him.

“Hey, can we go somewhere else?” Wolfram asked, gesturing to the door. He didn’t want to do this under Shinou’s watchful gaze.

Ken gave him a look, then looked suspiciously at the covered tray. “Sure, follow me.”

He led them to a cozier room with plush seats. “What brings you here?”

“I come bearing gifts obviously.” Wolfram shoved the tray into his hands. “Happy White Day.”

Ken laughed. “White Day isn’t for practically a month.”

Wolfram wasn’t amused. “Yeah, well, whatever. No one told me that part. Are you going to accept them or not?”

“Oh, I’ll definitely accept them.” Ken uncovered the tray so that the decorated cupcakes were on display. “Wow.”

“Greta helped some,” Wolfram said. “I didn’t think I should bring her all the way here, but you owe her a hug when we get home.”

“Of course…But you,” he looked back at him, “deserve a kiss for this.”

Wolfram tossed his head. “I would hope so.”

Ken snickered. “I don’t even know if I can bring myself to eat these.”

“You have to!”

He smiled wider at Wolfram’s insistence. “If only I could take a photograph first.”

“Photo graph?” Why would he want a graph of photos?

“It’s an image that you can keep. Sort of like a painting.”

“Oh,” Wolfram said even though he did not really understand. “You want to remember what they say?”

“Yeah. These actually mean a lot.”

Wolfram took his hand in his. “You don’t need a photo graph. Yuuri and I will keep saying these things to you forever.”

Something passed over Ken’s face. Maybe sadness, maybe relief, or maybe something else. Possibly it was a mix of all of it.

“And if you really want,” Wolfram continued, “I can write down a list of everything I wrote for you to keep.”

“Would you do that?”

“I’d do anything for you, Ken. You just have to ask.”

Ken sighed and squeezed his hand back. “I love you.”

Wolfram smiled and leaned in, stopping just short of his lips. “I love you, too.”

Ken sealed the kiss. It was laced with desperation, and Wolfram pulled back quickly.

“Set them down before you ruin them,” he demanded.

As soon as Ken did, he pulled him back into the kiss. With his hands free, Ken seized the opportunity to hold his waist. Soon they were meshed together on one of the chairs. They kept kissing until Ken broke it to mouth at his neck instead.

The Great Sage unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt so that he could get easier assess. He licked a stripe over his skin and Wolfram couldn’t help laughing at the ticklish sensation.

“I’m really glad we left that other room,” he said.

“Why’s that?” Ken asked as his hands reached lower to Wolfram’s behind.

“Because I wouldn’t have let you go this far in front of our Almighty Shinou.”

Ken chuckled into his neck. “I’m sure he would have loved that.”

Wolfram held his head closer to him. “I’m even going to let him look at you anymore.”

“He saw me just earlier, you know,” Ken said right before biting down.

“You know what I mean. You’re mine and Yuuri’s. I meant everything I put on those cupcakes.”

Ken lifted his head. “I know…And I am. Yours.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before he pushed Wolfram back into the next seat. Ken got up and picked up one of the cupcakes. “How about we share one?”

“I made them for you two alone.”

“Come on, please?” He made that pouty face he learned from Yuuri. Damn them for always wearing him down.

“Fine.”

Grinning, Ken dipped his finger into the frosting and stuck his finger out. Wolfram knew what he wanted, so he opened his mouth so Ken could feed it to him. He couldn’t see well enough to know for sure, but he guessed the cupcake Ken was holding was the one that said “My whole life.”

The frosting was sweet and melted on his tongue. He sucked on Ken’s finger even after the frosting was gone.

When he extracted his finger, Ken dipped it back into the frosting and stuck his finger into his own mouth. He sighed at the taste. “It’s sweet just like you.”

“Isn’t Yuuri the sweet one?”

“Why can’t you both be sweet?”

“Because I’m the hot one.”

Ken gave a hearty laugh. “I can’t argue with that.” He took a proper bite out of the cupcake and Wolfram held onto every second it took him to chew.

“Is it alright?”

Ken shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth. “I don’t think I need that list. I won't ever forget these cupcakes.”

Wolfram’s chest felt like it was about to burst. Somehow he still felt like he received the real gift from this holiday.

[cosmal]

𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐠 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

day six of my christmas drabbles advent calendar

summary — james looks after you when you’re drunk on eggnog and craving a christmas kebab.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her, drunk!reader, mentions of throw up

James has spent the last twenty minutes looking for you.

Remus said you were in the kitchen. When you weren’t there, Alice, who was in the kitchen, had said you’d moved to the sofas with Sirius. Sirius, sat by himself on a three-seater, said you’d up and left five minutes ago.

James goes crazy searching Mary Macdonald’s house for you. Eventually, when he almost starts to panic, he finds you sitting down against the far wall in the lounge room like he hasn’t looked for you there three times. He sighs, a little annoyed, a lot relieved.

You’re giggling in your lap when he reaches you. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. “Hey, lovely,” he says, all sweet and natural, like the charmer he is.

You look up from where you’re fiddling with a ladder in your tights, right above the top of your white leg warmers. Something that James thinks are terribly cute every time you put them on.

You seem head-spun when you catch him. Then, you seem awfully happy. “Jamie!” you hiccup. It’s so cute James swears he’s dizzier than you.

Your leg warmers. Your small, tipsy hiccup. Everything about you tonight radiates everything lovely.

“Hey, cute thing.” He’s never called you that before. You wrinkle your face.

“Cute,” another hiccup, “cute thing?”

He crouches down so he’s at your level, splaying his hands over your knees, squeezing the fat there. “Yeah,” he says, “y’cute.”

You pull your legs closer to your chest and James wobbles. He stops still when you start kissing his knuckles. His hands tighten in their selfish grip and if he thought you’d bruise, he’d stop. But you’re kissing him like you really, desperately need to.

You pull your mouth away like you’re a little embarrassed and his knuckles tingle.

“You know you shouldn’t be on the floor this drunk.” He really can’t tell how drunk you are just yet, but at one of Mary MacDonald’s parties, he’s too aware of how you could be.

“You have really pretty hands,” you tell him, blinking slowly at him like you’ve never actually seen his hands before. He pretends you don’t ignore him.

“Thanks, lovely,” he says, “you smell like nutmeg.”

You snort, “You don’t know what nutmeg smells like.” You laugh because he’s terribly funny — or maybe you are.

“No,” he agrees, “but I know what eggnog smells like.”

You gasp like you’ve been caught with your hand in the biscuit tin. Your cheeky smile grows into something worse. James loves it.

“Marlene is really pervasive,” you say, suddenly stern like you’re entirely serious.

“Pervasive?” he snorts. He doesn’t mean to.

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, disheveled hair falling in places that look annoying. He moves to tuck them away like the lovely boyfriend he is. He ignores the rumple in your face when he rubs your cheek for a little too long.

He knows, obviously being the sober one, that you mean persuasive. He truly thinks it’s adorable but his knees are starting to ache and he wants to move past it without disagreeing with a drunk you. He also wants you home, in bed, asleep and you’re makeup off. Not in that order, he knows better than that.

“Right, well,” he sniffs, standing upright so he’s above you, “tell Marlene that we appreciate the eggnog,” James doesn’t, he thinks is horrible, “but we must be going.”

You duck your head down again and James thinks you’re going to be sick. He imagines a pool of chucked up eggnog in your lap and momentarily feels sick himself. Then, you’re sighing, “God,” you throw your head back up and James thinks if you keep it up you might pass out, “I’m so fucking hungry.” You’ve moved past the persuasive talk, clearly.

“Well, if you let me help you up,” He doesn’t suggest you getting yourself up, knowing what happened the last time. The scar on your thigh an awful reminder. “I will take you to get food.” It’s cold, so cold his cheeks are a shade redder than normal, the snow hasn’t stopped all day, and he really shouldn’t, but his girlfriend is hungry. And he’s James Potter.

You look up at him, eyes and the curve of your neck glowing under the shine of the disco ball Sirius has hung up for Mary and you look the happiest you have all night. James would feel offended if he didn’t know what it feels like to be drunk and hungry.

“Really?”

He wriggles his fingers, arms outstretched to you, “Seriously.” Also feeling offended you think he wouldn’t take you to get food, would be stupid. He does though.

You reach your arms up like you might grab onto his and then they fall back down over your bent legs. “Kebabs?”

He nods, acting like he’s genuinely considering his options when kebabs have been on his mind all night, “Sounds good.”

Later that night, sitting in the best kebab diner in the whole of the UK (never argue with James or Frank about this, they’ll fight to the death) James thinks you’ve somehow gotten cuter.

The flickering LED light casts you absolutely warm, something that he swears should not make you look prettier, face shiny with grease and mayonnaise, he wants to savour this moment forever. It’s something so not Christmas, and also exactly what Christmas is about, all at once.

You’re half sober now, though your movements are still slow and sticky. Every time he watches a piece of lettuce fall onto the table below you, he grimaces, but you’re really trying your best.

Your motor spatial skills are worse than normal, he thinks with a total fondness, but he’s not one to stop you from stuffing your face when you’d told him how hungry you were the entire drive over. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey is what you’d told him, face pressed up against the cold window of his car. James laughed a little too much.

“Christmas kebabs are the best kebabs,” you tell him, mouth full of chicken, your eyes a little droopy. 

James agrees but his mouth is just as full. He has the soberness in him to keep his mouth shut.

“You know what’s better, though?”

“What?” he asks after he swallows.

“Christmas pudding,” you smile.

“I have some at home,” he grins, way too knowingly of what you’re about to say.

You stand, too quickly for his liking when you wobble around. “Well c’mon then, what are we waiting for?”

“You’ve barely finished your kebab!” he says, standing anyways.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.”

You pass out still in your full face of makeup, and fancy clothes when you get home, the thought of Christmas pudding completely gone. It takes James and hour to get you clean and back into bed.

[garoujo]

・✶ ｡ﾟ[2:34am] hell-sauce flavour — mammon

you can recall faintly that’s it somewhere between two and three in the morning as you struggle with the top on the instant noodles in your hands, the rustling sounds seeming so much louder when the rest of the house of lamentation have called it a day—your eyes still heavy with sleep while the faint lights of the rest of devildom just barely peek through the blinds.

you exhale when you fingers slip from the plastic one more before the silence settles for a few moments and a larger pair rest over yours from behind, a deep mumble following that sparks warmth in your chest as it cuts through the solitude.

“gimme, lemme see it. this is my speciality doncha know? let me get it for ya, only cause ya o-obviously need me not cause i was waitin’ for ya to ask or anythin’.” mammon hums from his place over your shoulder, pressing his chest against your back as he easily peels back the lid from the instant noodles, making sure to brush his lips across the dip of your shoulder with an almost proud grin after.

“what would ya do without me, huh? this is why i gotta stick by ya, g-gotta keep ya from goin’ hungry and all that stuff, s-so that’s why ya have me takin’ care of ya, dont gotta worry you’re pretty little head.” you soften before you smile at the silver haired demon’s words, turning to meet his drowsy gaze over your shoulder before he feels his cheeks heat and he pulls back, a little flustered, to place your cup of noodles on the counter beside his.

mammon turns to you with a few moments later with a grin, it’s handsome and a little cheeky and even in the dimly lit kitchen you can still admire the way the moonlight kisses his features through the open window, and he blushes even deeper when he notices you staring because that’s just who the second oldest is when it comes to you.

“a-anyways, uh—i hope you’re ready to witness the great mammon’s secret ramen recipe, ain’t nobody else in devildom who’s seen it and lived to tell the tale. there’s about to be a party on your taste buds so y-ya better watch carefully!” he huffs, puffing his chest as he clumsily grabs a few different ingredients from the cupboards and rests them beside the cup noodles, the water popping a few seconds later to let you both know it’s hot enough, and lastly, he reaches for you.

“cmeer, ya gotta get close enough to see what i’m doin’—j-just so ya don’t miss anythin’ with your human eyes that’s all it is, this recipe is top secret y’know—s-stop smilin’ at me like that!” mammon mumbles and you laugh, it’s warm and pretty as it echoes through the kitchen and because he loves you, mammon finds himself laughing too, before he pulls you against his chest and cages you between him and the counter.

“maybe we should sell this secret recipe for grimm.” you add, voice lilting to a tease as you lean back against him. watching his pretty hands reach for the different ingredients to add them into the ramen cups before he snorts and follows it with a kiss on your cheek.

“ya really are made for me, ain’t ya? i-i mean—ya really k-know the way to a demon’s heart.” mammon breathes and you blink, keeping your silence for a few moments because letting yourself be loved like this felt nice, you think.

it’s just you and him, somewhere between two and three in the morning in the rarely quiet kitchen of the house of lamentation, there’s no fancy setting or five course meal, but you still feel so loved when you turn to look up at mammon and realise his eyes are already on you.

because this version of mammon was one that was truly yours—the one that started picking up double his usual order of hell-sauce flavour noodles because he realised you like them too even though he’d always blush and say there was a sale if someone pointed it out, and the one who stifles his yawns because he’d much rather be awake with you between two and three am in the dimly lit kitchen than asleep because “t-the great mammon doesn’t get tired, only let ya tag along so ya didn’t starve or somethin’ cause then lucifer would kill me s-since i’m supposed to be watchin’ over ya!” even though he stayed awake just so he could be stood where he is now.

and you soften when you realise that the love you found in the second eldest was best felt like this—with the moonlight pooling around you both as he cooks his favourite cup ramen that quickly became yours past midnight because you always said it tastes better when he made it, and he suddenly doesn’t care about the teasing he’d probably hear from his brothers or the blush that’s high on his cheeks, because these moments, are meant as an “i love you” from him to you.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[toukatan]

You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon 

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon 

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon 

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon 

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur 

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea 

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck? 

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

[kimnamshiks]

Show Me A Good Time

Pairing: Hyunjin x Female Reader (ft. voyeur Minho)

Genre: Smut, Light humor

Rating: Explicit

WC: 2.2k+

Tags: Smut, accidental voyeurism turned voyeurism, light humor 

Summary: Seeing you make his best friend so happy never ceases to make him happy and vice versa. He loves seeing love in all forms; though this may be seeing you and Hyunjin’s love just a bit too much to be appropriate. Maybe Minho will remember to close his doors fully next time.

"Hyu-- Honey.." your soft voice filtered up into the air along with an airy moan, echoing.

"Yeah? Is it good?" Hyunjin's voice answered yours in a low tone. “That good? Baby my sheets are getting so dirty because of you~”

Minho was confused, groggy from sleep. The clock glared an obnoxious light of numbers, changing to 3:01 am. Was he dreaming? Maybe he's in a weird alternative middle ground again or something… It wasn't often he would have suggestive dreams regarding his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend. But it can happen; seeing them be so cute and happy together with the silly banter, inappropriate comments do happen also. The soft, slick sounds of kissing and slurping on the other hand were too high and sharp to be his dream-lagged mind. (Possibly… He does have a habit of daydreaming) He rubbed at his eyes as he was going to get up but a sharp moan stopped him in his tracks.

His eyesight came into a sharp focus towards the bathroom since it was between the rooms connecting them both in a roommate suite. His door was slightly ajar as Hyunjin's was open. Completely open with a reflection of the bedside lamp, Hyunjin’s room was … Giving Minho a full view of the activity going on with you and Hyunjin.

Of you two in bed preparing to fuck. Heavens why did you two have to go at it at this hour? Do you two not know how to sleep?

You were breathless against the gray cotton sheets, body shiny with a thin layer of sweat in a sweet arch that he didn’t think was comfortable but you could care less about. Another moan rippling from your lips as your legs slid further down on the bed. Hyunjin himself just seemed to be in his boxers for the time being but his body also had a layer of sweat to match, hair wet, and sorta curled up at the ends. A shift and you moaned hard for him.

Fading pink and mostly blonde hair shifted as the male lifted his head to tilt it innocently. “You have to be quiet sweetheart. Do I need to keep your mouth occupied?” 

A view of your head thrown back from the pleasure Hyunjin was giving between your legs, his grip tight enough on the inner part of your thighs. The way your hips tried to roll against the male’s face or fingers but was stopped when his grip adjusted to press your hips against the bed more. Minho could tell Hyunjin was looking up at your face with that grin he loved to use when he was particularly enjoying the torture. The blonde didn’t have his mouth on you right now in combination, for the fingers quickly going in and out of your wet core were doing wonders he was guessing. He mentally thought how long Hyunjin was down there lapping at the juices coating his hand. Or if Hyunjin has already made you cum once or twice.

“Maybe if you would just… Fuckin’ gimme..” Your voice waivers from another plunge of Hyunjin’s fingers into you, gripping his free hand to immediately shove a couple of fingers into your mouth.

The male’s mouth dropped open at the same time Hyunjin spluttered your name in a whimper. You flicked your tongue around three of his fingers sloppily, slurping and making Hyunjin stop to focus on punishing your mouth. You took it in stride as more spittle fell onto your chest with a muffled groan. He pressed down harshly to make you open your mouth wide, even rubbing the pad of his fingers onto your tongue.

“Mm ready Hyunnie. M’ready now.'' He watched you plead, in that whiny voice you reserve to try and get what you want once your mouth was free. 

The male mimicked you as he sat up to look down at you. He demanded you to say it again. With lips shiny from spit your mouth opened again to repeat yourself. And again. And again, the tone turned just that tad more demanding that Minho’s own body heated up in response.

Minho always caved under it no matter what you asked for when you got petulant. (He was weak for you and he believed his best friend knew it too.) This was going in his spank bank, he’ll feel guilty about it later. He slid his hand into his boxers and gripped himself, biting his lip hard to keep his noise of satisfaction at bay, realizing he was already leaking enough pre-cum to make the slide against his dick easier. He should feel guilty but right now he was too hard, his mind on wanting to watch you two until the end.

“Are you darling? Think you’re soaked enough?” a hummed out question, probably rhetorical. Hyunjin didn’t even let you answer before he continued, “Maybe you can have it now if you ride me pretty. Can you do that?”

Minho gyrated his hips into his hand lightly, eyes taking in everything as you pulled your boyfriend in for a deep kiss. Groans and whimpers being swallowed by each other. Fuck… What he wouldn't give to see you on top of his cock, letting him sink deep into the most intimate parts of your beautiful body and carve his shape in. Kiss and mark your skin besides Hyunjin’s finger bruises.

Hyunjin pulled back with a satisfied sigh at your drenched core and brought his hand down to his aching dick to ready himself. Wrapping his fingers to coat around the dripping head, down the slight curve to the base for a quick squeeze with a harsh moan of your name. Both you and Minho watched; you more so turned on and ready but he did more to assess it.

Not to say his best friend has a pretty dick… But Minho thinks it’s a pretty dick to match his pretty best friend indeed. So pretty he wondered if you were going to stretch your lips around it.

Do you deep throat? Do you tease with kisses and avoid his arousal completely? Would you let Hyunjin fuck your mouth as you gag with spittle and cum sliding down your face? Or maybe you two kiss after you take his load?

He was glad his free hand was in front of his face due to holding back a whimper. His hips kicking into the tight fist of his hand, his eyes were drinking in your frame as you sink slowly onto Hyunjin’s lap, thighs drenched in your juices that the squelching sound echoed loudly.

“Nngh-- Finally I’ve been waiting for this all day. It’s so good.”

Your hands glide up your body with the first roll of your hips onto Hyunjin’s with a pace that screams payback. The slow and dirty kind, the grind so hard that you had Hyunjin bruising up your thighs and hips with the tight hold on your body.

He looked up your frame with love and teasing, voice coming out in a broken husk “Come on baby you said you waited for this--”

Minho slowed the movement of his hand over his cock, following along with what seemed to be a hell of a ride. He snuck some extra lube into his hand for the easier glide and to not cum so early.

"I did say that didn't I?", a hiccuping giggle left your throat as your loving boyfriend kicked his hips up. "It's my turn to have a l-little fun too." Your lips left little blooming marks upon the slate of salty skin and lean muscle as you rode him slowly. Sometimes your hips would leave Hyunjin’s so you could look at him twitch, shiver from the cooler air on his heated skin then drop down hard onto his cock yet again.

You alternated this for a while and caressed your body, sighing from a particular roll or whimpering when the blonde sped up the pace for a bit. Minho was drooling onto his pillow and his own skin was hot and sweaty in its rising temperature. His best friend caresses and gropes where he can reach as he praises you. “Feeling good?”

“Mmm yea, roll your hips just.. just like that.”

“Squeezing me like you don’t want me to leave you, that’s fucking hot--”

You squeezed around him when you raised up before dropping down so hard that you watched blonde hair fly back in undeniable pleasure-- what you didn't expect was the loud ass THWACK to resonate in the room. Hyunjin groans (in a non-sexy way, that’s gonna leave a bump--) while holding the back of his head and wiggling underneath you. Curses flew from both of you as it made you laugh loudly.

"Honey! Aaaha--" a wheeze "Honey are you ok--" another wheeze "Okay? Fuck that sounded like it hurt.."

"Pussy so good I lost my head for a second there--" he hissed out. His eyes were closed tightly, grin goofy despite the obvious pain with him slapping at the air in your direction, "You're loud! Don't wake up Minho!" But your cackling echoed into Minho’s room too.

Said male was stifling his laughter into his pillow, heart full watching you two take care of the situation while laughing. Knowing that you'd stop everything to check on your boyfriends’ well being made a little envy burn in his chest, but he pushed that away when his dick throbbed from you guys laughing again.

Really dick? At a time like this? Laughing shouldn’t be sexy you know--

"If your damn headbang didn't wake him up before my laughter then I dunno what to tell you."

A gentle ass smack here, "Cheeky brat!"

"Who's being loud now~? You want Minho to hear you?" You questioned the blonde, not missing the way his cock jerked against your walls.

"Oh?" The may you said that to Hyunjin had Minho’s hand grabbing his dick tight yet again, playing at the base near his sack.

Now he sees that you guys changed positions so Hyunjin's head was at the bottom of the bed, feet touching the headboard. His best friend looked sheepish when you placed a pillow underneath his head. You still cooing at him and massaging his scalp while talking to him; agreeing that it would be a slow sex night after all. Exchanging a few deep kisses, Minho's rapidly paying attention again when Hyunjin goes to lay back down. Your hips sinking down onto Hyunjin’s cock (which was still hard... Minho wonders yet again if his friend likes pain--) moving back to its up and down motion. Occasionally he'd play with his tip and sigh, eyes starting to slip closed…

"Don't think I missed that little tidbit, Hyunjin.."

Hyunjin moaned your name high from his throat when you scratched down his chest, "Miss wh--"

A slow corner smirk appeared, nonchalance lacing every word. "The fact that your dick twitched when I said Minho's name."

Hyunjin's face was red with a wide-eyed stare towards you, not knowing how to proceed with that. Minho in his bed was wide-eyed to match, ears heated in surprise and cock weeping just a bit more at that thought. Fuck did Hyunjin find him attractive sexually too?

"We'll be able to talk about that later. Hm?" You pant and grind harder, "Wanna be loud next time for your best friend then too. Maybe he can join--"

Hyunjin's moan was even higher this time, gripping your waist hard with a blown outlook as you leaned back to ride. Legs spread farther so his cock could reach even deeper into your body. When his hips began to meet yours you felt euphoric, his tip kissing your g-spot with ease now. It was deeper but still a leisurely pace.

Minho forwent that pace and was trying his best to stay quiet as he fucked his fist again, his other hand sliding under his shirt to tug his hard nipples. His mind produced so many scenarios of how he'd have you bent over, folded, split on his cock while he kissed you over and over again.

A tremble skittered up into your chest, mouth running off now. "O-Oh? You'd like that babe? Would you watch him fuck me?"

"Shhhiiit yes…" he groaned deep, his face still sporting that strawberry hue on his sweaty skin. "Wanna see your lips around his cock--"

"I wanna see yours around his cock too, Jinnie. Minnie wouldn't know what to do--"

Both of you were whimpering and moaning loudly, uncaring of the noise level now that you two were so deep into the pleasure that clouded minds. Minho listened, his own soft whines joining into the fray of noise. How you two talked about the positions, the possibility of whose mouth did what to his body, or what fingers went where. Even how every surface of the house would be a new surface to fuck on if he did accept the proposal.

Yes yes, I would accept. He thought, hand blurring over his cock as his orgasm began to coil. Tugging his puffy nipples, a look of bliss casts over his face at the mere thought of the chance. He imagined him getting his cock rode by Hyunjin, you by their side as you marked his neck or kissed him filthy. As the two of you played with him, making his voice reach pitches he never thought of. Hyunjin's shout of your name as he came, made Minho crash through his orgasm with a low and long whine; a combination of both your names like a prayer. He was still riding out his high when you came a bit after with Hyunjin’s name on your lips.

All three of you were spent, Minho staying still and suddenly sleepy again. You slumped over Hyunjin’s side and shared tired kisses while wiping each other down with baby wipes. He should clean up before he had a bigger mess in the morning but he was drifting off to your voice murmuring jokes and Hyunjin’s squeaky laugh.

With his mind fizzed out he succumbed to sleep, he dreamed of hand holding and chaste kisses this time. Shy smiles and embarrasing laughter on outings with his favorite two people in the world.

The clean up is for future Minho anyways, he’s gonna enjoy his nutting experience to the fullest.

Future Minho would like to beat up Past Minho’s ass. Since Future Minho was stuck with the embarrassment of being woken up by you giggling over the mess in his bed; making some excuse of a pretty good ass dream. Curse you Past Minho! Curse you!

[ticklepinions]

Finding The Off Button: Part 1

Tw: Feet

You have pushed every button imaginable. You have dropped so many hints. I'm 100% sure that full body stretches across me those past 25 times were intentional. Those dramatic exasperated sighs have not fallen on deaf ears, trust me I heard those loud and clear. But a question for you, where is your off button?

You wouldn't mind me trying to find it would you? And you just gave me an idea of wear to start~ You're wearing really cute socks today, perhaps the button is right there?

Gently grabbing your ankle, I place it into my lap, and lucky me you're not fighting back- for now. I try tracing around your foot and a giggle escapes your lips. How dare you laugh at my attempts off finding the elusive off button?? That rude behaviour only gets you harder scribbles on your socked soles. You throw your head back in laughter, quickly succumbing to the ticklish feeling.

Hmmmmmmm maybe it's by the ankles? My fingers softly spider them as you snicker and squirm. Nope, not there.

Maybe the heels? My nails softly drag across them but your other foot tries to rescue the other. All it takes is pinning your feet between my thighs and you are at my mercy~ Unfortunately for me, heels aren't the spot either.

It's got to be the arches! One finger stroke. Two fingers stroking. Three fingers stroking, four. You begin reaching forward to try and protect your peds but I found that uber sensitive spot riiiiight in the center that has you trapped in a fit of laughter.

I stop for a bit, letting you recover. A gentle massage makes you sigh from relaxation. Are you gonna tell me where it is like a good person~? No? Well you're awfully stubborn for someone soooooooooooo ticklish.

Then it hit me. The tops of your feet! All ten of my fingers glide up and down the top of your feet. Aww how cute it is to see your toes curl. That playful grin and cheeky giggles of yours tell me I'm still wrong however, so I must continue my search.

Before I can even attempt the next spot you scrunch your toes. Like that's going to protect you~ It takes one fingernail to gently dig into your big toe and you've gone red. Oh this is going to be fun~ My fingers begin to flutter over your wildly wiggling toes. Something tells me I'm awfully close to the spot. I mean your legs are practically vibrating.

I stop once more as you stick out your tongue mischievously. You've think you've won. Adorable. Not to be the bearer of bad news but-

Your face pales as you feel nails dragging up your bare soles. How mean am I to tickle you as I remove those socks~ They're awfully soft and smooth, it'll be hard to pry my hungry fingers from such ticklish skin~ Up and up my fingers go until your toes are the only ones covered. They look like they're holding on to the socks for dear life. I smile slyly. I know what you're hiding~

But of course I'll play with my food first. I focus on one foot, softly spidering the tops and soles. Eventually your toes loosen their grip and there goes one sock. The other foot would have gotten the same treatment but I have a reputation of a "meanie" to uphold ya know~ How ticklish it is to be tickled by ten fingers on a sole (pun intended) mostly bare foot. One hand gently clawing at your heels and the other "munching" on the ball of your foot.

Well would you look at that. No more socks. Just two bare feet awaiting their reward. Finally after a forever of pokes, and taking my belongings, and other miscellaneous crap you pulled to be in this predicament, your time has come. The spot. The off button. Is right here. You gulp nervously as you feel my fingers on your feet. Your toes wiggle in anticipation yet there is still a playful glint in your eye.

Incoherent babbles pour out of your mouth. My fingers are now threading in between your toes. I've found the spot. Are you happy now~?

Tagging @wertzunge cause he was bullying @danibby

[babbushka]

Take this request however you’d like! A Flip’s titty appreciation post? Just about how he enjoys them. Whether it be sleeping on them, enjoying just looking at them when the Mrs is around, touching on them just randomly while you’re together. A little somethin’ somethin’ along those lines? 🤠

A/N: Lol when I first read this prompt I thought you meant you wanted some appreciation of Flip's tits!! I was like oh yeah, someone's gotta put a bra on that man lol! But then I read it again and realized that's not what you meant lol. I hope you enjoy this short fluffy something!

1k, warnings: mentions of pregnancy, and Flip being handsy and obsessed with tits but it's not smut really lol

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“God, today -- fucking -- !” Flip slams the door a little more aggressively than he intends to, taking in a deep breath to really emphasize, “Sucked!”

What a nightmare work had been, Flip thinks with a deep scowl, as he steps out of his shoes and jacket, leaving them in a disheveled heap on the floor, before going back and righting it because he knows you’d be pissed if he left it like that.

“Is that my honey I hear?” Speaking of you, Flip is a little bummed that you’re not right at the door to greet him like you are most days, because he sure as shit could use a kiss or a dozen right about now.

“Ugh.” Is all he manages to get out, before going on a hunt around the house for you, incorrectly heading into the kitchen first, hoping that dinner might be ready for him. It is, but you’re not there, and you’re more important, despite his growling stomach.

He hears you laughing a little at his theatrics, following the sound of your voice into the living room, where you say those four magic words that make all his bad days turn into good ones, “Aw cheer up, here, wanna see my tits?”

Like magic, his mood is improved, and he makes his way over to the sunken living room where you’ve got reruns of the Dick Van Dyke show to keep you company as you iron. He leans against the arch that separates the dining and living rooms, and watches as you put the iron up on its little stand, away from one of his dress shirts that you’d been working on.

You make a little show of it, unbuttoning the blouse you’re wearing one button at a time, your shoulders giving a little shimmy that makes your tits bounce as you let it drop into the to-iron pile, unclasping your bra tantalizingly slow. Flip can’t help but chew on his lip, the anticipation of seeing your perfect tits nearly killing him.

The torture only lasts a few more moments though, before you let the bra drop altogether, and Flip takes three big strides across the living room to get his hands on you, the way they’ve been itching to all day while he was stuck undercover with these fucking guys on this new fucking case.

“God ketsl,” He breathes out a low whistle, getting his palms full of your flesh and kneading your tits, “You’re a stunner.”

“I know.” You give him a cheeky grin, but Flip shakes his head, leaving down to kiss you all over your face -- your cheeks, your neck, your throat, making his way down in an awkward sort of bend, an attempt to get your nipples in his mouth. You laugh a little and swat at his shoulder, and he straightens up out of fear of accidentally bumping into the iron.

“No no, I mean really. How the fuck did a guy like me ever get you?” Flip backs you away from the ironing board a little, pushes you against the back of the couch, never once taking his hands off your chest.

“You don’t look half bad either.” One of your hands begins combing through Flip’s hair, short soothing scratches against his skull as you tease, “In fact, in the right lighting, you’re kinda handsome.”

That gets a chuckle out of your husband, and you’re pleased, glad that whatever had been bothering him at work was no match for the power of your presence.

“What are you doing?” Flip’s eyes are starry when he looks at you, rubs his nose against yours.

“Putting together a model airplane, what does it look like I’m doing?” You roll your eyes, leaning up to press your lips to his, always forgetting how much you miss him until he finally comes home from his stressful and dangerous job.

“Honey you can’t expect me to look anywhere other than right...” Flip grabs your tits in his palms again, getting a better grip on them to push them together and smack smooches to the tops of them that his fingers can’t quite cover, “...Here.”

“Alright hold on cowboy,” You laugh, pushing him away for a moment to much protesting, instead leading him over to the couch properly, nudging for him to, “Lay down.”

“No, you first.” Flip arranges and rearranges the cushions so that your back is supported, and the small act of care has your playful mood softening into something a tiny bit more tender.

Feeling stupid that you’re just in bottoms, you take them off, laying down on the couch in your underwear. Flip doesn’t bother taking his clothes off too, but that’s alright with you, he’s wearing his soft shirt and those worn jeans of his, nothing’s going to be abrasive against your skin.

“Careful, they’re a little tender right now.” You encourage him to lay down on top of you, mindful of the small baby bump. Your tits have gotten bigger from the pregnancy, and even though Flip was always a little too into them before he knocked you up, he’s all too excited to get his face snuggled against them now.

“They’re perfect.” He sighs out, trying to find a good spot to get one of his hands cupping your left, his face resting on your right.

“Are you comfortable?” You joke, knowing that he could live right there if you’d let him.

“Mmmmmhm.” Nuzzling his nose against your nipple, he kisses all over the spots that he can reach with his mouth, his body tucked up against you. The hand on your left breast gives gentle squeezes, and you smile fondly down at him, kissing his temple, before carding your fingers through his hair once again.

“You know, I’m not so sure you don’t have a complex.” You tease, and unexpected laughter shakes through your husband’s frame.

It’s not that he’s always been a tits guy, Flip doesn’t think. It’s always just been you, your body drives him crazy. The stash of wet white t-shirt polaroids he has of you in his desk could probably get him fired if anyone ever went snooping, there’s just something about the feeling of your nipple hardening against his tongue that makes his life so much better.

“You’re probably right but I don’t want to be confronted with that right now.” He grumbles, and you grin, knowing that whatever is going on in that brain of his, you’re encouraging, because how could you ever say no to your lumberjack of a man when what he wants is so easy to provide?

“Fair enough.” You muse, twirling some of his shaggy hair around your finger, “Will you help me with the ironing? It’ll go by faster if you put the shit on the hangers.”

“You bet your ass I will ketsl...in a minute.” Flip wedges his face into your cleavage, pushing your tits together once again to smother himself between them, “I just want to lay here for a minute.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you reach down to the extension cord where the iron is plugged in, and press the power switch. At some point, he’ll have to get off of you so the two of you can eat dinner, at which point you can turn it back on, but you know that as the rain picks up outside, Flip is not going to be getting up anytime soon.

That’s alright with you, you think, happy to hug him and watch tv together on the couch for a while, and maybe, if he gets worked up enough, have a little sex. You can’t blame him of course, you think with a big smile, you are, after all, a stunner.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging some Flip loving friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip

[sanniedaysmarsnights]

Dark and Twisted Threads of Fate | Series 5 - Mafia!ATEEZ x reader Part 4

Masterlist

First chapter

Previous chapter (part 3)

A/N: Wow yet another part, is that three days in a row? omg. I've got really good inspiration and motivation to write these days yay. I've really missed it <3 In this part we get to see more of Yunho and San! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: A little over 2.5 K!

Tag list: @baekmond and those who were so kind as to like all previous parts before <3 @snowxeroneronryu @twilightwei @cloudysmothy @whyme11 @lovelyracha98 thank you so much ^_^ (please let me know if you would like to be tagged/untagged!)

Warnings: Assassinations, violence.

A couple of days later Yunho greets you with a kind smile.

 "Today, I have a special surprise for you." He says excitedly "Come!" and before you knew it you were being whisked away.

 "Where are we going Yunho?" You tried to ask him, flustered as you had trouble keeping up with his pace.

 "We have to hurry, we are on a bit of a tight schedule I'm afraid. You arrived a little later than I had hoped." Yunho chuckled apologetically, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

 "Late for what?" You puffed, getting out of breath. How could he run so fast and not seem to get out of breath in the slightest? Maybe you really should work on your condition more.

 "That's a surprise!" He sent you a cheeky wink, and tugged you along on your adventure.

 "Here, hold on to this for me will you?" Yunho handed you a large black rectangular case. He picked up another bag, and turned to you. "We will take the elevator up to the top floor, and there I will finally get to show you what your surprise is."

 You were just relieved he wouldn't make you climb the stairs to the top floor, as you had entered a tall, sleek building and walked to the third floor. Too breathless to answer, Yunho took your silence as compliance. Not that you had a choice in the first place.

 "It will be worth it, I promise! We're almost there." Damn Yunho and his long legs.

The elevator ride allowed you enough time to recuperate to your relief. When it dinged to announce its arrival and the doors slid open, you were relieved that it had been such calm pleasant weather lately. You were so high up that had it been windy, you would have been afraid of blowing right off the building. Instead the sky was blue with barely any clouds in sight.

 "Oh woooooooooooww!" You exclaimed, looking over the bright city skyline.

 "It is quite the view, right?" You nodded vigorously. You had never seen the city from above like this, in a way it both seemed a lot bigger yet smaller than it normally felt. "We will have plenty of time to admire this view at a later moment, but right now we are on a tight schedule, remember? Please could you pass me that case?" Yunho had walked to one of the railings and started unpacking his bag. He laid out a blanket and placed various tools next to it. You walked over and placed the case down next to him.

 "Here. Put these on and those in your ears. You turned back from the skyline, taking the protective glasses and earplugs from Yunho.

 "What are these for- Oh my god." Yunho had unlocked the black case you had been carrying, revealing a dismantled rifle. Yunho didn't waste any time to swiftly begin piecing the weapon together, looking far too familiar with the assembly.

 "I got some targets assigned to me this morning, and San had told me how much you had enjoyed going to the gun store. So I thought I'd bring you with me on this mission!" Yunho seemed far too cheerful to be a professional sniper on a mission.

 You shook your head in confusion. "Y-Yunho, you can't just.."

 "Can't just what? Kill a bunch of assholes? Here. Those are their portfolios, I think you might recognise them." He tossed two folders in front of your feet. Your fingers shook as you picked the folders off the ground. It felt wrong to look into people who were about to meet their unnatural end. But you were curious, who could deserve to be murdered like that though?

 "Oh my god, I do know them. How did you get all of this information on them? You even have all of their bank details and medical history..." They said they had been keeping an eye on you, did they have all this information of you as well?

 "The first pages are just their info, check further on." Yunho simply stated. Each folder was maybe thirty pages thick, printed double sided. After the first three pages the subject changed from basic background information to history. Each folder started off with how they had committed smaller crimes during middle school, smoked and drank underage and how they flunked out of high school. Then, things seemed to dwindle for them as they got caught up in dealing drugs, money laundering and eventually gangs. It contained images of how they had abused their girlfriends and cheated. Even forced- you couldn't make yourself read any further. Your heart raced, cold shivers running over your spine uncontrollably making you feel sick.

 "You're right, these bastards do deserve to die." You said coldly, tossing the folders back to the floor. You had seen enough.

 "And I would be glad to do the honour." Yunho smirked, now laying flat on his stomach next to his rifle. "Come, I'll show you what all of these tools are used for." He patted on the space on the blanket beside him, rifle in the middle. "This one here, is a wind meter. You have to take even the slightest breeze and thermal current in mind, the further away the target the more can affect it. There are types of rifles and bullets specially designed for various weather types, but since today is an almost wind still day with not too bright of a sun, minimal correction should be fine." Yunho fiddled with a couple of knobs on his rifle. "This here is a high tech GPS, functioning as our range finder for the day. It helps measure the exact distance between us and the target. Lastly there are extra parts, but most importantly we have the different scopes. I've selected the optimal one for today's range and climate. The lens is also polarized, so that even if a bright light were to shine through I would not be blinded." Wow, there really was a lot of fine tuning to all of this. "Would you like to take a look?"

 "Sure." You replied, and Yunho turned the rifle so you could look through its scope as he held it still.

 "Really magnified, right?" You could see what felt like a mile away, as clear as day.

 "People could spy with these, from so far away!" Yunho let out a laugh. "That they could, but it requires a lot of skill. Why don't you try to hold it?" Immediately when you grabbed hold of the gun, your sight blurred. The culprit was the shaking of your hands, not stabilising even when you really tried to hold them as still as possible.

  "How did you manage to hold it so still?" You asked him in amazement.

  "With many, many years of training." Yunho took back the gun, setting it up for his first target.

  "Our first target will be mister H. He should exit that building in about five minutes. Then, after precisely two minutes our second target should show himself and we will take him out as well." Yunho ran over the rifle one more time, making sure that everything was set right and nothing would jam. "If you feel comfortable, you can find a pair of binoculars in the bag. I can show you where to watch for the targets. You don't have to though." You had already made up your mind. Then both of you were set up, eyes peeled for the target that could appear any minute now. "Just remember, this is no different from sending pigs to slaughter. They won't live long to tell the tale."

 You hummed in agreement. "That is precisely what they are, filthy pigs."

Yunho had warned you about the rifle being louder than the pistol you had shot before, but you hadn't expected it to be quite that loud. You had been so startled by the sudden sound that you had jerked, losing sight of the target. You tried your best to calm your racing heart and steady your hands. You shot a glance over at Yunho, who still laid there perfectly still and focussed. You got lost in the sight for a moment, before remembering that it wasn't over yet. You followed the visual pointers that Yunho had given you to find the scene, spotting the now dead and bleeding mister H. sprawled on the floor. Flashbacks shot through your mind of when you had killed for the first time, there was so much blood everywhere, and people were screaming.

Then, suddenly you spotted the second target, running towards the corpse. As soon as the second man knelt down, another shot rang. This time you could see the bullet hit its target in the chest a split second later, sending him tumbling forwards onto the other. You let out a shaky exhale that you didn't realise you had been holding.

 "I really hadn't expected you to be a sniper, Yunho." You spoke up later as he was packing up his gear.

 "No? How so?" Yunho asked curiously.

 "You simply are such a soft, cheerful person? Coldblooded and lethal were not quite things that I expected from you." You were honestly very baffled, it seemed even more surreal now you were saying it out loud. Yunho, a professional sniper?

 "You don't have to be all serious and grumpy to be a sniper, you know. It's just a job." He even talked about it so casually. "Shall we have dinner?"

You were rather surprised with yourself, for still having an appetite after seeing all of that. At first you had worried that if you ate now it would disagree and come out again, but once you had gotten to the restaurant you felt a lot more calm. It helped that Yunho had dropped off his sniper gear, and spoke of ordinary subjects on your walk together. Was it really that easy to just forget about what happened? What kind of person did that make you?

 "It is just as you had hoped for Hyung." Yunho said. "She looked at the whole thing, and there was a spark of vengeance in her eyes. She wanted them dead, to see them fall."

 "Good work, Yunho. She will grow into our beautiful killing machine, you'll see."

You fell into this cycle of going out for dinner in the evening, occasionally going shopping for various things beforehand or simply going sightseeing. Everything was always paid by them. You didn't mind all of it so much anymore at this point, with the days in between where there was nobody, and the fun things they would let you do made you enjoy yourself quite well. Not having to worry about food and clothing was a new concept to you, taking a lot of weight off your shoulders. The restaurant in your neighbourhood had now managed to reopen partly thanks to your volunteering and you had become quite close with the family that owned it.

Another benefit of being in leagues with the great ATEEZ was that people would finally treat you with respect. You didn't care that it was because of your contacts rather than yourself, feeling like you were finally considered a human being.

Even on the days when none of them came to keep you company, you felt a lot more safe. In a way, you were beginning to feel this was a little bit your city too. Some part of you did not mind that it was most likely just by association with them.

Another aspect of your new life that was making you feel more safe was your training with Jongho, you made sure to follow all of the exercise loyally. He did a little bit of practice sparring with you, but insisted that you familiarize yourself with the footing before committing to any more serious jousting. That night you found yourself scarfing down your food once again, after having been drilled mercilessly through your training that day. Jongho was a patient, but persistent and thorough teacher.

One afternoon you ran into San in an alley unexpectedly. You had just taken a turn and another from a busy street, not noticing the yelps and cries coming from the street ahead of you. When you turned another corner, and there the familiar blonde haired man was. Busy kicking the shit out of some guys. You stood there on the corner, nailed to the ground. Your eyes just followed how San's agile body shifted and turned as he fought them six to one. Your eyes were glued on him as he struck one down after another, however not stopping when they simply fell down. Familiar red streaks were splattered over his face, eyes filled with a deadly glint. You recognised yourself in him, knew what it felt like to be taken over by rage in such a way. What had these men done to piss him off so badly? You certainly didn't want to find yourself in his path of violence.

Finally, he landed a punch to the last man standing. San wore a large signet ring on each of his hands, his pummelling leaving his mark dented in the man's cheek. Tomorrow, that would most likely have blossomed out to a great colourful bruise.

San stood over their limp unconscious bodies for a minute, before turning straight towards you. His eyes meet yours, trapping you with no escape. You had lost yourself in staring at him so much that you had completely forgotten to hide. You wouldn't stand a single chance against him. A devastating smirk grows on San's face, his tongue dancing out of his mouth tasting the blood dashed over his lips. The sight was both haunting and suave at once, you were uncertain whether it was meant to frighten or entice you. Either way it sends your heart racing, gulping nervously. All you could do was stare at him in his bloody glory. You didn't blink even once as he made his way over to you, stepping over the bodies that laid on the ground forgotten.

 "You've got something red on your lips there sweetheart." San speaks in his usual tone, as if he hadn't just fought six grown men all by himself. That is when you realised that he didn't even seem out of breath, your chest was moving much faster than his. Taking your silence as an opportunity to continue, San spoke "Don't worry hon, I'd be more than glad to clean that off for you. After all I wouldn't want my baby touched by such disgusting dogs' blood. I put them down well, don't you think? If they wake up they will be sure to learn their lesson." When you didn't protest, San raised his hand to your chin. With his thumb he wiped the blood you had tasted on your lips, perhaps lingering there a little longer than necessary.

 "See, all good now." San smiled happily before releasing your chin, finally allowing you to draw in a fresh breath of air. Soon after San clouded your mind again once more, when he stuck his thumb into his mouth and sucked it clean of the blood. A flashback occurred to you as you recalled how he had sucked off your fluids from his fingers when he had taken you to the gun range. A shiver ran down your back, imagining what it would have felt like if San had just licked the blood up straight from your lips. This man was really making your head spin.

 You shook your head as you felt yourself heat up in embarrassment, these were not appropriate things to be thinking of in this moment. You couldn't control your frivolous heart though, which was sent racing once more when San shot you a triumphant smile, as if he had seen exactly what kind of thought had just passed through your mind.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, nothing makes me happier than to interact with you guys, so please don’t hesitate to pop anything into the comments! Lots of love <3 Reblogs are very berry welcome too~ <3

Masterlist

Next chapter (part 5)

[missgeniality]

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonna​for hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again.  Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids. 

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.” 

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want. 

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink. 

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’ 

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand. 

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it. 

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all. 

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in. 

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation. 

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek. 

“Sooo I was watching Filter…” 

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through. 

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away. 

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces. 

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way. 

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come. 

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe. 

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup. 

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly. 

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast. 

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions. 

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance. 

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge. 

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs. 

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word. 

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time. 

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him. 

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up. 

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in. 

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks. 

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!” 

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.” 

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him. 

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line. 

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up. 

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either. 

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed. 

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition. 

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost. 

But you’re not done being an idiot. 

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient. 

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!” 

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one. 

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral. 

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go. 

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night. 

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow. 

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams. 

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder. 

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now. 

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone. 

So there is no reason for you to be able to move. 

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too. 

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known. 

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise. 

You were a sucker for the whole man. 

But the sucking will probably have to wait. 

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.” 

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this. 

“You know my favorite part?” 

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body. 

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream. 

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward. 

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm. 

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general. 

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work. 

Well, you must get to work. 

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties. 

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard.  Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack! 

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness. 

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes. 

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him. 

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips. 

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.” 

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down. 

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result. 

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth. 

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines. 

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering. 

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs. 

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away. 

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you. 

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him. 

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you. 

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now. 

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you. 

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion. 

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside. 

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue. 

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want. 

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either. 

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon. 

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.” 

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech. 

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish. 

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole. 

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans. 

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well. 

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours. 

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot. 

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable. 

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping. 

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down. 

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do. 

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

[softiem]

you used to paint his skies

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto swears up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~3.9k

content warnings: cheating (PAIN), MSBY!Bokuto, I use like 9 swear words, you might cry depending on your mood, don’t let the fluff at the beginning deceive you, idek if this is good angst, no concrete happy ending ??? :c

notes: Happy (late) New Year !! This is my first time posting here, so sorry if this is hot garbage :P — btw TO ALL THE BOKUTO FAVES OUT THERE, I’M TRULY SORRY. I PROMISE I ADORE HIM WITH MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL !!! thank you for your time ٩(♡ε♡)۶

part two.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bokuto Koutarou, the love of your life. You knew him like the back of your hand; you prided yourself in that fact, actually.

After four years of being able to call him yours, you thought you’d caught onto nearly all of his idiosyncrasies, the little quirks and peculiarities that made him so uniquely him. So uniquely yours.

You knew how he’d always pick out the cucumbers in a dish and plop them onto your plate — that cheeky smile of his adorning his face.

– – – – –

“Bokuto, this is ridiculous,” you sighed, watching as your boyfriend found another slice of cucumber and added it to the growing pile in the corner of your plate.

He stopped and stared at you like a child who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. You tried to fight back a smile seeing the top of his hair deflate ever so slightly.

“First of all, I’m not Bokuto to you. Second of all, baby, look!” He pointed to the small mound of vegetables on your plate. “I asked them for no cucumbers but what did they add? Cucumbers!” He seemed to deflate even further as he pouted at the offensive sight.

“Listen, Bokuto-”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Babe-”

“Better. Thank you, honey.”

Letting out a small giggle, you continued, “Listen, babe. Can you at least try one piece for me? Maybe you’ll realise that cucumbers don’t taste as bad as they did when you were younger.”

You caught the skeptical look he was giving you.

“How many?” you asked with a tiny smirk tugging at your lips. Bokuto seemed to perk up at your words.

“One cucumber for five kisses.”

“Boku- Babe, that’s ridiculous,” you laughed. “One kiss.”

“Six kisses.”

“You can’t make the number higher, Kou!”

“Fine, four.”

“Three.”

“Deal.”

– – – – –

You knew how he’d twiddle his fingers whenever he wanted to hold your hand but didn’t want to invade your personal space, especially if the two of you were in public or if you’d just had a rough day.

– – – – –

Bokuto walked right next to you, making sure you were on the inside of the sidewalk in an attempt not to lose you among the sea of passersby. He glanced down at your hands tucked into your jacket pockets, silently longing for their warmth. Moving his eyes back down to the ground in front of him, he began to absentmindedly pick at his fingers.

Your eyes caught the slight movement and you turned your head to where your boyfriend was walking right beside you. He had the smallest pout on his face as he continued to play with his hands.

A smile grew on your face and your eyes softened up at him.

“Hey.”

Bokuto jumped at the sound but looked to your smiling face as a similar grin brightened up his.

“Hi, baby.”

“You know, my hands are feeling awfully cold, even in my pockets,” you feigned a huff. “Can you help me, babe?” Bringing your hand out into the cold air, you opened it invitingly, wiggling your fingers.

His bright smile grew even bigger as he excitedly grasped onto you and stuck your intertwined hands into his pocket.

“Of course I can, baby!” He even went the extra mile and wrapped his scarf around your neck, patting your head once he was done.

– – – – –

You knew how much he liked going out for drinks with his teammates after their games, and sometimes, he’d ask you to tag along; you’d always agree, even though you weren’t big on drinking yourself (his puppy-dog eyes were truly lethal). Despite the fact that he could hold his alcohol quite well, he’d always stop at one or two drinks if you were out with him.

And you also knew that he absolutely treasured the feeling of being yours, just as you did with being his.

– – – – –

After a night of drinking with Bokuto’s teammates, you found yourself walking through the car park as he flanked your backside, his arms resting comfortably around your shoulders. Feeling a chilly breeze run across your skin, you shifted your body closer to Bokuto’s. He tightened his hug, pulling you closer into his chest.

“Y’know, Kou,” you spoke softly as the two of you approached his car — you felt the low rumble of his responding hum through his chest. “If you wanted to, you could’ve had a bit more to drink. I know you wanted to try out one of the new cocktails with Atsumu. We even agreed that I’d be driving-”

“Of course I know that, honey!” Bokuto cut you off with a small giggle and kissed the top of your head. “If I wanted to, I would. But I didn’t, did I?” His arms tightened as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“But, Boku-”

“No.”

“Babe,” you laughed, “I just want you to be able to have fun, okay? This is one of your last games of the season and I-”

Bokuto pulled you away from his embrace and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. He leaned into you, and with your noses nearly touching and your wide eyes meeting his sparkling ones, you understood his silent message.

“Stop worrying, I’m okay.”

Suddenly pulling away from him, you gasped for air, realising that you’d forgotten to breathe when he brought himself closer. You flushed, hearing his roaring laughter.

“Just get in the car, ya big lughead.” Walking to the passenger side of the car, you opened the door for Bokuto to climb in and put his seat belt on for him. He was still laughing, but it ceased after he heard the latter half of what you said.

“What do you mean ‘lughead’?” He pouted as you slid into the driver’s seat, having to adjust the chair as you grumbled about how he was too big for his own good. “I thought I was your babe, your Kou. Remember?”

“Yes, babe. You are my boy, my dovey, my Koutarou.” You turned to him, placing a hand on the side of his face as your thumb lightly stroked his cheek. Leaning in, your lips met his in a small kiss. “And forever will be,” you whispered against his lips.

He brought you into another kiss, deeper this time, pulling away only to pepper little pecks across your cheeks as you giggled into him.

“And you,” he began, planting a big kiss on your forehead, “are my honey, my lovey, my angel.” He sighed contentedly, squishing your face between his hands. “My perfect, pretty baby.”

– – – – –

Bokuto Koutarou, the love of your life. You knew him like the back of your hand.

So how had it come to this point?

The two of you were currently locked in a tense silence. The argument you were having only minutes ago was still ringing in your ears. Bokuto’s eyes glared down at you as his nostrils flared with barely restrained frustration.

You sighed in exhaustion.

“Kou, all I’m asking is for you to take a break.” You tried to ignore the way his hands curled up into fists from where his arms were crossed. “I know this next game means a lot to you, but can’t you see that you’re working yourself to the bone? You’re exhausted, babe. One break for you is all I want. Please just listen to me this one time.”

You began to take a step toward him, but your efforts were quickly squashed upon seeing a deep scowl take shape on his face.

Bokuto scoffed.

“If you know how much it means to me, then you’d know how I need to practice to make sure that my team wins.”

“Yes, I know that, but you just look so tired nowadays, and I’m worried, Kou. I know you, and right now, what you need is a break so that-”

“Then clearly you know jack shit about me!”

Hearing his outburst, you stumbled back slightly and pulled your hands up to your chest as you felt them begin to tremble.

“Every fucking day, I work and I practice just so that we can keep living happily and my team can keep winning.” He began to stalk toward your cowering figure. “If you know me so fucking well, then you’d know that what I don’t need right now is you coddling me, breathing down my goddamn neck, and telling me what to do with myself.”

Bokuto’s hands were clenched at his sides as he glared holes into your skull. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’d be met with, who you’d be met with.

This wasn’t your Koutarou.

Your sweet, loving, doting Koutarou who would always remember to give you a morning kiss before he left for practice. Your Koutarou who shoveled cream and sugar into his morning coffee because he couldn’t stand the bitterness of black coffee (“It’s like drinking rat poison!” he’d once told you). Your Koutarou who would try his very best to cut up fruit into little shapes for you whenever you weren’t feeling well. Your Koutarou who, when he found you in the stands at his games, would reach a hand up to his face, his thumb touching the tip of his nose, and wiggle the rest of his fingers with the biggest grin on his face — his good luck salute.

The man in front of you was not him.

You tried to look everywhere but his towering figure, your eyes beginning to sting as your vision grew blurry.

“Dovey, I’m s-sorry,” you shakily whispered, “I just w-want what’s best f-for you-”

“Don’t pull that shit right now. If you want what’s best for me, you’d know when to back off.”

Your breathing grew heavier as you watched Bokuto turn away from you, moving closer to the front door.

“D-Dovey-”

“You know what? I’m tired of this.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out. Away from you.”

“But it’s cold! A-And you need to rest for tomorrow’s practice!”

“I need fucking space.” He shoved his arms into a thin jacket, shoving his keys and phone into pocket before forcefully pulling the door open. 

“Koutarou, please!”

The resonant slam that echoed in your home opened the floodgates. Your throat squeezed in pain as you tried to hold in an onslaught of sobs. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried to keep your feet steady as you curled in on yourself. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks while Bokuto’s words ran through your head.

“Then clearly you know jack shit about me!”

“I’m tired of this.”

“I need fucking space.”

As your sobs abated into small hiccups and your vision became less blurry with tears, you were able to shakily pick yourself up off the floor and walk to one of the front windows. Looking out into the dark night, you noticed that Bokuto’s car was nowhere to be seen in the driveway. Your heart seemed to clench again, and you gnawed on your lip to force down another sob urging its way up your throat.

Slowly, you made your way to your shared bedroom and fell face first into Bokuto’s side of the bed. Inhaling the scent in his pillow, you pulled it closer to you.  The prickling feeling in the corner of your eyes was growing familiar.

In the silence of the night, you were left with your thoughts rampaging through your mind and the moonlight shyly peeking through the curtains.

You didn’t understand. When had it all gone to shit? The two of you seemed fine just yesterday; Bokuto had woken up before you and smothered your face in kisses so that the two of you could get up together.

But recently, you’ve come to notice how there was an underlying tiredness in your boyfriend’s eyes. He constantly complained of muscle aches and soreness and how the team’s practices kept running longer than usual.

That was when you decided to step in and tell him to take a break for the sake of his team and, more importantly, his health. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t seem to take too well to your “coddling,” and that was what brought you to your current situation.

Stray tears leaked out of your eyes as you thought back to the argument. Where did he go? Did he have somewhere safe to stay? Would he even come back? Did he really think you coddled him? Was he finally tired of you, of your relationship? Was this the end?

You tried to shake the thoughts from your mind, telling yourself, “No, no! He still loves you.” But your mind was unrelenting, picturing too many scenarios of how he could be happier without you worrying about him every hour of every day.

Briefly, you thought about calling him to make sure that he was safe but decided against it. What if he thought you were still trying to “coddle” him? What if he thought you were too suffocating? 

You didn’t sleep well that night.

– – – – –

The next morning, the crushing realisation that Bokuto hadn’t come home last night fell on top of you as you felt the empty bed. In a slight panic, you reached out for your phone on the nightstand and dialed his number.

One time, no answer. Two times, no answer. On your third try, you sighed in relief, gratefully hearing the click of the other end.

“Oh thank goodness, Kou.” You stumbled out of bed as you made your way into the bathroom. “Where are you right now? Are you safe? Who’re you staying with? Do you need me to come-”

“I’m sorry who is this?” an unfamiliar voice interrupted you. The person on the other end seemed like they had just woken up from their hoarse tone.

You stilled as a tremor started crawling up your spine, but you willed it down. No, he would never! He loves you!

“Hello?”

Taking a deep breath, you responded, “Oh uh, Bokuto’s my boyfriend.” You gave a weak laugh. “Are you a friend of his? Can you tell him something for me once he wakes up?”

There was rustling on the other end of the call as the person seemed to be getting out of bed.

“Hun, I’m so sorry.” Their voice was quieter this time. Your brows furrowed in confusion hearing their sudden apology. “I had no idea he was taken. I’m so sorry.”

Your blood ran cold. Biting your lip, you racked your brain for any possible explanation for what was going on. The heat behind your eyes from last night was coming back, and you could feel the pounding of your heart in your throat.

So he actually did it, huh?

“O-Oh.” The only thing you could mutter was a pitiful whimper.

“I’m so so sorry, hun. If I had known, I would’ve ripped him a new one right at the bar. I can’t imagine-”

“It’s not your fault.” Your voice was small, shaky. “You didn’t know. This is on him.”

“I… I know, but I just-”

“When he wakes up, can you tell him something for me?”

In any other circumstance, you would have felt guilty for interrupting so many times, but at the moment, you could barely even keep yourself standing. Your chest squeezed as your fingers dug into the phone.

“Yes, absolutely. Whatever you want.”

“Can you tell him to come home soon, please?”

“O-Of course. Yeah, I can do that.” Confusion was evident in their voice. They’d probably expected you to tell Bokuto that it was over, not ask for him to come home.

“Thank you.”

You hung up before they could even respond.

With a wobbly breath, you set your phone down on the bed and walked into the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was messy. Your eyes were swollen and red with bags lining the bottom lids. Your lips were slightly bleeding and looked as if they were chewed raw.

You couldn’t bring yourself to keep scrutinising as violent sobs rose from your throat. Gripping the bathroom counter for dear life, your teeth clenched in a poor attempt to keep your cries at bay. Tears dripped into the sink as you cried harder, the sounds of your lament echoing within the small room.

Once again, you forced yourself to hold in the rest of your tears, splashing cold water on your face as your mind drifted to your next course of actions.

You noticed your phone buzzing repeatedly when you walked back into the bedroom. Ignoring it, you set out to pack a few bags with some of your things despite not knowing where you’d be going after this. All you knew was that you needed to leave.

The buzzing of your phone didn’t stop as you were bombarded with notifications, all from the one person you wanted to talk to least in the world right now.

8 missed calls from “🦉my dovey💕”

Against your better interest, you unlocked your phone and opened the first voicemail.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry,” Bokuto’s voice was shaky as you heard the slam of a car door and the familiar rev of an engine in the background. “I fucked up. I know, baby. Just... I need you to call me back. Please, baby?”

After the tell-tale click signalling the end of the voicemail, you opened the second one.

“Baby, please! I’m so sorry for hurting you like this.” He sniffled. “I just need to know that you’re still at home, our home, baby. Please just call me and tell me that.”

The third one.

“Please, lovey, just tell me that you’re safe!” You noticed the faint sounds of the car running. “I’m on my way home right now. Okay, honey? Please be home, I’m begging you.”

The fourth.

“My lovey, my angel. I’m so sorry.” He seemed to choke on a sob. “You’re scaring me. I need to know that you’re okay. Just give me a call, a text, anything! I just need to know that you’re home.”

The bang of the front door opening stopped you from listening to the rest of Bokuto’s voicemails. You hadn’t noticed how hard your hands were shaking until you dropped your phone onto the mattress again. The tears rolling down your face only increased as you realised that you would have to face him.

“Baby?!” Bokuto’s panicked voice was hoarse — you could only imagine what happened for it to get that way. “Baby, please tell me you’re home! Please!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, but it seemed to do nothing as you heard the rushed stomping of his footsteps nearing the bedroom.

Bokuto flung the door open and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace with a breath of relief. He smelled of day-old sweat, alcohol, and the faint scent of vanilla and citrus — a scent that neither you nor him used. It was suffocating.

“Thank God you’re still here, baby.” His rough, calloused hand stroked the back of your head. “I was so scared you were gone.” You felt something drip onto your head, and you realised that he was crying.

He only tightened his embrace when you tried to pull away. His whispers of “No, no, please. Please don’t leave,” squeezed your heart.

You pulled your arms out from between the two of you and brought your hands up to his face, wiping his tears away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen,” he whispered against your hands. You closed your eyes for a second, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the light bruises decorating his neck as your heart ached.

“How long?” Staring into his eyes, you saw the glassiness from his tears returning. Bokuto shook his head — Don’t make me remember. Your breath hitched from the way he leaned in to try and kiss you. Moving your head, he landed a peck on your cheekbone instead. He let out a sharp whimper.

“How. Long?” you ground out between clenched teeth.

He bit his lip, looking everywhere but your face.

“It was just this one time, I promise,” he murmured, “I won’t make this mistake again, baby.” As he spoke, his arms tightened around you, as he nuzzled his head into the nape of your neck.

“I know you won’t, Kou,” your voice was quiet as you spoke, trying to break the news gently, “because I’m leaving.”

You felt the way his body stiffened, and then he pulled you impossibly closer as his heaving cries began to rack his body.

“No! Baby, p-please! I’m sorry, I said I’m s-sorry!” He shook his head repeatedly, his tears running down your shoulder. “You can’t leave me! You can’t!”

You bit your lip, trying not to cry at his whimpers.

“I’m sorry, Kou.” Reaching up, you ran your fingers through his messy hair.

“Is this because,” he held back a sob, “Is this because I said that I wanted space? Because I was lying, honey! I never wanted space from you! I was lying! Angel, please don’t leave me.”

You tried to pull away from him again, and this time, he let you. His mouth was curled down, and his eyes were red, still shedding tears.

“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore, Bokuto.” His breathing stopped, hearing that name escape your lips. He stood frozen, his eyes stared down into the floor as his tears dropped into little puddles below. With that, you took your bags and phone from the bed and walked toward the front door.

You made it into the living room before you heard his hurried stumbles behind you.

“NO! NO! YOU CAN’T CALL ME THAT!” he screamed. Skidding to a stop in front of you, he dropped to his knees, holding onto your waist in a death grip. “PLEASE! PLEASE, BABY!”

Snot was running down his reddened nose and mixed in with his tears. His eyes held a sort of agony that was heart-wrenching to stare into. You willed yourself to stay calm as your nose began to sting once again.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto, but I have to go-”

“NO!” He pulled your bags out of your hands and threw them to the side. Taking your hands, he placed them on his cheeks.

“Bokuto, what are you doing?!” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip wouldn’t let you. “I already told you, I’m leav-”

“Look at me!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Look at me, please. It’s me. It’s your boy. I’m your boy. I’m your Koutarou.” His hands cupped your cheeks as his thumbs brushed away your tears. “And you’re my honey, my lovey, my angel. You’re my baby.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond — your face crumpled in pain, in heartbreak, in anguish as you thought back to what started this entire situation. Bokuto bit his lip; seeing you in so much pain because of him ripped him apart inside.

His lips parted again to continue.

“You’re my baby. I love you so so much. To the moon and back. I fucked up bad. I know, angel. But I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise you that.”

He stood up from his spot on the floor, still cupping your cheeks. A light kiss was placed on your lips as his forehead touched yours, both of your cheeks stained with tears.

“Just please don’t make me lose you like this.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––