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taetr4ck · 10 months ago

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and all these little things —

he who loves, dances upon the tapestry of stars.

skz!maknae line x reader, 1.8k words overall, no warnings — fluff, comfort. (continuation of this request.) taglist form

a/n : ouuu this marks the end of skz's princess treatment series :( i enjoyed making these sm. and also i might have overenjoyed myself writing seungmin's part... whoops

jisung who peels your fruits —

He who always offers to peel your fruits – the simple gesture Jisung does shows that love can be unspoken. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes. His love is pure, he is taking the time to take care of you.

“Ah, jagiya, let me do it,” Jisung says as he walks up to you in the kitchen, gently taking the orange from your hands. A declaration of love isn't always loaded with promises that can easily falter. Sometimes, love is about the little things that connect us. I love you can mean “You mean everything to me so I’m going to peel your oranges and remove the nasty white stuff off of it.” It can also mean “You know, I never really liked your favorite fruit, but your love for it changed my perspective. I started eating it too – it’s like my body was programmed to like the things you love. I can’t help but think of you when I eat them. Not because of the fruit itself, but because of the person who introduced me to its sweetness.” Love resides in these intricate details that complete the bigger picture together – love is a fragmented moment that you are supposed to piece together, alone, or with the person you chose to mend your love with. You chose to build the fragments with him, and any love he offers is yours to treasure.

If any, he will always choose to stand beside you, laughter permeating through the granite surface of the sleek kitchen counter – adorned with jars of spices and utensils, with a fruit in his hand – peeling his undying love for you. If the world were to end soon, he would want it to end at the kitchen counter, while you are laughing and he is smiling, sharing its last sweet bite before facing the twisted fate.

Through Jisung, you realize that love can be unspoken.

To love someone is firstly to confess,

'I’d always offer you a piece of my orange.'

felix who fixes your hair while you eat —

Felix cast a loving gaze at you from across the table of your favorite restaurant as you savored each bite of your meal – his focus completely on you. You caught his loving gaze, his eyes forming into crescents – and you swear his beauty can be one across the stars – his freckles akin to a constellation, sharing its beauty among the starry expanse of the universe. Without a word, he reached to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, his touch felt like a sacred prayer for which no words exist, and you can feel your heart taking over your body – as if you discovered something for which you don’t have a name for, his fingers gentle against your skin. The sudden touch seemed to startle you a bit, making the heat rush to your cheeks. He does this every time, unsure if you would ever get used to it.

He held your face between his palms, his eyes gazing at you lovingly – with a smile that seemed to belong to you completely gracing his lips. You never met someone like him before – where his touch felt like home, and his smile was the purest you had ever seen. It was as if he had found his sole reason to live, the sole reason to cherish the world he completely lived in. Since the first time he saw you, he swore his whole life belonged to you completely.

His actions carry an unspoken intimacy between you two. It's not just about tucking a stray hair; it's a gesture that speaks volumes about his attentiveness and the connection you share – like a devotion he swore to himself that he’s meant to love and cherish you. The warmth in his eyes matches the affectionate sweep of his fingers through your hair, creating a fleeting yet precious moment amidst the simple act of enjoying your favorite meal together. As long as you’re with Felix, you’ll always feel loved, cared for, and deeply understood – as if he has a unique ability to bring order to the disarray of both hair and the world around you.

seungmin who buys the same book —

The spontaneous trips to bookstores with Seungmin is always therapeutic. The paradise of books laid out in front of you makes your heart leap with excitement, your steps quickening as you scan the books with a carefree smile. The moment he sees that smile – how your face radiates amidst the calm atmosphere of the old bookstore in the middle of the night – he swears he sees stars in your eyes. He watches how your smile glistens when it tugs at your lips, followed by the crescents of your eyes – like the moon, perfectly mending the layout of your face, which is his universe. Your whole being is his universe. It feels like a dream to Seungmin. Is this what true love feels like? To see stars in the eyes of his universe? To see the moon within arm's reach?

That’s when he realizes he grabbed the same book you’re holding. You tilt your head in confusion, wondering why he grabbed the same piece.

“I want to read it with you,” he says, looking at you as if you’re iridescent. He isn’t sure how he will get used to this — you’re startlingly beautiful. He can’t look away.

He always reads the same book with you, attentively listening to your thoughts about the protagonist and their love interest. No matter how cliché the book may be, he's always here, eager to hear your every word. Your voice is a crafted melody to Seungmin, wrapping around him like a gentle embrace. He loves witnessing every part of you – the sudden squeal when you reach the story's climax, the random faces you make when you read a passage that catches your attention, and the faint “tsk” when a character does an idiotic thing. He loves seeing and hearing all of it. He loves you in the strongest way there is.

You are loved more than you can ever comprehend. You’re loved by him to the point his presence alone is like waking up to sunlight. He loves you so deeply to the point he’s willing to engrave your name on the palms of his hands. A declaration of faith, perhaps.

There was a time when Seungmin grabbed the wrong book from the bedroom shelf and was startled to see lots of annotations upon flipping through the pages. It was your favorite book, with annotations scribbled excitedly. It seemed like they were all written in the spur of the moment, without minding what words would formulate in the movement of your hand. He flipped to the last page of the book and saw a handwritten note – the penmanship of which he knew every stroke.

“In the past, I always wondered when my love story would unfold. I once dreamt that my greatest love would exist in this lifetime – until Seungmin came. That’s when I realized that perhaps my invisible string exists in this timeline, at this very moment. I am convinced that it’s him — it’s him I’m destined for. It’s him I’m bound to love. This is the truth. I have loved him in every universe. I will love him in every universe. I always look at him as if there were stars in his eyes, sparkling with no intention of stopping. I’ve never met someone like him before. When I'm lost in fear, I always feel sheltered in his presence. I guess this is what love looks like, to be fully seen by someone and be loved regardless, the unwavering bliss of being known and understood.”

Seungmin felt a pang in his chest. His heart was full of a catastrophic whirlwind of emotions – overwhelming love that may be unbearable. With each sentence, the growing pain in his heart started to intensify. It was as if every word on the page seared into his heart even more, leaving an indelible mark of devotion and love beyond comprehension. As he read the letter, the depth of tenderness grew – wrapping around his soul like a tight embrace that threatened to suffocate in its intensity. This must be the feeling of being loved and cherished to the point where its depths transcend the physical realm, leaving the heart forever changed in its wake. The tears welling in Seungmin’s eyes might be hard to suppress as he reads the last sentence of the letter.

“My love for him is woven into the fabric of the universe.”

jeongin who matches outfits with you —

“Ta-da!” Jeongin exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with delight as he showed off his outfit to you, a proud yet excited grin escaping his lips.

“Wow, you really put a lot of effort into your outfit today. Are you sure we’re just doing groceries today, baby?” you jest, looking at him with a smile. Jeongin has a habit of matching outfits with you whatever the occasion is — whether it is a spontaneous trip to the grocery, a shopping spree, a planned day out, or a formal event. Whatever it is, he always takes the time to make sure his style complements yours perfectly, just like how your hearts complement each other. There is a subtle joy in sharing a wardrobe aesthetic; it’s as if both of your style and loving hearts are interconnected as one.

Jeongin’s eyes would gleam whenever you emerged from your shared bedroom, all prepped up and ready. He would always approach you with a soft smile escaping his lips. He would then kiss your forehead — the spot where he tirelessly kisses as a way of expressing love or saying his goodbyes is called a temple; he loves kissing your temple. He is yours to worship and yours to love. Loving someone is such a pure thing to do; love is like a religion he had discovered on his own. Jeongin seeing you in a room felt like a sanctuary.

Jeongin is always ready, never forgetting the promise he made to himself to love you in all seasons. When times get cold and everything is a mess, he drapes his coat on your shoulders and he becomes your warmth – his love a comforting shield against the chill of uncertainty. Amid the chaos, his gesture offers solace, reminding you that you are not alone, and together you can weather any storm. When it gets too warm, he becomes your cooling breeze – his love like an ocean breeze at dawn, offering comfort and relief with his presence and touch – his caring gesture soothing your fiery heart. When it gets dark and shivers run down your spine, he holds your hand and never lets go, whispering assurance: You’re not alone. I got you, I got you.

On days when you didn't anticipate any matching at all, he'd surprise you with a knowing smile, revealing his outfit cutely matched with yours. It became a playful language between you and Jeongin, sharing laughter and giggles. His eyes would light up with satisfaction, almost melting to the thought that love could be expressed through the woven fibers of one’s clothing, the feeling of being seen by someone and being loved anyhow – submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known. Don’t be afraid to be seen. Let me see you and love you regardless.

taglist: @agi-ppangx @skzstarnet @straykidsland @bluethemoments

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

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minhosimthings · 3 months ago

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imagine … feeding jake grapes while on a picnic together … or maybe just watching a movie, snuggled up at home… you bring up smth about how you used to peel grapes with your teeth growing up and challenge him to see who can do it the best. but someway somehow, things get heated, and he starts teasing abt you having an oral fixation after you peeled the grape better than him, ofc ;), and he decides to prove you wrong by showing you just how skilled his mouth can really be- 🧎‍♀️

This has been marinating in my asks for so long istg (i think since 2023), so i wrote this extremely quickly, and im so sorry i couldnt make it a full fic annonie! But, as always, enjoy this quick dumb blurb on mine (i know its really short BUT BEAR WITH ME)

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, oral (f receiving), mention of food (grapes), swearing, use of nickname 'doll' NOT PROOFREAD (forgive me)

“Now that—” Jake slumped back against the tree, “—is definitely something you learnt at Hogwarts, you beautiful witch.”

You threw your head back as your entire body convulsed with laughter, bringing a goofy smile to Jake’s face as he realized how stupid his silly joke was. The sun was still peeking out from the horizon, bathing the skies in a shampoo of oranges and pinks. The soft spring breeze pushed Jake's hair back, prompting his body to relax into the soft grass which he sat upon. The checkered blanket which you had brought was sitting peacefully on a side, as you had decided that the grass was far more comfy. In front of you lay a basket filled with cotton-candy grapes.

“How are you even getting them to stay in your hands?” Jake whined, picking up a grape which happily slipped out his finger. You stifled a giggle.

“Just watch and learn babe.” You said with the air of a sensei, “watch and learn.”

You picked up a nicely rounded grape from the basket, pretending to observe its dimensions like a professor before you brought it to your mouth. Jake watched in pure awe as your teeth easily managed to pull off the slimy green outer layer, leaving the fresh fruit behind. You peeled one end, then the other, and the last strip went onto your tongue as you proudly showed off the skin-less grape to your boyfriend.

“Yep.” Jake sighed, “Witch material.”

“But the hot kind right?” You laughed, popping the grape into your mouth, “You’re just jealous I could peel more grapes than you could.”

“Well, you practice it throughout your childhood!” Jake defended himself. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s alright baby.” You put on a cheeky smile, before checking your watch. The sun was now fully below the horizon and nighttime was falling, “Some of us just weren't born for grape peeling.” You laughed at Jake's scowl.

“Home then?” You said, picking up the basket.

“Yep.” Jake replied with a pop of his lips, before helping you pack up.

……………………………………………………………………

"Ohh Jake, more–please I need you," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have his tongue buried as deep as possible. Apparently, the bragging rights of the grape-peeling competition didn't sit well with him, especially when you looked so sexy, peeling them. He had you pushed against the bedroom door as soon as you had changed into your pajamas, and now—he was devouring you like a starved man.

He took his time, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body responding to his touch. His hands slid under your hips, pulling you closer, his tongue delving deeper into your depths. Your fingers tightened on his hair and his lips stopped coordinating with your pulsing cunt. Jake pulled away to look up at you and smirk.

He was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, the buttons of his shirt—once done up to near his neck, now trailing open to the middle of his chest, exposing the warm glow of his skin underneath.

“Do I win the competition now, doll?” The lowered tone of voice Jake was using sent you swimming in a pool of insanity. And it wasn't like it was any different for him. Your willing pussy throbbing for his tongue and touch were driving him to the limits of his self-control.

Before you could respond to his words however, his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn't take the tension anymore and you threw your head back with a moan. Just the feeling of his breath and the knowledge of how close he was to your pussy was driving you crazy.

You couldn’t help but rithe under his touch, bucking your hips at his face–on instinct, overwhelmed by the way Jake was relentlessly drinking you up, his fingers gripping tighter to the meat of your thighs to hold you in place as you could feel the tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine, your back arching in desperate anticipation.

A sort of whimpering scream escaped you as you began to gasp for air, far too fucked out, just by Jake’s persistent tongue. Everything was getting hazy, and soon, your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull. Instinctively, you clenched your fists tightly on the sheets and tried to move your hips out of his reach, but his hands on your waist effectively stopped your movements.

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Jake, I’m so close oh f-fuck, I’m–” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high. His lips completely wrapped as he suckles and continues to flick where you’re most sensitive, working you through your orgasm.

More arousal poured from you, and Jake was quick to lap it up. You grabbed his hair tighter, driving your hips into his face at a ravenous pace—practically fucking his face—and then it hit you again. Eyes rolled to the back of your head as your back arched in an awkward angle, your orgasm hits you hard. It’s without warning, heart-pounding, with a certain addiction—as sweet as cotton candy grapes.

Dividers by the talented @drizztdohurtin

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thetxtdevil · 6 months ago

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Citrus Apology

Taehyun x Reader

summary: Getting into an argument with a smartass is annoying but how can you stay made at the orange-loving man

content: mentions of arguing, bf/dom taehyun, gf/sub reader, angry sex, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, riding, degradation, dumbfication, overstimulation

word count: 1.3k

the fruit collection

the space that held you and taehyun felt tense from hours of a loud argument, was now in a uncomfortable silence. you two love to test each other's knowledge and tend to get into banters, but today seemed to get into each other's skin and cause an anger-filled conversation.

he knows about everything but when you say something he disagrees with, you continue to think your way. eventually you try to prove he's wrong which ultimately becomes your down fall.

"i swear it was the other way around, there's no way" you ramble with a red face

"i'm sorry y/n, but you have to listen and understand that i'm just smarter" taehyun smirks

it wasn't that you weren't smart, taehyun fell in love with you because of your wit but he is too smart for your own good. usually you two would giggle it off but for some reason you had this burning rage crawling in your skin. you walk to your shared bedroom and decide it was best for you to cool down on your own.

an hour has passed with you sulking on your phone and terry doing who knows what suddenly he enters into the room. you pay no mind to the man and continue to stare at the bright screen. tae lays on his side facing you, in his hand he held an orange and starts peeling the skin. you try to ignore him but the scent of the fruit is enticing. orange blossoms throughout the room and oh how much he know you love the fresh scent of citrus.

you glance your eyes towards terry. your anger slightly calms as you watch his complexion, his body lifted by an arm which flexed his sculptured muscles, his jaw more defined as he chews the succulent fruit. you gulp down the hunger and look away as he turns his head towards you.

"you're going to leave a mess on the bed" you say in a serious tone

"no i'm not"

you take a deep breathe stopping yourself from snapping at him.

"i'm not going to make a mess with this orange"

"yeah i understood you" you roll your eyes

taehyun looks at you and you miss his smirk. god you look hot when you're upset he thought to himself. tae gets on his hands and knees crawling over his half eaten orange to hover over your frame. you turn your head trying to ignore his hot breathe and stare.

"i'm going to make a mess of you" stunned by his words to look into his dark eyes.

your gapped mouth shut by his lips. you were not going to put on your anger front any longer. you could not by the way taehyun's tongue tasted so sweet from the orange and the way his hands where caressing your thighs leading up to massage your tits. wasting no time he removes your shorts, rubbing your clothed cunt as you whine. he pushes the cloth to the side and fingers your soaked slit.

"do you get worked up by me being right as much as i get worked up seeing you wrong?"

"its the orange" you say, not letting tae be right again

taehyun smirks at your flustered and random answer. he then works his fingers in your heat. "a-hh, just like that" you moan as you reach over to untie his waistband of his short. hand diving into his shorts wrapping around his cock making the man above you shudder at the feeling.

three fingers slamming and curling into you while his thumb rubbed your swollen clit so nicely. he watches your knitted eyebrows and gapped mouth move with every movement he does. yet your were still able to flick your wrist jerking him off. your whole body shaking from the climax about to come.

"say that I am right, always" tae grunts into your ear.

you shake your head not agreeing to his command. right when the electric feeling in your stomach was about to make you cum, taehyun instantly pulls his fingers away from your aching pussy. you gasp at the lack of feeling making you stop your motions in his pants.

"you're stubborn aren't you?" his smug face taunting your fucked out one "you could just agree that i am always right, which i am, and i would've let you cum on my fingers"

"but you're not always right" you mumble

and with that comment lead you to have tae's slicked fingers in your mouth. "suck" he spat at you and you did staring up at him with puppy eyes. he tears his fingers away from your mouth and moves to the other side of the bed. he relaxes his body as if he were to take a nap. you look over in confusion a small "uhh"

he glances at you "you're going to ride my dick and tell me how dumb i make you feel"

you let out a sarcastic laugh at the man but how can you deny the offer to ride that beautiful erection of his. you slip you panties off and put your hands to his waist band flinging his shorts along with his briefs landing somewhere in the room. you crawl over taehyun and kiss him lightly on the lips.

"you're smart terry" you smile "and you are right about one thing"

"one thing?"

"that i am stubborn"

you straighten yourself on top of taehyun and slowly glide yourself down on the man's dick. humming at the satisfying feeling of being full you sat there for too long.

"if you're not going to say what I want at least move." taehyun commands you.

all you do is stare at him smirking at the little bit of desperation in his eyes. your smile disappears when tae's hip almost launch you out of your position. his big hands locked to your hips, he was thrust into like a ragdoll. eventually you get yourself together enough to bounce on his dick at the same pace as his thrust. when you did he moves his hands to take you out of your shirt. he watches your braless breasts bounce with your movements. in awe of your beauty and reaches to massage your boobs again.

losing strength quickly you lean body, your hands on his abs, drool dripping from your lips. tae pants at the sight, his thrust becoming rougher making you scream.

"say it"

nodding your head "you-u, are ah"

tae's hands are back on your hips and he stops his motions. you let out a bratty whine.

"say it"

"you're always right"

taehyun smiles and with a swift motion he flips the position, now hovering over you again. bringing back the inhuman thrusts, so hard you could feel it in your throat. you were screaming his name, clawing at his back as he watches his dumb slut get ruined by him.

"and... shit, you are hot... when yourrree right"

it took you every ounce of strength just to say that. eyes squeezed shut from an overstimulating pleasure. "tae,,," you pant out letting taehyun know you're about to cum.

"go ahead" tae grunts

he was trying his best to stay at his pace but your clenching around his cock was too much. your moans and screams were too much, and now the cum ring around his dick was enough to fill your insides. you moan as tae thrust slowly trying to milk every seed out of him into you. he pulls himself out to collapse onto you.

you smile, reaching over to his head of hair to stroke it. then you look over to you side to see the half eaten orange on the bed. you reach over to peel a slice and eat it. taehyun lifts his head to see what you were eating and chuckles at you. you grab another slice and stick it half way into your mouth and let tae engulf it to kiss you.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🍊

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #taehyun smut #taehyun x reader #taehyun x you #taehyun scenarios

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ghcstpyre · 7 months ago

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PINKIE SWEAR.

*•.¸♡ ted "theodore" logan x f!reader

PART ONE. ted is still a virgin. you offer to change that.

contents: virgin!ted, afab!reader, a bit of fluff, angst if you squint, post-excellent adventure, pre-bogus journey, drug use (weed), fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), slight praise kink, unprotected p in v sex. MINORS BEGONE!

word count: 7.5k

a/n: after sitting in my drafts for 2 months, it's finally here! i'm so excited to get this one out of my brain and into writing and i really hope you enjoy reading it as much as i've enjoyed/am going to enjoy writing it! :)

taglist: @scarlettspectra

The thick smell of weed hung heavy in the air of Bill and Ted's apartment, its source pinched between your index and middle finger. You'd perched yourself atop the kitchen countertop in one of the few un-cluttered spaces, lazily toking from the joint in your hand.

It was evening in the middle of July and the colours of the sunset shone through the little window opposite you, bathing the messy kitchen in a gold and orange glow. You and Ted had forgotten to crack open a window before you lit up, but by the time either of you had realised you were both too baked to care and the damage had already been done.

Ted was sat on the sofa, his old acoustic guitar in his hands, fingers plucking away an unknown tune. Or maybe it was a tune you should know, but the fingers on the strings were too inexperienced for you to be able to tell what it was. His guitar playing skills had improved somewhat since the History Report fiasco, but not by a huge margin.

You thought that having a literal princess as a girlfriend to impress would help spur him on, and for a time it had done, but you'd noticed Ted becoming more withdrawn since his relationship with Elizabeth had ended. He 'd been pretty torn up over it at the time, but it had been over a month now since they ended things on friendly terms and you'd picked up on his change in demeanor.

It felt cruel, but you couldn't say you were too heartbroken for Ted when he broke the bad news to you. The thick, green worm of jealousy had wriggled its way under your skin and buried itself within your chest the moment Ted introduced Elizabeth to you as his girlfriend. It had been festering there ever since, making its nest within your heart.

Of course, it was your own fault for realising your feelings for Ted a little too late. Everyone always said 'better late than never', but you didn't think you could apply it to the crappy situation you found yourself in.

But now Ted was single again. It seemed the universe had decided to give you another chance.

Slowly, you tilted your head to the side, dragging your gaze away from the view of the sunset to look at the object of your affection. He'd gone from plucking the strings to strumming them listlessly, clearly a million miles away.

Your whole body thrummed with the buzz of your high, a faint ringing in your ears. You knew you were high as hell - it felt like your skull had been stuffed full of cotton wool and your eyes were heavy, sclera tinted red and lids droopy.

As heavy as your eyes felt, you managed to drag your gaze across Ted's form. His mop-like, dark brown hair had fallen into his face like it usually did, but the blazing glow of the sunset shining through the living-room window cast an orange halo around his head, making him look almost angelic. The usual chocolate hues of his eyes were glittering hazel as he sat with the guitar in his hands, basking in the warmth of the setting sun.

Your eyes followed the movements his large hands made on the strings and fretboard of the beat-up guitar. There were a few stickers littered around the front of its body, faded and torn with age, and scratch marks where someone had obviously tried to peel stickers off with little to no success.

For a brief moment, like you'd done so many times in the past, you imagined what it'd be like to have Ted's hands on your body, his fingertips rough and hardened from the strings of his guitars. That familiar and inevitable heat sparked in your core and you squeezed your thighs together against the slight pulsing between your legs.

"Hey," Your voice was mellow and slow as you tried to get Ted's attention. "You gonna help me smoke this or what?" You asked, holding the joint out in his direction.

Ted was promptly pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of your voice, hands ceasing their movements on the acoustic guitar as he looked over at you, and then at the smoke pinched between your fingers. A lopsided grin tugged at his lips. "Oh, yeah."

He set the guitar down next to him and pushed himself up from the dingy green sofa, the old springs within it groaning in protest at the sudden shift in weight. The soles of his white sneakers squeaked on the tiles of the kitchen as he eagerly stumbled his way from the living room, still feeling the effects of your last spliff.

His long fingers took the joint from your own and he settled opposite you, leaning up against the counter next to the sink, just in front of the fish bowl. He lifted it to his pink lips and took a nice, long drag, the cherry on the end burning as orange as the sunset. After a few beats of holding it in, Ted released the smoke in one long exhale, filling the space between you with a thick, pungent cloud.

The red basketball shorts Ted wore hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers poking out above them and concealing just below the bottom of his dark snail trail. You had to do your best to drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering view and instead focused your gaze on his chest. It wasn't any less tantalizing - his old San Dimas High School tank top was a little too small for him now and clung to his torso in all the right places, giving you a wonderful view of the slight muscle definition on his body and arms that he usually hid behind baggy t-shirts and jackets.

It wasn't until he'd said your name for a third time that you realised Ted was trying to get your attention. "You okay there dude?" He asked, genuine concern in his eyes, sclera just as bloodshot as yours and lids just as heavy.

You swallowed hard as you composed yourself, offering him a reassuring smile and hoping he hadn't caught you checking him out. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just really stoned."

Ted gave you an amused smirk in return, flashing you with a bright, toothy grin as he brought the joint to his lips once again. "Excellent."

You muffled a snort against your hand. The way Ted and Bill spoke was something you'd always found equal parts amusing and endearing. It was goofy, but somehow you felt it added to Ted's strange charm.

A soft padding could be heard below you as you lightly swung your legs back and forth, your heels knocking against the cupboard door as you watched Ted pull from the spliff. His features took on a somber edge and his eyes glazed over slightly, clearly miles away once again.

"Hey, Ted? Are you okay?" Your voice was soft, cautious almost, as you got his attention. "You've been kind of distant lately. I know breaking up with Elizabeth must've been tough but...do you wanna talk about it?"

He regarded you silently, pursing his lips a little with a slight furrow in his brow. Ted's gaze fell to his feet and he tapped the tips of his sneakers together. Eventually, he nodded. "...Yeah, " His voice was hoarse, almost like the word was a struggle for him to get out. "I think talking might do me some good."

It hurt seeing Ted so visibly deflated like this, but you were glad he was willing to finally open up about things - even if it did mean you had to listen to him pine over his ex. Still, more than anything you just wanted to be there for your friend, as a friend.

Ted offered you a grateful smile, the corners of his full lips quirking upwards beautifully. He reached out to pass you the joint and tingles ran up your arm as your fingers brushed his before taking the joint from him. He swallowed thickly, trying to figure out where and how to begin while he watched you fumble with the lighter, sparking the smoke up again and breathing new life into the cherry on the end.

"It's just...bogus, y'know?" He started, running a hand through his glossy hair. "Elizabeth was my first proper girlfriend - she, Bill, Joanna and I basically did everything together. Being with them was always a most excellent time."

You nodded along as he spoke, toking from the joint and turning your head away slightly to blow the smoke out, away from Ted's face. The green worm coiled around your heart squeezed.

"But now it's just the three of us and I'm a total third wheel all the time. Or - or it's the three of them, without me. Elizabeth said we're still friends but that she needs some time - which is perfectly okay, I mean, I'm not about to force things like a dickweed or something, but..." A long, frustrated sigh left his lips.

Ted already felt like a complete jackass for feeling this way about his friends, and even more so for complaining about them in the open like this. Friends weren't supposed to talk smack about each other behind their backs. He looked at you from beneath his long, dark lashes, almost like he was seeking your approval. He'd always had a nasty habit of second guessing himself - undoubtedly put there by his asshole of a father - but this was uncharted territory for him and he felt like a fish out of water.

Sensing his need for guidance, you tilted your head and offered him a sympathetic smile. "You miss your friends." You finished for him.

He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders he didn't even realise was there beginning to ease. "Yeah, exactly." He looked up at you properly, meeting your gaze. "It's why I'm most grateful for you offering to hang out so often since Elizabeth and I split. It's been a totally lonely time, but seeing you has made it a bit easier."

Your chest tightened and your heart stuttered. Of course you'd wanted to be there for Ted as he dealt with his first breakup, but you couldn't deny that there were selfish motivations lurking beneath your good intentions. Guilt mingled with the fluttering of your heart.

"I'm always gonna be there for you during your hours of need, dude." You smiled.

Ted watched as you puffed from the joint again and blew out the thick cloud through your plush lips. The smoke rising from the glowing cherry swirled as it hung in the air, twisting around you lazily like a living thing, high off its own fumes and glowing in the light of the sunset. His chocolate brown gaze dropped to the KISS logo plastered over the chest of the t-shirt you wore - his t-shirt that you'd stolen some time ago now.

Elizabeth always told him it was strange that he let you wear his clothes sometimes, but he never thought anything of it. It was only now, however, that he noticed just how much he liked it when you did.

Is that weird? Ted thought to himself. Since when did she get so...bodacious?

He'd always thought you were pretty, but there was something different about you that he'd started to notice. Ted found his gaze lingering on you longer than it should, sometimes on places he definitely shouldn't be looking at. Especially now with the light of the sunset setting the colour of your hair ablaze, his t-shit hanging comfortably on your body, and your summer short-shorts clinging to your upper thighs.

His eyes dropped a little lower as the comfortable silence you found yourself in stretched on a bit longer. He noticed the way the flesh of your thighs spread out on the countertop, the bare skin below your shorts sticking to the marble in the summer heat. Ted swallowed thickly before looking you in the eye once again.

You noticed the way his eyes trailed over your body but decided not to comment, despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. "Plus, I guess this makes band practice difficult. That's gotta be frustrating."

"Yes! God, yeah, it is most vexing." Ted looked at you like you'd just put everything he'd been feeling over the last few months into words. If he'd known how liberating it would be to vent his frustrations, he would've come to you to talk sooner. You always had a knack for finding the words to describe how he felt. "How is Wyld Stallyns gonna be the most triumphant rock band in history if we can't even practice?"

A giggle slipped past your lips, glad that he seemed to have perked up a little. Wyld Stallyns were terrible, but you'd supported them unconditionally no matter how bad they sounded. "Just give it more time, Ted. I promise you she'll come round and you guys will be able to practice and hang out again just like you used to. You're doing really well, just have a little more patience."

The idea of Elizabeth and Ted spending time together again didn't exactly fill you with glee, but you doubted they'd get back together - at least, not immediately. You hoped.

His eyes dropped to your thighs again as you passed the joint back to him, the tip of his tongue poking out to wet his lips. "There's...kinda something else that's been bugging me, but I don't know if I should..." Ted trailed off, a light pink hue rising to his cheeks.

"Go on," You urged, nodding at him to continue. If there was more weighing on him, you wanted to coax it out of him.

He avoided your gaze, eyes sliding off to the right. "Okay...y'know how Bill and I explained that the princesses are...chaste?" You nodded and hummed in understanding. "Well, it took me eighteen years to finally get a girlfriend. Now I'm twenty-three, single and there are things that most guys have done by now that I still haven't experienced." The embarrassment was evident on his face; he couldn't meet your gaze at all.

You simply blinked at him, processing his words. Then, the penny dropped. "You're a virgin?" Your mouth was blurting the words before you could stop them.

Ted's cheeks flushed crimson and he let out a frustrated groan. Although he completely respected Elizabeth's boundaries and was more than happy to have waited until marriage to finally experience the intimacy he craved, he couldn't deny that it had been a ball-ache - metaphorically and in some cases, physically. Bill had cracked a joke about their right hands being their second girlfriends; at the time Ted had found it funny, but now it just depressed and frustrated the hell out of him.

"No-!" He raised his voice slightly in defense, almost offended by the 'V' word. He shook his head. "-I mean yes? I mean-" The hand that wasn't holding the spliff reached up to drag his palm over his face as he visibly deflated. "It just sucks, dude. I feel super lame." He let out another long sigh, defeated.

Ted brought the joint to his lips, taking one final, long drag before stubbing it out in one of the nearby dirty mugs in the sink. He looked back down at his shoes again, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

"Teddy, hey," The nickname caught his attention, but he didn't have the courage to meet your gaze just yet. You unstuck your thighs from the kitchen counter and hopped down, stepping forward to close the distance between the two of you. When he still refused to acknowledge you, you brought your hands up to rest on the sides of his exposed biceps and squeezed gently. "Teddy, look at me."

He hesitated for a moment before lifting his head to look at you and your sweet smile.

"You're not lame. Like, at all." You reassured him, your thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles on his skin. "In fact, I think it's totally chivalrous of you to have waited for Elizabeth."

Ted tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy. "...You think so?"

Cute. You thought.

"Of course!" You smiled brightly at him, having to tilt your head up to look him in the eye. "Not many guys would do that. Most would just get bored and dump their girlfriend after a few weeks so they could go and get some."

His face soured at the notion. "Heinous."

You giggled and his expression immediately brightened as the sweet sound filled the kitchen, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he dipped his head down and chuckled. That was one thing he always liked about you - your laugh. Especially when he was the reason for it.

You retracted your hands from his arms and he mourned the loss of contact, his skin tingling where your thumbs had been circling.

"Besides, there's nothing bad about it. Everyone experiences things at different paces. Like, you smoked weed before I did." Your words had a small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Do what you wanna do at your own pace and don't care about what anyone else thinks. Just because you haven't had sex yet doesn't make you any less of a catch."

He lifted his head to look at you again. "Thanks, babe. I really do appreciate it."

The bright expression on his face was the sign you needed to know you'd made him feel better, at least for the time being. The two of you stood there for a few moments, dissolving into stoned giggling. Ted's cheeks were flushed and his eyes shimmered with mirth, the sight being enough to make you swoon internally.

With the orange glow behind him, Ted looked like a dream. A dream you wanted to be a part of.

Hold on a moment. Did Ted call you babe?

An idea popped into your baked mind, head still hazy from the joint you'd just smoked. You weren't really sure if it was a good idea, but you figured if it all blew up in your face you could just blame it on the weed. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the friendship you had with Ted, especially since his others were currently rocky, but you were high and you wanted him.

"Hey..." You started, your heartbeat picking up the pace. "...If you're still worried about that kind of stuff, I could help out."

Ted's giggles died down and he cocked his head at you in confusion once again. "Huh? What d'you mean?"

Of course he had to pick now to be dense. "Well, y'know..." You tilted you head forward and looked up at him from beneath your lashes, hoping he'd get the message.

His brows raised in recognition and he formed an 'o' with his lips before breaking out into a grin. "Ooohh, you wanna be my wingman?"

You scrunched your face up. "What? No."

"Then whaddya mean?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Babe, I have no idea what you're saying."

"Do you wanna have sex with me?"

The smoke still swirling between you seemed to freeze in place, your words hanging heavy between the two of you. You could feel how hot your cheeks were and you could hear your pulse thumping in your ears, but you were determined to hold his startled gaze.

Ted simply blinked at you, completely dumbstruck, the gears in his head whirring as he tried to process what you'd just said. He was struggling to comprehend if he had actually heard you correctly or not.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on the soft flesh nervously and your eyes were trained on his every movement like a hawk. His silence didn't comfort you and although it only lasted for a few moments, to you it felt like an age before he finally responded.

"I...uh...huh?"

Anxiety simmered in your stomach, threatening to bubble over into frustration. You were already embarrassed enough as is and Ted's utter confusion didn't help your hammering heart.

You breathed in slowly, trying to calm your nerves. "Do you wanna hook up?" A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "With me?"

Ted's heart thumped rapidly beneath his tank top and your eyes followed his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down. His hands trembled slightly within his pockets - equal parts nerves and desire. Ted was usually one to articulate himself using large, goofy hand gestures, but right now he was glad his hands were tucked away so you couldn't see how much his hands shook.

"Are you - are you serious?" He asked, his deep voice cracking adorably.

A few strands of hair fell into your face as you nodded, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. "Y-Yeah. I mean, we're both high, we're friends-" You swallowed thickly and wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Ted's eyes followed the movement and you took a small step forward, "-You're cute...plus, it'll mean you'll have one less thing to worry about, right?"

His eyes flicked up to your eyes, down to your lips, then back to meet your gaze again. It didn't go unnoticed.

One of Ted's hands retracted from his pocket to reach out and gently brush away those fallen strands of hair from your face, tucking them behind your ear. You were sure then, if it could've done, your heart would've leapt right out of your chest and into his hand. Your breath hitched and your smile turned from shy to hopeful.

"I...yeah, I guess that makes sense." Heat rose to Ted's cheeks and his smile matched your own before faltering slightly. "But, won't it make things, like, totally weird between us?"

You shook your head. "Nah. I promise we'll still be friends afterwards." Lifting a hand, you wiggled your pinkie finger in front of him. "Pinkie Swear."

With a small, amused huff, Ted linked his little finger with yours and held it for a few beats before pulling you towards him using your pinkie. The hand that had remained inside his pocket moved to rest on the curve of your hip, his thumb rubbing your soft skin over the material of your top. Your own free hand came to tentatively rest on his chest.

Now that your hips were almost flush against his, and thanks to his loose-fitting shorts, you could feel his length pressed against your thigh. He was already a bit hard.

"Is that a yes?" Your voice was breathless as you asked, not expecting the sudden surge in confidence after his initial confusion and bashfulness.

Ted's voice was low and husky when he responded, his tone immediately causing heat to pool between your legs. He leaned in, plush pink lips only an inch away from yours.

"Hell yes."

Finally, Ted's lips captured yours in a kiss that, for you at least, felt like a long time coming. The nervous simmering in your tummy exploded in the form of happy fireworks as his lips moved slow and tender over your own, giddiness and lust threatening to take you over.

This was Ted's first time so you were determined to keep your own desires in check - to go at his pace.

His pinkie finger released yours in favour of snaking his hand around your neck to cradle the back of your head as he towered over you, lips still connected to yours. Your own hand lingered in place for a second before joining the other on his broad chest, savoring the feeling of his excited heartbeat against your palms.

You pulled away from each other for a moment to catch your breath. Ted's pupils were blown wide with desire, his deep brown eyes looking like inky black pools. Combined with the crimson hue blooming across his cheeks, your best friend looked absolutely delicious.

Neither you nor Ted could believe this was actually happening.

"Whoa..." A big, toothy grin spread across his freshly kissed lips.

You didn't even get a chance to respond before Ted's mouth descended upon yours again, this time with a little more urgency. The hand that gripped your hip circled around your waist to hold you tightly against him while his other threaded his fingers through your hair. You practically melted into him, raising onto the balls of your feet to wrap your arms around his neck and push him back against the counter behind him.

The ache between your legs urged you on. You traced your tongue along Ted's bottom lip, desperate for more. He was more than happy to oblige, parting his lips for you and letting out a soft groan as your tongue slid against his.

You were sure that that little sound was enough to send you to heaven. Or at the very least, would be living in your head rent free for the next...well, forever.

The inside of your mouth tasted like weed, smoke and the chocolate you'd snacked on earlier when the munchies hit, and Ted briefly wondered if there was any part of you in that moment that he didn't find completely intoxicating. Every kiss, every touch, every swipe of your tongue had his cock throbbing inside his shorts, straining against the fabric and aching for attention.

Without even realising it, Ted began grinding his rigid length against your thigh, pulling a little gasp from your lips. The friction paired with your tongue in his mouth was almost enough to make his toes curl in his sneakers.

Ted could count on one hand the number of girls he'd kissed, but this was by far the best kiss he'd ever had.

Why hadn't he done this with you sooner?

Sensing his need, you slid the palms of your hands down his torso to the waistband of his boxers. His breath hitched in his throat and his dick twitched with anticipation as you smiled against his plush lips, your fingers dipping just below the elastic to toy with the waistband.

"Can I touch you?" You breathed against his mouth, desperate to feel the size of him in your hands, in your mouth, and buried deep inside you.

Ted's eyes fluttered open and he nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Y-Yeah."

In one swift motion you pushed down his boxers and shorts, letting them pool around his ankles as you sunk down to your knees. His cock sprung free, long with a thick vein running up the underside and a lovely pink head, a bead of precum already forming at the tip.

He was absolutely gorgeous. If you weren't wet before, you were surely soaking through your panties by now.

You reached your hands up to run your fingers down his flat stomach, trailing them over his cute snail trail and through the dark thatch of curls sitting above where you wanted to be most. He watched you the whole time through heavily-lidded eyes, his bottom lip caught between his pearly white teeth.

The sight of you on your knees before him was the hottest thing he'd ever seen and you hadn't even touched him yet.

Ted's whole body jolted as you wrapped a hand around his shaft, your other hand resting on his thigh. You gave his cock a few slow, long strokes, looking up and drinking in the sight of him as he gripped onto the edge of the kitchen counter and gazed down at the most excellent view of you with his dick in your hand.

The whimpers that escaped him were all the encouragement you needed. Without warning you leaned in to lick a hot, wet stripe up the underside of his shaft and press a kiss to his wet tip. Ted practically keeled over, inhaling sharply.

"You okay?" You asked, concern swimming with the lust in your eyes as you pulled back a little.

Ted nodded, the corners of his lips quirking upwards in a small, sheepish smile. "Y-Yeah, I'm good. Just wasn't, uh, expecting that."

You squeezed his thighs affectionately. "Want me to carry on?"

"God yes."

Having the go-ahead, you leaned in again and took the head of his throbbing cock into your mouth.

"Oh fuck."

Ted managed to release the vice grip he had on the countertop to thread his fingers through the hair on the top of your pretty head as you began bobbing your head, the other hand still gripping onto the counter for dear life. You took a little more of him into your mouth with each motion, swirling your tongue around the swollen head when you pulled back.

"Fuck babe, that feels so good."

The salty taste of his precum on your tongue sent bolts of heat straight to your core, now hyper aware of the aching need between your legs. Unable to handle it anymore, your spread your thighs apart and slid one of your hands into your shorts to rub slow circles on your clit through the damp fabric of your panties.

It was taking all of Ted's willpower and restraint to not buck his hips forward into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. The sight of you touching yourself as you sucked his dick was almost too much for him to handle and he had to clap the hand that white-knuckled the counter over his mouth to muffle the loud moan that slipped out.

His moan was like music to your ears. You needed to hear more. Steeling yourself, you pulled your wet lips off his cock with a pop, inhaled deeply, and then took his entire length down your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut as the coarse curls of his dark pubes tickled your nose and you moaned around his girth as your fingers worked on your sensitive bud.

"Oh shit," Ted practically yelled, throwing his head back and letting out a long, low groan of pleasure. His fingers tightened in your hair and his toes curled in his shoes as he desperately fought against the urge to cum down your throat there and then.

He pulled on your hair, gentle enough to not hurt you, but hard enough to get you to drag your mouth from his dick.

"Fuck babe - I almost came." Ted panted, completely breathless as you gazed up at him, tears pricking at the corners of your glassy eyes and your lips were red, swollen and shiny with spit.

He unthreaded his fingers from your hair to help you up to your feet and immediately pull you in for another kiss, each press of his lips harder and hungrier than the last. His hands were quick to find your hips and you gasped against his mouth as he squeezed them tight and kicked his boxers and shorts from around his ankles.

Ted began pushing you backwards until your lower back hit the edge of the counter. His irises were completely engulfed by his inky black pupils and his large hands slid up underneath your t-shirt, savouring the feeling of your soft skin beneath his palms as they travelled up your waist to your ribs.

His burning desire was swallowing him whole and he was acting purely on impulse. Ted had been worried he'd fumble this with his lack of experience, but judging by the way you responded to his advances and touches, it seemed that just letting go was working in his favour.

Before you could say anything Ted's lips were on yours again, his kisses absolutely feverous and starting to make your head spin. Just as you pulled away to catch your breath, his hands cupped your breasts and squeezed gently. Your head lolled back and you pushed your chest forward into the sensation, seeking more attention. Ted was more than happy to oblige, kneading the soft flesh of your tits beneath your top with his large hands.

You twitched and let out a needy whine when one of Ted's thumbs grazed over your nipple, his mouth swallowing that sweet sound. He pulled his lips away from yours to repeat the motion again, this time circling both his thumbs over your hard, sensitive nubs. Wonder swam in his jet black eyes as he watched you arch your back into his touch and gasp, unconsciously canting your hips into his and gripping onto his broad shoulders.

Your fantasies could never have prepared you for the real thing. The pads of his fingertips were hard and rough from the hours upon hours he'd spent almost every day pouring over his beloved Gibson, and they felt heavenly on your soft skin as they trailed down from your breasts to your hips once again.

"Can I...?"

Ted's voice was hoarse as he mumbled against your lips, his fingers toying with the button of your denim shorts as he pulled back slightly to meet your heavy gaze. He knew he'd need guidance for what came next and he prayed to the gods of music (Oh great god of metal, Mr Osbourne, dude...please don't let me fuck this up!) that you would be willing to help him out without too much judgement.

If you were to laugh at him, he was sure he'd shrivel up and die on the spot.

You blinked up at him and smiled, giving him the go-ahead with a confident nod. Despite the way his hands trembled, Ted popped open the button on your shorts and shimmied them down over your hips and thighs, taking your panties with them.

Rather than letting you step out of the material, Ted lifted you up to place you back in the space on the kitchen counter you'd been sat in before. The bright, toothy grin on your face told him that that was definitely the right move. He had a feeling that all those evenings spent watching raunchy rom-coms with Bill, Joanna and Elizabeth were going to come in handy.

Ted paused, his shoulders tensing. Wait, no. He shouldn't be thinking about Elizabeth right now.

He was promptly pulled from his thoughts by your legs hooking around his hips and pulling him into the space between your parted thighs, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders once again.

"You okay?" You asked, sensing his hesitation.

It was incredibly difficult to ignore the press of his erection against your inner thigh, but you wanted to make sure he was still okay with what was happening between you before you went any further.

He nodded, albeit stiffly, and the tips of his ears burned hot. "Y-Yeah, just...I, uh, might need some help with this part."

The sweet smile that you gave him had his heart doing flips within his ribcage. "That's cool," You said, your fingers twirling in the incredibly soft, dark hair at the base of his skull as your voice took on a lighter tone. "I happen to be intimately familiar with myself so I'm really gonna be the best teacher you'll get right now."

Your words drew an amused huff from Ted and the tension in his shoulders eased off. "Awesome. So, um, how do you like to be touched?"

It was such an innocent question but it made your pussy throb something fierce.

You took one of his hands into your own and brought his thumb to your lips. Ted's eyes zeroed in on your mouth and he inhaled sharply as you sucked on it. You coated the appendage with spit before guiding it down to your clit, his head dipping as he followed your movements.

"Here," You shuddered as his callused pad pressed against your little bundle of nerves. "Start with slow circles."

Ted did as he was told and began moving his thumb in slow, steady circles over your clit, mesmerized by the sight and sensation of your sensitive flesh beneath his touch. The soft sighs of satisfaction coming from you spurred him on and he picked up the pace. His other hand moved back underneath your top to gently pinch your nipple.

You gasped and spread your legs further, scooting to the edge of the counter and seeking more of that delicious friction.

"Want your fingers in me, Ted."

Uncertainty and lust swam in his eyes as they snapped back to yours, his cheeks flushed a wonderful shade of pink.

"Don't worry," You comforted. "I'll guide you."

Doing his best to steady the tremble in his hand, Ted dragged his middle finger over your slick folds to gently rub at your entrance. The corners of his plush lips quirked upwards - you were so wet. Not just wet, you were soaked.

"Whoa, babe. You're totally dripping wet right now." Ted grinned, flashing you with a bright, toothy smile filled with pride.

Giddiness bubbled in your chest, delight rushing throughout your body and you curled your toes. You matched his grin. "Duh; my hot best friend is about to fuck me. Of course I'm wet."

He blinked at you owlishly and his cock twitched against your inner thigh. "...You think I'm hot?"

You hesitated before nodding. "I...have done for a while-"

Your confession was cut off by a gasp as Ted slid his finger inside you without warning. The walls of your pussy instinctively squeezed his long digit as he slowly pumped it in and out of you experimentally, his eyes on your face the whole time to check for any signs of discomfort.

"That's it," You breathed. "Now add another finger."

Ted savoured your praise did as he was told, pulling his hand back to push both his middle and ring finger into you. You moaned softly this time and lifted your knees to give him better access and a better angle, the slight stretch filling you will a little more satisfaction.

You'd gotten so used to the feeling of your own touch you'd almost forgotten what it felt like with someone else. God, you missed this.

"Ah!" Pleasure shot through your nerves when his long digits brushed against that sweet spot deep inside you. "There, Teddy - curl your fingers right there."

He pushed his fingers into you to the knuckles and curled them as you said, his calloused fingertips rubbing against your g-spot and pulling more delightful sounds from your lips as he fingered you. Ted could feel the way your walls clenched around his digits and the wet sounds of your soaking cunt taking his fingers so easily had him so hard it almost hurt.

Judging by your reactions he was pretty damn sure he was making you feel good, but he wanted to hear you say it - no, he needed you to tell him.

"Is that good?"

The doe-eyed look on his face paired with his fingers working you like magic was enough to make you whimper. He may not have been able to play the guitar that well, but he was playing your pussy well enough to have you singing.

"Y-Yes," You nodded as your thighs began to tremble. "Feels so fuckin' good, Teddy."

Ted couldn't hold on any longer. Retracting his slick digits from you, he dipped down to press a quick, searing kiss to your lips and then rest his forehead against yours.

"Babe, I gotta fuck you now."

"Please," You panted, hooking your legs around his hips once more as he reached down to line himself up with your entrance.

Ted looked into your eyes as if waiting for permission to go past the point of no return. You nodded in confirmation, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your whole body buzzed with anticipation.

Slowly, Ted pushed his throbbing length inside you, inching in bit by bit as the wet walls of your pussy accommodated his size. Your fingernails left little crescent moon marks on his smooth skin as you gripped onto his broad shoulders, closing your eyes and doing your best to relax as he inched further in.

The low, loud grown from Ted made the sensation of his cock stretching you out all the sweeter. Your hot breaths mingled as Ted bottomed out, his hips flush against the soft skin of your inner thighs and his hands moved to rest on your hips.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, holding each other and unmoving. You expected Ted to begin thrusting not long after pushing all the way in, but he was as still as a statue for long enough that it had you concerned.

"Teddy?" You opened your eyes to look at him. "You good?"

There was clear concentration on his flushed face, mixed with something akin to frustration. His dark brows were furrowed with a deep crease etched between them and his ears burned hot with embarrassment.

"Ted? Are-"

"I'll bust if I move." He blurted, voice cracking.

You had to bite back against a laugh, thoroughly amused by his choice of words. How was it possible for Ted to still be adorable during a moment like this?

Ted inhaled deeply, trying to steady the rapid thumping of his heart. "Just - just gimme a sec."

It was incredibly hard to not think about the fact that he was balls deep inside you. The thought alone was enough to have Ted teetering on the edge. Your pussy was warm and wet and tight and unlike anything he'd felt around his dick before. Quite frankly he was amazed he'd even lasted this long.

After what felt like an age, Ted let out a shuddering breath and pulled his hips back slowly before pushing into you again. You sighed, relief and pleasure flowing through your veins as he finally gave you that much needed friction your body craved so desperately.

His large hands gripped your hips tight as he thrusted in and out of you, keeping the pace slow and steady - mostly for his own sake - while his confidence gradually increased with each little pleasured sound that fell from your lips.

"Fuuuuck Ted, that's it," You praised him as he picked up the pace, the two of you becoming lost in your combined pleasure. "That's it, you're fucking me so good - Ah!"

Ted's hips suddenly snapped forwards, slamming the full length of his cock into you and filling your cunt to the brim. Your wet walls throbbed around him as the head hit that wonderful little spot inside you and your fingers gripped at the soft hair on the back of his head.

"Shit, sorry-"

Your mouth swallowed his apology in a hot, open mouthed kiss. Ted was quick to reciprocate, groaning as you nipped and sucked on his bottom lip.

"Do that again."

That was all he needed to hear. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin bounced off the kitchen walls as Ted pumped his dick in and out of you, the sensitive skin glistening with your slick arousal. He did his best to angle his thrusts so that he was hitting that spot that had you clawing at his back and moaning his name, desperately wanting to make you feel good as he chased his own release.

"God babe - ngh - pussy's so fuckin' tight," One of his hands relinquished the vice grip it had on your hip to slide back under your t-shirt and grab your breast and squeeze. "Feels too good, fuckin' excellent, m'gonna - mmnh - gonna cum soon."

You reached a hand down between your spread legs to rub your swollen clit, aching for attention as that familiar heat began to coil in your abdomen, tighter and tighter as you neared your peak.

"Me too Ted, m'so close - so fucking close-"

The coil inside you snapped.

"Teddy!"

Your body shook and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your orgasm hit you, pleasure coursing through your veins in heavy waves. Ted's thrusts became sloppy while he fucked you through your climax, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him as you came on his cock being too much for him to handle.

"Shit babe, gonna cum-"

With a low, loud groan, Ted pulled out of you and gripped his throbbing length. After a few quick pumps of his fist, he spilled his cum over your skin, coating the soft swell of your lower tummy and the hem of your top in pearly white ropes.

The two of you stayed silent as you caught your breath, chests heaving. You let your legs drop and Ted placed his large hands on your thighs, steadying himself as his own legs threatened to give out from under him as he came down from his high.

Nervous bubbles began to simmer in your stomach as you watched Ted through lidded eyes. How would Ted feel about you now? Would this change things between you? And most importantly: Would he regret it?

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a small smile tugged at the corners of Ted's kiss-swollen lips.

"Now that," He met your gaze. "was most excellent."

A bright smile broke out across your face and your heart did flips, giddiness shooting right down to the tips of your toes. "Agreed. You feel a bit better now?"

You watched Ted closely as he took a step back and bent down to shimmy his boxers and basketball shorts back up his long legs, before retrieving your own shorts and panties from the kitchen tiles and holding them out to you with a smile that shone with earnestness.

"Definitely."

#ted logan x reader #ted logan smut #keanuverse #keanu reeves #bill and ted #ted theodore logan #ted logan x you #c: ted logan.#w: fic.#fic: pinkie swear.#look at that! im posting this an hour earlier than planned #i can't even remember the last time i wrote something so long so im definitely rusty BUT #hopefully yall enjoy this enough #i have no clue when part 2 will be out but i'm basically gonna start working on it immediately lol #i am NERVOUS posting this hhhhhhh #ok clicking post.....NOW!

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abibliophobiaa · 8 months ago

Note

One word prompts are so hard for me cause they could go an infinite direction but what about the word Cherry with Steve?

don’t you call him ‘baby’

steve harrington x f!reader. angst with a happy ending. [2k]

——

There’s a cherry red stain on the edge of the grainy photo. The color of your favorite lipstick — the same color still on the collar of his old jean jacket. He'll never get rid of it, he’s decided long ago now. You’re smiling back at him, captured forever in this picture, the sunset behind you, a hand hiking up one side of your flowing dress, the fabric backlit by the orange sky, highlighting the curves of your silhouette. He doesn’t even need the photo to remember the way it feels for his hands to travel the pathway of your side, your hip, the contours of your thighs. And the memories of that day hit him like a freight train all the same, like it was only yesterday.

Your hand is in his as he peels away from the curb at Max and Lucas’ new place in California. Sun streaks across the sky still, his sunglasses perched high on his nose. He feels you squeeze him tighter, thumb stroking lovingly along his knuckles. He turns his head and captures your gaze, your mouth a firm line, eyes round and soft. Sad.

“You okay?” you ask, and he realizes that sadness is for him. Heart practically shatters at that, because you know him deeply — just as you’ve always known over the years without him ever uttering a word.

His lip wobbles, but he doesn’t cry, tries not to at least. Even so, you gather the tear that eventually streams down his face. Thumb it away so tenderly it’s like you’re trying to capture it — to encapsulate this moment. Max is gone, Lucas is starting a new career, Dustin is off to college with El, Will, and Mike. Robin’s getting married soon. And he’s peering at everyone through the window, wishing them well, watching them slip away with the passing of time.

Everything is changing, yet you remain, and though it aches to see his life changing so quickly and suddenly, you’re a constant. The thought alone has him leaning over at a red light and kissing you soundly on the lips, hands in your hair at the back of your head, his cheeks flaming hot when the light turns green and someone slams on the horn behind him.

“Let’s go somewhere,” you muse softly, a little to yourself, head against the doorframe, free hand twirling in the wind out the window, catching sunlight in the palm of your hand. “That sign says there’s a beach up ahead. I want to put my feet in the water.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand, thinking how he can’t wait to marry you one day. “Okay, honey.”

Soon enough you’re both running along the beach with your hands tangled together. You’re spinning. Twirling. Laughing as he turns you round and around on the beach, sand between your toes, sun kissing his skin, blissful words punctuated by lingering kisses. There’s a blanket strewn out nearby you brought along and laid out, shoes discarded, your newest book propped open on its front. Beside that is the camera he brought along for the trip, the same one he rushes away to grab, chest splitting in two at the wide smile that breaks along your face.

You’re perfect. Everything he could ever want and more in a person. Beautiful beyond whatever measure a camera could ever capture you within. The photo slides out and slowly develops. The same photo you hold pinched between your fingertips as you later drive back to your hotel, bringing your lips to the bare corner, leaving a cherry red stain behind.

“Give me your wallet,” you reach an arm out and he slaps the leather within, the picture sliding into an empty slot. “Now you’ll always have me with you.”

Such sweet words — if only you had known.

He’s not sure how it happened. How that one perfect day became a memory. He still remembers the feel of your warm skin after hours on the beach spent kicking up sand, dancing in the waves, falling into fits of laughter as you eventually fell back onto a blanket, hands tangled together as tightly knit as your hearts. Later you’d pulled him down against you in that hotel bed, blocked out the rest of the world, and relished the feel of two souls wound together like one. You whispered forever against his throat as he later curled you against his chest, with the sound of his heartbeat a promise to lull you into sleep.

But things changed. His anxiety after Vecna grew, he buried himself in a job he didn’t even want at his father’s company to run from it. Work became too much — distance between you grew, him on trips that drew him further and further away from Hawkins. He pushed you away, he knew it, you knew it, though neither wanted to admit it out loud. At first you fought about it, about how you wanted forever but forever couldn’t look like this if you wanted it to stand the test of time. And then the apartment grew silent. Screaming matches turned into quiet sobs before bed, when you thought he couldn’t hear you, but he did every time. The distance became a chasm, too far to broach.

Then you left. Packed your things one morning and chose yourself. He understood. Of course he did. Still it didn’t make anything better. Didn’t make his heart hurt any less.

Now he sits in the middle of your — his — bed staring at the photo of you. The box of things he kept of yours through the years stored beneath his bed, even after Eddie suggested he might want to put it away in a closet or something. It’s been six months, six months of not turning over every morning to find you already awake and propped up beside him, wanting the first thing he sees every morning to be your smiling face. Six months of wondering what you’re doing, wondering who you’re talking to, wondering if you’ve moved on.

He gets his answer that night.

Eddie’s shoving Steve along beside him. Clothes cling to sweaty bodies in the packed bar. Robin couldn’t make it, so the two decide on a ‘boy’s night out.’ They’ve not had one in a bit, since Chrissy’s just given birth to their first baby a couple months ago. But she practically pushes him out the door that night, promising her and their new son will be fine, that he deserves a fun night with his friend.

Only it’s far from fun. With July came the hottest weather Hawkins has seen all year. ‘A record breaking high,’ the news stations tout. All Steve knows is his jeans feel tighter than usual, his skirt is stuck to his sweaty back, and the woman he loves is standing at the bar with a man Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Don’t look,” Eddie warns, as though it’s not already too late. As if Steve’s not drawn to you like a magnet, even after all this time. “He could be a friend, or something.”

He could be. But the man is reaching over to rest a hand over your forearm, head bent low, eyes wide, and clearly engaged in whatever story you’re telling him. Steve’s not surprised. It’s one of his favorite things about you: this way you seem to captivate every room you walk into. Like he’s in your orbit, circling around you, pulled in close by your mere aura. Anyone who knows you loves you, he thinks — and they’re lucky for it. He’d been lucky for a time, too.

“Steve, stop torturing yourself,” Eddie says, giving his friend’s shoulder a little wiggle. “Here — let me go grab us some beers. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything hasty.”

Steve shakes his head. What’s he going to do? Scream. Cry. Beg for you to come back. No — instead he watches. Feels his chest ache as you throw your head back in a laugh at something your date must say, hiding your smile against the lip of your glass, suddenly bashful when your eyes flicker up and clash with Steve’s. The drink in your hand falls and shatters and people rush to clean it up. Your date scrambles to find a stack of napkins, dabs at the front of your blouse, the gesture lost to you as you stay staring ahead, held in place by a ghost of your past.

Suddenly, like a light bulb flashing in your mind, you snap back to attention. He watches the bob of your throat on a swallow, the long rise and fall of your chest on your deep inhale and exhale, the forceful smile that curls your lips as you return your focus to your date.

The moment slips away as Eddie returns to the table, glasses in hand.

——

He’s not sure how he ends up here. Standing in your doorway, the ‘exit’ sign at the end of your hall flickering in the night. Your palm splays against the open door, mouth agape, eyes on his face, blinking frantically like you might think he’s an apparition.

“Please don’t tell me he’s your boyfriend.” Please don’t tell me you call him ‘baby.’ He hates himself for the tears that glimmer like pools in his eyes, hates as you reach up to cover his cheek when the first spills down his skin. “Damn it — I had a whole speech and I —” His voice breaks, throat closing around his words. You’re on your toes, face in his collar bone, clinging to him like he’s the very thing keeping you afloat at sea. “I quit my job, I started therapy, I’m not saying it excuses anything but —”

“Come with me,” you whisper, dropping back onto your heels, pajama shorts ruffling around your thighs.

Heat blooms in his belly as your fingers knit with his, dragging you further into an unfamiliar apartment. It’s very you. All your favorite colors and things, movies strewn about the living room floor, the grainy static humming on a television screen. A pot of half-eaten macaroni is left on a stove top, a plant on your kitchen table, books on a little shelf on a corner leading to a hallway. Lived in.

“Sit on the bed,” you demand as he slips inside your bedroom.

The blankets are messy, like you’ve risen from a nap recently. A stuffed animal he won you at a carnival rests beside your pillow, well-loved, as the fur is no longer as fluffy as it once had been. He watches stiffly as you reach down beneath your bed and pull out a shoebox. In your lipstick, you’ve written “Us” and decorated the top of the box with dozens of little stickers accumulated over the years. In awe, his gaze trails your hands as they pluck item after item collected throughout the years together. That first Scoops Ahoy napkin where he wrote his phone number down, that strip of photos at the photo booth at a carnival, your plush toy between your bodies as he kissed you that first time, a shirt of his from high school days that still smelled like him when you breathed deep enough, the little stack of Polaroids with all your memories scattered within. Early dates, holidays, Valentine’s Day, trips out of town with Robin, photos with the kids. Memories frozen in time of a life that feels so long ago — a life he still craves more than anything.

“I never got rid of them,” you mutter thoughtfully, holding up a photo of him napping on a lawn chair at his parent’s house, skin tanned, chest bare, marker scribbles by the kids on his face in the shape of glasses. “He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since…”

“Me neither,” he swallows, inhaling sharply as your forehead rests against his. “I know I can’t…I know I messed up and I can’t take that back. But you deserve the world and I want it to be with me.”

“You’re going to give me the world, Harrington?” You tease, and he can almost hear the laughter in your voice as you reach down between the two of you to shove the memory box aside.

“If you’ll let me.”

“You have a lot of groveling to do,” you murmur, and he can feel your lips brush his, just a whisper, softly enough he wonders if he’s dreaming, “starting with this.”

He kisses you. One for every day he’s gone without. Until you’re falling onto your back and gazing up at him with stars in your eyes, fingers trailing his bare chest, lingering along the heart that thumps wildly beneath, singing of a forever.

——

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb

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daycourtofficial · 9 months ago

Text

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 9

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: anyone else excited for me to actually update?? This part’s a bit short, sorry! Gotta set some things up tbh. I’m so so so excited for part 10. Cassian has big annoying little brother energy in this. Honestly Az does not make an in person appearance in this part, but just you wait 😉

(Masterlist)

The warm water of the shower felt incredible, your mind unwinding as the water falls down your body. Thoughts of last night swirl through your mind, remembering how Azriel’s skin felt on yours.

You start going over the previous night again, from the way his eyes wandered over your body to the grip he had on you on the way home.

You were fucked.

You were pouring shampoo into your hand, trying to decide the odds that this was all a joke to Azriel, when the door to your bedroom opened.

You usually leave the door unlocked because Cassian has to reset the router pretty regularly, but you don’t think much of it until he is swinging open the door to your bathroom, letting in a cool breeze. You stick your head out of the curtain, hiding the rest of your body.

“Cassian,” you hiss, “what are you doing?”

“I don’t like eating alone,” he tells you, shrugging as he peels an orange.

“Cassian.”

“What?” He asks, words garbled from speaking through his orange slice.

“I’m in the shower.”

“So?”

You roll your eyes, pulling a hand out to emphasize your point. “I’m naked. In the shower.”

“There’s a curtain for a reason,” his tone sounding bored of this argument.

“You got a text from Az,” he says, annoyed as he looks at your screen that he can’t view the message. You drop your conditioner at his words, the clang of it echoing in the small room as you bend down to pick it back up.

“Just leave it, I’ll check it in a minute.”

"I hope it's a poem about how beautiful you are."

You roll your eyes, despite Cassian not being able to see you.

"I bet it says how annoying you are."

Cassian's gasp fills the room, "I am not annoying."

You poke your head out of shower, "we have weekly meetings to discuss how annoying you are."

In an act of complete maturity, you follow your statement by sticking your tongue out at him. Cassian holds your phone up to your face, letting it unlock the screen for him.

He sticks his tongue back out at you, "Thanks!"

He starts scuttling out of the room, yelling behind him, "if I'm lucky, you've sent Azzy some classy nudes!"

You start sputtering, yanking the shower curtain away, grabbing your towel, and quickly wrapping it around yourself as you follow after Cassian, not even turning the shower off.

"Aww, in this text he called you cute."

"Cassian."

He starts typing a response, his fingers flying over your phone. You hear the woosh of a sent message, and you stare at him, mouth open.

"What did you send him?"

He waggles his eyebrows, then hands you back your phone.

"You'll never know."

You look down at the phone in your hands, and sure enough, Cassian had sent him a text and promptly deleted it. The sick bastard.

"Cassian."

Your roommate simply shrugs at the tenseness of your tone, "I told him how you love him and how you want his precious babies."

You grit your teeth as Cassian makes kissing noises at you, debating the legal and moral ramifications of murdering Cassian when your phone chimes in your hands.

Azriel: thanks, I like your hair too :)

You look up at Cassian, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You told him I liked his hair?"

"Yep," he says, biting into an apple, its crunch aggrevating some deep part of your brain.

“You’re the worst,” you say, opening your door and shutting it quickly behind you.

Later that night, Rhys decides to stop by to see Cassian, wanting to watch a rugby match on Cassian’s tv. Much to Rhys’s horror, Cass does have the larger tv.

Rhys starts to come in through the door to the apartment, but he can’t get the door opened more than a few inches because of a weight blocking him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, head peaking in the six inch crack of the door.

He looks confused, then looks around. “Trying to come in to watch rugby with Cass.”

“No you’re not.”

He tries to push against the door, but you keep it firmly in place. “I’m certainly trying to.”

“You’re not coming in - it’s girl’s night.”

He looks inside, confusion on his face as he huffs, “I see Cassian over there.”

“We voted to let him stay.”

Rhys looks offended. “And why not me?”

You lower your voice, leaning in closer to him, “because Feyre doesn’t invite boys she wants to talk about.”

His smirk grows predatory, as he surveys Feyre, Mor, and Cassian inside the apartment. “And why wasn’t Az invited?”

Your face flushes with heat, “we didn’t think it was his scene.”

Rhys snorts, leaning against the door frame. Knowing Rhys, he’d stay there until he got what he wanted to hear. “Az loves gossip more than anyone. Tell me why he isn’t invited and I’ll leave you be.”

You two glare each other down, a sight which must have looked quite amusing to anyone who didn’t note the seriousness of both of your faces.

You mumble out, “we don’t invite boys we want to talk about.”

He puts a hand around his ear, “I’m so sorry, dear, what was that?”

You grit you teeth, looking upward in hopes a god or a titan or someone would smite Rhysand and his stupid smug grin on the spot.

You let out a long breath, trying to let all the anger out so you can say distinctly, “we do not invite the boys we want to talk about.”

His eyes dance with amusement, his weight dropping from the door almost causing you to fall. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Maybe we’ll have a boys night - talk about you divine feminine creatures.”

He starts strolling back down the hall, “tell Cassian he’s welcome to join us.”

You close the door on him, dead-bolting the door so he can’t come in, turning back to reclaim your spot next to Feyre on one of the couches, Mor and Cassian next to each other on the other one.

“Now, I know we all gathered here to spend time together, but I showed up because I wanted someone to tell me what the hell is going on between you and Azriel.”

Mor stabs her teriyaki chicken with her fork, pointing it at you. You choke, trying not to laugh as the chicken falls off the fork back into the takeout container.

Cassian interrupts, his mouth full of rice as he says, “yeah what’s going on between you two?”

Your cheeks heat, all the attention in the room on you as you say, “nothing’s going on, Mor,” and grab a mouthful of sesame chicken with your chopsticks to prevent them from probing further.

It does not work. Instead, Feyre chimes in, “you guys were awfully close last night at karaoke.”

Mor points at Feyre with her fork, “she sat on his lap to and from Rita’s.”

Feyre gasps, sitting up, “you sat on his lap?” Then she looks at you with a mischievous glint, “could you feel him?”

She waggles her eyebrows as you throw an eggroll at her, earning you a soft hey in response.

“Feyre, watch your language around Cassian’s virginal ears.”

Mor spits out her drink, “there’s nothing virginal about what we do at night.”

She high fives Cassian, who is suspiciously quiet during this whole exchange.

“Hey,” you say to him, getting him to look up from his rice at you, “why’d you say it was good that my date was bad?”

“When’d I say that?” Cassian asks, tucking his phone under his thigh.

You roll your eyes, “literally yesterday when Az and I dropped off lunch for you.”

Mor whistles, “Az took you for a ride.”

Feyre’s eyes light up and you roll your eyes at her sing-song voice, still looking to your roommate. Cassian starts fidgeting, unsure what to do with his hands, “uh nothing he just was- kinda ugly.”

Your brows press down in a hard line, “okay, Cassian, he might not have been your cup of tea but he certainly wasn’t ugly.”

“But he wasn’t pretty like Azriel,” Mor chimes in, a smirk on her lips.

You throw your hands up, “whoa whoa whoa, I invited you guys over for chinese food and silly romcoms, why am I being ambushed about Azriel?”

“Because he likes you,” Feyre says, pouring herself a glass of rosé. You look to Feyre, trying to silently tell her you don’t want to have this conversation here with Cassian, but she keeps her eyes on her lo mein, a noodle slipping from her chopsticks.

“Az sure did enjoy you in the Barbie costume last night, babe.” Mor had an absolutely feral look to her as she starts, “I bet he had a fun night thinking about it with his hand wrapped around his- hey!”

You threw a pillow in her direction, trying desperately to get her to shut up.

“Hey, even Cassian thinks you guys would be cute, and he isn’t the most observant.”

Cassian picks the pillow up, hitting Mor with it again. “Thanks, Mor.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

You turn to Feyre and the two of you make kissing noises at each other, then direct them at Mor and Cassian.

“Hey, we’re mature adults who just fool around. And do you know why we work so well?”

You put your head on your hand, looking up to Mor, “oh wise and beautiful Mor, please tell me why you and my roommate are so good at having sex with each other.”

Feyre snorts, but Mor responds, “because we talk to each other. We’re adults.”

“It’s different,” you say, going back to your chicken.

“How is it any different?”

“There aren’t any stakes for you two,” you say, and Feyre nods eagerly. “There aren’t any emotions - you two just have sex and you know that’s what you both want.”

Feyre nods enthusiastically, and you narrow your eyes at her, “and why aren’t we grilling you about the other boy? Hmmmm?”

Her cheeks blush, as her mouth opens and closes, trying to form words.

“Because she didn’t spend all of karaoke night whispering to him. Especially not during my performance.” Cassian ends his words with a huff, taking a swig of his beer.

“You mean our performance?” Mor ask, “we made it what it was.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, but lets it go, pulling his phone back out. “I’m going to order more Chinese - anyone want anything?”

Everyone’s responses echo, but you make out both Feyre and Mor asking for more crab rangoons.

Cassian lets out a soft, “it’ll be here in 30 minutes, let’s start this chick flick.”

Mor smacks him on the chest, “Pride and Prejudice is not a chick flick! It is cinema!”

As Mor and Feyre try to convince Cassian that he will love Kiera Knightley, your thoughts linger to the other side of the wall you shared. You wondered what they were up to tonight, what Azriel was doing, if Cassian and Rhys give him a hard time about you.

Of all the thoughts you had of them, the thought hadn’t occurred to you that Cassian would be texting Rhys updates throughout the night.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

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desceros · 1 year ago

Note

oops you got something between your fingers there, let me get that for you real quick <3

evil evil evil evil evil evil strikes back out of self defense

It's not too uncommon that you wait for him to come home. Not only has his shitty apartment all but become a second home to you, but he's started making little jokes that you aren't completely sure are really jokes about you moving in with him instead.

As such, he doesn't say anything when he comes in through the door and finds you sitting at his kitchen table, scrolling through your phone looking at the cute dog pictures April's sending you from her latest venture to make ends meet as a dog walker. Not until you look up and smile as you see him, putting your phone down because he's infinitely more interesting.

"Why aren't you sitting on the couch where it's softer?" he asks, slowly stripping the outside world from himself as he gets close. His swords. His belt of medical supplies you keep stocked up nicely for him. A bag whose contents you don't know, but judging from the care with which he puts it down on the counter, you suspect is quite valuable.

"I thought you'd be hungry when you got back," you tell him, gesturing at a tupperware of food you'd brought over from the lair. Leo still doesn't have a decent set of pans, and you've forbidden him from buying any since you can cook just as well at the lair and bring things over. (You're surprised he's held out this long; though you suspect it may be because he has a not-too-incorrect mental image of Donnie's pissy face when he smells you cook something nice and learns it's for Leonardo, not him.)

Leo sits at the table adjacent to you, popping off the lid. It's still warm, thankfully, and his face gets a little softer when he starts to dig in like he's starving. He doesn't compliment it, but you don't need him to. The way he goes quiet, not even speaking in the interest of eating the stir fry you'd tossed together, is all the feedback you need.

Smiling fondly, you grab into the bag you'd brought and pull out an orange. Slowly, you start to peel it, piece by piece. The oil of the rind clings to your skin, making the air between you fragrant with citrus. All the way down to the juicy flesh, until you split it in half, then pluck out a single piece.

Reaching out between Leo's bites, you hold the piece between your fingers. He stares at it for a moment, glancing between it and your face, then opens his mouth so you can slide it inside.

"This was a really yummy batch," you tell him as he chews, eyes falling down to where you peel away another piece. It has a little string on it, which you pick away lovingly before holding out to him just like the one before. "Nice and juicy. I was surprised, considering the time of year."

Leo takes the second piece in his mouth, and the next time you look down to the orange to pull him away another piece, you feel the weight of his stare on the side of your face and the apartment falls silent. No longer do his chopsticks scratch away at the tupperware.

Still, you persist, relentless in your affectionate care. "I've been saving the peels to make a nice cleaning spray. Apparently, you can put them in a bottle with a bit of vinegar, and it smells really nice and works pretty well," you continue to ramble. You hold out another piece. He leans in, his teeth finding the soft flesh with a heavier purpose now. You avoid meeting his gaze, torn between enjoying this little dance and not wanting it to end too quickly.

Another piece hovers in the air, and this time, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and holds it in place. You look up, startled, only to stare with wide eyes as he slides your fingers and the orange slice into his mouth together. His tongue finds the fruit and brings it to his teeth, splitting it open and coating his mouth and your fingers with its sweet juice. Messily, it beads down your palm, to your wrist, tickling even as your breath catches in your throat when he glides his tongue along the webbing of your fingers to catch its origin. Hot, wet, he licks at your skin, suckling the love off of you like it's the waters of the fountain of life itself.

Your mouth falls open as his teeth scrape at your palm, the hitched breath coming out of your lungs on a jagged sound that sounds a bit like a whine in the dead air between you. Mouth curling into a smug smirk, he kisses down the line of the orange juice to your pulse, bending your hand back and sinking his teeth into your wrist hard enough to leave a mark.

It's then that you finally meet his gaze, and see in it the dangerous flame you'd stoked. You swallow thickly, pressing your thighs together beneath the table. Silly you to forget that it's always the little gestures that drive him the most mad.

Trailing his tongue up your hand to flick it between your fingers, Leo groans, squeezing his eyes shut like the taste of you wounds him. Maybe it does, in a way, you think, feeling the almost painful ache of your own arousal that he so easily calls to the surface.

Licking your lips, clumsy from the rushing blood beneath your skin when he slides your fingers into his mouth and begins to suck on them while bobbing his head slowly, you reach with shaking fingers to pull away another piece of the orange. When Leo looks at you—no doubt visibly affected, dilated pupils, bitten lips, chest rising with your accelerated breath—he chuckles before sinking his teeth into the flesh of your palm, lathing it with his tongue before he releases you.

"How many more do you think you'll be able to share before you break for me, mi corderita?" he asks slyly, taking the piece from you and resting it on your spit-soaked fingers, gliding them into his mouth to begin the process all over again to send you into a hazy, needy state.

The answer, you'll later bemoan as you stare, stunned, completely fucked out, at the ceiling of his bedroom with a familiar full-body ache and the smell of oranges strong in your nose, is one.

#ask tag #[said with love] you're a menace. consider this me walking up to you and slipping a grenade with heart stickers on it into your pants #blurple villain au #leonardo/reader #my fic #rating: m

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scary-event2369 · 10 months ago

Text

Yandere! Alien (ONE-SHOT)

I’m sick as hell rn and I just want to write. Sorry it’s been awhile TT

Never wrote something like this before so be nice but criticism is always welcome!!

Also been awhile since I wrote smut, so i apologize if it’s not good either

Content: AFAB Reader (no gendered terms used), aphrodisiac effect (alien’s saliva), sexual themes, alien dick (ikyk) oviposition (egg-laying/having eggs inside you), breeding, brief mention of blood. P -> V. Cunnilingus. This is a lighter yandere. —

You headed up to your grandparents' mountain cabin, craving some alone time to clear your head and unplug. It was meant to be a chill getaway, a routine check. The cozy rustic vibes inside welcomed you, but what caught you off guard was the sight of an alien, looking totally puzzled by a simple piece of fruit. It was almost cute, but definitely not part of the plan.

It was not even a full 24-hours before you heard a loud crash outside. Your first thought was a tree possibly falling. To your surprise, there was this odd pod thing sitting there.

You immediately wanted to call someone, but then you remembered. No service, no humans around for miles – classic mountain problems. However, your curiosity got the best of you, so you grabbed a stick and poked the mysterious pod. It hissed open, releasing a fog that revealed a towering alien.

This dude was something else. Humanoid, but not quite right. Terrifying yet strangely captivating. Pale, almost ghostly skin, cat-like features with pointy ears and weird dark marks all over. Antennas sticking out of his head and long silky smooth white hair flowing down.

Now, a few days later, he couldn't take his eyes off an apple, completely captivated like a kid in a candy store. His long finger reached out, gently tapping it.

"Want a bite?" I interrupted his apple stare-down. He turned to me, his language sounding weird, definitely not from around here, but the guy picked up English crazy fast.

"Can eat this?" he questioned, his voice all deep and otherworldly, like trying to put words to an alien sound. I nod, “Yeah go ahead. It’s pretty tasty.”

He snatched the apple, giving it a good sniff and admiring its vibrant red hue. Hesitating for a moment, he finally decided to take a cautious bite. His eyes widened, almost sparkling with surprise. Without wasting any time, he went for another bite, a grin spreading across his face.

A little chuckle escaped me."So, what do you think? Is the apple a hit?” I asked him between giggles. His mouth was full of the apple, the juice pouring down her cheek. “Apple... good," he responded with a few mysterious words, likely compliments, before switching back to English. "Tastes like Earth. Want more."

"More apples?" I questioned, making sure. His face lit up with happiness as he nodded. I got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. I grabbed more apples, including some oranges and pears for good measure. Dumping the fruity treasure on the end table, I declared, "Voila!"

He gobbled up the whole apple, even the core, and then flopped into a chair by the table. Snatching an orange, he sniffed it just like he did with the apple. A big bite, some chewing, and he declared, "Different, but good,” he mumbled with a nod. "Earth food, good." I shook my head, chuckling. "No, you can't eat the skin like that. Let me peel it for you," I said, quickly peeling it for him. "Here, give it another shot. It'll be way tastier this way." I held out the peeled orange, urging him to try it again.

He narrowed his eyes at it, unsure, then decided to take another bite. The look on his face mirrored the one he had when munching on the apple. "This is real good," he exclaimed, before launching into a stream of excited chatter in his own language. "You," he stopped to find the right word. "Smart! Lots of cool things. I wanna know more."

I flashed him a smile, saying, "Awh, thanks! I'm curious to know more about you too." We took a little pause, just locking eyes. His big, dark, almost black orbs were fixed right on me, kind of hypnotic. I turned my head and blurted out, "So, um, what else do you wanna find out?" His intense look left me a bit flustered.

I still felt his intense gaze burning into the side of my head. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and yanked me back onto the couch, plopping down beside me. I was a bit confused, but I took this as him wanting to know what this was. “Oh, this thing? It's a couch. Like a big chair, so more people fit on it," I explained.

He gave a little nod, inching closer. Those eyes were still locked onto mine, like he had something important to say but was stuck on the words. Next thing I knew, his hands were on my cheeks, squishing them, and his forehead rested against mine. Our noses touched. If you told me a few days ago that a massive alien would nuzzle noses with me and I'd just roll with it, I'd have called you nuts. However I just let it happen. Despite us knowing each other only a few days I felt a strange trust and connection to him.

I raised an eyebrow, still kinda confused but not backing off. His fingers, long and gentle, traced my cheek, giving me a ticklish feeling. His breath brushed against my face, and he stayed quiet. “So… is this some alien custom or what?" I questioned, getting even more confused by all the physical contact. He nodded, making a small clicking noise. Then he began to say a bunch of words in his native language. I think he could notice I wasn't understanding in the slightest because he let out a huff before he kissed me quickly.

I gasped at the sudden feeling. It wasn't like any regular kiss; it was way more enjoyable, sending a tingling and numbing feeling through me. His lips still held the sweetness from the fruit we had earlier.

His hand moved to the back of my head, pulling me in closer, while the other one continued to gently stroke my cheek. A warmth began to wrap around me, it was a strange feeling, but one I wasn’t pulling away from.

I shut my eyes and leaned in, returning his kiss. A surge of warmth enveloped us, almost like a sweet paralysis. It was too irresistible to pull away.

The hold he had on the back of my neck got a bit tighter. It didn’t hurt but it was obvious he didn’t want me to pull away, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. His soft lips were intoxicating, both of our lips moving in rhythm.

His tongue teased my bottom lip, coaxing them to open. It felt like an aphrodisiac, a warm and comforting sensation. Slowly, I surrendered as he pressed me down onto the couch, rendering me completely immobile.

Breaking away, he panted slightly, and we gazed at each other breathlessly. It felt like we were just staring at each other for hours, even though it was only a couple seconds. The warm feeling growing in my chest and stomach was growing, it was pure need.

Gasping for breath, he uttered "Xylorvex," a word in his native tongue. Pausing for a moment, thinking, he repeated, "Mate. You're mine, all mine." With that, he pressed his head against my neck, as he began to kiss and suck the skin.

The words hit me, making my face burn as he nibbled and kissed my neck. His teeth were sharp, but he tried to be gentle, though sometimes he bit too hard, making me bleed.

Yet, he was quick to lick and clean the wounds, sending a rush of arousal through me. My body went numb, and all I could feel was the strange alien's touch. His kisses left me craving more. "P-please," I stammered, desperate.

The strange creature stared at me, clearly confused. I let out a groan and pleaded, "I need more," hoping it would catch my drift. It took a while but then he nodded, finally understanding as his long fingers slowly pulled down my pants and now slicked covered underwear.

The cold air on my bare pussy made me flitch and shiver slightly. He brought one his face down and looked at it which only made me more embarrassed but aroused. After a while he brought his hand towards it, going up and down the folds, gathering more of the wetness. I let out a shaky moan and quivered slightly. I was so turned on it was almost painful. The creature watched as my pussy convulse around nothing. He slowly brought his face towards it as he began to carefully lap the folds. I cover my mouth as I let out a loud mouth. My breathing has gone heavy yet shallow as he continued licking and sucking. It was tingling in a way that caused more sensations than ever. I grabbed a handful of his hair, not knowing whether I was pulling him closer or pushing him away.

“Sweet. Like fruit,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving my cut as it dripped leaving a small pool onto the couch. He quickly went back towards it, slurping up all the arousal that poured out of me. He was mostly silent throughout this, a few clicks that I took as happiness as his half-lidded eyes switched from my pussy to my face. Luckily enough I was making enough noises for the both. It was only a matter of minutes before I felt my orgasm building full force. He began to swirl his long tongue around my clit sucking on it before going back towards my hole pushing his tongue in. “Nghh~ ah fuck~” I moaned out loudly as I came all over his face. The slick trailing down his chin as he made sure to give my pussy a few more kisses before sitting back up and looking at me. “Good?” I nodded as my chest went up and down heavily. I have never experienced anything like that before and it took a lot of the energy out of me. He smiled slightly as he then took off his pants showing his now fully erect dick, it was nothing like you have ever seen before. It was long and girthy, with the same black markings that were across his skin. It was veiny, and twitching. Despite being quiet it was obvious he was just as excited as you were.

He slowly rubbed the entrance, gathering my slick onto his dick. I rarely had time to think before he pushed it in slowly, filling me up instantly. We both let out a moan as he bottomed out. The clicking noise became louder as he began to mumble something. He kissed my lips before he started to thrust his and wiggle inside me.

It was otherworldly, it was like his cock was perfectly morphing itself to my folds causing a sensation I couldn’t explain. The moans I let out came off as more of screams as I gripped the couch. However they were not as loud as they could be because of his sweet kisses, almost praising and encouraging me to take it.

You quickly learned that his species had a strong stamina. He was doing all sorts of positions with you, forcing orgasm after orgasm before all you could do was cry and take the pleasure. Hours later and after your nth orgasm did he finally cum. He gave his final thrusts as he shot his load inside you. The warmth filling you as you whined. You could feel him depositing large eggs within you. Causing your belly to bulge as he cooed and petted your head.

After he laid all his eggs within you he finally put out, a clear sticky substance pooled out of your entrance as you trembled. The alien held you close as he brought you to the bed, grabbing something he thought was a towel and wiped you up.

You quickly fell passed out as he cuddled up next to you, spooning you and continuing his pats to your head. He just knew that you’ll be such a kind and loving mate for the children slowly growing inside you.

#yandere #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere male x reader #afab reader #spicy #alien #alien oc #alien boyfriend #yandere alien #yandere teratophillia #yandere exophilia

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verysium · 1 year ago

Text

『01』到着: arrival

ft. rin itoshi, sae itoshi

summary: the forces of nature abide by a single law: all cataclysms are creators of their own collapse. in the wake of such destruction, rin tumbles his way down to earth, and along the staircase of heaven, a new star is born. cw: mild swearing, childhood nostalgia and growing pains, rin being embarrassing, social anxiety, sae being somewhat parental, sibling dynamics, kamakura and japanese culture, spanish lessons, very dense prose (cus i suck ass at dialogue), star analogies, orange peels and other fruit metaphors, fluff but bittersweet.

word count: 6.4k

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The first word Rin learns is star.

It is spoon-fed to him in glittering globules of milk fat, dense and pooling around the gums. Stars are what he senses when rough hands slip around his torso, stuffing the nib of a plastic bottle into his mouth. He is only a week old and can't see yet, but he already knows the set of eyes he is staring into. There are tiny pinpoints of blue-green light, reflective and shiny, a mirror to his own.

The world is blurry but somehow Rin finds his own image. His newborn legs are scrunched inside a wad of cotton blankets, poised and ready to strike. Rin doesn't like being confined, but the four walls of the hospital room offer him no reprieve. He cries and bawls and screams to go back. Only the silence answers.

Rin hates this place. The world out here is a different state of mind: too bright, too loud, too much. Anything and everything has been etched into a single frame, time scorched into untouched skin. It is to the point his senses cannot handle any more.

Every morning the shadows of nurses gorge themselves on daylight, waistlines growing by the minute as they enlarge into his field of vision. They pry at the wires of his crib, brushing off invisible dust as they try so hard to make his heartbeat sync with their incessantly beating machines. His body refuses to obey. They should've known the moment he was born that he'd always be one step behind.

Rin wants to screech his head off again. This time he babbles that the milk tastes like car grease, that he'd rather die free than live in pain, but a firm hand stays the bottle between his lips, insisting on its delicacy. Rin blanches. He isn't hungry. He tries to pull away. But his mother's voice cuts through the silence, a warning.

"Sae-chan, be careful with your brother."

The two-year-old grunts, lips twisted in annoyance as he tries the balancing act of feeding a newborn with one arm. His gaze is ancient, too piercing for a child. Rin's fingers crawl up Sae's face, clumsy and blind as they grope for his nose bridge. There are stars in his older brother's eyes, ones Rin cannot reach no matter how hard he tries.

Rin ends up spilling milk on himself, crying as he drools white rivulets down his chin. If Sae could swear, he most definitely would’ve called Rin an ungrateful little shit. But Rin knows it is an honor to be born where he was. He is a legacy to someone else’s dream, both a spare and a second chance at living. He butters himself up in their nasal tongues, machinating his lips in tandem.

When his brother offers him another drink, his mouth is already open.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It turns out life outside the womb is actually far greater than it was inside. Rin learns that real people walk and talk and grow up to find something called a purpose. He doesn't understand why the adults deem it complicated though. How could something so simple take years to discover? After all, his brother has already figured out his purpose, so why couldn't he?

"Rin-chan, you must find something to do with your life," his grandmother mentions over dinner, smoothing her weathered hands down the locks of his hair. The family is gathered around the table for tea, sitting like a portrait on the zabuton. Rin tries his best to emulate, his three-year-old spine drawn taut with practiced humility.

"Your brother has already paved the way. You can do the same, can’t you Rin-chan?"

Of course he can. Rin's heard these words a thousand times before. Sae isn't called the family's star collector for nothing. His nii-chan has already amassed tens of thousands of these five-pointed shapes, a few of which sit in a glass trophy case Rin isn't allowed to touch. He’s seen this all play out before.

A fortune teller once read their futures, thumbing her way along his brother’s palms as she spilled the very same oracles. Rin still remembers that day clearly: a morning visit to the shrine, the image scattered like water. The torii unfolded like a vermillion tongue, moseying its way down Komachi Street. He had been dressed in his little navy blue hakama, toes tucked politely into his tabi, his round eyes reflecting the world like a fisheye lens. There was much to observe from the hustle and bustle of life. Peculiar squiggly lines danced along the signage of shops. Candied lacquerware displayed themselves behind glass windows. Rin even stopped to point out the goldfish hanging in their crystal bags, giggling when the force of nearby windchimes sent each fish for a tumble. One soba stop and two taiyaki ice creams later, his small feet had grown tired from the hours of excursion, and his mother carried him on her back for the latter half of the trip home.

It was then that he spotted her.

An old lady sat in a booth by the wayside, framed by colorful curtains. His father had told him that she could foresee the future with the mere touch of her hand. Sae had gone first, holding out his palm with assured poise, as if he already knew the outcome. Rin wasn’t surprised when he heard the verdict. The old lady claimed Sae was destined to become the world’s greatest star, to bring glory to the nation of the sun. Rin didn’t doubt it if this was true at the time. His brother’s existence was proof enough. Sae’s certainty was a lesson Rin learned before object permanence, before any preconventional stage of development. Nii-chan is always one way and not the other. He is on track to do something important, and nothing can sway him from it.

That was the first truth Rin learned of this world.

Even now at the family dinner, he doesn't even need to look to know that his brother is sitting with near perfect posture, the precision of still life running through his veins. Sae is an adult before he is a child, a handcrafted figurehead for the Itoshi name. Rin lifts his chin a little higher, his toddler hands raised in firm conviction.

“I’ll follow Nii-chan! Follow him to the end of the world!”

His grandmother nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Rin doesn't say anything else, quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn't understand the words she exchanges with his parents, nor does he try to. Adult talk still isn't his strong suit, especially not when it concerns the future. But his mother's eyes shine wet and proud, and his father chuckles more than usual. Rin decides his purpose right then and there.

He wants to be a star too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day after starting kindergarten, Rin shows off his first masterpiece, cradling two sheets of rice paper as he runs up to the front door. By the time the fusuma slides open, he has already uncrumpled his work, dramatically revealing a bold shock of color. It appeared to be some sort of assemblage, painstakingly inked in blue crayon and pieced together with painter's tape.

"That's a pentagon, Rin."

"No, it’s a star! See? 1…2…3…4…5 points! Star!"

Sae isn't amused. Rin does not know why. His brother’s eyes are hardened slats of light, the still water of an abandoned lake. There are no mouths to swallow the light, no twinkling ripples at the surface, not even the gasps of glimmering excitement. There is only the mirrored slate of the sky: one shade of blue bleeding into the next. Rin feels his stomach plummet into its depths. This isn’t the soft look of pride he wanted to see. Not in the slightest.

At first he thinks about crying, his bottom lip already curled with the onslaught of a pathetic sob. But spite unfurls in his lungs, so instead he turns his nose up with huff, trying to seem unaffected. He would be very proud of his star. And it most certainly was not called a pentagon or whatever stupid name Sae learned in his stupid math class. But apparently his older brother always had something else to say.

"Just come here and erase it. I'll show you how to make a proper star."

"But I don't want to! It's my star. It's perfect!"

Rin can hardly utter another word before Sae's glare nearly freezes the living daylights out of him. Nii-chan is scary, especially when angry. He doesn't even have a choice when he sits down at the chabudai, pouting in reluctance. Sae works out his magic on paper, crafting ley lines within the grain of paper. Rin does his best to follow, licking his lips as he guides his crayon through the dotted lines. It gets increasingly difficult though when Sae's hand echoes warmly around his own, gentle but firm in its direction. Rin tries to avoid his brother's eyes, but Sae's kindness is as disarming as his gaze. Had Nii-chan always had that crease between his eyebrows? The slight upturn of his lips when he bit his tongue in concentration?

Rin tries to trace the lines, but he ends up tracing Sae's face instead. His focus isn't even on the paper when he scribbles out a mess of incomplete pentagons, some geometric concatenation he cannot translate into real-time. Sae would have pinched his cheek, scolding him in disappointment.

Sae never did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next time Rin traces a pentagon, it is on the surface of a black-and-white ball, shot like a meteorite through a football goal. His brother becomes a comet, light on his feet as he thunders down the field, weaving seamlessly between defenders. Rin can only stand on the sidelines, drowned out in his second-hand hoodie, face smushed up against the fence as he tries to get a good view. The team's been at it for hours, and Rin's pretty sure he now has the diamond imprint of chain links burnt into his cheeks.

"Somebody stop him!"

"Get after him!"

"Mark Sae Itoshi!"

There will always be someone up to the challenge of his brother's prowess, but no one ever comes close to toppling him. Rin doesn't think Sae would ever miss a single step, not when he's so far ahead. His brother is strong and calculated, absolutely unwavering in his ascent to the top. The only way Sae Itoshi could ever fall is if he buckled under his own weight, caving into himself.

Rin's eyes follow the reporters as they trail after Sae, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. They were no better than a pack of bloodhounds, desperate for a small taste of his brother's victory. How dare they? His Nii-chan outshined everyone at everything. Rin wasn't the smartest boy, but even he knew that a star could never be caught. They didn't even belong on Earth in the first place.

"Let's go, Rin."

Rin doesn't complain when his brother calls him to return home, oblivious to the media's chagrin. Like Sae, Rin is utterly indifferent to their plight, side-stepping one of the reporters who dry-heaves on his shoes in exhaustion. It was definitely their fault for failing to outrun both an eight-year-old child and his kid brother, let alone try to feast on their glittering remains. If they couldn't catch a star, they ought to eat the dust left behind. After all, that was how the world worked according to Nii-chan.

Only the best could succeed. All the rest would implode with the universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It is the summer before his tenth birthday when Rin takes back every single one of those words. He is that reporter now, completely humiliated and exhausted as he collapses on the sidelines. The afternoon workout had just entirely rearranged his guts, so much so that he's foaming at the mouth, the remnants of his hasty breakfast speckled all over his cleats.

Out of every star in existence, the sun has to be the worst one. A pool of sweat trickles down his back, melting into a sticky discomfort along his nape. It’s too far up his jersey for him to do anything about, and he might just die from the sweltering heat.

Perhaps it was true that sports stars had to suffer in order to burn bright, but Rin would never wish this fate upon anybody. Sae is shouting at him from somewhere outside his periphery, insisting that the sun has never stopped revolving, that Rin has to never stop practicing if he ever plans on keeping up. But at this point, he could care less about a goddamn metaphor, let alone rub two brain cells together to interpret it.

"That shot was shoddy, Rin. Redo it."

"But it's so hot, I can't—”

"It's not hot. It's lukewarm. Redo it."

Sometimes Rin regrets ever thrusting himself into the orbit of his brother’s football dream. Playing on the world stage sounded so much easier in his head back then, but now it might as well have been an impossible fantasy. He most definitely wasn’t cut out for this line of work because his legs feel like shit, his arms feel like shit, and his whole body can’t even breathe under the thick, grimy layer of sweat. Blinking his eyes against the burning salt, Rin curses to himself. He should’ve taken that energy drink from earlier. At least the caffeine would have kept him sane. Sae snaps Rin out of his reverie, his thin voice seeping into Rin’s bones. There’s something softer in his tone this time.

“Suck it up and redo it. I’ll buy you ice cream after practice.”

There is silence. Rin stands back up, wiping his forehead as he stares his brother dead in the eye. The field has never been larger, and the goal has never been closer. And just like that, he is off, powering down the turf.

Under the supermassive gravity of his brother's ambitions, Rin becomes a supernova, his body charged with enough energy to last through entire lifetimes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In the oppressive sunlight, Sae's cold stare becomes a welcome sight. Augusts in Kamakura are the products of heat waves, the sun so scorching Rin can see a visible mirage above the asphalt. The heat spares no one, and Rin feels his cargo pants stick to the crease of his thighs. Even Sae’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, unusually slick behind the ears. They had just met Sae’s agent that morning, taking the Yokosuka line back from Tokyo. Sae had even left early, planning to evade the weekend’s tourists. But neither of them ever anticipated the harshness of the afternoon heat. After nearly an hour of searching, their only refuge was this 7-Eleven, some tiny microcosm practically stowed away between two utility poles.

The oba-chan at the konbini greets them with a seasoned smile, chirping with polite bubbliness as she rings up Sae’s Garigari-kun popsicles, a total of 70 yen for the original soda flavor. Rin waits demurely in a corner, eyes drawn to his brother’s silhouette. Some oji-san sits himself down nearby, fanning himself with a newspaper as he twirls a toothpick between his gums.

“Trying to avoid the heat, eh? You and your brother come here often?”

The man looks middle-aged, crowned with an artificial toupée and a cracked tooth. His eyes dart between Rin and Sae, a knowing smile plastered on his lips.

“Nii-chan and I just found this place. We don’t come here a lot.”

“Ah. Is that so? You seem awfully young to be shopping without parents. What’s your name?”

Rin doesn’t want to answer. He hates this man already, even more so his strangeness. There’s a disarming nature to his beady eyes, like he knows something Rin doesn’t. Rin looks down at the floor, his sneakers toeing a shy line across the linoleum tiles.

“R-rin.”

“Rin-kun, eh? You must look up to your Nii-chan a lot, huh? Your gaze hasn’t left him since.”

Rin feels his throat close up, cheeks flushing with heat of embarrassment. On second thought, he hates everything about this oji-san now, even down to his obnoxious friendliness. The old man winks, bending down in a conspiratorial whisper. Rin wrinkles his nose at the stale smell of beer, feeling embarrassed for even bothering to converse. This man was clearly drunk out of his mind, and Rin secretly hopes no one else is watching him. But unfortunately, the whispers are loud enough to travel across the entire convenience store, right into Sae’s ears.

“Oh-ho? Are you blushing?”

Rin vehemently shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Rin-kun. Your secret is safe for me. You must be your brother’s little shadow, right?” The man pumps his fist out, his voice distorted in a childish imitation. “Nii-chan's number one supporter!”

Rin’s hands ball into fists at the oji-san’s teasing, his ears red to their tips. Sae is looking at him from over the cash register now, a confused look etched onto his face. Rin clenches his teeth in annoyance. Stripped bare of all defenses, he is now analyzed for what he is. Was his admiration that obvious? Did Sae know about his feelings? He didn’t want to be taken for some stupid, awestruck fool. The old man’s question is barely answered before Rin makes a break for it, the bell on the door ringing with his sudden departure.

The road outside swirls in holographic patterns, a dizzying blend of feet and socks and concrete. Rin has to take a moment to steady himself before Sae comes up behind him, armed with a plastic bag of wrappers and blue ice between his teeth. Rin licks his popsicle with caution, burning away his shame as his tongue freeze dries itself to the candied surface. Sae crunches his ice cream in two bites, an amused lilt to his voice.

“What was that back there?”

“N-nothing! I didn’t know him.”

“You’re too shy to talk to strangers?”

“N-no…H-he was just talking to himself.”

Sae gives Rin a weird look, but he doesn’t question further. Instead, his hand reaches down to slap Rin on the back of the head, ruffling the hair there until it somehow resembles a bird’s nest.

“Next time someone asks you something, just answer. Stop acting like a damn coward.”

Rin’s entire face burns with humiliation at that comment. He wishes the ground could just open up and swallow him whole. The last thing he wants to be is the laughingstock of his brother’s dry humor, but the fact that Sae rarely even cracks a joke makes this entire situation much worse. Instead of replying, Rin follows what he does best and rapidly changes the subject. His voice trembles as he stares at his popsicle handle, noting the hiragana carved into plywood. Atari.

“Ah, look. I won a prize.”

Sae’s eyes widen momentarily, pausing in his step as he looks down to check his own stick. Less than a minute later, he grimaces, tossing it away.

“Tch, don’t waste your luck on something so meaningless.”

Rin knows what Sae means. Only becoming the best matters, and with the sparse amount of luck to go around, he might as well spend it on a real victory. The Itoshis can’t afford loss, not that they’d ever know what it was. A foreign emotion flickers through Sae’s eyes, something akin to uncertainty. Rin brushes it off as a trick of the light.

The trek back home is tinged with a golden hue, the sun milder as it cascades rays down both their faces. Sae's appearance has always been unsettling, even in the mellow glow of summer. Rin recalls his mother used to say that Sae inherited all the sharpness in the family. His mother was definitely right. Sae’s nose is too straight, the slant of his brows too unnatural. If Rin took a ruler to his face, every measurement would come back scientifically accurate. Nothing about Sae is soft. Nothing about him should be comforting. But when his brother looks at him, Rin feels someone’s breath brush across his forehead, the skin still warm from the imprint of their lips.

He grips Sae’s hand tighter, knuckles looped between calloused digits. They tread silently, all thoughts of victory forgotten, the coastal breeze whispering their names into air. Rin can’t take his eyes off his brother, and, despite his lack of situational awareness, Sae notices it too.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing… It’s just… Back at the store… If it were you, you’d never be afraid to speak up, right?”

“Of course. There’s nothing that I fear.”

Sae’s tone is stiff when he says this, his face tilted towards the horizon. Rin almost misses the slight waver in his voice. His brother does everything to keep his word. At least that much holds true. Rin silently wishes that too would never change.

Sae always looks forward, always stares towards the skyline, always plans for the future. Not once has Rin seen his older brother look fully back at him, let alone pivot toward the direction he once came from. One side of Sae’s face is always hidden, not too dissimilar to the far side of the moon. His Nii-chan might as well be some celestial body, cast under the penumbra of his own eclipse. No one could ever know him in his entirety.

Sae’s eyes must be lonely, Rin ponders. They’re trapped on opposite ends of his face, two stars that could align but never cross. He swears to always remember the constellations in his brother’s eyes.

He'd follow them wherever they took him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─��─

Sae has his eyes set on Spain: a land of gold, guts, and glory. The streets are somehow more burnt than its people, and the nation itself flickers with twisting tongues. It is also the only place where Rin cannot follow, and he is inconsolable.

Sae hadn’t even given a week’s notice before he broke the news on a Sunday, stating his plans factually over a family dinner. Rin nearly spit out his ochazuke right then and there, choking pitifully on his tea-steeped rice grains. Who in their right mind would willingly travel to a country that sees the sun for nearly three thousand hours a year? Perhaps Sae was immune to all natural phenomena, but Rin would rather die than train in that hellish heat. And most importantly, what was with the sudden announcement? Did his brother not even care about the people he was leaving behind?

He thought about it hard during dinner and even harder when Sae blow-dried his hair that night. They had both stepped out from the tub at the same time, arguing after their shared bath. Rin complained his brother turned the water temperature up too high every time, and Sae pointed out he was dripping water everywhere, the suds still stuck deep in his scalp. Their fingers had been at each other’s hair, clawing and tugging until their mother finally intervened, wrapping Rin up in the family towel as she knelt down to dry him. Rin stood there, an angry flush on his cheeks and his features pulled into a petulant sulk as he observed Sae clean himself with elegant precision, a quiet look on his face. Life at ten and a half was simply unfair. Rin couldn’t wait until he was his brother’s age. Apparently being a teenager meant Nii-chan could have his own towel, a custom gift embroidered with seagulls on the hem. Nii-chan could dry himself without any help from others, no longer needing his mother’s guidance. He could even leave the house if he truly wanted, and no one would come after him. Rin’s scowl deepens, glowering at Sae as his mother forces his little arms up, tugging the pyjamas over his head. In another life, he would’ve admitted that he was envious of Sae’s independence, the sheer effortless grace with which he carried himself. But Rin was too prideful to do that. A confession of his own failures was equivalent to suicide in his book.

The best he can do is bite his tongue, forcing back the angry vitriol that would have otherwise spilled from his lips. His brother stands on a stool behind him, blow-dryer in hand as he ruffles through Rin’s tresses, the nozzle spewing warm air across his forehead. Sae’s fingers are rough and heavy, riddled with calluses underneath, likely from the months of weightlifting and grip training. But as solid as they are, they are also nimble, delicate as bird wings as they gently comb through strands of hair. The hot air massages around his temples, and Rin feels the tender brush of something against his nape. He cannot tell if it was the blow-dryer or the warmth of Sae’s body behind him.

In the end, he decides he does not want to know.

By now, the water droplets have cleared from his skin, his locks rusted from a dark olive to a coarse black. Sae turns the blow-dryer to his own head, tousling his hair as he shakes out the excess moisture. Rin watches silently through the mirror, squeezing a fine line of mint paste down the center of his toothbrush. He chews on the plastic bristles as he contemplates, moving his arm back and forth in a repetitive scrubbing motion. Sae had inherited their mother’s hair and their father’s countenance, his visage a perfect combination of both genetic features. His obaa-san once remarked that the kami had accidentally spilled wine on Sae’s birthday, anointing his head in a rich maroon. In Japan, red is the color of all things joyous, a shade Rin identifies with the uchikake at weddings and the rope decorations his parents pin onto doors for good luck. But to be associated with joy, Rin finds that fact highly ironic. He has never seen Sae express any semblance of happiness before, except maybe the occasional grimace he tries to pass off as a smile.

Still, the connotation of their contrasting hair colors does little to ease the ache in his tiny chest. If Sae is the blood of an early sunrise, then Rin is the death before night. Black is not a marriage but a funeral, the makings of an era filled with fear, violence, and misfortune. In a way, Rin is the end to Sae’s beginning, both the antithesis and the complement.

A soft touch against his chin interrupts his thoughts, and Rin looks up just in time to see Sae retracting his hand, wiping the excess toothpaste off Rin’s chin. And in that moment, he wants to scream. How dare Sae try to leave him? To act like everything was alright. He said the end was another beginning when really it was just the end. There wasn’t any coming back from it. Sae would disappear off to Spain, and he would never come back. At least the version of Sae he was seeing now.

In the dim lights, Rin’s hair is darker than ever, the inky tendrils plastered around his ears like a vacuum devoid of light. He brings a death omen, a curse wherever he goes. In between the liminal space of bathroom mirror and tile, he divorces memory from mind, separating the flesh until it can last no longer. He’ll kill this memory of his brother if he has to, suffocating it in the most gruesome of ways. He doesn’t want to admit this might be the last time he’ll ever see Sae.

And most importantly, he doesn’t want to admit that he just might miss him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Rin resolved to give Sae the silent treatment after that night, avoiding him throughout the house and acting like he was repelled by some nameless force. But his plans sadly never seem to work. The more he turns away, the more he is reeled back in, as if cast on some invisible fishing line. Now he’s here in Sae's bedroom, forty-eight hours before D-day, trying to mouth out words that aren't his own.

His brother has somehow convinced him to adopt a new language, something about how he needs to be bilingual to play in different countries. Rin didn’t understand most of it before he complied, letting himself be dragged onto his brother’s bedspread. His English flashcards sit opposite to Sae’s Spanish ones as he crosses his legs, mouthing the shapes on his brother’s lips.

Manzana. Banana. Naranja.

Translation: I am undoing everything that has ever made me whole.

In the middle of their lesson, Sae hands his brother said fruit, as if to accentuate his point. He peels the orange in a perfect spiral, thumb under the calyx as the spongy white fiber separates from ochre flesh, the pulp inlaid like jewels beneath skin. He cracks the segments hexagonally and tosses Rin the larger half.

“Naranja.”

“Naranja.” Rin repeats, curling his tongue around the foreign vowels. He catches the fruit with ease, shoving the flesh into his mouth until juice pools between teeth and his mouth is bursting with flavor. The language trickles down his throat, settling into the hollow of his larynx.

Naranja.

He looks down at his own orange, a half-imitation at best. His fingers are still stuck inside the skin, the liquid squirting into his right eye. It is sour, acrid even. The flesh has gone bad, wrinkled like soft cherries. A tangerine blooms saffron yellow beneath his nails, zest building up under the cuticle. He makes a mental note to wash his hands later.

Mi media naranja.

Unlearning, Rin decides, is a very difficult process. It makes him feel like a child again, an estrangement from his old self. Sometimes two halves aren’t enough to make him whole, and other times it is a section too much. There are many things in this world that elude his grasp. One day perhaps he will know them all. In another life, he would have been able to tell the difference between an apple and an orange, to draw the line between his half and Sae’s half. But for now, he is still discovering, still plucking and choosing, still floundering in a body he has come to hate. Rin picks up another flashcard, right next to the yellow one labeled starfruit, named estrella for each of its five points.

“What’s this one?”

“Desastre. Spanish for disaster.”

"Dis…as…star?"

"It's disaster. You have to enunciate the r."

"Dis…as…ster? What the hell even is that? Another star?"

Sae deadpans, and Rin mentally braces himself for another harsh remark, probably a brutally honest insult about his own stupidity. But this conversation has long evolved past fruits and colors and my half and your half. His brother’s eyes soften with shadows, as if bruised by something far deeper. A contusion forms beneath the surface, purpled and pained. Rin’s mind fills with confusion when Sae suddenly stares out the curtains again, his gaze strangely wistful. The room is so quiet he almost misses Sae’s answer.

"Yeah...it's a star.”

Disaster is a bad star.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day before Sae leaves, Rin wishes on a bad star. He wakes up at an unlucky hour of dawn, slinking past a sleeping town as he goes to find his brother on the embankment near the sea. The streets bend around this corner of the peninsula, gaping like a mouth, lips pried apart at the seams. Located between a rock and a hard place, the coast of Koshigoe Beach oscillates between two types of constant turmoil, battling the erosion of natural forces from the east while facing the gentrification of construction in the west. During early mornings, the tide is sometimes low enough to expose the rocks up to the seawall, the desiccated seaweed forming fishing nets along its edge. Occasionally, the imprints of a stranger's footsteps leave behind small pockets of water, each one a home to an assorted array of abalone and oyster shells. Rin remembers the family vacations he spent here, the storm-cloaked skies. He had been so excited to go clamming after watching every episode of Chibi Maruko-Chan. In his red bucket hat and plastic shovel, he raced to the water’s edge, his little cheeks puffed out in exertion. He had anticipated sunny weather and clear skies, the glitter of rainbow sea glass, maybe even the golden sands he had seen in many of Sae’s travel brochures. But his first impression had been one of utter disappointment.

The sand was a dull, drab grey: a single expanse of color that stretched on forever across the horizon. There were no clouds, only the stinging brittle of salt stuck inside his lungs and nestled between his toes. And to make matters worse, there weren’t even any clams in the first place, no sparkling bits of the golden treasure he had been so desperate to bring home. He felt his spirits dampen with ocean spray, his little feet coming to a sudden halt as he stared crestfallen at the waters.

Rin learned two major lessons that day. One, Maruko-chan was a big fat liar. And two, he should never believe anything that he sees on screen. Unfortunately, his folly cost him a hefty price: one tantrum on the car ride home and zero pretty seashells to add to his collection. Looking back on it now, Rin feels a strange sense of comfort in his disillusionment. In all four directions, his home is still the same greyish wash of color, unchanging as the sea and as unforgiving as its waters. At least that is something he can rely on. Nowadays, the constants in his life can be counted on a single hand, and the number of childhood remnants dwindles down to even fewer.

Still, he can recall one memory clearer than the rest.

While Rin had been busy lamenting the lack of clams, Sae had tugged him by the back of his shirt, pulling him to the wayside as he stuck his fingers into the earth. Obviously, Rin was too caught up in his misery to notice, but his sniffles soon died down when he saw the faintest of bubbles lurk beneath the sandy surface. Sae taught him how to dig, how to plant feet into the ground, how to scavenge for survival. And Rin followed without question.

Soon, a cast of translucent crabs spilled forth from the pits, scuttling in massive red tides. Rin scooped some out with bare hands, sectioning them into segments: the ruby shells of a pomegranate, dividing and dividing again. He held a hermit up to the light, a look of gleeful amazement on his features. Was it their shells that determined their shape or the tender bodies inside them? Rin could never tell. All he knew was that these crabs were a different sort of treasure, ones that he cradled gently with bare hands and shielded from the foraging gulls. They were creatures meant to be loved.

The waves now break across concrete fortifications, crashing upon cubic breakwaters. By the time Rin reaches the paved promenade near the shores, Sae is already there, feet drowned in the freezing Pacific, the shirasu swimming between his toes. He doesn’t even turn when the sand crunches with footsteps, and Rin silently curses his brother’s superior senses.

“I thought I told you not to come, Rin.”

“I know....But I still wanted to.”

In Rin’s mind, it doesn’t matter if Sae didn’t want him to be there. It doesn’t matter that he should’ve never come. He’d always keep chasing this dream if it meant he could stay. In fact, any ill omen would be better than this sinking pit in his stomach, this feeling that something was about to change forever.

The twinkles of light in the sky ripple across the sea, and Rin can’t help but see the view reflected in his brother’s visage. Sae’s eyes are like the ports of Sagami Bay, hardened with the carapace of cold comfort. Absence, Rin believes, would be his brother’s ultimate paradox. Sae could do everything and nothing all at once, and he would still be both the empty hole and the overflowing home. If eyes could be waves and faces could be stars, Sae would be the coldest, but he would also burn the brightest. Right now Rin just wants some of that warmth.

“So...you’re really leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m going ahead of you now. You better catch up.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best to become scouted like you.”

“Right. And then onto the world. The two of us will become the best there is.”

A silence hangs between them, loose as a thread. The wind whistles across the boardwalk, stirring up small spirals of volcanic sand. Sae notices Rin’s contemplative expression, following his gaze until he finds the moon still in the sky, lit up by the fading light of Polaris. Rin prays silently, knees tucked into his chest as he clasps his hands tightly together. His soft whispers are frequently interspersed by distant murmurs of the sea.

Please let Nii-chan be safe. Please don’t let him forget me.

The sunrise is about to start, one more hour until the day fully begins. Sae has to put an end to this, or else he'll never leave.

“Stop praying, Rin. They’re just stars. They'll die before your wish can come true.”

Rin peeks an eye open, unfurling from his tucked position. He looks to the stars then back at Sae, a familiar prickling in his eyes. Sae doesn’t even need to check to know that he’s crying.

“I just...” Rin’s voice wavers, “I think I’lll miss you, Nii-chan. At least send a message home?”

“Maybe. When I have the time.”

“Oh...okay.” Rin looks down awkwardly, staring at his feet before perking up again, “Do you think our dream can be achieved in a few years? I’ll come visit you in Spain! Maybe we’ll even play for Royale together.”

“You better. Don’t slack off just because I’m not here.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Rin had never been particularly good at farewells, let alone his first one. His voice is watery now, as if liquid and unable to be contained.

“Hey...Sae?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think we’ll make it big?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the length of it too long for Sae’s liking. For once, certainty does not come to him as easily. But Rin already knows there is a fundamental difference to the depths of his brother’s greed. Sae’s eyes harden into flints, his voice crashing across the sandy beaches, unrelenting in its harshness but still shapelessly soft.

“We have to.”

Rin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Neither of them do. If killing himself meant living forever, then Sae Itoshi would have died a long time ago.

He would have died and become a star.

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love-fictional-ppl · 8 months ago

Text

Puddles

Summary: rainy days with Spencer Reid

Pairings: Spencer Reid x GN!reader

Warnings: language, Just lots of fluff and sum angst in between, Spencer’s random love for jello, fire(for a candle), reader has a nightmare about Spencer dying, mentions of firearms, use of babe, prolly more.

A/N: I’m in love with MGG and me nd him have the same initials so it means he likes me back😍. Not Proofread!

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

It sounded liked pebbles were hitting the windows, the rain was coming down hard. The day had a tranquil calm to it. A Beatles record played softly on the record player.

Spencer sat curled in a sweater on the couch, you know he stole from you but he denied, reading an old book you would never be able to comprehend. Fresh tea sat steaming on the coffee table, made about five minutes ago by you.

Leaning forward and curling his fingers around the cup, Spencer raised the tea to his lips and drank.

You couldn’t help feeling the urge to do something, despite the weather.

“Spence, you wanna do something?” You asked, sitting next to him.

Spencer shut his book and set it on the table next to his tea, he faced you giving his full attention. “Like what?” He asked, curious to your antics.

“A couple things.” You responded with a smirk. Spencer raised his eyebrow. “You’re taking vacation time, right?”

Spencer nodded his head urging you to continue. Thunder crackled from above, shaking the entire building.

“Ok, put on some boots and a jacket.” You smiled from ear to ear now.

You both took a minute to pull yourselves together, Spencer looked like he was prepared for an avalanche which you found amusing. You grabbed Spencer’s left hand with your right and pulled him down the steps of your apartment building.

Once you came outside you just had to admire the sounds and the sight in front of you. The rain poured violently but the air was warm so the water cooled your skin soothingly. You decided to ditch your coat in the entrance of the building. Traffic seemed to have forgotten to exist, only able to hear the cars passing a few blocks over.

The open road was littered with puddles. You grinned like a child and ran over to the biggest puddle you could spot and start splashing. You started laughing, lost in the moment.

Spencer stood at the sidewalk just admiring how beautiful and care free you look. He couldn’t help the smile on his face even if he wanted to. You were soaking wet yet you seemed oblivious to it.

“Come on! Join me!” You yelled at your boyfriend, well aware of his staring.

Spencer walked over to you and you grabbed both his bands in yours and you started jumping around in the puddles together. You both looked like idiots no doubt, but neither of you could find it in you to care.

A few times people with umbrellas walked past and looked at the two of you strangely. You were laughing so hard that you fell over, cursing on your way down, Spencer laughed loudly and helped you up.

After about a hour of your fooling around, you both decided to go inside. You changed out of your soggy clothes, while Spencer took a shower you cleaned up the living room area. You decided to grab two plastic spoons off the counter and some Jello cups from the fridge for you and Spencer’s lunch.

Spencer eventually emerged from the shower, his hair was dripping as he ran a comb through it. He walked over to the couch.

Spotting the treat on the table Spencer’s eyes light up, “Jello! my favorite!”

You laughed at his fascination for the gelatin. Spencer sat down and plucked one of the cups from its spot along with a spoon. Peeling the plastic off both items, Spencer then dug in and practically inhaled the orange Jello. You had grabbed a variety of colors, except for green jello which Spencer refused to eat.

Grabbing a candle off a shelf, you walk over to one of the window sills where you keep matches. You pull a match from the box and light the wick of the candle letting a cinnamon fragrance fill the air.

You sit next down next to your lanky boyfriend, much like earlier, though this time you reach and grab yourself a jello and spoon. Once you and Spencer are both done chowing down on the colorful desserts you both sit in a peaceful silence.

“Want to build a blanket fort?” Spencer asks with a childish glint in his eyes.

“Is that even a question?” You respond, smiling.

Without saying a word, you both start grabbing supplies. Spencer grabbed dozens of blankets and quilts you both kept in your shared bedroom. You grabbed several pillows to cushion the area as well as books off the living room bookshelf. Working as a team, you both start pinning blankets down with the thick books.

After what you would estimate 20 minutes, you had a comfortable looking fort for you to cuddle in. Spencer went and grabbed snacks while you settled in and decided what to watch. You found an old Disney movie and waited for Spencer’s return.

Returning from the kitchen, arms full of snacks and juices, Spencer struggled to carry everything over to the little set up you two created. You got up and grabbed some things from his arms, helping him set things down and organize the tiny mess that had been created.

You and Spencer then settled in, you lied with his head on your chest and watched the movie. You grabbed a Capris Sun from the coffee table which you had moved earlier on.

During the film, you and Spence would have side conversations and make jokes. You played with his hair enjoying the moment.

Before you knew it, the movie was over. Spencer fetched the remote and put on some old black and white silent film. You went back and forth saying what you thought the characters were, making horrible British accents in the process.

The movie hadn’t even finished before Spencer fell asleep, you shortly after. You were just about to be completely token over by sleep when you felt Spencer wrap his arms around you. You snuggled yourself further into his chest, consumed by him and the sweet bliss of sleep.

Your dreams weren’t as pleasant as the day, you had a nightmare about Spencer.

In your “dream” you were placing a freshly made bowl of Jello in the fridge. Shutting the fridge after, you head to the sink to wash the dishes. A knock on the door unfocuses you from your tasks.

You were expecting Spencer. ‘He must have forgot his key, again’, you thought to yourself. You smile and open the door, ready for the embrace. Instead your met with two rather sad looking faces belonging to JJ and Morgan.

“I’m so sorry-“ JJ began, but you cut her off.

“Where’s Spence?” Your smile had became a nervous one, in denial of the obvious news. Your ears started ringing.

“During the case we were working, the unsub…Spencer confronted… pulled his firearm…” Derek explained the events but you drowned most of it out.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you curled in a ball on the floor and sobbed. The pair rushed towards but you heard Spencer calling your name, suddenly you woke up.

Opening your eyes you exactly who you wanted. You tackled him in a hug and started crying. He held onto you, startled, but ready to comfort. He rubbed your back soothingly and rocked you both back and forth gently.

Regaining control of yourself, you take in the state of your shared apartment. The living room looked like it had been perfectly cleaned all except for where you slept. You smelt burning pancakes.

“Hey, babe?” You ask, still being held by your still very worried boyfriend.

Spencer pulled away so he could look at you.

“Breakfast is burning.”

Spencer seemed alarmed at the realization and ran towards the Kitchen. You decided to get up and go brush your teeth while Spencer handled that fiasco.

You still thought about your nightmare, it was too real. You spat toothpaste in the sink and rinsed your mouth before returning to the living room.

You folded the blanket you slept with and put the pillow on the sofa. Spencer appeared about 15 minutes later, sitting next to you.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” Spencer didn’t want to pry information out of you, but he also didn’t want you to bottle your feelings.

“You got shot,” you teared up. “JJ and Derek came here to tell me you were-“ you choked on a gasp.

Spencer pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back soothingly, “Shhh. It was a nightmare. I’m still here.”

You listened to his words and his heart beating. You knew obviously it was just a dream, but you couldn’t get over the realness of it. How it was possible for an unsub to take him from you.

Shutting your eyes, you forced all the negative thoughts out of your head. You took a few deep breaths and regained your composure.

Spencer pulled away from you, “Pancakes are a tad burnt, but there’s eggs, bacon, toast.”

Your stomach growled hearing the different names. Both of you chuckled at the noise. You leant forward and gave Spencer a kiss, “Mmm. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Spencer replied against your lips.

You walked together over to the kitchen still smelling of smoke. You grab two plates and hand Spencer his, you both go to work of filling the dishes with food.

After grabbing both your fills and beverages, you sit opposite of each other at the table. You both eat and discuss the plans of the days to come. Discussing what books to read, what vinyls to purchase, etc. You knew in that moment you didn’t care about what could happen, simply what was happening in the present.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

A/N: I’m back frm the dead nd this has been in the drafts for awhile. Also idk wtf happened with this bc it started as something supposed to be wholesome but then I got stoned nd added angst ig 😭

#criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #spencer reid angst #fluff

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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

Text

he buys you jewelry

The incessant whir of the tattoo gun was droning on as you watched Price’s freshly-shaved shoulder and back take on the sweeping artwork of a huge dragon. It had arching wings and a terrible snarl, and its long tongue breathed fire out onto his spine. You weren’t sure why he was getting a dragon, or what the symbolism was, but it was beautiful work. It fit his body perfectly.

You’d been dating the soldier for about two months now, and he was very intense. He was apparently a captain of some sort of special forces group, but he hadn’t burdened you with the details. As you spoke with him and shared more things about yourself, he would leave little breadcrumbs about himself along the way, opening up slowly like a tight bud, blooming right in front of your eyes.

His violent career was probably why he was taking this tattoo like it was a massage, chatting happily with you and his artist, Jana, totally unfazed by the repeated stabbing pain of the needles. Price was laid across the black chair, shirtless and hatless with his chest down and his back exposed to Jana. She was working away diligently, and you were in a prime location to drool over his body.

You’d been naked together already, and he was a damn fine lover, but his huge frame still made you hot, bothered, and unquenchably thirsty. You let your eyes drag over his hulking shoulders, gazing at the banded muscle in his back, his huge lats fanning out like wings, leading down to a trim but strong core. His skin was dusted with thick hair and a starfield of freckles. Old and new tattoos lay nestled around his body, telling a story you were slowly unfolding. John Price was gorgeous.

“Mm,” he groaned, “Back of the arm is a bitch.”

“You need a break, John?” Jana asked him, “‘Cause I could use a smoke.”

“You bet,” Price smiled in agreement, letting her clean him up and wrap the skin to keep it safe.

You handed him a bottle of water and grabbed an orange from your bag, following him to the back of the parlor. He dusted off a bench for you to sit with him, and he lit a tin cigar. You started to peel your orange, handing him a segment at a time, sharing it together as his smoke rolled out of his nose and mouth, spiraling up from the glowing embers. He offered it to you, and you took it.

The smoke was warm and filled your mouth, heating the sensitive skin of your cheeks. The tobacco and vanilla notes blended with the sweetness of the orange creating a pleasant taste, and it was satisfying to blow it away from you. More satisfying, however, was the indulgent expression on Price’s face when you did so, his bearded grin turning almost smug when you looked up at him to return his cigar.

“Does it hurt?” You asked him, getting a peek at his dragon. It was nearly finished.

“It hurts in a good way, ya know? Pain…” he paused for a moment, thinking, his gaze focused on something far away, “Pain requires fear. If you can move past it, you can overcome it. I just try to find something I’d rather feel than fear.”

“What do you usually feel?” You asked, biting into another juicy slice of your orange.

“Rage,” he smiled a little sadly, staring down at his hands, “I’m quick with my anger. Comes too easy for me, sometimes.”

“Do you feel rage now?” You probed further, handing him another shining lobe from the fruit.

He looked at you, brushing your hair over your ear gently,

“No, love. Not rage. Something else, though.”

For a moment, his stark blue eyes drew you in, turning into pools of endless, cloudless sky. You thought he might kiss you. You might have a chance to taste the mixture of tobacco and orange in his mouth, feel his slick tongue slip against yours. You wanted to be pressured by his jaw to open up to him, to allow him to taste whatever he wanted to taste, to take whatever he wanted to take.

“Hey, mate,” Jana poked her head around the corner, “You ready to finish up?”

“Yeah,” Price replied, his eyes not leaving yours, gripping you without using his hands.

“Looks brilliant, Jans,” Price admired his dragon in the mirror, inspecting the fine details of its black scales, “You’re the best.”

“You like it?” She smiled, admiring the work as well, pride shining on her face.

“Yeah, I’m proper chuffed. Now it’s her turn,” he nodded over to you.

“What?” You gaped, surprised at the sudden focus.

He let Jana place the protective film over his tattoo and pulled his shirt back on, commenting,

“You wanted to get some work done, yeah?”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering you’d told him how badly you wanted a tongue piercing since you were a teenager, “Not sure I have the funds, so -”

“No,” Price shook his head, “It’s on me, love. Whatever you want.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe he would just drop money on you like it was nothing. Jana’s studio was one of those invite-only, get-on-a-waiting-list type of places. Very posh. This wasn’t going to be cheap.

He nodded, fixing his shirt and sliding over to give you a chaste kiss,

“Anything for you, sweet girl,” he grinned, lowering his voice, “You gonna pierce that pretty tongue for me to play with, hm?”

You could feel your cheeks grow hot from the way his comment made you feel, bellowing the fire that was growing in your core. You turned to Jana who was cleaning up her station,

“Are you able to do a tongue piercing today?”

She smiled,

“For John’s girl? Anytime. Have a seat.”

She brought over some bars for you to choose from. You worried about how sensitive your skin was, but tried not to be picky. When you asked about hypoallergenic options, she brought out a whole tray, watching as you and Price perused the selections.

“This one?” You pointed to a polymer style. It was bright fluorescent pink, and it almost glowed in the container.

“Very safe. The PTFE will be the easiest to avoid infection,” Jana told you confidently. She really knew her craft. You watched as she prepped the needle, and you started to get nervous.

Price noticed of course, and he reached out for your hand,

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, grimacing a bit, admitting your nervousness.

The captain reminded you, squeezing your hand,

“Don’t think about the fear.”

“What should I think about instead?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and your heart froze in your chest as you listened to his words,

“I can’t stop thinking about how it’s going to make me feel when you lick my cock. I want you to rub it against my head, underneath, in that bloody spot that I like.”

“Ready?” Jana asked, interrupting your salacious thoughts.

Price backed off, smirking with a proud look on his face, knowing he had made your blood run hot, straight to your belly. You nodded, giving her your tongue. You expected to be nervous again, but you weren’t. You were, however, extremely horny.

Then, the clamp. A few seconds later, the sting. Your eyes wrenched shut, and Price squeezed your hand tighter. You opened them to look up at him, and his expression had darkened. He was staring into your mouth, looking at the piercing, obviously getting turned on by it. You watched him, sitting behind Jana, adjust himself in his pants, grasping at his growing shaft, trying to calm down.

“All done,” Jana smiled, showing you a hand mirror, “and look - ”

She shined a blacklight over it, making it glow even brighter,

“Pretty!” She exclaimed.

She explained the aftercare, giving you plenty of products, and glaring at Price, making sure he followed the hygiene steps, too.

You left the shop sore, but you were distracted by the feeling of the wetness between your legs. John hugged you tightly before opening the passenger side door for you to climb into his car,

“Poor darling, want to go for ice cream? Something to soothe that tongue?”

You nodded, looking at him expectantly, knowing he was still half-hard. His thickness made it impossible to miss.

“Yeah, John, that sounds good.”

“After a few days, she said you’d be back to fighting shape, hm? I can’t wait.”

His laugh was dark and full of promise. He leaned over the center console to kiss your neck, and you felt like you might melt through the seat. He pulled out of the parking lot, and as the lights from the city glittered over his windshield, you held his hand, feeling like his precious pet, something to be cherished.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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bearlytolerant · 5 months ago

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Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Fic Rating: E (explicit)

Chapter Rating: M

AO3

ONE TWO

Dreams.

Dreams weave your sleep into a fitful tapestry. It is dark. So dark. Too dark. Where you expect shapes to take form, there is nothing except the chill on your skin. Instinctively you draw your arms across your chest, finger pads tap, tap, tapping along the goosebumps as you blink, hoping your eyes will adjust to the darkness. When that adjustment never comes, you reach out blindly. Sinking to your knees, you crawl with one hand outstretched and the other cemented beneath you. Hands finding a smooth, solid surface, you lurch forward. Your fingers brush up against something wet and sticky. You recoil as another something rips. The sound reverberates in your skull as a streak of light pours in. Throwing your hands in front of your eyes, you peek through spread fingers as your eyes adjust.

“Well, are you coming?” A voice asks you, a silhouette standing in the light.

You crawl toward that silhouette and the light grows wider, brighter with every inch of progress, until hands grip your forearms and you’re yanked through the opening. The bright light fades to just the steady orange glow of a campfire. Standing on your feet, you glance behind you, only to discover you were inside the belly of a great and hairy beast. The way it’s hair (fur?) falls around its wide face feels familiar. And its eyes—its eyes remind you of—home.

You can’t peel your eyes away from it. You’ve never seen a beast like that before. Tempted to touch it, you take a tentative step forward but it deflates, skin and hair melting away and leaving behind a brittle boned corpse. Another step. Another moment of silent contemplation and you remind yourself that you’re dreaming. The beast isn’t real. Not real at all. None of it is. You turn back to the fire.

The stranger who helped you has their back to you, a helmet on their head. Your eyes flick to his arms, beautifully toned and you wonder what the rest of him looks like. You swallow, shaking your head before this dream shifts into fantasy territory.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For saving me.”

“You saved yourself,” he says.

Stepping closer to him, you sit down in the sand. “I didn’t.”

“You’re closed off to it. But it was you.” He pokes at a log in the fire and the sparks lift, glimmering once before floating off as ash. “You are afraid to confront it. But if you do nothing, it will confront you.”

“What do you mean?” You rub at your arms, a shift in the air making you itch. “I’m not afraid.”

He snatches up your wrist in his hand. A tight grip with nails that press into your flesh, you try to wrangle free as he tilts his head, helmet lined with metal teeth that eerily smile at you.

Deep down you enjoy it.

Enjoy this.

That slight pinch of pain.

This stranger’s confident and masked countenance.

That inner whisper that begs you to humble him. Make him kneel before you and do as you say.

His voice breaks through and you clear your head of those thoughts. “Where you’ve brought us tells me otherwise. And the sooner you embrace your fear—the sooner you’ll be free.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“No. No. No. You—you’re afraid of yourself.”

The words bite like his nails in your skin. You tug your hand away. “Who are you?”

“You’re asking the wrong question.” You can’t see his face but the shake of his head reveals his disappointment. “But I can guide you—teach you to ask the right one.”

“I don’t need a teacher,” you bitterly reply.

He hums a reply and shifts, rising above you. “I believe you will change your answer when you need me.”

But for now, we’ve run out of time. You need to wake up.” With the toe of his boot against your chest, he shoves you. Your back hits ground, breath a huff of surprise leaving your body.

#bear writes #qimir x reader #qimir #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfic #drag me under: two

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tofics · 8 months ago

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Out Of This World

Chapter 3

Masterlist

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x fem!Reader x Dean Winchester

Summary: You and the Mikaelsons are fighting a powerful witch that’s trying to take over New Orleans. The only solution: banishment to another universe. However, the spell goes… wrong, and it’s not the witch that ends up in another universe, but you. - At the same time, over a thousand miles away in a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, an alarm goes off: a rift has opened up. The Winchesters and their angel partners in crime decide to investigate. What will they find when they get to New Orleans?

Word count: 4201

Warnings: cursing, allusions of a panic attack.

Previously: The fact that the call went through and it rang almost made you cry with relief. Finally, you thought and impatiently shifted your weight from one foot to the other and back. "Come on, pick up, pick up pick up pick up," you urged Rebekah on as it rang twice, three times, four times, but no one answered. Then you were connected to her mailbox. "This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message." You stared at your display. You'd clearly dialed Rebekah's number. "Who the hell is Dean Winchester?," you muttered to yourself.

A gentle breeze fluttered through the curtains of your bedroom windows. Warm sunlight trickled through the half closed blinds and danced around the room, broken into colorful spots by the rainbow suncatcher that dangled from the curtain rod. Together with the birdsongs outside, the tinkling of the glass pieces mixed into a dulcet, almost narcotic ambiance.

You kept wafting in and out of a blissful sleep. In the moments that you were more alert you could register the sensation of tender strokes over the top of your hair, fingers trickling down your shoulders and over your back, drawing circles over your bare skin.

There was nowhere you felt safer, nowhere you felt calmer than right here. Your head resting in the shallow hollow right below his ribs, an arm thrown lazily across his abdomen while the other one was tucked neatly underneath you.

"I love you." You heard his murmur as much as you felt it in the vibration of his chest. Your lips curled into a sleepy smile as you felt a kiss on the top of your head. His fingers continued to dance across your back in soft strokes and you found yourself dozing off again when his hand travelled to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Time to wake up!" Your response came in the form of an uncompliant noise. If it was up to you, you'd continue to stay in bed like this until noon at least. Maybe the whole day. You willed his hand to drift back to your spine, but instead, there was another squeeze on your shoulder, this one more urgent. You shook your shoulder as if to rid yourself of his hand and wiggled your back, a wordless hint to resume his activity from just a few seconds ago. Just a second later though, his fingers dug into your shoulder harshly. The resulting pain that shot down your arm and into your neck made you jump up.

"Elijah, what the fuck!" you exclaimed as you spun to face him, but when you turned around, your stomach dropped. It wasn't Elijah you were facing, but Athea. Her face was ashen, her eyes shot red, her lips blue and purple. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth as her lips drew into a devilish grin. "I said time to wake UP!"

You shot up from where you'd been laying asleep just a second ago with a loud gasp. Your heart was racing in your chest as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Shabby, flowery wallpaper, littered with cracks and peeling off the walls in more places than it stuck to. A car horn blared somewhere outside. The neon sign that announced open vacancies to the freeway nearby flickered a couple of times, then resumed shining, drenching your room in its orange light. Every surface that held a little bit of color in the day was now rendered black and white with a tinge of orange. It looked like someone had used a sepia filter on the place, resulting in a surreal atmosphere.

You threw your covers to the side in an attempt to rid yourself of the fabric that was somehow both too warm and cold at the same time. On top of being itchy, your blanket was now damp with sweat. You scrambled out of bed and stumbled over to the sink in the corner where you splashed your face with cold water a couple of times. Your heart was still hammering in your chest when you glanced in the tarnished mirror.

Your dream had rattled you. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been as big of a deal. But with the previous day's events, a fly bumping against the window could have set you off. You were on edge, restless, homeless, alone. You had no harbor, no safe space, no safety net to fall back on. Any other night, Elijah would have pulled you close into the comfort of his arms and whispered soothing words into your ear until you had fallen back asleep. Now, his lack of presence felt palpable.

You shuffled back to the bed and slumped down onto the lumpy mattress. The floor beneath your feet was wilted, the linoleum all scratched up and blotchy. It went hand-in-hand with the derelict state of the walls. What had once been a colorful - mind you, not necessarily tasteful - scene was now nothing more but a testament to the vast sea of sad stories this place had witnessed over the years. Whoever took shelter here didn't do so out of choice, but necessity. Just like you had.

You had arrived in this version of the world with only a few dollars in your pocket. There had never really been a reason for you to keep a lot of cash on hand - being part of the Mikaelson family had many perks, obscene wealth being one of them. Most of the people you interacted with knew your status, and, more importantly, your boyfriend. Dating Elijah meant that even if you were out of cash or a credit card, you could open a tab on the Mikaelson name. Here, however... What you had brought with you into this world was just about enough to cover the bill for one night's stay.

One more thing to be added to your list of 'problems that need fixing right away', although shelter and food would probably rise to the top of that list rather soon, surpassing 'find a way home to my original universe' very quickly. The latter alone came with a multitude of problems on its own. Where would you find someone to do the spell for you? Where would you get the ingredients? Or the spell itself?! It was like you were fighting a Hydra. With each question, two more appeared, and while it left you with thrice the amount of questions, not a single solution presented itself. It was simply overwhelming. You rolled over to the side and dug your fists into your hair. It was a pitiful image, the way you were huddled into fetal position. Thick strands of hair bundled up in your fists, tugging and pulling on your skull as if, with enough force, you could not only pluck out your hair, but your thoughts too.

For the second time today, you let the tears come, willing them to lull you to sleep.

"And for you, sugar?" The waitress beamed at Dean, the glint in her eyes hinting at the willingness to serve more than what could be ordered off the menu; a phone number perhaps. She was cute too, what with her apron accentuating her hips in a way that was sure to bring in a good amount of tips and long, blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail that swayed behind her when she walked. Her nametag read 'Candice'. Usually, Dean would have gone for her, if it hadn't been for the hours long drive and awfully short night he'd had.

"Coffee and waffles, please," he replied in a gruff tone. A bit too harsh, but it had been a very short night and it was very early. There was a brief hint of disappointment in Candice's eyes, but she quickly recovered and wrote his order down on her notepad. "Comin' right up!" Candice turned on her heels and hopped away. 'There's way too much pep in that girl's step at this hour,' Dean thought to himself and rubbed his face.

"I talked to Sam before you woke up. He said him and Jack were able to trace the rift to a radius of roughly 50 yards." Cas laid a map out on the table of the diner and tapped on a location. "This is where the signal emanated from." "Did they get any sleep at all?" Dean leaned forward and inspected the street map. The spot Cas was pointing at wasn't too far off from where they were at. "You know Jack doesn't sleep." Dean rolled his eyes and fished for a pen in his pocket. "I meant Sammy." After a quick consult of the map's scale, he laid his index finger and thumb down on the map over the spot Cas had pointed at. "I imagine he got as much sleep as you did." Cas replied as Dean drew a circle around the mentioned area. "Hmm." Candice returned with a cup of steaming coffee and a chamomile tea for Cas. Dean thanked her as she served their drinks which earned him a wink before she skipped off again to greet a new customer that had just come in. "Chamomile tea? Really?" He raised a brow at Cas. "Yes, Dean, chamomile tea. It's supposed to have calming effects." The angel replied before he blew on his tea. A quick smile played around Dean's lips. It had been many years since he'd first met Castiel - he'd come such a long way since then. Sitting in a diner, blowing on his tea before occasionally taking a sip - a far cry from the once awkward, so-far-from-human kind of behavior he'd once exhibited. "And that works on angels too?" Cas gave him a glare. "It's about the principle." Dean chuckled and took a sip of his own cup. Not bad for diner coffee. "If you say so. What do you need calming for anyway? Nervous about what we're gonna find?" "Aren't you?" Dean only shrugged. "It's been almost a day since that rift opened. So far, there's no screaming, no reports, nothing. I guess whatever came through can't be too bad."

The smell of greasy breakfast foods seeped into your nose as you walked up to the counter. Despite your hunger - you hadn't really eaten anything in almost 24 hours if you didn't count the liquid dinner that Cami had served you - the scent turned your stomach. It couldn't just be attributed to last night's drinks though. What you were experiencing could be more adequately described as an emotional hangover - your face was puffy and swollen from having cried yourself to sleep, your muscles were sore from being tensed up for hours and your brain felt foggy, struggling to form coherent thoughts. The emotional turbulence and lack of a restful sleep were taking their toll on you.

When you tried to climb onto one of the stools at the counter you had to grab onto the slightly sticky surface to help pull you up. It bordered on embarrassing, but there wasn't enough emotional capacity left within you to care. With a grunt and a groan you finally properly settled onto the high chair. Your upper body slumped over the counter, propped up only by your elbows on the surface, your head coming to rest in the mold of your hands. It was the most comfortable position you could muster at the moment, albeit not the most proper one.

It was still early in the morning, prime-time for the morning rush of customers looking to catch a bite before work, but the place was rather empty with only a few tables occupied. There couldn't have been more than six patrons in the entire joint, you included. So instead of the loud morning chatter one might have expected, it was rather quiet, save for the radio playing in the kitchen and the quiet murmurs of the table a row behind you. It was almost comforting.

A waitress appeared in front of you and slid a menu between your elbows. "Long night, sugar?" She popped the gum she was chewing and got to work on the cutlery that was in a pile next to her, waiting to be rolled into the feeble plastic-y napkins this type of place tended to serve. You only threw an eye over the menu before you pushed it back to her. The quick glance had been enough to force your stomach into summersaults. "More like a really short night," you mumbled as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to keep from hurling right then and there. Your waitress snickered, but it wasn't mean. "Been there. You want somethin' to eat? Get your strength back there?" She placed a ready set of cutlery on the tray next to her as she eyed you carefully. "Get some color back in that face, hm?" "God, no." Your nose wrinkled out of reflex at the idea of being served a plate of food right now. "I mean, thanks, but I'll just take a pot of coffee." "You mean a cup, sugar?" You shook your head. "I'll need a pot if I want to get through the day ahead of me." "Alright, I'ma get that goin' for ya." The waitress finished wrapping up a set before she headed over to the large coffee machine at the back of the service area.

One pot of caffeine later, the fog in your head had disappeared enough for a plan to slowly take form.

Every single question that had haunted you last night was still still jumping through your brain, but the fresh pump of caffeine sharpened your mind enough to sort them by priority.

How would you get back? - Well, you only knew of one way, and that was the spell that had gotten you here in the first place. As far as you knew, the same way you'd arrived would be your ticket back where you'd come from.

Where would you get the spell? - You'd been a part of assembling the essentials for the spell to work, but you hadn't gathered every component yourself, nor did you have the full list in your head, never mind the spell itself; which, on top of things, you wouldn't be able to perform, because despite having been part of the supernatural scene for years, you were still awfully, painfully, plain-and-nothing-but human.

So taken for granted that you could get your hands on the spell and its ingredients again (a problem that was subsequently moved down on your list and marked with a lower priority), there was still the question of who would perform the spell and what it would cost you. You figured the latter could be figured out somehow (perhaps a case of blind optimism on your part, or just a natural side-effect of having lived as a Mikaelson for years - payment was never an issue, if you were a Mikaelson), but the question of who posed a new question in of itself, and decidedly the most important one:

Was magic even part of this universe?

It had dawned on you that a simple 'yes' was not a given. The research into Kol's spell had only brought up enough information to conclude that yes, alternate universes existed and yes, it was possible to travel between them, but it took immense power and very rare ingredients to do so. You could only guess that it would have been a more common practice if that wasn't the case. The confirmation that alternate universes do exist was about the extent of your knowledge on the topic. To anyone else, your lack of information might have seemed ignorant, but it was really the result of having had one too many life principles turned upside down. You'd grown up in a life where vampires, werewolfs and witches were part of fairytales and not something that actually existed, until you found out that they very much did. You got thrown into the supernatural life by accident, and eventually, it became your life. Things that you'd never dreamed were possible were suddenly part of day-to-day life. So when Freya explained that the spell she had found in Kol's lair opened up a portal, or a rift, as it was referred to, to an alternate dimension, you just rolled with it. Of course it did. Why wouldn't it. Your boyfriend and his family were vampires after all, with a few werewolf genes mixed in here in there. Why wouldn't there be such a thing as alternate universes and a way to travel between them?

But therein lay your problem. Alternate. Meaning not entirely similar to yours. Just because Cami was also a bartender in this universe didn't mean that everything else was also the same.

You'd gotten confirmation of that last night when you had googled every single business and location that you knew your family owned. It had seemed like a smart idea, but had soon driven you into an even more desperate state. The more places you googled, the more names of holders appeared on your screen that meant nothing to you. It became more and more apparent that not only were your Mikaelsons not here, there were no Mikaelsons here whatsoever. Surely, it was debatable - what was worse, to know that this universe's version of your loved ones didn't know you, or that they didn't exist at all? But to you, the answer was clear. Knowing that there was no shape or form of Elijah in this world - not anymore, anyway - made you feel even lonelier, if that was possible at all.

So your most urgent question, your highest priority of the day was crystal clear: find out if magic is real in this universe.

What a perfectly normal quest to go on.

You couldn't have felt more comical if you'd tried.

"Alright, let's get going." Dean stood up from their table and stretched his arms out behind his back. His body was still a bit sore from the long drive they'd gone on yesterday. He loved being behind Baby's wheel, but sitting in one position for hours still did something to his limbs, and it wasn't favorable.

As he stretched himself, his eyes landed on the cake display next to the counter that was just being filled up. Candice had a couple of pies laid out on the counter next to her and was now busy carefully loading them into the display one by one.

"Dean." Cas pulled his attention back, clearly waiting for him to move.

"Just a sec, Cas." It was pie, after all. Fresh pie.

He sauntered over to the counter where a few pies were still lined up. A big smile stretched over his face as his placed his hands on the edge and leaned over the tiled surface to catch a whiff of the freshly baked goods. "Now where have you been hiding these beauties!"

Candice smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. "Fresh outta' the oven! You want a piece?"

Dean scoffed, but the smile never left his face. "Do I want a piece. Make that a whole pie! You got apple?"

Candice peered over the containers in front of her, then pulled one out that she'd just put into the display. Dean's smile now stretched from ear to ear. "Candice, you just became my favorite person."

The waitress laughed, but a hint of redness crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "You want that for here or to go?"

"To go, please. My partner and I gotta go."

Candice nodded as she wrapped tinfoil over the pie and carefully placed the aluminum container in a plastic bag. "Partner, eh? You guys' cops?"

It was Dean's turn to nod. He was about to reply when a voice interrupted him.

"Hey, could I get the check?"

It was a woman two chairs over. She couldn't have been a lot younger than him, five years by most. She was clutching her coffee cup like her life depended on it, and there was an empty pot of coffee in front of her. Her eyes briefly met Dean's as he looked over to her and she quickly looked down, avoiding his gaze.

"Be right with ya, sugar," Candice piped and handed the plastic bag over to Dean. "That'll be 10 dollars." Her cheeks were still flushed, but she matched Dean's smile, seemingly encouraged by his enthusiasm for her pie. He fished two notes out of his back pocket and placed them into Candice's hand. "That's 15 for ya'. You just made this morning a whole lot brighter, Candice."

Candice beamed at the Winchester and he gave her a wink, then headed towards the exit of the diner. He'd almost made it to the door when he heard the voices behind him.

"That'll be two dollars fifty." Candice was presumably talking to the woman who'd ordered the check just before.

"I... I'm 50 cents short."

'None of my business,' said a voice in his head, and it wasn't. But something about the shame in her voice made him turn around.

Candice was looking at the woman like she didn't know what to do. The woman had obviously been through it - hell, her eyebags looked worse than Dean's, and he'd had a rough night. The waitress seemed to be thinking the same thing and looked like she was caught in a conflict between empathy and having to do her job. Before she could say anything, Dean caught up to the two and placed a five dollar bill on the counter.

"I got it."

The woman's head whipped around and she looked at Dean dumbfounded. "I- no, I can't, you don't have to." Dean smiled at her warmly. "I know I don't. But it looks like you're having a rough time and so did I, until my morning just got turned around." He lifted the plastic bag that contained the pie and winked at Candice, who turned even brighter in response. "So I figured maybe I could do the same for you." He winked again, this time at the woman, although it didn't nearly have the same effect on her as it did on the waitress. Instead of blushing, she looked like she was about to refuse his offer again, before she nodded and gave a small smile. "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

A moment later, Dean met up with Cas at the impala. The angel seemed slightly unnerved when he got there. "What took you so long?"

Dean fumbled with the keys and held up the plastic bag once more. "Pie."

Cas rolled his eyes and huffed. "Of course. I can't believe how chill you are about this. The last time we dealt with an open rift, an archangel came through! I don't understand why you're not more worried about this!"

The key to the car had gotten stuck in the keyring and wouldn't come out with just one hand. Frustrated, Dean placed the bag on the roof of the car to free up his other hand. "Believe me, I know. You don't gotta' remind me." He shot Cas a glare before he returned his gaze on the keys.

"Then why are you taking your time to buy pie? Why are we not already there yet? I still don't understand why we didn't go last night when we got here." Castiel was obviously distressed. As he urged Dean on, his voice got even deeper than usual, drenched with urgency.

"Because," Dean exclaimed, "I was tired, Cas! We drove over 16 hours and that was after we just got home from a case! I'm tired! Forgive me if I'm not that excited to be jumping right into the next one!" He slammed his fist on Baby's roof. Both of the men angrily stared at each other over a moment of silence before Cas spoke again.

"It's a rift, Dean."

The Winchester groaned. Cas didn't have to say more than that. He knew how urgent the situation was and, truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure why he was taking things so slowly. It was like some small part of him was worried it would be a repeat of the Michael situation. He sighed and finally managed to get the key un-stuck.

"I know." He opened the door and put the pie in the backseat. "Let's go."

He'd just closed the driver's door when there was a knock on the window. Dean was surprised to see the woman from the diner standing there. He quickly rolled down his window.

"Hey, uh, this might sound a bit weird, but, umh...," the woman started before he could say anything. He raised his eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She looked uncomfortable, like she didn't want to say what she was about to say. Something about it made Dean uneasy. He had a feeling this wasn't just about the coffee he'd paid for. Slowly, so she wouldn't notice, he reached behind his back and laid a hand on his gun. The woman wrung her hands and glanced up at the sky. Dean's hand tightened around the holster. Finally, she met his eyes again.

The dark blonde haired man in the car in front of you was beginning to look impatient, and you couldn't blame him. He'd paid for your coffee, and now here you were, stumbling around your words. Then again, you couldn't be sure you'd heard them right when you'd come out of the diner.

You took a deep breath before you spoke.

"Uh... did you say anything about a rift?"

A/N: This one almost had me in tears because I just couldn't figure out how to get Y/N and Dean to meet. Only took about a month for the idea to finally come to me 🙄 But here we are! Once I got over that hurdle, it was like a walk in the park, haha. Unfortunately we didn't get to see our Mikaelson family in this chapter, but they'll be back soon! Stay tuned!

Feedback is greatly appreciated! 😊 Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @vicmc624 @foreverrandomwritings @imoompalumpa @wildernessflora @spnaquakindgdom @zepskies @starkleila @scripteria @estrelacaida

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ladylooch · 5 days ago

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Fix it, Davey - [Mack x David]

A/N: Had a bad day today, so here is smut without a plot 😏 Dedicated to Bestie @casualhilarity who dreamed this one up with me, as per usual.

Word Count: 2.0k

In their Iowa bedroom, one of Mack’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows raises when she hears a clang come down the hall from the kitchen. She finishes brushing her teeth then spits her used toothpaste into the sink. She pauses there for a moment, after clicking off the button on her toothbrush. She hears a softer thud this time and sets her toothbrush back in its holder.

She double checks her hair is in place, appreciating the style of the twisted clip holding her long locks in place, with two thin pieces framing her face. She’s dressed in a floral print cami dress that accents the two swells of her tanned breasts perfectly. She is heading into town for the first time since her and David were engaged and she wants to look good as his future wife.

“Fuck.” Mack hears as she flips the bathroom light off. An amused smile tilts her pink, glossed lips. She licks her top teeth, absorbing the minty freshness as she heads towards the door to let herself out into the main area.

She steps down the hallway, then slows her pace as she comes to the kitchen entryway. Her lips peel apart in a slight gasp at the view that awaits her. The upper half of David’s body has disappeared in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink. His shirt is off, discarded in a heap to the left where it clearly looks splotched with water. Beside his hips are various tools and an orange, Home Depot bucket.

“For fucks sake!” David inhales, wrenching on a piece of pipe attached to the sink. “You’re fucking leaking, but I can’t get you the fuck off?” He sneers out.

Mack watches his abdominal muscles crunch together harder. The deep V of his abdomen pulls the waistband of his jeans taught against his tanned skin. He looks like he walked right off a damn runway, except better because these muscles are built from hard, grueling work. Mack’s fingers come to the corner of her mouth, checking for drool.

She gets to marry that? Praise be.

David brings both his booted feet on the floor then pushes his hips into the air to get the right torque then he grunts again, finally getting the fittings around the pipe lose.

“Ha! Asshole! I got you.” He celebrates with a laugh.”Damn, dad. What the hell did you use on that thing.” He says at a quieter level. He tosses the tool to the floor then uses his fingers to loosen the fitting the rest of the way.

Mack watches his abdomen crunch and relax with his movements as she slowly lowers down to her knees. Her eyes feel heavy with lust, breasts too, as she sinks down to the floor. Her fingers reach out, tentatively trailing up his leg as acknowledgement that she is next to him. David takes his eyes off his hands for a moment, greeting her with a brief grin.

“My swearing wake you up?”

“No.” Mack shakes her head, blinking longingly. “I was up.” David’s eyes drift down her body, giving an appreciative smile back at her.

“You look gorgeous, honey. Where you going?”

“Into town. For the first time as your future wife.” David laughs.

“You’ve been my future wife every time you’ve been here, babe.” He points out to her. “Can you hand me that blue towel by you?”

“Mhm.” She hands it over, letting her fingers fall from his forearm and rest on his abdomen. She traces a few of the rigid lines there, then leans forward to put her mouth on him. David stills for a moment in the cabinet, then goosebumps burst across his skin as she goes in for a wet kiss.

“I want to suck on you. Right now.” She confesses. “Get in my mouth, Carlson.”

David’s signature, low chuckle increases the heat between them. It fills the cabinet, then spills out, wrapping around Mack’s body, making her nipples tighten through the thin, flowered fabric of her dress.

“I think I’ve seen this porno.” David finishes with the towel, then tosses it to the side. He reaches down for the top button on his jeans, popping it open for her. "Go ahead, honey. Suck until you can’t anymore.” He picks up another tool Mack doesn’t know the name of, raising it above his head.

Her fingers come to his zipper, working that down. She crawls forward on her knees, straddling his outstretched leg. Once situated, she curls her fingers into his clothing and tugs it down his thighs. She pulls his torso slightly out of the cabinet. David looks both turned on and flabbergasted at the intensity of her. His green eyes sparkle with appreciation when they meet hers. A sexy, teasing smirk tilts her lips and he pauses, watching them fall down to his cock, kissing the lip of it before dashing her tongue down the long length.

She presses the crotch of her panties onto his leg, rolling her hips forward as she takes his head into her mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum explodes on her tongue. Mack doesn’t have the patience to tease or waste time right now. So she inhales and prepares her mouth to take him deep immediately. The tool slips from David’s hands, falling to the side as her mouth stretches over him.

“Honey.” He sighs the word like he’s entering heaven.

Mack takes him to the back of her throat then switches to breathe through her nose before she swallows his tip partly down. Mack hears David’s hand slap across his mouth, muffling another moan. His hips sway up into her mouth, pressing that abdominal V into her forehead. Her hips roll harder against his leg, going to full on dry humping as her mouth works overtime on his shaft. One of his hands drifts away from the sink he was fixing, instead finding the clip in her hair. He pulls it out, letting her hair fall forward, curtaining over his stomach.

Her right hand grips his shaft then she pulls his tight skin forward as she swallows his tip deeper.

“Jesus, fuck. Y-yeah.” He stutters out. She swallows him again, making his head knock back into the cabinet from the intensity. Suddenly a big hand is around her chin, gently pulling her off him. A long, string of saliva keeps her lips connected with his cock as he cups her face in his large hand. David takes her in, brown eyes blown wide, looking possessively feral as she eyes his cock like she needs another taste.

“Woman of my dreams.” He mumbles right before he shoves his tongue into her mouth to get a taste of his own.

David maneuvers his big body out from under the sink fully then overpowers Mack onto her back on the cold tile. She shivers at the intrusion cooling her hot, aroused skin. David hits his knees between her spread legs. His quick fingers rip away her lace panties from her folds. The waistband stays around her hips, leaving the ruined fabric swaying over her clit until David brushes it away. His calloused fingers run over her pussy, gathering her wetness and smearing it over her clit.

Satisfied with her arousal level, David gathers his cock in his hand, swiping the head down her slit until he nestles at her entrance. As he presses in, both his big arms wrap around her body. One hand protects her head from the tile and the other pulls her mid-back up so their hips meet at his kneeled level. Mack is arched like a circle, suspended in the air except her head and feet as he begins to pound away.

His lips sloppily mop her loud moans up, both of them forgetting about plans and work that they were supposed to be tending to this morning. Instead, they’re drowning in each other. David’s hand moves from the middle of her back to her ass, leaving bruises of his finger prints in her right cheek. He throws her down on his cock, pounding so hard that Mack can’t even tell him how badly she needs him to keep going.

Instead it comes out as tiny, sexy grunts then complete and utter silence as he shoves her over the abyss and into an intense orgasm. Her legs shake. Her chest heaves. And the snap of David’s hips work her through the highest point. They slow as she comes down, but only for a moment, then he is right back to where he was with her. The slaps of their skin meeting echo through the kitchen crudely. Mack’s ripped underwear sticks to the crease of her thigh from their mixing sex. She struggles for her voice, cooing soft begs of ‘more’ that shake the black curls around his ears.

“Fucking feel so good, honey. So god damn good. All mine too. All mine for the rest of my life.” He roars out to her as he pushes them closer again. Mack shrieks fingers curling around his shoulders, as her feet bounce against his bare ass cheeks.

“Right there!” She suddenly bellows out to him.

“I got you, baby. Come all over my cock.” He demands. One of her hands falls from his shoulder, dropping to her clit to roll it wildly like his strokes. Then she collapses, going limp in his arms as she crashed into orgasm number two. David follows her immediately, resting her back on the floor so he can finish his jerky pumps into her safely for them both.

Delicately, David unwraps Mack’s feet from where they are hooked together on his ass. One by one, he puts her feet back on the tiled floor. Then he strokes his nose down hers, kissing her stung lips. She can feel the red, mustache burn above her lips from their wet kisses in the heat of the moment. Her fingers trail through his black hair, then her eyes slowly open, still dazed from the orgasms he gave to her. David’s hands float along her outer thighs, creating pimpled skin in the wake of his finger tips.

The summer sun makes the kitchen glow, showcasing white dust in the warm rays. Mack looks up at David as he leans back from her, going back on his haunches. His jeans and underwear are stretched to their max in the middle of his big thighs. His cock softens against the waistband of his boxer briefs. A large hand comes to her left breast, flicking her nipple then pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger. Mack’s body lifts off the floor, chasing the buzzing feeling into the air.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe today is finally the day I fuck you in every room of this house.” He releases her nipple, so she falls flat back onto the floor. Then he leans over it, sucking the puckered bud into his mouth. “Where to next? Hmm?” He asks her, tonguing her nipple. “Maybe my office?”

Mack nods eagerly, running her fingernails down the back of his neck. She’s limp, like a pool noodle when he scoops her up into his arms. He stands up, collecting her face into his shoulder as his boots crack down the hall towards his office.

Mack bites his shoulder.

David moans.

Then in one swoop, he shoves everything off his desk to the floor. He lays Mack down on the worn wood, pulling back to look down at her spread wide and blissful in front of him.

“Take that dress off, baby. The only thing I want on you is our ring.”