#like how my brain matter will decorate the wall when i blow my fucking brains out oh my fucking god

[strawberryjamikins]

i love when i have good ideas for a fic and my writers block hits before i even finish the first draft. i especially love it when i have a deadline to post it (specifically cause i said i wanted it out this month). it’s my favorite thing !

[silverdelirium]

hii!

idk if ur request are still open but if they are, could you write something with the marauders?? maybe dilf!sirius or stripper!reader?? (only if you’re confortable with it!)

btw i loved your theo smut😭<3

STRIP CLUB | S.B

ty baby<3

summary: your best friend’s dad finds you working at a strip club.

warnings: small sir kink, squirting, oral ( female receiving ), fingering, bit of drinking at the start, small degrading, praising.

———

sirius needed a drink and he needed it now.

he didn’t even acknowledge what club he stumbled on, but from the view it gave, they had alcohol. and that’s all that mattered to sirius. he needed to wash away all stress, rage, and irritation from today; and what better way to do it than getting drunk?

“one firewhiskey” he demanded once he settled on the barstool at the bar. the young bartender giving a quick nod and getting to work.

it was then that sirius had a chance to look around, the place was cluttered with people. loud chatter almost drowning out the music. he realized everyone’s sight was settled onto the centre of the room.

sirius craned his neck to get a good look at what seemed to be catching everyone’s interest.

ah, he thought.

this is a strip club.

he hummed in acknowledgement when the bartender placed his drink in front of him, whisking it away and walking closer to the scene as the alcohol burned his throat, a low vibration bubbled from his chest at the taste, already getting rid of all that pent up tension in his muscles.

the atmosphere in the club had suddenly changed when sirius finished his drink. everyone went quiet before cheering loudly when two beautiful women stepped on the stage. the one at the right had red lingerie on, hugging her body in all the right places. her bronze skin seemed to compliment the colour of her attire and her long dark hair moved in rhythm with her movements. the one at the left had a pink with a black corset on, a small thong leaving little to the imagination. sirius eyes travelled from her smooth legs to her defined waist, to her pushed up cleavage and to her- face.

the realization came crashing down on sirius like a bucket of cold water.

there you were. his daughter’s best friend all dolled up dancing to the beat of the music around the pole. and he silently cursed himself for getting hard at the same little girl that visits his house every weekend. did you always go to his house after giving this people a good show? giving them something for their little wank-bank?

as much as he hated to admit it, the mere image of you dancing sensually could’ve had him cumming on the spot. he also hated to admit that the fact that he wasn’t the only person in this place was bringing back that wrath that he had earlier.

was he supposed to be able to compose himself around you from now on? was he supposed to not have you over his knee the next time he had you alone. giving you an orgasm for every set of eyes that were watching you waltz around the stage?

his fingers twitched along with his cock when he saw you bend down to let a batty old man hand you a 100 dollar tip.

and that’s when your eyes met his piercing ones.

you seemed to freeze at his presence for a few moments before you were back to dancing, your vision still glued to his.

and the subtle smirk he sent your way was enough to confirm that— you were getting your brains fucked out by sirius black after this.

after a few more dances and tips, you and your friend got off the stage, your head snapping back to meet sirius’s direction; who was still staring at you with hooded eyes.

you threw him a lazy smile before making your way to the loo, knowing damn well that sirius was just a few steps behind you. the door barely touched the doorframe before he was wringing it open with such force that had you giving a small gasp when he abruptly grabbed ahold of your jaw, turning your head up at him.

“i didn’t know you could dance like that” were the first words he spoke to you in the whole evening.

“you barely know me at all, sir” you teased. the nickname you addressed him as seemed to spark something in him. and a short chuckle came from sirius before he was smashing his lips to yours, letting go of your face to knead the softness of your bum, he hooked a finger on the waistband of your thong before letting it snap back on your flesh, coaxing a whimper from your mouth.

“you filthy little thing, getting me all hard in front of everyone. you’re gonna have me thinking of this pretty pussy for the rest of the week, and i’m gonna have you looking all ruined once i’m done with you” he growled in between kisses, hoisting you up on the counter and advancing his kisses downwards on your neck.

you threw your head back with a blissful sigh as sirius grazed his teeth against your sweet spot, your body ignoring the alarms going off on your brain that screamed: this is your best friend’s dad! what are you doing? but with the way sirius crouched down so he was at level with your sopping cunt, his beard giving you that delicious burn that you were gonna feel for the rest of the night, you really couldn’t give less of a fuck that this was wrong.

“oh fuck” you whispered as sirius dragged your panties down, groaning slightly at the sight of your dripping pussy. “fuck baby, can’t wait to have this tight pussy milking me dry” he mumbled before diving in, lapping up at your juices in an instant.

you released a strangled moan as sirius flicked his tongue over your buzzing clit, the pads of his fingers teasing your slit. your hands flew down to grip his hair as he entered two fingers at one, sucking around your bundle of nerves in a way that had you curling your toes.

“oh my god, sir-” you moaned out, thighs shaking with anticipation at the same time sirius curled his fingers upwards, caressing your g-spot in the most dazzling way ever.

he continued his assault on your clit whilst his fingers pumped in and out of you, the stimulation provoking that coil in your belly to snap without a warning. “i’m gonna fucking cum” you managed to whine out, bucking your hips up before cumming around sirius’ fingers, not even giving him time to respond.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you cried out in pure euphoria— your mind barely registered when was it that sirius had stood up, fingers working rapidly against his belt before letting his engorged cock spring out, he stroked a few times before nudging your stimulated clit with the tip, watching with hungry eyes as you jolted your hips upwards as a silent plea.

“beg” he demanded.

“wha-”

“beg for it. show me how much of a desperate slut you are.” his eyes were darkened with lust as he spoke each word.

“please— please. i need it, i want you to fuck me hard and fast, sir. please” you pouted, giving him your best puppy eyes that you knew would always get you what you wanted.

“atta girl” he purred before pushing himself inside your gushing pussy, quivering cries leaving your lips like a chant.

sirius settled for a bruising pace since the start, rocking his hips into yours until you had your back arched, giving him a clear view of your breasts that were still trapped in the corset from earlier.

“so tight baby— can’t wait to see my cum painting this pretty thighs” he moaned, gripping hour hips harshly before fastening his speed, dirty sounds of clapping skin echoing throughout the bathroom.

you went cross-eyed as his tip destroyed your g-spot, tiny stars decorating your vision with every harsh thrust. you screamed his name over and over again until your throat became tired, reaching your fingers down to soothe your aching bundle of nerves.

your hand was swatted away by none other than the male who gave you a look before massaging your clit tightly. “who is making you feel this good, pretty girl?” he taunted, a prideful smirk making its way to his lips as he watched you babble his name, cunt squeezing his cock that was still drilling into your hole.

“look at that sweet cunt squeezing me. i’m gonna have the whole club knowing who’s making you feel this fucking good” he grunted.

you went to answer him but the only thing that came out was a shattering moan as you squirted all over the bathroom’s counter, soaking yours and sirius’ thighs.

“fuck!” he moaned as he pumped you full with his load. rope after rope spraying your walls.

ragged breaths filled the room as he carefully slid out of you, both slowly coming down from cloud nine. sirius grunted at the view of your overused pussy blowing out his cum. counter completely drowned in your arousal.

“round two at the house?” you suggested.

———

🏷: @selenesheart @malfoy-girl

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

[chateautae]

flirt | pjm. (m)

➵ summary :  park jimin is a notorious flirt, but so are you. when you both meet at a party after weeks of back and forth, it’s a matter of time before somebody gives in

➵ pairing : jimin x reader

➵ genre :  college!au, sexual tension, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 4k

➵ warnings : super suggestive flirting, alcohol consumption (both parties able to consent), swearing, light dom and sub themes, soft dom!jimin, brat!reader, little bit of brat-handling, dirty talk, praising but also degradation? it’s hot i promise, use of slut, slight body worshipping, mentions of oral, jimin is hot and yes that’s a warning in itself, breast play, unprotected sex, penetrative + rough sex, bit of angsty sex, creampie cause i seem to not like it any other way

➵ a/n : and my first jimin fic is here!! dear god i love this boy to the moon and back so i got a bit carried with him lmao, hopefully this isn’t terrible cause i still need to edit it but your support and feedback are always appreciated!! <3

2 hours.

2 hours since you first came to this party. You’ve bumped into at least a hundred people, danced your legs numb, God knew how many and what concoction of drinks were inebriating your system and still, you hadn’t seen Park Jimin the whole night. 

The only reason you even dragged yourself to this party was because of him. You were initially bailing on the annual ‘one-last-hurrah-before-midterms’ party because you, like everyone else here had midterms haunting them Monday. It was Friday night and as the ever diligent student, you were planning to study over the weekend.

Though your nagging best friend Hoseok had other plans, threatening you to come with every piece of dirt he had on you until he finally sprinkled Jimin’s name into the mix. You couldn’t lie, it was the only reason you decided to hell with your education, wiggled into a barely-there dress and waltzed in with Hoseok ready to take the night on.

But when you hadn’t seen Jimin at all, you were left annoyed, pissed off and with a headache raking your brain.

Seeing him was a selfish desire, one you’d develop after realizing you had met your match when you first encountered Jimin. You were always fairly notorious for your flirtatious habits and touchiness, a sort of trademark of yours and the same was always said about a ‘Park Jimin’ unknown to you, sometimes described to be an even bigger flirt.

It automatically intrigued you, curious of what kind of rival you secretly harbored until one day, you chanced upon Hoseok who just so happened to be with Jimin. 

At first, you didn't think Jimin could be a daring flirt. He had this sweet smile and disciplined way of speaking that screamed innocent to you, his mannerisms and demeanor shy and introverted. He didn’t make big moves and so you wrote him off as just that. 

But it wasn’t until you started seeing him outside your class’ building, alone, and multiple times after that, enough for you to realize he was anything but shy or innocent.

You ended up observing that a) he was sex on legs, b) easily flipped between the persona of an angel and a demon and c) anything he did could seem flirting. 

You two hit it off without a hitch, your flirtatious tendencies meeting to form a relationship of mutual interest. It was clear as day, both your actions almost always held some sort of unknown intentions behind them, your every saying a double meaning. 

It became the norm between you two, anytime you met turning into a conversation riddled with innuendos, suggestive lip-biting or eyes that couldn’t help but wander. And you weren't stupid, you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You two were dangerous, testing the limits of either’s control, hoping someone would give in and only left disappointed when nobody did. 

So when Hoseok mentioned this party, and graciously added Park Jimin’s name to it, you knew this was your chance. A party with buzzing bodies, loud music and copious amounts of alcohol was bound to set him off, especially if you were dressed scandalously and felt bolder with liquid courage pumping through your system.  

But it’d been 2 hours, and you hadn’t seen him all night. You were taking another shot in the kitchen, sulking by yourself and reflecting on the fact that you’d been duped by Hoseok. This party became useless to you, a mere waste of your time as you quickly discarded your cup and began stomping out of the kitchen.

You ventured further into the house to look for Hoseok’s 5’10 ass, tell him he’s the worst best friend for lying to you and that you were leaving this disappointment of a party.

You stepped around people mindfully, dodging them until you rammed smack dab into someone’s back, scrambling for an apology before looking at the unaffected victim.

Park fucking Jimin.

“Y/N!” Jimin beamed, holding a drink in his hand as he smiled widely.

“Jimin, hey! I thought you didn’t come tonight.” You attempted biting back your smile from finally finding him, shouting over the bass of the music as you met him on the dance floor.

“I just ran late. You know me, of course I’d be here!” Jimin raised his drink to his plump lips and sipped, stepping side-to-side in rhythm with the music. 

You couldn’t make him out that well, the disco lights of whatever lights system the only means of seeing him in the dark, but you swear the smirky grin on his face as he scanned you over wasn’t just a figment of your imagination, ecstatic that you already seemed to be reeling him in. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I already had-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as someone’s raging body stumbled into yours suddenly, sending you off balance until Jimin reached out for you cautiously.

“Woah, easy there.” Jimin’s arms quickly held you, flashing a scolding look at the person who bumped into you and pulling you towards himself. “Are you here with someone tonight?”

“Yeah, Hoseok! I was looking for him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I.. wasn’t having fun, so I wanted to leave with him.” You swiftly masked the real truth, your voice becoming less of a shout as Jimin encased you, just a few centimeters between your bodies as you peered up at him, cheeks flushed with heat and alcohol.

“Leave with him? Damn, didn’t know you two were like that.” Jimin flashed you a suggestive look, raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up, you know we’re just best friends.” You both erupted into a fit of chuckles as you hit his chest, your hand smacking against his jacket and now that you were close, registered what a meal he looked like tonight; ripped black jeans, plain white t-shirt underneath a distressed jean jacket, all pulled together sexily by his tousled hair, small hoop earrings and a Chanel necklace decorating his neck.

Dear God, how many times you’ve ached to kiss that pretty, pretty neck.

You internally groaned, habitually drawing closer to him as you enjoyed the warmth of his body, nostrils filling with the familiar scent of his intoxicating cologne.

“So I hear you wanna have some fun.” Jimin perked up, eyes amused and hands smoothing over your sides slowly after faltering from your arms.

“Are you suggesting I’ll have fun with you?”

“Of course, gorgeous, but up to you how we do that.” Jimin stepped dangerously closer to you as his voice lowered, your face tucked into his chest as his body blocked other people from touching you.

Excitement shot to your center at his use of a pet name, a common occurrence during your exchanges though his choices of which always an added thrill. 

“And what if I just want to leave and eat at a diner instead?”

“Then I’d definitely take you, food and you? A win in my book.”

You cocked an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Adding me to the mix suddenly makes it a win? I’m not the one on the menu, Park.” 

Jimin’s eyes seem to blow out, leaning down as his plushy lips ghosted your ear as he spoke, tone darkened, “We can change that, princess.”

A thrill shot throughout your body, hyper aware of his lips mere inches from your face as your heart began to race, turning towards him expectantly.

You began advancing slowly to decrease the gap between your mouths, feeling him inch forward in response, letting him hover just above your lips for a tease before you stopped, “I’d like to see you try, Park.”

Then you abruptly turned out of his hold and walked away, making it through a few people into a hallway, allowing yourself to breathe. You loved teasing Jimin, it was an incredibly entertaining pass time but dear God, did it knock the fucking wind out of you. 

You were mentally recuperating from the fact that he almost let you kiss him, distracted as you stepped away until someone suddenly snatched your arm and pinned you against the nearest wall. You were honestly shocked to see Jimin, surprised he actually took your bait and stayed on your trail to stop you. His dancing eyes held nothing but greed, evident even in the darkness of the party.

“You know just how to test people, don’t you?” Jimin warned as he narrowed his dangerous eyes at you, holding your hot-skinned wrists against the cool wall. 

“Of course I do, it makes things fun and last time I checked,”  You brought your face to his and left only an inch between you two, “that’s just what I want.”

Jimin visibly grew less tamed, glancing down towards your lips as he tried breathing controllably, “Careful what you wish for, princess. It might come true.” 

“And if that’s what I want?” You titled your head expectantly, licking your lips as you watched Jimin bite his own. He eyed you the whole time, making it a statement to drink you in every inch of you. 

You could smell the alcohol on him, assuming liquor was the only driving force behind his actions but then contemplated his level-headedness, his coherent speech and clear judgment in this moment.

Jimin was choosing to chase after you, choosing to not let you go after weeks of incessant back and fourth and you knew you were finally getting closer to exactly what you wanted. 

Park Jimin giving in. 

“You’re fucking hot.” Jimin commented, eyes eating you up hungrily.

“You’re hotter.” You grinned and leaned back against the wall, cleavage unintentionally popping out for him and Jimin’s look immediately shifted, bringing his body closer against yours.

“You look submissive as hell right now, is that what you like? To be dominated?”

“Only if you like to dominate.” 

Jimin could feel the reigns on his control snapping, biting down to contain his raw desire to fuck you. He’s been holding himself back, knowing you seemed willing on your end of the interactions but never wanting to take the leap in case it was all just an act. 

But as he watched you go along with his every comment, staring back at him with the same devious eyes and practically offering yourself to him in his hold, he knew you weren’t acting at all. 

“You talk a big game, but can you put your money where your mouth is?” Jimin leaned his hips against yours, ensuring you could feel his growing hardness. 

“My mouth can do a lot of fucking things, Park.” You jutted your hips into his.

Jimin shut his eyes frustratedly before he re-opened them, a downright obsidian colour taking them over.

“Go the fuck upstairs.” 

“Wh-”

“I said, go the fuck upstairs.” Jimin demanded, looking at you with conviction so searing you in fact did become submissive. 

“W-which room-” You didn’t complete your question as Jimin’s deft hands encased you and lifted you off the ground, bridal-style.

“Jimin-!” You exclaimed.

“Say another word and I’ll make sure you feel me in your throat.” 

You immediately swallowed your mouth shut as Jimin cluthed you to him, core alighting with desire as he carried you up the stairs. Jimin arrived at the second floor and rushed towards the first room with an ajar door, shutting it with your feet after entering.

He made towards the bed and practically threw you onto it, stepping away to lock the door before leaning against it, arms crossed and serious. 

“You sure you want this?” His voice came out considerate, no haste or pressure.

“Yes, Jimin.” 

“You’re completely sure?” 

You nodded incessantly. 

“I need your words, Y/N.”

“Yes.” You affirmed, unintentionally becoming submissive as you awaited him, and Jimin couldn't resist you, not any longer. He made towards your smaller figure on the bed and immediately crashed his lips onto yours, knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned over you, splaying you onto the bed.  

He held your wrists against the sheets, kissing you open as his plump lips worked tirelessly against your mouth. He continued to swallow you, opening up to catch all of you as he sank further downwards to feel your body arch into his.

His wet tongue glided over your lips and you welcomed him in lightspeed, letting his muscle entangle with yours hastily and you instantly loved the taste of him. 

Jimin’s kisses began deepening, exploring your mouth like he was dehydrated and your mouth was fresh water. His thigh began pressing against your core and you moaned into his mouth as Jimin disconnected from you, panting for air. 

“Don’t fucking do that.” He voiced frustratedly, his full lips swollen and pink as he tried to contain himself. 

“Do what?” 

“Fucking moan, it does shit to me.” 

“Sucks for you, I’m responsive as fuck.” You snipped as his sudden confession made you hot, squishing your thighs together. Jimin took notice and he flashed a look at your core. 

“Responsive, huh?” Jimin let go of your wrist, sliding his hand down your body before pressing his fingers to your heat through your dress. You instantly gasped, arching as you felt your walls clench around absolutely nothing. 

“J-Jimin.” you warned him weakly. 

“Mm?” Jimin paid no attention as he lowered himself to your neck and began kissing, tonguing, sucking at a spot that had you cowering and squirming underneath him. 

You groaned as your free hand tangled into his hair, hugging him to your neck as you basked in the glory of his plush lips devouring you. He was laving and nibbling at your skin, continuously kissing the area of your carotid all while rubbing his hand against your clothed cunt. Jimin began rutting his body against yours, the tip of his cock prodding you the more he moved.

“Fuck you, Jimin. This isn’t fair.” You moaned breathlessly

“As fair as it gets, princess. You wanted to see my try, yeah?” Jimin suddenly stopped his movements on your core and slid his hand up your bare thigh, only to shift your stained panties to the side and glide his fingers all over your bare pussy. You gasped Jimin’s name and tugged at his hair harshly, the alcohol hazing everything over with sensitivity and trying to sustain the sheer amount of pleasure he was rewarding you.

“N-nothing’s fair about this.”

Jimin smoothed the pads of his fingers over your slick core, eliciting your incessant gasps, “Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” 

He was leaving purple marks all along your neck and chest, moving down to the valley of your breasts and you whined headily, hating that he had such an advantage in this position. 

You immediately grew bold enough to push him off by his chest, detaching him as Jimin looked at you confused. “Y/N, what the fu-” was all Jimin could get out before you stood up and gripped his cock through his pants, his breath immediately hitching. He looked at you with surprised eyes, growing weaker in your hold as you walked him back against a vanity in the room.

You had no clue who this room belonged to, but you could care less when you were minutes away from getting fucked by Park Jimin.

He let out breathy little moans as you palmed him, shutting his eyes in bliss as he turned harder by the second, leaning back against the counter. You planted your lips to his neck and mouthed fervently, making sure you embellished his skin with your desire for him. “F-fuck. Y/N, this isn’t fair.”

“Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” You mocked him and began rubbing at his shaft, sucking hickies onto his pretty neck and licking over the areas your teeth grazed. Jimin continued groaning, hugging you close to him as he fisted his hands against your body, trying everything to cherish the pleasure he felt. 

The person he’s been desiring ever since he heard about you, his every nerve thrilled by your ability to counter him, match his energy of constant flirting and testing the waters, venturing further than him sometimes.

You were just so tempting and Jimin wanted every last bit of you. 

That sentiment increased when he felt your hands snake towards the belt of his jeans, unbuckling harshly with need so apparent he wanted nothing but to stuff your walls, now. 

“No, fuck off, getting inside you first.” Jimin denied your hands, capturing them in his hold.

You instantly whined, “But Jimin, want you to fuck my face.” You pouted into his neck, kissing along his collar bones as you rutted against him. 

“Fucking God, I’m destroying you for that.” Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and switched the positions, shoving you against the vanity, your ass on the edge of the counter as Jimin stood in between your spread out legs, lips meeting yours again. 

Jimin lifted the skirt of your dress up and over your backside, pooling around your waist as his hands slid over your fleshy thighs to the band of your panties. He pulled only to snap them back against your skin, the contact making you gasp.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing these?”

“And why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?” You chastised, hands greedily shoving his jacket off him even with your mouth attached to his.

Jimin didn’t allow the action to compromise your kiss either, practically ripping his jacket off and breathing hard against you as he threw it away. He then pulled his t-shirt over himself, revealing his toned, lean body underneath and only leaving his Chanel necklace hanging over his bare chest. You licked your lips at the sight of his smooth and pretty body, the outline of his abs like a work of art.

You reached out to touch him, his face and skin flushed with lust as he watched you. “You’re so hot, Jimin, so pretty.” You praised, eyes ogling him.

Jimin smirked proudly before speaking, “Your turn.”

He searched for the zipper of your dress and unzipped hastily, peeling away the top to reveal your naked breasts and now it was his turn to ogle at you.

“Fuck me, you’re prettier.” He huffed out, eyes blown out entirely.

“Probably not as pretty as your cock, let me suck.” You pouted playfully and pulled him closer to you with the back of your shins, hands greedily feeling up his bare chest.

“Only good girls get to suck my dick.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you’re a fucking brat and a half.” Jimin started kneading your breasts, licking his lips as he watched you spread your legs wider for him and lean your head back out of pure bliss.

“I am not a brat, you just fucking take 10 years to get it on.” You snapped back, moaning in between at the way he groped your breasts, rolling the buds of your nipples with his fingertips.

“Sorry I was a fucking gentleman, didn’t know you were such a cock-hungry slut.” Jimin bit as he planted his thick lips to your perched nipple, eliciting curses from you as his tongue began swirling around, sucking teasingly.

“You just can’t fuck, isn’t it? All bark and no bite?”

Jimin scoffed darkly at that, sucking harder on your sensitive nipples before letting go with a pop. “I’ll fucking break you is why I kept holding off, you’ll regret this, princess.”

“Break me then, Jimin, please. Fuck me like you say you will, I need you.” Your arousal became unbearable as you grew hornier, rocking your hips against him for friction while he laved at either of your nipples.

“I will, baby. Get these off and I’ll fuck you so good.” Jimin tugged at your panties and you lifted your ass for him to discard them.

You unhooked Jimin’s belt and shoved into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans down until you finally freed his leaking length, thick and throbbing to be treated.

What you always thought was right, his cock was pretty just like him. You graciously pumped him, spreading his pre-cum over the head as you watched him lean his head back, kissing under his jaw.

“So pretty, Jimin, just like you.”

Jimin stopped caring about any and everything and instantly grabbed one of your legs, spreading you wide open for him and situated himself before your entrance.

He brought a hand over yours pumping his member and moved you quicker against his hot flesh, looking down at the lewd scene and your pretty pussy aching for him.

“Look at you soaking, baby, so much prettier.” 

You moaned needily, the back of your shins urging Jimin closer to you again as you whined. “Jimin..”

“Raw?” he breathed impatiently. 

“Fuck yes, birth control.”

Jimin didn’t even take a millisecond before he was pushing against your hole, placing the hand that was pumping his member now against your pelvic bone, pressing down to feel himself sink inside of you.

You instantly careened, moaning out so loud that if there wasn’t music blaring in the house, everyone would know how stuffed Jimin made you feel.

“Fuck-Jimin! Stop doing that, it feels too fucking good..!” You nearly cried, the pressure of Jimin’s hand making you feel any and every ridge, vein and hardness of his thick cock, your walls drinking him in.

“Fuck you, this is what you get.” Jimin blurted as he buried himself to the hilt, groaning satisfyingly at your warm walls hugging him before plunging to make out with you.

Jimin began fucking you with conviction, determination to drive you insane for him as he spread you open. He thrusted fast and hard from the get-go, neglecting to set a pace knowing how much of a cock-loving brat you were. His thumb resting just above your clit dipped down to lightly play with your bud, tease it, all the while licking into your mouth and thrusting into you.

You gasped hard, so much that Jimin’s name was the only thing coherent within them and he swallowed all your sounds with his lips. Your body was on fire at the drag of his cock, shocked at how wet you were when he hadn’t even fingered or eaten you out, his cock doing all the work, leaving you only thinking of Park Jimin’s sheer power.

You wanted all of him so badly, wanted him to ruin you, destroy you like he said he would, fuck you open like he always insinuated he would.

“Jimin, please, harder! Fuck me like the brat I am, teach me a fucking lesson.”

“Princess likes it hard, huh? Want me to fuck this pussy up? Make it all mine?” Jimin’s words were so filthy they had you clutching onto him tightly, arousal gushing from you as Jimin impaled you harder, snapping into you.

His thumb continued its onslaught, your walls convulsing to his every stroke as you gripped his shoulders and kissed him, biting his plushy bottom lip as he fucked you harder.

“Mm, Jimin, fuck!” Your tits bounced as he pounded into you, taking his every thrust like a champ and he damn well shook the entire vanity, continuously drilling your hole as he gave no room for mercy. Your hands snaked into his hair and tugged, making him groan in approval and he only pushed you open wider in response.

“You pretty brat, look at you getting what you want. Fucked like the cock-loving princess you are.” Jimin breathed against your mouth, his skin slicking with sweat as he worked tirelessly against your opening, battering your pussy with an unforgiving speed.

“You would’ve gotten your dick sucked, but apparently-” you shuddered breathily, “I w-wasn’t a good girl.” You felt weak from his repeated onslaught, the bubbling pleasure in your gut keeping you going. 

“Yeah, so fucking behave and maybe I’ll let you choke on my dick.”

“Y-you stop playing games and maybe I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Jimin only ticked his head to the side as he chuckled darkly, starting to propel his thick cock into your gut and raging at your clit so roughly, you gasped as you carved your pleasure into his skin. Jimin did the same as he bore his fingers into you, a hand squeezing your thigh harshly as he held your leg and your walls fluttered around him, moans growing higher in pitch.

“Jimin! I’m gonna-“ you didn’t even complete your sentence as your walls clamped around him, orgasm washing over you so quickly you barely realized it came. You clenched him like a vice and panted hard against his mouth, Jimin finally coming undone as well, spurts of cum painting your insides and filling you to the brim, certain he’d leak out of you for hours.

You felt stuffed, so full of him you were hazed over with post-orgasm bliss, mind unwinding from any trifling matter on Earth. Your forehead slacked against his shoulder as you both panted for air, sweating as Jimin held your weak body in his arms.

His cock remained shoved inside you, the throbbing letting up on both of you as your highs settled down.

“You..” Jimin swallowed dryly, breathing. “took me like a good girl. Maybe you can suck me off next time.”

“Next time?” You breathed labourly, turning your face towards his.

Jimin peered down at you resting against him, biting back a grin. “Of course, there’s always a next time with flirts like us.”

[amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes]

Toy Box

AN: This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Two Years of Darkness challenge. My prompt is Mob!AU you wonder about your bf/gf's late nights and the answer surprises you and my character is Bucky. I took a friendship route to the gf and not romantic and this went from Bucky to an add on. This is a little late but I changed the story and characters last minute; I apologize. Not beta’d so all mistakes are my own. My character is written with a WOC in mind but all read. Please don’t repost my work without my expressed permission 🗣🗣🗣

Warnings: ‼️NON-CON‼️, allusions to prostitution, voyeurism, unwanted groping, slight gun play, violence(the gun is discharged), threesome? four-way? IDK how to classify it. Proceed with caution and do not read if the subject matter offends you. 

Pairing: Officially? Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,121

~~~~~

“Hey, what are you doing to make all this extra money?”

Sabrina, your roommate, gave you a weary look as you hesitated by the large double doors. The sounds of the busy street unnerved you but you wanted to do this. Besides, if Sabrina could do it, why couldn’t you? While she had been quite cryptic in telling you what her part-time job duties are, you trusted Sabrina. She'd been your roommate and best friend for years and you had all confidence in her. 

"You really wanna know?" The uncertainty in her voice went ignored. You placed your hands on your hips and tsked. She avoided your pointed glare. Secrets were never kept between the two of you; you both knew everything about each other so to think she was holding something from you was offensive. 

"Girl, yes. I wanna know how you go from not being able to pay your half of the rent to now covering my half. What's the deal?"

After nearly an hour of guilt tripping her, Sabrina finally caved and told you she was working for "some hotel in guest services and entertainment". When you pressed her for a better explanation, she just shrugged and asked if you wanted to meet her boss and get the job description from her. While you may not have skills to be an entertainer, surely they had a position at the front desk you could do. That night you happily edited your resume and dreamt of all the things you could do with the extra money; pay off a bill or two and save for that vacation you so desperately need.  

"You ready?" A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality. Of all places, you didn't expect her to bring you to the Hotel Cortez. The Cortez was well known as one of two hives for the new crime syndicate that took over the town a few years back. You'd only half paid attention to the news articles as they listed the main culprits: James Barnes, and Carol "The Captain" Danvers. The two of them wreaked havoc on the town and had nearly the entire police force in their back pocket. You’d been lucky enough to not cross paths with them or their associates, hearing that once you get tangled with them, you’re stuck.  

Humming a response to her, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. It wasn't like you're doing anything illegal, you’d be so far down the ladder that the worst that could happen to you was you get fired. At least you still had your full time job to fall back on. Placing your hand on the handle, you shift your portfolio and push open the large glass doors. Red and gold carpet covers the lobby floor and high crystal chandeliers illuminate the area in a dreamlike glow; a true juxtaposition to what you believed it would look like. Standing in the middle of the lobby, you gawk at the red velvet chairs that look like mini thrones rather than chairs. You feel out of place and severely under-dressed with your black maxi skirt and white shirt. 

��They’re ready for you, Ruby. Go on up.” You startle and turn towards the feminine voice. Behind a desk you didn't even notice, a blonde woman in a fitted white dress smiles at you. Sabrina mumbles her thanks and hooks her arms in yours, dragging you to the opposite side of the desk. Frowning, you turn to Sabrina when you stop in front of an elevator. 

“Who the hell is Ruby?”

“Me.” her eyes never leave the floor indicator, the numbers counting down. Clearing her throat, she shrugs. “They give us nicknames here, you don’t use your real name.”

“Why?” The elevator dings and slides open. Still hooked with you, Sabrina pulls you into the elevator and presses floor 21. You turn to her with your arms crossed. She avoids your glare and sighs. 

“It's not too late to turn around.” You tilt your head in confusion at her. Before you can ask for clarification, the elevator dings and the door opens. Again you are taken aback at the decor of the room. You were expecting an office, not a large gray sofa and matching chair on a white rug nor the ceiling to floor windows that made the walls. The rest of the floor was hardwood and more gray chairs scattered about. Tall white vases of varying bouquets of flowers sat on matching gray tables and a small chandelier casts a soft glow. Sabrina let you go and walked further into the room. You stood awkwardly a few feet from the elevator, too nervous to move in fear of breaking something. 

 A call of your name beckons you to move. You hear voices and as you exit the foyer, you get a better view of the room. More gray furniture decorate the room and to the far left of the room, a large L shaped desk with matching cabinets. A woman is perched on the corner of the desk, her short black dress raised over her long legs as she giggles at a blonde woman behind the desk. In a chair to their right, a man sits with a glass and watches you as you stop next to Sabrina. The woman behind the desk stands and moves toward you. Swallowing hard, your resolve falters when you recognize her. Carol Danvers. You weren’t expecting to see any of the bosses and seeing her up close is daunting. Her presence is authoritative as she strides towards you, her tailored black suit as unwavering as her gaze.

“This her?” the woman on the desk glances at Sabrina before raking her eyes slowly down your body. Carol hums as she paces around you, the action making you uneasy. 

"She's cute. What do you think, Barnes?"

Your anxiety spikes as you realize that both of the mob bosses are within arms reach of you and staring you down. Sabrina elbows you in the ribs and clears her throat as she introduces you. You plaster your best smile and hand your portfolio to Carol. She takes it from you and as you are about to speak, she tosses it to the woman still on the desk. 

"How adorable is this? She brought a resume." Her teasing making you frown. You reach for your portfolio but she pulls back and sticks out her tongue with a wink. 

"Maria," Carol playfully chides. "Don't give the new girl a hard time. Test her, James." 

He hums from his seat and placed his glass on the table. You clear your throat and begin to list off your work experience, his hand reaches to his belt and unfastens it. You pause and turn to Sabrina again who shrugs. Carol resumes her place next to Maria and places a hand on her thigh. Your eyes bounce between the women before falling back to James who is in the process of opening his fly. 

"You know what? Maybe this position isn't for me." You attempt to sound braver than you feel but your voice comes out small. "Thank you for the opportunity, we're leaving." Taking a step back, you turn fully to Sabrina who is looking at the floor and you grab her wrist. 

Maria giggles as Carol's hand creeps under the hem of her dress. You attempt to pull Sabrina but she doesn't move. You look at her incredulously as James stands with a deep sigh. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in and you drop her wrist. Right as you are about to run, a strong grip on the back of your neck pulls you back and you collide with warm flesh. You scream and attempt to twist away from  the strong hand holding you but the hand moves from your neck to your hair and pushes you down. 

“Ruby, you didn’t tell her, did you?” James asks but Sabrina stays quiet. He steps into your peripheral and turns your head towards him, the strain on your neck painful. "She's my little toy. And sometimes I lend my toys for others to play. Get it?" 

You reach back and grab his wrist in an attempt to release some of the pressure from your scalp but his hold is ironclad. His hand disappears into his pants and you cringe as he pulls his cock out and taps it against your bottom lip. You grind your teeth as he taps again on lip and sighs after a moment. His grip on your hair tightens and you gasp at the pain. 

"Come on, I don't have all day." His bored tone is offensive and you glare up at him. You purse your lips together in defiance and Maria laughs. 

"Love the fight in her, Ruby. But I want a show." Maria faux pouts as Carol's fingers work their way higher and Maria spreads her legs to allow her access. "Talk to your friend." 

You glance up at Sabrina who is fidgeting and still avoiding eye contact. She sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "Just do it and get it over with. You're being dramatic." 

"Dramatic?!" You shriek and attempt to twist in his hold to face her but he spins you around and uses the momentum to force himself into your mouth. You gag around him and jerk your head back but you are unable to maneuver away from him. You grunt in frustration and as you're about to bring your canines down full force on him, cool metal presses against your temple. 

"Bite me and I'll blow your fucking brains out." His warning freezes all movement from you. Your eyes water as he slides the metal from your temple to your line of sight and you look down the barrel of his gun. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth as you hold him there, not daring to move. He taps the gun twice on your forehead before he tsks. Quicker than you can register, he releases his hold on your hair and the pressure from the gun is moved. You jerk away from him as a loud pop reverberates the room. You scream and cower on the floor as Sabrina drops to the floor near you. She's crying and holding her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. Carol laughs as you scream again and reach for her but a click near your ear draws your attention back to the man in front of you. 

"Consider that a warning. Hurry. Up." The gun returns to your head but the metal is now hot and burns your skin. You shake your head, taking one last glance at Sabrina who returns your gaze with watery eyes. Sitting up on your knees, you reach for him with trembling hands. He's warm to the touch and the feel of him twitching against your fingers almost has you reeling. His hand returns to your hair though he doesn't grip this time. Closing your eyes, you give him a few tentative strokes before you slowly ease him into your mouth. 

"Good girl. Show us what you can do." Maria purrs and Carol hums. You brace a hand on his thigh and try to recall every porn movie you've ever seen.  Hollowing your cheeks, you push him as far as you can and attempt not to gag as he brushes the back of your throat. A deep moan rumbles through his chest when you bring your other hand to his base and twist your wrist to mimic the movement of your mouth. A whimper behind you makes you speed up; you may have been upset with Sabrina but you didn't want her to bleed out. Maria moans loudly and for a moment you can simultaneously hear the sound of her being fingered with your slurping noises. 

"Keep going." You aren't sure who gave the soft command but you respond by flattening your tongue in an effort to stifle your gag reflex so you can take him deeper. It must work because you hear him hiss and he bucks his hips involuntarily showing him deeper down your throat. Unprepared for the invasion, you try to pull back but the hand on your head locks you in place. Your nails dig into his leg as you try not to panic because you can't draw in a breath. He holds you for a few seconds before the hand on your head reimplants in your hair and pulls you backwards. You fall on your backside as you cough. You turn to check on Sabrina who has gone quiet. She's curled up in a ball and as you reach for her, you're once again pulled back. A soft hand caresses your cheek and it takes a second that it's Carol, not James, who has you this time. 

"Maria, baby. Assume the position. Show the new girl how it's done." Maria hops off the desk and moves to the side of the chair James was sitting in. Carol hoists you up by the arm and stands you on the opposite side of the chair. "Go on honey." At Carol's order, Maria lifts her dress and bends over the arm of the chair with her hands clasped in front of her over the sitting cushion. She wiggles her hips and licks her lips, eyes never leaving yours. You are about to protest when strong hands push you to bend forward, the arm of the chair hitting you roughly in the stomach. You groan in pain and try to squirm away but your hands are held in front of you by Maria. She intertwines your fingers with hers and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Let's see what's under the hood, hm?" Carol mumbled before your skirt is lifted and bunched at your waist. You made to protest but another shove forward had you hitting your stomach again and the pain stunned you into compliance. Nimble fingers danced along your panty line and when they reached the crotch, the fabric was ripped away. Her strength and actions shocked you as she brushed along your inner thigh. Tears fill your eyes as she reaches your outer lips and spreads them with her thumb and index finger. You feel her circle around your entrance before ghosting down to your clit. You hear her chuckle and shame fills you and you know what she fills. 

"Oh you'll like this one, James. She's soaked and just from sucking dick? She'll be a good earner." You try to hide your face as she slips a finger inside of you and then another before abruptly pulling out. From your place on your arm, you see Carol's shiny black shoes move away from you and you peek up to see her stand behind Maria. Carol places the fingers that were inside of you on Maria's lips and you watch as Maria suckles on them. 

You lower your head in embarrassment when your feet are kicked apart and strong hands grip your waist. You protest by trying to stand again but once again you are pushed into the arm of the chair and the wind is knocked from you. 

"Same time?" Carol asks, amusement lacing her tone. Maria holds you tighter as you feel James step closer to you, the head of his cock poised at your entrance. You try to wiggle away from him but he takes another step forward and pushes further into you. Tears stream freely down your face as Maria rolls her hips, Carol slowly fucking her with her fingers. Maria leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your lips. James pushes further into you and you gasp; Maria taking the opportunity to shove her tongue in your mouth. She swallows your pained grunt when James thrusts into you without warning. He gives you no time to adjust to his size before he sets a brutal pace. Every push of his hips sends your abdomen further into the arm of the chair and you don't know what to focus on: the pain, the woman in front of you, your friend bleeding on the floor or the man behind you. Maria releases one of your hands and snakes her free hand down the front of your blouse. You twist away from her roaming hand as she slips under your bra to squeeze your breast. 

"Please, stop." You beg to no one in particular but hope they all would stop. Your request is met with a breathy laugh from Carol who's pumping her fingers faster into Maria in an attempt to match James speed. The legs of the chair protest under your combined weight and the force of the man thrusting behind you. His hand finds the small of your back and forces you to arch; the new position causes you to moan subconsciously.

"Oh, there's her sweet spot. Do it again."  Maria begs, her tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. He obliges and your body unwillingly comes alive. He pushes you down further and you grab the chair cushion for purchase. Maria kisses you again and in your haze you return the kiss which earns a moan from Carol, her hand moving at an unnatural speed. James plunges into you at the same brutal pace and you can feel your arousal. You know he can feel it too because his breathing is becoming labored and his hold on your hip is bruising. 

"Bad girl, Ruby. Keeping your friend away from us." James' voice is strained and you're surprised how he can speak and breathe at the same time. A whimper is his response; you can't look at your friend right now as a string of curses fall from your lips. Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly and you babble incoherently as his pace never falters. Maria kisses your nose and shushes you as writhe under him. A few more pointed thrusts has you falling into another orgasm and this time you gush over him. Maria whines as she throws her head back and you watch her, too blissed out to look away. James hips sputter and he abruptly pulls out of you which makes you wince. One hand is still on your hip and he groans low above you, warmth hitting the back of your thighs. The room is filled with heavy breathing before you feel your legs give out from under you. You slide to your knees and rest your head against the chair. The sound of liquid pouring has you tilting your head back as James pours himself a drink. His eyes connect with yours and he brings the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp. 

"Welcome to the toy box, Carnelian."

Not tagging a lot of people just in case this isn’t your thing: @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @marvelmaree @titty-teetee @angrythingstarlight

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 2

b. katsuki 

☠️ warning(s): 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕤, bathroom sex, mirror sex, rough sex, squirting, established relationship.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 1.8k words [7 minutes, 10 seconds].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary)

☠️ summary: after what felt like a long time (week) of you ignoring him over an argument, bakugo finally took the chance to fuck you in at the halloween party hosted by his friends. 

To explain how you were clinging onto your boyfriend and moaning out as he rutted into you at a sharply, fast, pace. Your back was pressed up the bathroom’s mirror, his thrusts so forceful he was worried that you two were going to break the mirror. A whole day’s worth of teasing and irking Bakugo had paid him off, the done deal being the clothing that dressed your legs and lightly gave the thiccness of your thighs the squeeze he loved to see.

It was almost comical. The car ride was almost silent, his eyes and hands struggling to keep themselves as he endured your wordless sassy-ness towards. The fact that you two had broken out into an argument before you had left the house and it was now you guys were hoping to the new location of Mina’s party and you were looking absolutely spectacular.

Besides, Bakugo has to hold himself back.

All-day he had to watch you parade around in your revealing outfit, the rendition no other than his own hero suit. Your skirt was cute but short, the obvious tank top accentuated your body and chest, the small but appropriate gauntlets lifting the creativity of the outfit along with the decorative mask. He had to proudly admit, you looked downright sexy and there was no debating about it. The problem was that he couldn’t touch you, at least that’s what your silent treatment towards him said. Bakugo wasn’t one to overstep boundaries, rather hearing you beg and ask him for more was a better alternative anyway.

Bakugo let out a breath of relief once you guys finally rolled up to Kaminari’s house, his clenched hands around the steering wheel calming down as he’s finally able to get out the tense care. He didn’t notice he was holding in his breath this whole time, or the fact his fists were clenched so tight they had turned white. The sight made you grin to yourself, unbuckling yourself and dropping down the mirror to look at yourself in the skimpy costume. He gave you a side-eye, his eyes appreciating the unique stretch your chest gave the material of the tank top, no matter your size successfully filling it out. He practically hopped out his seat once his door was open, not wanting to be the one to succumb to the silent challenge you had started.

Over what?! He didn’t know himself. All he could see was how the outfit made you look more beautiful than he had anticipated, figuring after last week's argument on whether or not you could’ve left the house in that one bra top you had insisted completely flew out his head without further thought. All he could think about now was the burning desire to pin you up somewhere inappropriate and fuck you there, leaving you to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping anywhere that was to the public eye.

His eyes followed you from the moment you left the car on your own accord, not sparing him a glance as you walked into the party’s threshold. It took everything in him to not follow you closely, trying to show you he had control -- or rather convince himself. Bakugo growled before rolling his eyes, knowing that at some point at the other you guys would cross paths anyways.

“You look so amazing, Y/N! I bet Bakugo is going to be all over you by the end of the night, I know I would~” Ashido teased you, quirking her brows to tease you and make you giggle.

“We’ll see how it goes...” You teased back, glancing towards your boyfriend with a more than secretive look only he could read. You knew he was going to watch you, the feeling and thought exciting you.

After a long night of him unabashedly gawking at you, he had managed to whisk you away into the bathroom~ and fuck you raw. He held no remorse immediately sealing a kiss over your mouth and pressing his plump needing lips. His rough hands went to grab your thighs, not giving you enough time to melt into the kiss as he moved them down, his fingers dipping into the bands of the socks you wore that mocked his costume.

“You think you’re so fucking cute? Wearing this shit and teasing me all night?” He growls against your skin, nipping at the spot and roughly sucking on it. Your lips quirked up into a mischievous smile, breathy moans coming from your lips.

“Mmm, is it me or my clothes, Katsuki~?” You sass back. You knew what you were getting yourself into, the added excitement of someone possibly walking in while Bakugo was getting ready to fuck your brains out.

“Shut up.” He curtly responds, pulling away so he could work at getting your clothes off. His hands coming up to fiddle with the fashionable that sat on your waist, shirking off your skirt once he got it done, moving to get your top and shoulder parts off as well, the gauntlets staying on. You weren’t going to let him be the only one to undress, pressing up against him and leaning up to kiss him again. You bit onto his bottom lip and sucked on it, humming in delight when he took the opportunity to let his tongue wander into your mouth. Soon enough when you guys were both decently undressed, walking back before you could hit the sink, his hands hoisting you up on it and spreading your legs far enough so he could fit in it.

Both of your tongues battled for dominance, the two muscles seemingly not backing down from the same grudge that was held before. Bakugo had taken the time when he realized you were distracted to quickly align himself with your opening and thrusting into your dripping sex. He couldn’t help but smirk at how slick your hot core was, your stuck-up attitude being nothing but an act. Your tongue relaxed enough to be taken for him and dart his tongue to the back of your throat to poke at the sensitive walls. You choked at the feeling, your eyes blowing wide and nails digging into his bare shoulders to beg for mercy.

“Mmf--!” You tried pushing him back, him only doing so when he started to run out of air. You glared heavily at him as you both held the same look, a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths with wordless tension between you two. The string snapped when your head tilted back against the mirror, whimpering at the dull pain it caused you and only earning you a mocking chuckle from him. He lifted your thighs to your body, leaning up to watch your thicc thighs press against your folded body.

His hands were precisely placed to wear your thighs stopped at the middle of your thighs, his hands gripping the area tightly, his eyes admiring your body and all its glory. He hadn’t realized-a lie-about how much he missed seeing your body. You had taken up since that day a week ago you had silently declared that he would have to earn seeing you again although you guys lived in the same apartment.

Both of your brain cells left the room, the blue balls he had suffered were finally taking its advantage on you and you could never skip a good quickie with your boyfriend no matter the occasion. It was almost silent in the room minus the sound of his skin roughly slapping against yours and the shameless moans that left your mouth, his grunts accompanying your noises here and there. No fun banter added.

He made the dramatic motion of him pulling out randomly to confuse you, carefully dropping your thighs and dropping them down. Bakugo turns you around to bend you over and face the mirror, your brows rising and your breath hitching at the more than disheveled look of only about 15 minutes passing of you two being in that bathroom alone. He lifted one of your thighs and rested it on the sink again and thrust into you again. Your jaw dropped at the feeling, his cock hitting your g-spot at the angle he knew drove you crazy. Your eyes rolled back as he continued, his hands coming up and tugging your head back at an awkward angle to keep you watching yourself get fucked by him while also deeming his control over you at that moment.

Watching as your tits bounced with each motion, your bra failing to keep in place and had eventually let your breasts spill from his brute force. You shivered trying to hold onto the bars sink trying to brace yourself against his thrusts. He focused on so many things, leaving your cunt throbbing in wanton need as he exposed you and forced you to endure all the teasing you gave to him tenfold. Your words almost broken, not taking a super bright person to understand what you were trying to moan out.

“Are you going to fucking cum, babe?” He asks, tilting his head and talking in your ear, his warm breath teasing your skin and making you cringe. You nodded your head to the best of your ability, eyes watching his dark and lustful gaze, gladly taking his sadistic look without complaint. “Cum.”

Your body was rocked into oblivion. It took you some guidance, your hand coming down to rub your clit and making you cum in anticipation. Your moans were shaken as you finished, the push of your bladder giving you the push to squirt against your familiar fingers, your cum being able to coat the glass, and the rest in front of you with your liquid. The tight squeeze of your cunt provided a pussy-pocket like a squeeze, holding in his final grunt to pull out and cum on your bum, moving his hips to jerk some onto your thigh and some drips onto your socks. You grunt rolling your neck when his hand leaves its grip in your hair.

You breathed out once you were finished, the release of adrenaline catching up with you. He leaned against you while being able to keep himself up, nuzzling your neck and pressing his cock against you. You turn your head to look at his mess on your body, frowning as you attempt to wipe some of the jizz that stained your sock to no avail and pouting as it dawns upon you at the mess you two had made. “Aw… look at what you did Katsuki-”

“I wasn’t the only one in here!” He snaps back, narrowing his eyes at you and rolling his eyes at your annoying pout. He rests your thigh down and kisses your shoulder, his hands rubbing your hips and grinding his hard-on that somehow still packing an erection with the load he just blew. He laughed humorlessly as he looked at your astounded expression, his arms wrapping around your waist as he slowly sinks cock back into your cunt, enjoying the way your face twists in pleasure. He holds you in place as he kisses his way up your ear, his hips slowly rocking into you before taunting you in your ear.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

[moonofiron]

Ok I just wanted to write a really short and sweet smutty piece for ShikaTema. But I have failed miserably. I am too attached to Naruto-verse and all the characters in general. (Like, I'm so attached that I can't even read or watch most of NaruHina/SasuSaku smut - it feels WRONG).

There are a few after thoughts regarding this piece, too. I really enjoyed writing this. I really love ShikaTema and they were my first OTP. Hell, I didn't even know that the terms OTP or shipping existed when I started rooting for them. So, this is super close to my heart ❤️ and ✨unedited✨. I legit wrote 8.4k words on my phone and my eyes are rolling on the ground right now.

Anime: Naruto Shippuden (Set in post-Shippuden and pre-Boruto-verse.)

Characters: Shikamaru Nara x Temari Scenes with Ino, Sasuke, Naruto, Hinata, Sakura, Sai. Passing mention of Choji.

Genre: Fluff, angst, flirting, explicit sexual content 🥵, slight voyeurism, oral, raw sex

Word Count: 8.4k (yikes!)

Synopsis: Shikamaru has finally had enough of Temari’s incessant flirting

Rating: M

Minors, dni

Friends and family from all five villages had been invited to the annual Hanami Matsuri in Konoha. Hinata had invited some of Naruto's closest to their house for a brunch party before the matsuri started full swing. Hinata had cooked everything from scratch and Sakura and Ino had helped decorate her backyard with streamers and flowers. Everything looked immaculate and lovely. The boys were all specially thrilled to be getting together after such a long time.

"What a rowdy bunch," said Ino with a wide grin, a look of pride plastered on her face. Sakura grinned, too.

"Judgemental as always, Ino, I'll be joining em soon, ya know? Do you think I'm rowdy too, love? You're breaking my heart here." Shikamaru moved uncomfortably close to Ino's ear, making her squirm under his presence. He loved to lightly flirt with Ino and see her all flustered.

"Baaka janaai no? Take your charm elsewhere. Or I'm going to get Sai to beat you up one day."

"Hai hai, Ino Sensei," he winked at her and made his way to the bar to grab a beer and light a cigarette.

Sakura, visibly shaken by Shikamaru’s loose and flirtatious behaviour, grabbed Ino’s arm.

"What the hell was that, Ino?! Do...do you think he likes you?"

"What? No way. It's just an inside joke. He was the one who helped me get together with Sai, you know?"

After a long moment of admirinng the friendship she shared with Shikamaru, Ino spoke up.

"I just wish that someday he'll do something in his own i nterests, too."

"What do you mean?"

“There's someone. Loves her like a fucking dog. Like weak-in-the-knees-slash-worship-her kinda love, you know?"

"I just can’t imagine Shikamaru in the way you're describing him."

"Yeah, I get that. He really is tough to break into. Anyway, this isn't for me to share, Sakura. Let's have some of those karaage Hinata has prepared. I can't get enough of them."

Shikamaru leaned against the bar, craving a minute to himself. He wished Choji could have been there but he was away on a mission. Everyone was at the other end of the backyard or inside the house. He looked up at the sky, admiring the clouds slowly moving towards nowhere in particular. Before he could pop open the beer bottle, he noticed Temari entering with Kankuro and Gaara.

"Tsk, mendukse," he muttered under his breath.

He wasn't expecting to see Temari today. He really wasn't in the mood to be on his best behavior. The last mission had taken away a lot from him. He hadn't slept properly and he was tired. He wanted to just have a good time with the gang, maybe play some cards and get drunk out of his mind. But there she was, bright and beautiful in her stubbornness as always, making Shikamaru's heart sink and flutter all at the same time. He felt himself tighten up when she caught him looking at her.

"Hey! Shikamaru! How've you been?" she waved and shouted from across Naruto's backyard.

He waved back and put on an awkward smile.

She was walking towards him slowly. He noticed the slightly exaggerated sway in her hips and felt himself steadily losing breath. He kept his beer bottle on the table beside him and put his hands in his pockets as he waited for her to reach him.

”Hello, Temari. Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Oh..? Why not?"

"I don't know. I thought only Kankuro would be here for the Matsuri," he inhaled the smoke from his cigarette deeply before tapping it.

"Well, I am here. And you'll show me around, yes?"

He stayed silent for a moment too long and his eyes pierced into hers. He finally broke her gaze and moved his head to the side to blow out the smoke.

"If I'm free, I'll grab ya."

"What do you mean if you're free? Is that how you treat your guests, Shikamaru-kun?" Temari tugged at his t-shirt and teased slightly, pouting at him, never leaving his gaze. She loved to see Shikamaru get awkward around her. The green of her eyes had him weak in his knees again.

Shikamaru looked down at his t-shirt bunched up in her delicate hands. She was mindlessly moving her thumb in circles against his chest. He felt a flash of an indescribable feeling and something inside him broke loose.

He held her arm and pulled her dangerously close. Temari's eyes widened and she let out an audible gasp.

"I know how to treat a guest like you very well, Temari," he spoke in a low, hoarse voice, his lips barely inches away from hers.

"I... I ...Shikamaru... What..what are you doing Everyone... someone could be watching. What would they think?"

"Hmm ..what would they think, Temari?" Shikamaru spoke in a tone so cold that Temari felt a shiver go down her spine.

"Let me go, you idiot."

He gripped her arm harder, grit his teeth, and shoved his thigh between her legs. She let out a soft moan and he felt her back arch ever so slightly.

"Shik.." He suddenly let her go, leaving her too flustered to collect herself. He picked up his beer and grabbed another another one before walking towards everyone else.

"What's up, Kankuro?" he said loudly.

"Same old, genius," Kankuro patted him on the back as he took the beer bottle from him.

When Shikamaru reached the others gathered around the table, he noticed that Temari was still standing at the bar. Her hands were balled into tight fists, and from the rise and dip of her shoulders he could tell she was breathing deeply. He looked away and stopped paying attention to her for fear that he'll start coming to terms with what he had just done. And, he wasn't looking forward to that.

Shikamaru avoided Temari throughout the brunch but always caught her stealing glances at him. He could see the smirk on her face everytime she got a chance to be near him. He was losing his patience with the woman. She was deliberately brushing her hands against his. She was finding ways of leaning over him to grab food or drinks, brushing her hair against his face. Everytime she got up from the table they were all huddled around, playing poker, she made sure she lightly brushed his groin with her ass. Getting through the brunch proved to be frustrating at worst and left him breathless at best.

Everyone started leaving slowly, like people often do. They said their goodbyes and hugged and promised to do this again sometime soon. When Temari and her brothers left, Shikamaru let out a sigh of relief. Everyone had left except him and Sasuke.

"I see something's brewing in your pants, ahem, I mean your brain, you bastard," Naruto joked out loud.

"Hai hai, she's going to be the death of me." Shikamaru leaned his head back on the chair. His eyes followed a lone cloud.

"Well, then, you shouldn't have given her a taste of you like that at the bar, ya know?" Sasuke smirked.

"I'm sick of your eyes seeing everything everywhere. Mendukse ne. Tsk." Shikamaru let out a puff of smoke.

"Don't worry, no one noticed you both doing whatever the fuck you were doing throughout. They were all drunk, anyway."

"Yeah, not worried. Alright, gotta do some stuff before the matsuri starts, boys. Jaana!"

Shikamaru walked out of Naruto’s and clutched the green clip he'd bought for Temari long back. He carried it everywhere in order to be prepared to give it to her should the occasion arise. Perhaps it was his way of having a little control over this situation. He started to make his way to his home but thought better of it and walked towards the inn he knew Temari was staying at. She always stayed there because of how pretty and secluded it was. It gave her a chance to be away from her two brothers.

When he reached, he paced back and forth. His nerves were catching up to him.

"What if she gets angry? What if she never talks to me again?" His mind was over-flowing with questions he had no answers to. Questions he didn’t want answers to.

He got tired of thinking through the details and just went ahead, fully aware that his actions didn't align with the kind of man he was. But, over the years he'd realised that this was one matter he couldn't rationalise. He couldn't plan or predict this. He couldn't fit it into a strategy or logic. All he knew for certain was that he came undone everytime Temari so much as looked at him. He found himself perched on the balcony of her room.

She was going for a bath. Once she entered the bath, Shikamaru jumped inside the room and made himself comfortable as he leaned against the shelf on the wall infront of the washroom. He blended in with the room, completely still and quiet, as he waited for Temari to come out. He just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see her again. Be near her, again.

He waited for about 20 minutes, his mind a wilderness amd tangle of multiple ways he would explain what he was doing in her room, before she stepped out. When she did, she was naked and drenched in water, a scenario he hadn’t thought through. The water droplets made her body glitter in the soft early-evening sunlight. Shikamaru involuntarily gasped and bit his lip. Despite himself, he scanned her top to bottom as she mumbled something to herself. She looked absolutely stunning. He wanted nothing more than to love her with his entire being. Something tugged hard at his insides, he felt a drunkenness swallow him whole.

"Ugh, I don't know why I always forget to take my towel in the bath, it's so cold, fuck" mumbled Temari to herself as she looked around for the towel. She had goosebumps all over her body from the cool air. She was running late for the Matsuri, too. Her yukata was not ironed yet. Her phone kept buzzing and all of it was driving her up the wall. To top it all, she couldn't stop thinking about how Shikamaru had shoved his thigh between her legs earlier. How less it had taken for her to just yield. In the chaos, she completely missed Shikamaru, comfortable beside the shelf, quietly admiring her.

She bent down to pick up the towel on wooden stool right next to the washroom door. "I can't believe the towel was here all along, tsk. Where is my mind today?"

As she started getting up, she found herself unable to move. Terror painted her face. Back muscle? Slipped disc? A hundred explanations ran through her head before something made her unclench her hand around the towel, making it fall on the floor. A force made her sit still on the stool. It made her spread her legs and move her hands to her nipples, pulling them, all against her will. She gasped at her own touch, bewildered. She struggled to break out of whatever the fuck was happening but her limbs wouldn't listen to her.

Shikamaru quitely walked towards her and stroked her face gently. He bent down, his lips just a hair's length from Temari's ears.

"Kaagemane no jutsu, sekko," whispered Shikamaru hoarsely.

"Sh..shikamaru..wha...what's the meaning of..." she felt a darkness shove itself down her throat. Shikamaru had used his shadows to bind her throat as well as stop her from speaking.

"You're going to sit tight and do exactly what I want you to." He knew Temari was utterly baffled and terrified. Her face made it very clear.

"I won't take you to the matsuri otherwise, Temari," smirked Shikamaru.

He could feel the heat from her body. He moved back, his eyes tracing each and every part of it.

"You're gorgeous, you know?" he said as he settled in a chair in front of her. Shikamaru noticed that Temari's soft breasts perked up involuntarily at his words. He spread his legs to mirror her. He wanted to appear collected and he lit a cigarette to calm himself down. His insides felt gooey. He slowly pulled out the shadow from her mouth so she could breathe.

"Feel better?"

Temari gagged and panted and slowly nodded, her chin was covered with her own drool. She looked like a dream, she looked absolutely unreal to Shikamaru. His hands itched, his breath faltered, and he could feel the hair on his neck stand up.

Too embarrassed and shocked and scared and aroused all at once, Temari looked away from Shikamaru's piercing eyes.

"Shi...Shikamaru..ple..please. What do you think you're doing? This is..." she spoke in a strong voice but Shikamaru could hear the slight tremble.

He lost his patience and cut her off meanly.

"What do you think you were doing at the brunch? Strutting around all pretty for me like that. Hmm?"

"For you?" Temari mustered the courage to bite back, her eyebrows rose.

Temari felt a deep blush rising in her cheeks when Shikamaru didn't move or say anything. He usually couldn't bear to look at her in the eyes for more than half a minute. But today, his gaze was unwavering.

After a momemt, Shikamaru took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice, a baritone she'd never heard escape his soft lips.

"You think I'm blind? You think I wouldn't notice, hmm? All that unintentional brushing against me? All that pouting and tugging at my t-shirt? Your ass grinding my cock everytime we squeezed through that corridoor? Your tits in my fucking face infront of everyone?"

He tried to calm himself down. He was aware he was going a bit too far.

"The way you leaned into me when I grabbed your arm? The way your nipples hardened underneath your thin dress? Your little moan, the subtle arch in your back when I shoved my thigh between your legs? The way your lips parted? The way your wet tongue almost darted out?"

Temari's cheeks were a burning red now. So, clearly, he had noticed. She was never sure with him. She knew he was perceptive but she'd been hinting since years now, and he had never ever made a move. Even though she'd caught a kind of hunger in his face a million times, she always thought she was making it up in her own head. Of course, she'd never been this explicit with her hints, but she only got the courage because of the way Shikamaru had handled her at the bar. A little teasing as revenge for getting a woman like her so flustered wouldn't hurt, she'd thought.

But, she also hadn't expected this kind of a reaction from Shikamaru. She really thought he would just be his usual awkward self. Shikamaru taking charge of the situation woke in her something that she didn’t understand . She was steadily growing moist under his watch, her thighs were slippery, and she was throbbing for his touch.

Was he doing this just to get back at her for all of her friendly flirting? Or was there something else she was missing? Had she really fallen for someone she didn't know at all?

She felt her head snap in Shikamaru's direction.

"Look at me," he grit his teeth.

She felt her left hand moving to her growing wetness and her right tugging at her own nipple. Shikamaru's small smile told her he was helplessly enjoying himself. She gasped and moaned uncontrollably as he made her rub her clit against her will.

"That's it, love, let me watch you rub yourself," he bit his lip. His eyes were filled with the same hunger she'd witnessed so many times before. So it was real. It had always been real. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

It took Shikamaru every ounce of strength and control to keep himself from just taking her right there and then. He was suppressing years of pent up frustration and desire. He was very hot and very bothered and his joggers were getting way too tight for him.

His jutsu made Temari touch herself exactly like how he'd imagined so many times before. He made her rub herself agonizingly slow, pinch her nipples hard, and then suddenly made her right hand drop to her throbbing cunt, too. He made her decrease the pressure on her clit and shove two fingers inside of herself.

Her moans filled the room and Shikamaru felt his face burn. She looked like a goddess. He wanted, so badly, to get on his knees and just lick her, feel the warmth of her thighs around his face, feel her gushing in his mouth. He wanted nothing but to love this woman with the entirety of his being. He ran his hands through his hair to focus himself and catch his breath.

Her eyes, a mixture of anger and love and arousal, hadn’t left his since he’d made her snap her head in his direction. He loved that she was standing up to him in her own way. His eyes hadn't left her body, her face, her fingers working in and around her cunt. His mouth watered and cock twitched at the sloppy noises her fingers and wetness made.

She begged for release. It took her a while but her arousal made her shed all fear or embarrassment. She'd found the comfort his presence always gave her, the usual sense of security she felt around him was back. His greed and hunger for her was painted on his face, clear as day.

"Fas...faster, ple...please Shika..I can't.." she breathed helplessly, her sentence punctuated by moans.

"Time for another finger, love," Shikamaru sucked in his lower lip as her finger moved at his will.

Temari felt a heat bloom in her core and her legs shivered from the intensity of it all.

As he made her fuck herself with three fingers, she suddenly felt her left hand move away from her clit and then come down crashing. She realised Shikamaru was making her slap her clit, not once, not twice, but repeatedly and in quick successions. She moaned out his name out of habit.

"Fuck, look at you moaning my name, you look so beautiful, Temari. My name on your lips like that, it's making me harder." He teased her in a silky voice.

Temari had lost all control by now. She was writhing as much as Shikamaru allowed her to, the stool under her was about give away, and her wrists ached from all the work Shikamaru was making her do.

"Shika...Shikamaru, I'm gonna.. I'm gonna..."

She suddenly felt her hands move away from her swollen cunt. She clenched around emptiness and throbbed for him, realising that he'd denied her any kind of release.

"Shikamaru, please, please... please..." she panted, sweaty and messy.

"Please what?"

"Pl...please let me..," she gulped. She was so embarrassed she was saying this out loud. Infront of him.

"Let you what?"

"Please, let me cum," she mumbled.

"Yeah? Look at the mess you've made, love. Do you want me to help you clean up?" His shadow made her head bend down to look at the pool she'd given birth to. Temari nodded lightly and that's all it took for Shikamaru to get on his knees and bring his mouth to her soft cunt. He kept her bound by his shadows so she couldn't move. He rested his calloused hands on her inner thighs and gave her a long lick all the way from her moist and throbbing opening to her cute little button of a clit. The voice that escaped her throat gave Shikamaru goosebumps.

"I love you," moaned Temari in a whisper.

Shikamaru's ears were now warm and beet red, his face buried harder between her thighs and his fingers dug into her skin. He loved her. God, he loved her so much. He loved every little thing she did, every noise that escaped her lips. Every time her body jerked from his touch, it sent his mind in a frenzy.

The cold metal of his earrings against her inner thighs made her shiver. His sharp hair tickled her. She moaned out his name again as he moved his tongue in and out of her quickly. He felt her clench around his tongue. He brought his thumb to her clit and rubbed it in quick and dirty circles, the metal of his rings cool and electrifying. He looked up at her face with the same hunger in his eyes that always made Temari skip a beat.

"Say, how many times have you moaned out my name like this, Temari?" he whispered and went back to giving her soft, gentle licks.

Temari blushed a beautiful pink again and bit her lip. She found it extremely hard to form a coherent sentence, the way his mouth and hands were handling her was perfect.

"I..I've ...I've lost...co..unfff..count."

He smiled against her skin and showered her wetness with kisses and nibbles. He inserted a finger as he lapped up her clit and felt her clench again, this time around his finger. He curled his finger and Temari let out a small whimper. He moved his finger in and out and slowly inserted a second and third one till she was panting, his thin and long tongue never ceasing to flutter around her clit.

"Shika...Shika I'm gonna..I'm gonna cum. Do...don't stop"

At this, Shikamaru ceased all movement. It took him immense control to leave her wanting like that, again. But, it had to be done. He didn’t understand why but he wanted her to beg, not hint anymore. He'd had enough of her innocent flirting and teasing and it was his turn to have her writhing before him.

"Are...are you serious!?" shouted Temari.

A loud gutteral sound escaped Temari's lips. She'd been edged twice in the last half an hour and she hated it. She hated that Shikamaru won't let her cum. But it felt so good. The way he looked at her, talked to her, touched her, it was all unbearable.

Shikamaru lightly traced her lips with his fingers and then shoved them in her mouth. She licked herself off his fingers hungrily and Shikamaru's cock rose, eliciting a small playful chuckle from Temari. He smiled back at her. His lips and chin glistened with Temari's slick. He licked it clean and then walked back to the chair. She throbbed for release but she could see Shikamaru had other plans.

Without further delay, Shikamaru picked up her towel and dried her hair as she sat still, bound by his jutsu. He dressed her up in her dark blue Yukata.

"Shikmaru, please, I won't be able to bear it," Temari said as Shikamaru tied her obi.

"Bear what?" he cooed in her ear and cocked his head innocently.

"You're a fucking bastard. How are you planning to do my hair? Obviously I can't step out like this." Temari fumed.

Shikamaru moved behind her as his shadows made her sit in front of the mirror. Her entire body ached from being controlled like a puppet for so long. She felt Shikamaru's fingers comb through her hair and her eyes closed.

When she opened her eyes finally, she gasped in surprise at how beautiful she looked. Shikamaru had perfectly done up her hair.

She also noticed a green clip he'd slid in one of her pony tails. It was a delicate branch of leaves, studded with small embralds. She was standing in front of him now, her body pressed against his.

"Where and when did you learn to do a girl's hair?"

"Oh, I have a few daughters spread around town. Why? Jealous?" mocked Shikamaru.

Temari glared at him.

"The clip is beautiful. Thank you."

"It suits you. Brings out your eyes." He murmured, unable to stop himself from kissing her jaw. He mentally kicked himself for saying something so cheesy instead of a simple welcome.

"Let's go, I've to show you around the Hanabi Matsuri, no?"

"B..but, Shikamaru?"

"Hmm?" he asked as he trailed his fingers along her long neck.

"My..my panties...?" Temari was blushing so hard that Shikamaru couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. He loved being cocky with her.

"No panties today," he whispered and spanked her ass loudly, making her jump as much as she could while being bound with his jutsu.

Only when they reached the Matsuri did Shikamaru free her of his jutsu. Finally free of him, she could do whatever she wanted to. She wanted him right then and there. But, there were so many people around, it was as good as being tied up.

"I'll be right behind you, Temari," whispered Shikamaru as he lightly squeezed her ass in the crowd. She could feel her thighs slipping against each other as she walked uncomfortably. She was still a slobbering mess and all of this teasing wasn't helping. Shikamaru was his usual self, not a hint of discomfort in his voice.

They went from stall to stall, eating and chatting, meeting up with everyone when Shikamaru caught her looking intently at a pair of kunai. She was caressing the blades and the handle, appreciating the craft.

"I can carve your name on it, too!" said the seller.

"Oh really? That's amazing!"

"What are you looking at?" Shikamaru leaned on the table full of decorative kunai as he popped a handful of peanuts in his mouth.

"Nothing, I really love this pair. It would look spectacular in my collection. I have a decorative pair from wherever I've been. Don't have one from Konoha for some reason."

"Hmm." He frowned. After a pause he said, a bit unsure, "Will you let me get these for you?"

"What? Why? No! I can get them. It's cool."

He took her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

"Yeah, I know. But I want to get these for you."

"I really couldn't. You got me the clip, too!"

"Who said the clip is yours?"

"Uhh... why'd you put it in my hair then?" embarrassed at the assumptions she'd made.

Shikamaru burst out laughing.

"I'm messing with you. I got the clip for you long back. Just...never got a chance to give it to you." A sad smile lingered on his face for a fraction of a seocnd. Temari blushed and looked away from his piercing gaze. What the hell was it with his eyes today. They just wouldn’t let her go.

"Please, let me get the kunai for you. It would mean so much to me." Shikamaru murmured softly against her hands.

"Hmm. Alright, I guess you owe me that much," she winked and gave him a shy smile.

Shikamaru's face lit up and he smiled so brightly that Temari wanted nothing more than to smother him with kissEd. He looked like a child who had just been given a box full of candies.

"I ..want to get today's date carved on it too."

"Yeah? Why?"

"I'd like to remember today."

"Why?" a shy smile spread across Shikamaru's face.

"Stop it."

"Here you go, love." He handed her the bag.

As Temari peeked into the packet, she heard Ino, Sakura, and Hinata coming over to them. When Naruto pulled Shikamaru aside to check out another stall, Ino pounced on the chance.

"How's it going, Temari?" asked Ino.

"Great! I'm just exploring. A little tired, really."

"Hmmmmm. Tired from the journey or....?" Ino teased knowingly and Sakura and Hinata laughed.

"What..what do you mean?" Temari asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh come on! We all know what you've been up to," said Sakura and winked at her.

"I have no idea what you girls are talking about."

"Temari, the three of us had come to pick you up at the inn because you weren't picking up your phone," Hinata jumped in, failing to keep a straight face. Temari's face went pale and she looked the other way.

"We could hear some very interesting noises so we thought we'll leave you be," Sakura giggled.

"Hey, it's alright. This'll stay between us. We're just messing with you." reassured Ino.

"We're happy for you Temari. This was long due. We've been rooting for you both." chimed in Hinata.

"Girls, he's killing me," Temari finally broke down.

"Well, you've been toying with him since years. Let him have some fun."

"I haven't been toying with him. I love him. He's just dense."

"He's anything but dense," Hinata cut Temari off and all three girls looked at her, surprised. "He's..he's not dense. Just really considerate."

"Sooooo, Te-ma-ri chan, is he any good in bed?" snickered Sakura to break the awkward silence.

"We...we haven't...we haven't really done anything yet," stuttered Temari.

"What? What was all that screaming and moaning out his name for?" probed Sakura. The girls couldn't stop giggling.

"Well...we..uh...he just..."

"What are you all gossiping about? Ino, 20 bucks if I win the shooting game." challenged Sai. He was walking over to the girls with Shikamaru, Sasuke, and Naruto.

"Ohhh? Let's see who wins then." Both of them walked to the shooting stall hand in hand. Sasuke noticed Temari blushing and he glanced at Shikamaru, amused.

"Do y'all wanna have Ramen?" asked Naruto. "Sure, let's go!" "Let's wait for Ino and Sai."

Ino returned victorious, mocking Sai. The 4 couples walked towards the ramen stall, bantering and mocking each other about something or the other. The crowd was thinning steadily, the after-hours of the festival full of laughter and chatter. Temari felt Shikamaru's hand snake around her waist.

"I can't wait to take this Yukata off off you, Temari," Shikamaru whispered. They'd fallen a few steps behind.

"You look so beautiful. I bet you're still wet from earlier." He spoke in a silky voice against the sweaty skin of her neck and softly bit her ear. His hand cupped her heat and Temari slapped his hand away, making him chuckle.

Temari stayed absolutely still. When she didn't say anything, Shikamaru frowned.

"What's... what's wrong?" Shikamaru asked, concerned. Back in his senses now, he faltered and blushed at what he'd just said and done.

Temari spoke hurriedly like a quick rainstorm, "Please, can we go back to the inn? Make me yours already. I've been yearning for you since so long. And now I know you have been, too. It's plain as day that we both want eachother, why won't you just take me back? Why subject me to all this waiting? Haven't we waited for so long already? It doesn't make any sense."

Shikamaru felt his knees giving away but he steadied himself and softened his tone. He turned her around and pecked her jaw and the insides of her wrists. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he said, "Just a little bit longer, love. Let's eat with the gang first. I promise I'll make you feel so good once we get home, princess." "Shikamaru, everyone...everyone knows about us..." "So?" "So? You're okay with that?" "Why wouldn't I be? I would like to make it very clear that you're mine." "Oh..."

"Oi, you two lovebirds. Get here quick. We'll lose our spot otherwise," shouted Naruto.

Shikamru grabbed her hand and walked towards the restaurant. They all settled in on the low outdoor benches and Shikamaru made Temari sit on his thigh, his left hand wrapped around her waist. Temari felt awkward at first but she leaned into him when she saw so many couples around her.

Even Hinata, the shyest of them all, was sitting in Naruto's lap, wrapped around him like a child. She blushed when she noticed Naruto's hand stroking Hinata's waist softly. She caught him whispering sweet nothings in Hinata's ears as Hinata smiled shyly. Sakura, too, was sitting between Sasuke's legs. Sasuke was putting a flower in her hair as he spoke about some mission with all of them. Ino's legs were in Sai's lap as he drew mindless circles on her thighs with his fingers.

The atmosphere was so drunken and happy and full of love that she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. There were fairy-lights everywhere and red lanterns swayed back and forth in the gentle wind. Flower petals and leaves blew around them. The laughter and cling and clatter of the utensils made her feel alive.

When they had ordered and were mid-conversation, Temari suddenly pecked Shikamaru on his cheek, stopping him mid-sentence. He raised his eyebrows and pecked her nose and continued talking about how he beat Asuma in a training session and everyone listened to him intently. She noticed that his hands never left her. She eased in completely, never having known such familiarity in an unfamiliar place. The sake was rich, the ramen was perfect, and the company was warm.

Late at night when all of them were buzzed and tired, they said their goodbyes. The three girls winked at Temari as she felt Shikamaru squeeze her ass for the tenth time that night. //

"I can't wait for the saucy details. I'm not letting Temari go without telling us everything." Sakura spoke hurriedly to Ino and Hinata.

"Temari is the one I was talking about earlier today, Sakura! I didn't think things would happen so fast! Did you see him, he didn't let her out of his sight or hands for a single second," Ino giggled.

"He's addicted! But, you both should just leave them be now. Don't go around spying on them!" Hinata laughed and blushed at the same time.

"Oh, he's more than addicted, I'm sure of it," said Ino.

"Hina, let's go babygirl," Naruto called out in a hoarse voice. Hinata blushed a deep red, knowing the girls will tease her about her nick-name forever now.

"Haha! Go on babygirl! See you tomorrow!" Ino and Sakura teased her. The girls giggled and hugged before leaving.

//

Temari and Shikamaru walked towards nowhere in particular.

"So, your place or mine?" asked Shikamaru. He chuckled as he stroked her face. He wanted to kiss her lips so much.

"How about yours?" Temari was finally in her element and she fingered is t-shirt like she had at the brunch. She looked at him with her deep green eyes and Shikamaru felt himself losing control.

"God, I want you so bad, Temari. Tsk. You've no idea." He held her hands and kissed her fingers.

They walked quietly, enjoying the cool breeze.

"Shikamaru, why haven't you ever made a move? I don't think that you've only just realised how I feel about you."

Shikamaru took a deep breath but stayed quiet.

"Well?"

He stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Temari, I am only going to say this once... All these years, I was scared that you were just playing with me. You've had several boyfriends, too. I've literally given you advice on how to make up with them. And so I never knew what to make of all your teasing and flirting. I didn't think you felt for me the way I do for you... In fact, I don't think you can ever feel for me the way I feel for you."

He paused.

"The last mission took a lot away from me, Temari. When I saw you today, toying with me again like that, something snapped in me. I acted on an impulse that I usually keep under control. But, seeing you react the way you did to me today told me more than enough." He gave her a small smile. Temari stood still, her face betrayed nothing.

"Let's go," whispered Shikamaru. "Hmm."

When they reached Shikamaru's flat, Temari spent a minute looking around. Everything was immaculate and in place. She was admiring all the photos on the wall when she felt Shikamaru quickly untie her obi. Her breath hitched in her throat and she softly moaned out his name.

"Hmm?"

"I wasn't toying with you. I never have."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm."

He had her naked and pressed against his body in a matter of seconds. He began to untie her hair but Temari stopped him. "Leave the clip be."

He bit the insides of his cheek to keep himself from smiling like an idiot. His hands roamed around her body hungrily. He kissed and nibbled at her neck and shoulders and she kept her hands on his as he trailed them all over her breasts and stomach, halting at her inner thighs. She moved her hips slowly against him.

He drew light circles around her left nipple and greedily squeezed her right thigh. Temari gasped at the pressure and Shikamaru turned her around. He held her face tenderly, pulled her close, and finally kissed her lips. He came alive under her touch. The greed with which Temari sucked on his lips made him shiver and lose breath. He smiled against her flesh and walked her towards the sofa in his living room, kissing her all the while. He made her sit down, lightly held her chin, and made her look up at him.

"Spread your legs, Temari," his voice hoarse from desire.

He held the backrest of the sofa with his left hand, dug his right knee on the sofa, and bent over her. Temari wrapped her hand around his left hand, and her other stroked his hair. He lightly touched her moist folds with two fingers and let out a small grunt at how wet she was. He lazily rubbed her clit, his eyes never leaving hers. He took in her supple body full of scars from missions. The way she, finally, fully arched her back at his touch, offering herself to him. The way her naked nipples hardened against his moist tongue. The way goosebumps decorated her entire body. Her reaction to his touch sent his mind in a chaos. What happened in the afternoon was nothing compared to how she blossomed under him now.

As soon as she tugged at his t-shirt, he removed his clothes, just his black briefs on him. Temari took him in, he looked like a sculpture. He appeared so lean clothed but his arms were huge and his chest was stunning. The light hair sprinkled all over softened his hard chest and chiselled face. Temari couldn't take her eyes off his torso, she was practically drooling. Shikamaru felt his face heating up at her gaze. He'd never been looked at like that.

"Like what you see, princess?" he spoke when he recovered from all her oggling.

"Hmm," she smiled coyly and bit her lips.

She saw his briefs stretching, the bulge too prominent to miss. She moved her face towards his clothed cock and licked the tip eliciting a groan from him. She moved her face to the side of his waist and tongued the waistband of his briefs. She took the waistband in between her teeth and pulled his briefs down. His cock slapped his stomach as it broke free from being constrained for so long. Shikamaru stayed absolutely still, breathing heavily, his eyes never leaving hers.

Temari gave his cock a slow, wet lick from the base to the tip and he twitched, lightly slapping her cheek. She showered it with moist kisses and fluttered her tongue around his pale pink and warm head.

"Fuck..." Shikamaru suddenly grabbed Temari and flipped her around.

"On your knees, ma'am."

Before Temari could even settle in, she felt his cock rubbing against at her clit. She looked back at him as she moved with him.

"So eager, Shika..ahh fuck,"

Shikamaru thrust three fingers inside her before she could complete her sentence, taking her by surprise. His other hand bunched up her hair. He moved his fingers hard and fast. He noticed Temari's toes curling and her head digging into the backrest. He leaned over her and kissed her back and neck before he spoke.

"You're doing so well baby, let me feel you cumming around my fingers," he spoke in a soft voice.

"I...I'm gonna...cum."

Shikamaru felt his heart beating like a hummingbird as he felt Temari clench around his fingers and he felt a warmth coating his hands and his cock. She whimpered quietly, her voice lost from the powerful orgasm, at finding the release she had been denied all day. Shikamaru pulled out his fingers, positioned his cock at her cunt, and dug his hands in her waist as he slowly began to enter her.

"Shika..Shikmaru, plea.. I can't.." Temari panted, still recovering from her orgasm.

"Shhh, you're taking me so well baby, just a little bit more." He slowed down even more, giving her time to adjust. Her thighs shivered as she eased around him and took him in.

"You're easing around me just fine, princess. I promise I'm gonna be slow." murmured Shikamaru against her flesh.

He slowly started moving and increased his pace, and Temari's moans got louder with each thrust, till she was screaming out his name, till she was babbling nonsense. His hands travelled everywhere across her body hungrily. Shikamaru's face burned, his heart fluttered, and he felt like a million little butterflies had just taken birth in his belly. He never wanted to hear anything else from Temari except whatever escaped her petal-like lips as he fucked her. She held his hand tight.

"Fuck..ahh" He loved the way she cussed in a small voice before he felt her gushing around him again; the profanity morphed into something lovely coming from her wet mouth. He felt himself buckling as he thrust himself inside her hard and pulled out, eliciting an ungodly voice from Temari.

He flipped her around again, and positioned himself between her legs. He entered her again, slowly, and cupped her right breast with his hand and took her left nipple in his mouth. A sigh of relief left Temari's lips as she stroked his hair.

He moved in and out of her gently and his lips made their way up to her neck, nibibling and kissing her chest and shoulders and arms till he buried his face in her neck, settling in.

Temari's hands roamed all over his body and finally came to rest on his shoulders, her legs were hitched around his waist. She could see his back and hips flex with each thrust. It made her clench harder around him and arch her back into him. They moved together, taking each other in as much as they could, Shikamaru nibbled and sucked on her neck and she circled her tongue around his earrings.

He panted and her broken sighs followed with every thrust. They were lost in the way they both came undone with each other, the messy, sloppy sound of his cock moving in and out of her the only thing that pulled them back to reality.

"Shikamaru, I'm gonna.. gonna...unfff."

He could feel her tightening around him like never before before she suddenly loosened up. She came around his cock, growing so wet that he slipped out of her. He pushed himself back inside her, making her bite his neck, and started fucking her relentlessly. Overstimulated, Temari suddenly shivered violently and squirted.

"That's it, love. Such a good girl."

He didn't break his pace and Temari's nails dug into his back, scratching him everywhere. Shikamaru grit his teeth so he wouldn't make a sound as she used his body to calm down. After what seemed like like a blissful eternity of short and quick thrusts, Shikamaru pulled out again and sat up on the sofa, his legs spread open. He kissed the entirety of her legs, waiting for her to recover from her orgasm. When he saw she'd calmed down, he held Temari's waist and brought her on top of him.

"I want to watch you," he murmured against her breasts. The intensity with which he looked at her made Temari uncontrollably shy and she felt a raw heat taking flight in her belly and face.

"Haven't you watched me enough already?" she panted, still out of breath, hinting at what he'd done to her after brunch.

"It's never going to be enough."

She breathed heavily on his skin as she felt his cock twitching against her clit. She involuntarily moved against his hardness, making him grunt.

Shikamaru traced her outline and took her breasts in his mouth, sucking and nibbling at them, as she moved slowly. She took his cock in her hand and positioned it, and then sat on him in one go, making Shikamaru throw his head back and dig his fingers in her hips.

"fuck."

He recovered and watched her slowly grind against him and sucked a breath in through his gritted teeth.

"Fuck, Temari, you're dri... what the hell?" his head suddenly snapped at the windows. He looked pissed, his eyebrows suddenly sharper. Confused, Temari looked at the windows as well.

Shikamaru drew the curtains shut with his shadows. They heard giggles and quick footsteps outside until everything went quiet.

"I bet it's Sakura and Ino," giggled Temari.

He felt her tighten around him.

"Oh, you like that, huh? Being watched like that?"

"N..no! They've been after my life for ‘details’."

"Would you like to put a show on for the girls?" he asked in a small whisper. He felt her clench around him again. He twitched inside her, at the thought of everyone watching him make her his. "I think it's you who'd like to put on a show, no?" challenged Temari.

Shikamaru blushed and then came alive with a child-like laughter. He held her head and brought it to his neck. He kissed her head and then without a warning, he started fucking her hard, and faster, than before. She bit down on his neck, marking him pink and purple, as he fucked her till she lost her voice and came around him in quick successions again. Spent and tired, she clung to him like a child. Shikamaru got up and carried her upstairs to the bedroom, all the while throbbing inside her.

He laid her down on his bed and spooned her. Shikamaru was hard as a rock and ready to go but he knew Temari was too spent. He gave her small nibbles and bites as he traced her body with his hands, fingering all her scars.

"You never said anything, you know?

"What do you mean?"

"When I said I love you."

"Hmm. Should I have said something?"

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything."

"Let me say it to you in my way?" he murmured.

"And what way is that?" she turned her head to look at him, frowning.

He made her lick his hands and stroked his cock, wetting it before he entered her ever so slowly. He lifted her leg and hooked it on his arm as they both looked deep into each other's eyes. Both of them gasped as his balls kissed her clit. Temari felt fuller than before and Shikamaru's face felt hot.

"Rub yourself," Shikamaru whispered.

Temari immediately complied and he felt her ass digging into his belly. He moved inside of her in slow and hard thrusts for a while before Temari felt his pace faltering. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows in question. She bit her lip and nodded quickly.

Temari came around him again. She couldn't bear how intimate it all was. The moment she tightened around him, he grunted, hid his face in her hair, and came inside of her, his warmth spreading everywhere inside her.

They both passed out before Shikamaru had a chance to slip out of her.

Right before sunrise, Shikmaru woke up, his limp cock still buried in Temari. He pulled out slowly and Temari stirred. He covered her up with a blanket and went to the washroom to freshen up. Itching for a cigarette, he went downstairs to his balcony. He lightly pinched himself to check if he was in a dream. Then he muttered at his own stupidity. When he made his way upstairs, she was snoring lightly. He sat beside her. After an hour or so of just observing her, he felt himself getting hard. He leaned his head back on the headrest. "Mendukse onna," he muttered under his breath, genuinely tired of his own arousal for her.

He slowly moved between her legs and started to lightly nibble at her clit. He placed small kisses on her mound. When he couldn't control himself, he dove in, lapping up her pussy messily. She sighed and moaned deeply as she rose from her deep sleep. She jerked and came quickly on his tongue.

"Morning, baby," Shikamaru murmured against her spasming thighs. "Morning," Temari whispered, slightly out of breath.

He quickly came up to spoon her again and showered her neck with kisses, making her laugh. That same laugh that had made him realise he'd fallen in love with her. That same laugh that had made him realise that he didn't only appreciate her as a friend, didn't only have immense respect for her, didn't only have this need to be a better person for her, but also wanted her to be entirely his. He kissed her lips deeply, his heart beating so loudly he thought he would faint. They lay there, kissing each other for a long time.

"Shikamaru, I want...I want a life with you." "Me too, baby," he whispered against her back. "I want...I want a nice house with you, I want to take care of you, I want to go on missions with you." He stilled. After a brief pause, she mustered the courage to say something she'd only ever dreamed of. "I want... I want a child with you." His eyes widened. It took him a moment to recover but to Temari's surprise he took it quite well. "Yeah? Only if it'll have your eyes." "And your hair," she said way too quick. "But, only after some time. I want to spend time with you first. I want your undivided attention for a while."

He turned her around and kissed her deep again. He then held her waist and made her sit on his face. Temari gasped.

"I can't get enough of you Temari. Stay for a while. Please don't go back just yet." He spoke against her thighs. He lazily licked her swollen clit, taking his sweet time. She rode his face slow and then gradually increased her pace to match the messy and quick way his tongue loved her. She moaned his name hoarsely as she gushed around his mouth again. She felt him smiling against her throbbing wetness.

She moved to sit down on his groin, rubbing his cock against her wetness. Shikamaru folded his hands behind his head as he watched her sleepily. As she took him inside her, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. She slowly moved on top of him, her breasts hovered over his chest and face.

"Cum for me, Shikamaru," she whispered as she increased her pace. She felt his balls harden and scrunch up against her ass and he shivered and moaned out her name. He thrusted her hard thrice and Temari felt him cumming inside her again. She lied down on top of him and he stroked her hair, her clip shone bright in the soft morning sunlight.

He kissed her forehead. "I love you."

///

Afterthoughts

I think the whole idea of Ino and Sakura being so nosy really fits in well with the whole dynamic. I really enjoyed crafting the dialogue. I think the slightly voyeuristic undertone to this piece has really been derived from Ino and Choji spying on ShikaTema in the anime. A lot of fanart also has Ino and Choji in the background. And so, it isn’t really kinky or dirty sex here, but more about bringing out that old-school friendship that Shikamaru shares with Ino and others.

I have deliberately removed Choji from this piece. I don’t know but I dont think I can ever write Choji well. I also feel that Shikamaru would actually share girl problems with Ino or Naruto. But for all other life stuff, he would actually talk to Choji. I also really enjoyed writing the internal struggle that Shikamaru faced. The hair clip was really only put in the story to bring out his need to plan and prepare for something that he knows is totally out of his control.

I found it tough to write Temari’s strong character at first (specially in the scene where she’s kinda tied up) but I realised that she doesn’t have to be strong with and around Shikamaru. That’s largely what draws me to them. The whole idea of both of these calm and strong characters going batshit crazy for each other is really an HC for me, haha. Both of them are so secure in and sure of each other’s strength - they really don’t have to put up a facade.

The scene where Shikamaru buys the Kunai for Temari is really a manifestation of his respectful love™ for Temari. He wants to buy her the world but he also understands that she’s fully capable of doing that herself. He understands that she has a strong sense of ‘I can get stuff done on my own’ and doesn’t want to step on it. He merely wants to feel included in her life. He wants to get her things that will remind her of him when he’s away. He wants to be in every corner of her life, as he wants her to be in every corner of his life. Idk if I am articulating this well but this is a dynamic I really fkn DIG.

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 9

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

Tulipa gesneriana ~ Commonly called the Garden Tulip. A lovely flower with cherry red petals that is never seen cultivating by itself.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Now that we’ve had our pity party, how about I act like a proper grandmother and show you some photos.” Oma smiled and rose to grab a weathered tin and a photo album from the bookshelf. Levi felt like the couch was engulfing his form with its soft cradle. When Oma turned around she was met with his body half eaten by the overly plush material; his shoulders hunched and tea propped up against his chest as his body reclined even further inward. He looked pleasantly comfortable and stiff at the same time.

As she plopped the two memory vessels on the coffee table, Levi’s features hardened akin to the rusted box now in front of him. The foreign lettering connected in geometric shapes that he recognized but could not decipher. They left remembrance teetering on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s my father’s cigar box.” Oma explained when she noted his fixation on the object. Levi heaved himself out of the couch’s embrace and propped his elbows on his knees, still fixated on the memento.

“The writing on the side…” Levi let his sentence flit away on his breath as his brain delved deeper into the patterns.

“Writing? What makes you think its writing?” Oma pursed her lips and picked up the weathered box to give it a closer examination. “Looks more like a decorative design.”  

Oma shrugged and passed the box to Levi. It felt cold on his freshly tea-cup warmed palms. Flashbacks of loitering about the weathered guard posts, frosted cabins, and Utgard Castle drew back vivid images of the strange symbols. They sparked his curiosity enough to imprint within him, but he didn’t care enough to debate with the old woman.

It would be a memory put on hold for another time.

“I’ve seen something like it at one of the outposts on old crates of supplies and alcohol.” He stated, placing the box down in resignation.

“Hmm.” Oma gave one final acknowledgement before popping the top open. She lifted the haphazardly stacked photos out of their resting place with a gentleness that cradled each precious paper.

As she flipped through them, Levi felt like he was gaining memories of a childhood... a family ...that he never had. It was like observing someone’s entire life through a looking glass. These pictures were of Oma; of her and her husband, of her and their children, of her and you and Petra.

Levi’s brow knitted when she came to a photo of a spry, young version of herself embracing a familiar face-only with a full head of lucious locks.

“You and- Pixis ?” Levi said in exasperation and squinted at the photo as if that would make his shock dwindle.

Oma couldn’t have been much older than you; her statue was slight but her physique was robust. Her hair cascaded from her bun and softly framed her face that smiled wryly at the camera. She was arm in arm with Pixis; his eyes crinkled with happiness and hair (comically) blowing in the wind.

“Ah yes. Dot and I were both squad leaders and grew very close.” Oma sighed with a nostalgic glow. “That man truly had a way with his hands. The last time I saw him Ymir knows I couldn’t restrain myself-”

Levi inhaled his tea so furiously that it seared his throat with the same passion Oma gave off for the garrison commander. She looked on in amusement as he collected himself and cleared the assault on his lungs.

“You mean, you two-” Levi started, mentally wiping away the unwanted visual before it left a permanent stain in his cranium.

“Oh yes. As casual and dedicated as friends but as steaming as this kettle.” Oma’s youthful vigor radiated extra brightly as she reminisced.

“Why didn’t it work out?” Levi asked.

“My husband snatched me away.” She winked and continued on her trip down memory lane.

“Ah! Now that one of you is here…” Oma began excitedly as the next photo was unveiled. “You can tell me all about this one.”

“You have this photo?” Levi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he relieved the corporeal memory.

“Yup, she sent it to me for safe keepings. Said in her letter that she saw your face enough everyday that she didn’t need the photo right now.”

Levi felt the familiar feeling of his heart expanding when he set his eyes on your elegant beauty. The photo in question was taken at the last Royal Gala after everyone had swapped their military uniforms for evening wear. He always secretly wished he had more excuses to see you in a gown such as that one; the smooth fabric billowed gracefully from your hips, accentuated your curves, and pushed upward the swell of your breasts that were cradled in a lining of lavish lace trim. It would be eternally alluring to him, partially from the lavish overstimulation of the elite banquet and because it was-well- you. He remembered the insatiable feeling of the stark and sudden transition of having absolutely nothing to his name, to being flushed with an abundance of everything in that moment.

You were beaming, a brilliant smile outshining the flashy festival mask that you adorned. Levi...not so much. He gazed into the viewfinder with features hard but eyes delicate in a way that demonstrated he was putting up with your antics. The two of you were pressed into each other's sides as the decadent swirling of the wealthy framed your faces.

If you squinted closely, and looked past the grainy texture and into the background, one would be able to observe Hange swinging Moblit wildly in circles among the party-goers.

↞♞♘↠

“Why not?” You prodded, arms crossed in defiance at his rejection of your proposition.

“I’m not going to wear some gaudy mask that most likely has the sweat stains of hundreds of people on it.” Levi stated with sharp disgust. His eyes nearly rolled out of his skull when you began childishly tugging on the sleeve of his tailcoat.

That tailcoat was the precise reason why you desperately needed to get in line for this photo. It was hard enough to see Levi out of anything but his scouting uniform or his everyday combo of a long sleeved button down and trousers. Both options were easy on the eyes but tonight he looked ravishing. The tailcoat was expertly tailored and clutched the curve of his slim waist and the expanse of his toned arms close to the obsidian fabric.

He was always clean, but cleaned up -so to say-he was absolutely divine. You would never tell him this but his fox like beauty paired with the fancy dress endowed him with the grace of a prince.

“You don’t have to wear the mask! Although that would make it less fun…” You mumbled in a last ditch attempt, hoping he would take pity for you on this special occasion.

“Great now that we’ve established it’s not fun, let’s go get another drink.” He replied, unfazed and unwavered. He began turning towards the outer end of the ballroom where waiters danced with shining trays instead of partners.

“No!” You yelped, scampering as hurriedly as your heels would allow you to stand in front of him. Your chest was heaving in excitement for the extravagant evening (and by the walls was that corset tight). Your heels increased your already apparent height difference and made your very... perky breasts at eye level with his gaze. Levi coughed to rebuild his crumbling composure. He kindly reminded himself he was at a government sponsored event and that no matter how desperately he desired to let his eyes wander this was not the time and place.

“You said I look beautiful tonight, right?” You quipped with a pointed glare.

“Of course.” His lack of hesitation in his answer made the alcohol content in your blood skyrocket as you became drunk on him even more than you already had.

“Well if you would take 5 minutes to take this photo with me that’s 5 minutes until I’m willing to sneak out of here with you. Then you can see this beautiful gown on your chamber’s floor.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief akin to the iridescent pearls that were nestled into your ears.

Levi’s brow quirked in intrigue and you were a deer caught in the sly beams of his eyes.

“Fine.”

↞♞♘↠

“What a wonderful gala that was. I usually despise such events but I gotta examine you in person for the first time, no matter how brief our encounter was. I got to see my girl in such a lovely gown, and I got to absolutely feel Dot-”

“I don’t need a narrative.” Levi intercepted quickly with a sharp tinge of annoyance that sent Oma into a mess of snorts and laughter.

That strange sensation washed over him once more. The pleasantly warm bubble that made him feel like he was home but standing on the outskirts of the precipice all at once.

“Is that why we didn’t get to actually meet?” Levi trailed off as realization snapped him like a taut rubber band. While he was forced to blandly entertain the higher ups and delegates your grandmother was snogging a commander.

“Oh hush, you’re an adult, stop acting like a teenage boy.” She playfully chided with a glint in her eye that made Levi take step closer to that tempting bubbling feeling.

A gentle knock on the wood paneling caused Oma and Levi to raise their heads to meet Felicia’s gaze.

“I’m going to head home now, Frau Vogel.” She said with a tired smile as she poked her head around the living room archway.

“Damn, it really has gotten dark hasn’t it?” Oma mumbled as she took in the waning light.

“My dear, it’s much too late to be walking back by yourself. You can stay in your old room.” Her response was a medley of chastising and fondness.

“O-oh, no. I mean-how kind of you-but I don’t have a change of fresh clothes and these ones have bits of blood and schnitzel on them…” Felicia sighed with a whine. Oma was about to interject her dramatic behavior when Levi’s voice filled the space instead.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered, tone as smooth and calm as the golden liquid in his cup. He placed his cup on the saucer with a small clank and rose from the couch. Felicia bristled in bashful gratitude as he quietly padded over to the front door and began lacing his boots.

Oma gave Felicia a wink and nestled further into the couch, letting the cushions cradle her old bones and the aroma of the tea lull her into relaxation.

“The kitchen is clean, I folded all of the towels-” Felicia hurriedly explained when Levi held the door open for her.

“Yes, yes, thank you. Now off you go, I’ll come fetch you tomorrow.” Oma shooed the jittery girl out of the house with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, Felicia-” She interjected. The young woman poked her head back into the archway.

“If I hear one peep out of you about not paying you for looking after Y/N this next week I will have to start cooking the schnitzel myself.”  

Felicia gasped in betrayal as the fireflies that worshiped the porch flowers sent she and her companion off on their moonlit walk. The grit of shoes against the pebbled road took over the silence which Levi observed Felicia desperately wanted to fill. She seemed to feel pressure to speak, to offer something other than the emptiness of the countryside. Levi, on the other hand, was completely content with bathing in the blissful numbness of the cricket symphonies and the wind kisses of the path.

“How does our village compare to where you’re from?” Felicia barely overpowered the whistling of the grass with her slight tone. Her question was an innocent one. One with good intent that Levi didn’t dare spoil given the past two days of anguish.

“It’s...definitely more colorful.” He let the sweet air fill his tired lungs. He had seen a larger aurora of colors in these past 48 hours than he reckoned he had ever seen in his monochromatic existence. Going from the diluted underground to the emerald green seas and burnt brick of the walls didn’t leave much room for hue.

“So you’re from an urban area then?” Felicia continued, enthused that Levi had picked up her conversation.

“You could say that.” His reply was vague but left no room for further explanation. Truthfully, he felt as much from that festering tumor as a migratory bird feels for its winter home. It was where he was birthed, raised, existed . But he didn’t truly live until he rid his mouth of the dusted, stale air and crumbing ceilings of the underground.

Felicia’s mouth hung open with an incoming response when a screech erupted in its place. Levi grunted as she jumped sideways right into him, colliding into his sore shoulder. He just barely caught her as he staggered backwards. She stumbled against his chest before he propped her back up straight by her underarms.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asked with an irritation he couldn’t restrain. Felicia’s bodyweight had punctured his shoulder with sharp needles that disturbed the dull hum of his pain.

“Oh walls, I’m so so SO sorry sir-I MEAN LEVI!” She babbled as she floundered to eject herself from his support so as to not burden him any more.

“I-I, something moved in the bush right next to me!” Felicia’s tone wobbled just as her legs did. Levi followed her trembling gaze and prepared himself for a feral dog or a wild boar. If it was anything bigger than that, like a bear, they were absolutely fucked.

The snort that erupted from the bush elicited another shrill scream from the maid. Levi’s muscles tensed in the realization that he would have to fend off the beast with his bare hands in his absence of weapons. He brought up a protective arm in front of Felicia when a pawing in the foliage neared the paved pathway. The thick anticipation mingled with the drumming of hearts was the soundtrack to the animal moving into the lamplight.

Levi’s muscles instantly relaxed. All except his chest. It shook with candid chuckles that materialized as a small hum and blossomed into a full blown laughter.

“Hello Big Shit.” Levi’s smile was radiant against the artificial lighting as Puddle aparated out of the bushes, his form now fully visible in the dim illumination. “He must have followed us.”

“B-big shhhh?” Felicia stammered, eyes wide with embarrassment. She was too polite to finish the last word.

Then he did it again.

He laughed so freely it put the crickets to shame. Felicia pursed her lips awkwardly and smoothed her nervous hands along her apron.

“He’s Y/N’s.” Levi cooed , reaching a delicate hand out to the horse and letting him press his plush nose to his knuckles. Felicia’s jaw went slack once more. She felt like she was regarding a completely separate individual she had previously been acquainted with. His cicada shell had been discarded on the path with the others and now only tenderness enveloped the man’s being.

“He is quite terrifying.” Levi teased gently as Puddle extended his neck to nuzzle hot breaths into his cheek. Felicia flushed at her overreaction. Levi turned from the horse to her with a glow that made her swear he was a tranquil forest spirit rather than the man who was walking her home. At her shock he immediately reigned himself back in, clearing his throat and partially crawling back into his cicada skin.

“If he’s followed us this far he’ll keep walking with us.” Levi said, the brief bloom of outward happiness coming to an end.

After a few minutes of only the comets’ luminous words trickling through the sky and the occasional snort, Felicia spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you happy.” She commented bashfully.

“It’s not like I haven’t been happy before.” He huffed, unsure of where to place her heartfelt compliment among the ever turbidness of his mind.

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just-I’ve never seen you smile before.” She cringed as she said it and Levi’s snort mimicked the horse behind them. He let her observation marinade under the moonlight.

“Happiness shows itself in different ways.” He mused and the corners of her lips upturned smally at her silliness.

“I just can’t imagine what you and Y/N have to go through.” She said with the careful articulation of a confession.

“D-did you see it happen?” She asked apprehensively. The nightmare scape tore through his cornea and implanted itself as if he was seeing it vividly again.

“No.” He exhaled.

The mass of flesh reeked of steamed rotted meat in the background of your shuddering form blanketed in torn cloth and soaked in sticky blood. His feet were caught in a time loop, too slow to reach you but too fast to wrap his mind around the potential discovery of your demise. His knees burned against the fabric of his trousers as they slid on the viscous ground to you. Your eyes were open wide and even though they were looking right at him, they went right through him like he was transparent against the skyline. The titan and you shared a bed of grass but by the walls not a resting place.

“But I saw the one that did it to her.” He continued as he blinked away the flash of mental scar tissue. “Her blade was lodged into its neck and it was bleeding profusely from its eye.”

Felicia winced at his description.

“She’s grown so strong.” Her whimper got lodged in her throat.

Little lanterns perched on the exterior of modest cottages floated into existence on both sides of the road as they neared Felicia’s neighborhood.

“How long have you known Y/N and Oma?” He asked to change the conversation for the sake of both their emotional turmoil. Felicia brightened up a bit at his term for her mistress.

“Since I was very young.” She smiled the weight right off of Levi’s shoulders. “My parents worked for Oma and her husband. I became Y/N’s babysitter or sorts, and by default many times Jean’s too, then the housekeeper to make some money.”

Levi recounted her reaction to the photo of Jean earlier and decided to attempt to lighten the mood like the wispy moss that dangled over their heads.

“Jean is single.” He revealed and eyed her in muted amusement for her reaction. Felicia turned beet red, the statement adding an extra sheepish pop to her step.

“O-oh, that’s hard for me to believe.” She laughed awkwardly.

“Really?” Levi replied without a drop or sarcasm. He understood why you put up with the boy because you had been friends for so long. But he would forever wonder how mentally stable the person who would willingly date him was.

Felicia gulped as his question hung out to try on the overarching maple branches.

“W-well, I mean-he’s funny, considerate, determined-”

“Determined to keep his long face up my asshole.” Levi finished her musings, dodging a moth as it flew too close to his nose. Felicia giggled at his half-assed insult.

“Determination, no matter what the kind, is a handsome quality.”

Levi hummed at her sincere answer. Her excitement over the boy rubbed warm circles into his chest. It reminded himself of his blooming feelings for you.

“When was the last time you saw him?” He asked as Felicia led him down a left fork in the road.

“Oh, a little less than a year ago? He and Y/N don’t get to come home a lot, you know.”

Their conversation was concluded in the middle of the road when Felicia halted in front of a beige cottage.

“This is me.” Her grin pushed up the apples of her cheeks and she cheesily pointed to the home. Levi nodded once and watched as she delicately climbed up the steps, deftly avoiding the garden rocks in the darkness until she reached her porch.

“Thank you for walking me here. You’ll be okay finding your way back?” She affirmed as she turned her key into the lock. Levi nodded once more and she breathed out a timid laugh.

“Alright, good night Levi.” She smiled sweetly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Big...um.” She turned to Puddle and wrinkled her nose.

“Shit.” Levi finished with crinkled eyes.

“Sh...shit.” She blurted and danced in place as if she had uttered a tremendous sin. Levi waited until she was halfway inside when she surprised him by returning to his presence. She paused, the light emanating from the open door allowing them to see each other clearly. She threw him a genuine smile that made him feel naked in the pale night.

“You know, you fit in really well here.”

Levi twirled the circlets of metallic promises between his fingers as he let the warmth of this evening’s reactions carry him home.

Fuck, did he just think home ?

In such a short amount of time, these gardens of tulips and those that harvest them had uprooted the numbness he had trained himself to harbor. He’d now gotten a sickeningly sweet taste of life and it was going to be hard for him to not grow addicted to it. The rings began to feel too heavy for him to carry and he placed them securely back in his pocket as he neared the estate.

With Puddle contained for the moment, he tapped his dirtied boots against the doormat and stepped into the living room. His feet sank deep into the fertilizer as he looked upon Oma. She had fallen asleep curled into the sofa, her empty tea cup cuddled into her embrace and the photo album discarded on the adjacent cushion.

He felt oddly like an intruder as he gingerly released the cup from her grasp. Felt the peculiar stab of domestic alienation when he draped the crocheted blanket over her. This was what home was supposed to resemble. Not a sullen room with a single bed and a mother called upon only to come home a wilted flower with her petals torn. Levi was knee deep in the garden soil now and he dove further and further into the dirt every passing day he spent here.

He tiptoed up the creaky steps, shed your father’s clothes in exchange for more appropriate sleepwear, and gravitated to your room. The armchair screeched dully against the flooring as he brought it closer to your bed. And he allowed himself to dream of living for once instead of just existing.

You fit in really well here.

Morning arrived on the chaotic wings of angry sparrows and a pleasant plush heat on his back. Levi groaned as he felt his back scream at him for his hunched over position. He clutched the blanket to his body as he stretched out the kinks. He rubbed the fluffy material between his fingers as he groggily recalled that he definitely didn’t go to sleep with this. As he sat up a light fluttering fell to the ground from his shoulder. Looking to the floor he noticed a note. He bent down to retrieve it and held it close to his sandy eyes.

I let you sleep in today because you need it-don’t deny it.

I’m off to get Felicia and we’re stopping by the apothecary on the way home but we shouldn’t be too long.

Here’s a blanket.

You don’t want your body to be as cold as your heart <3.

Oma

Levi rested his head on his blanket covered palm, nuzzling into the softness as he sighed in mild contentment.

“I lied-I understand how the two of you are related.” Levi whispered lightly towards you, the sounds as airy as the birds tapping at the glass.

It was another beautifully scenic day dressed in another of your father’s outfits babysitting another kettle of tea. Levi peeked out the kitchen window and wondered if everyday in this countryside was euphoric. But rather than basking in the lovely weather he opted to spend his morning tea with the one whose absence left this house just short of paradise.

He was careful to not clank the tray around as he reentered your room and spread open the curtains. However, the moment his fingers pulled the fabric apart the little winged rats announced their presence rather aggressively.

“Fuck off.” Levi threatened with a flick to the glass. His finger came back coated in dust.

"Felicia is a fucking disappointment of a cleaner."

And so the morning was spent sipping on temporary relief and gazing at the embodiment of comfort in your bed until his cup grew vacant. His chair creaked with age as he abandoned his post to refill his energy source.

Time slowed as it did two days ago and it was a miracle he avoided burning his fingers. They froze on the hot kettle as he was electrocuted by a weak gasp.

“Lee-” A desperately familiar voice with the body of a crumb murmured. He whipped around to see his most treasured blend of colors open up into his being.

Conscious.

Looking at him.

Actually at him.

The china fell from his petrified fingers and hit the rug with a bounce.

“Le-vi”

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter three: koreatown

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 3.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: so...as i’m turning this PWP into a P “with” P i actually had to add some plot lol. i really hope you guys like the direction this story is taking and i’m starting to feel a bit more confident about how it’s going to end. but please let me know what you think, hearing from you guys makes my day. i’d love to know if you think the plot is making any sense.  i mean, as much sense as a story about jungkook as a super hot criminal robber on the run with a federal agent lover could possibly make, ya know?

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

***********************

A postcard comes in the mail seven weeks after San Juan.

Colorful block letters urge you to VISIT BELIZE over decorative shots of the country’s beautiful beaches and most visited spots.

The only thing that appears to be written on the card is your address. You examine it dozens of times, looking from front to back for any other marking. You come up empty.

There is one unusual thing you notice, though.  

The postmark.  

Clearly written at the top: Los Angeles 90005.

There’s no way this card was mailed out of Belize and there’s very little chance Jungkook managed to get back inside the country without setting off a thousand alerts on your phone.  

You assume he must have routed it through his parents.

You’ve tried so damned hard these past few weeks not to think about what happened in Puerto Rico.  You’ve tried to forget the full-body shock you experienced when he asked you to play along with his absurd fantasy.  You tell yourself there’s no way he could possibly believe that you would go on the run with him.  

But then you remember the look on his face.

Seeing this postcard -- holding it in your hands -- makes San Juan real again. It’s not some bizarre fever dream you had or some figment of your imagination.  The emotions it dredges up are uncomfortable to confront. 

Is he in trouble? Is he asking for help? What are you supposed to do with this?

Logically, you know there’s nothing you can do.  

So you slip the card into your bedside drawer and file the information away in that part of your brain that seems to now be dedicated to thinking about Jungkook Jeon full-time. 

************************

Over the next few weeks, two more cards arrive.

Guatemala.

Honduras.

That fake passport Jungkook apparently managed to get his hands on seems to be getting a workout.

Each time a new card comes in the mail -- always postmarked out of LA, the knot in your stomach seems to loosen.  He’s still going. He’s not locked away somewhere.  

Not yet, anyway.

You try to remind yourself that he’s smart -- really, really smart. He has a knack for staying under the radar. His Spanish is probably pretty decent at this point. He’s making or finding enough money to stay on the move.

Maybe he’s got a plan. Maybe he’s figured something out.

But it’s hard to keep the anxiety at bay. You watch your phone like a hawk, waiting to see an email or text saying he’s been caught.  You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

So the cards go into your drawer -- and you get up and get dressed and go into the office every day like you’re not secretly rooting for the criminal so many of your colleagues are looking for.

*************************

The other shoe finally drops when you bump into Agent Novak in the cafeteria one afternoon. 

Novak is one of those guys who looks like he’s straight out of central casting on a crime show.  He has the appearance of a boxy, overgrown boy.  Always dressed in a muted grey suit, always sporting a military-grade short haircut.  The only thing that stands out on his completely non-descript face is his big mouth.

And right now you should be very glad for his big, fat mouth.

“You hear about your boy Jeon?” he asks, while piling his plate high with mac and cheese.  The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end for a moment at the mere mention of Jungkook’s name.

You move down the buffet line next to Novak slowly, the sudden adrenaline rush making your limbs feel weak and loose.

“Jeon?” you ask with feigned nonchalance. “Courthouse Houdini?”

“That’s the one,” Novak says, dropping two huge pieces of fried chicken onto his plate.  “My buddy in the Marshals says they’re pretty close to bringing that asshole in,” he continues, adding some crinkle fries into the mix for good measure.

God, you hope he doesn’t have a heart attack before you get all the information you need. 

He needs a trough, not a plate.

“Well, it’s about time,” you reply carefully and you hope it sounds convincing.   “Where?”

“Central America,” he says, reaching down to his plate to start picking off the crinkle fries one-by-one.  “Guatemala or some shit.”

A chill runs up your spine when you think about those postcards in your drawer. 

They’re close. 

They could be there right now.  

He could be in handcuffs again right now.

“Hope they have better luck than I did keeping him nailed down,” you say, willing your voice and face to stay even.

“Oh trust me,” he says, talking around a mouthful of crinkle fry. “They’re going to teach that motherfucker a lesson when they get their hands on him.  He won’t be able to walk, much less run.”

You swallow against the bile rising in your throat.

“That’s what he gets, right?”

Novak nods, grabbing for a chicken finger. You cringe when he shoves it into his mouth. Tiny pieces of the breading stick to his lips and you fight the urge to gag. 

God, has he always been such a pig?

“Damn straight.”

****************************

You circle the block three times before you feel comfortable enough to park.  

The neighborhood is quiet and clean and solidly middle-class.  The house you are looking for is neat and well-kept, lawn trimmed and flower beds nicely maintained. It looks like a nice place to live.

You cut the ignition and take a deep breath.

You have to remind yourself that Jungkook is not Al fucking Capone and there’s no reason for the government to have around-the-clock surveillance on his family home.  You have to maintain a level head even under this insane set of circumstances.

You try not to think about how furious he would probably be if he knew you were here right now.  

Maybe someday he’ll understand why you’re doing this.

Maybe someday you’ll understand why you’re doing this.

You’d worked late at the office, preferring to make this move when the sun went down.  You’re glad for the cover of darkness when you step out of your car and knock on the front door at the Jeon family home.

“Can I help you?” 

You take a deep breath when Mr. Jeon opens the front door. He has the same kind, handsome face as Jungkook, only his is weathered with age and worry.  

“Mr. Jeon, I need to speak with you about your son.”

His eyes widen for a moment. He seems to pull back and assess the way you’re dressed, figures out you’re one of those government-types.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say on the matter,” he says shortly, moving to shut the door.

“Wait, please,” you say urgently.  “I’m trying to help him, I swear. I can explain if you let me in.”

He stops for a moment, levels you with a critical look.

“I think he’s in trouble,” you say quietly.

Mr. Jeon sighs heavily before opening the door wide and letting you in.  

“I’m sorry to turn up at your home like this,” you say, moving immediately across the living room to close the blinds on all the street-facing windows.  “But I’m not sure how much time I have.”

He watches in total silence but you can see he’s unnerved.

“I’m just...being cautious,” you explain, and he nods.

Once you’re satisfied no one can see inside, you start to calm down a bit.  Mr. Jeon offers you a seat on the living room couch.

“This is a very strange situation, I know,” you admit. 

He remains mute and still, waiting for you to cough up some kind of explanation. 

“Do you know who I am?” you ask.

“No.”

His response is clipped and severe and you really can’t blame him.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I am with the FBI. But I --” you pause for a moment, grasping for a way to explain this bizarre situation. “ -- I know Jungkook.  Personally.”

Intimately. Biblically, as they say.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I need you to get in touch with him because I think he’s going to be arrested. Soon.”

Mr. Jeon rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where he is.  And I can’t get in touch with him,” he admits.  “He doesn’t want us to know where he is because then you people will have something to hold over us.”

You wince at the venom in that statement.

A faint voice from another room calls out.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Jeon says. 

He leaves you alone on the couch in the family room.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress pants as you take a look around.  The decor is soft and welcoming, with a few nods to Korea in the artwork on the walls.  It looks like a nice place to grow up, you think. The thought helps calm you.

He reappears after a minute.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says apologetically.  “I would really prefer my wife not know about this. This situation has already caused her a lot of pain.”

“Of course -- I understand,” you say quietly. “So you have no way to contact him?”

“No.  Not directly.”

“Then I need to know how you contact him indirectly.  He’s been sending me postcards somehow. Do you know who could be sending me postcards from him?”

His face falls a bit.

“I shouldn’t say.  I’m not trying to get anyone else in trouble.”

You lean forward a bit, fix him with a look that you hope conveys just how sincere you are about trying to help.

“I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble, either. But if you don’t give me that name, I promise you Jungkook will be. Please.”

Mr. Jeon sighs.

*****************************

You pull the brim of your baseball cap low over your eyes and adjust your sunglasses before walking into Min’s Market.

The small, family-owned store is in one of Koreatown’s most populated neighborhoods. You keep your head low as you dodge people on the sidewalk to make your way inside. An electronic chime sounds when you walk in.

The only thing you see in your quick glance around the store is a young man behind the register. He stands when you make eye contact and you take that as the go-ahead to approach.

He’s not a large guy by any means, but he definitely gives off a do not fuck with me vibe.  You straighten your spine and get right to the point.

“Are you Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

He’s lying, of course.  His eyes are narrowed at you beneath long black fringe bangs and you can’t blame his skepticism given the giant sunglasses and the hat and the workout clothes you’re hiding under.  You look like you’re trying way too hard not to be noticed.

“I need to talk to you about Jungkook,” you say anyway.

“Never heard of him.”

Okay, not entirely unexpected.  You’d come prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to play ball.

You reach into your bag and pull out the postcards, drop them on the counter in front of him.

“You’ve been sending me these,” you say firmly. “And we need to talk.”

******************************

Yoongi takes you to the tiny office tucked into the back of Min’s Market.  The space is cluttered with invoices and notes written in Hangul.  There’s a monitor display where he can watch the surveillance cameras at the front of the store.

He motions for you to take a seat on the one small chair he has and opts to lean against the office desk, arms crossed.

“So you’re Carver Street, huh?”

You take your sunglasses off so you can look him in the eye.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… a Fed.”

He delivers that line with a cynical twist to his mouth that makes you feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s wild,” he says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, wild,” you exhale nervously. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to be involved here any more than you already are, so I’ll just come out with it,” you say.  “I need to get in touch with Jungkook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.  

“Look, I don’t know you, okay? Maybe he does, but I don’t.  And I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I’m not going to give you that information.”

You rub at the corners of your temples with your fingers.

“You know he’s been reaching out to me. You know he trusts me.”

Yoongi snickers.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to catch up over beers since this whole mess started.  The only thing I know for sure is that he wants you to get those postcards,” he says.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” you concede.  “I’m pretty sure he’s in Honduras right now.  And I need you to reach him as fast as you can. Because they are closing in on him and I don’t know how long he’s got.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“Okay.  I’ll tell him.”

“How fast can you reach him?”

“Look, I said I’ll tell him, okay?”

You tell yourself to relax before you scare Yoongi off entirely.  It looks like his patience with you is already worn thin.

“Okay.  Please tell him to try to get to Nicaragua,” you say, careful to keep the agitation from creeping back into your voice.  “They have a history of denying extradition requests to the U.S.  It could buy us some time to figure out what to do.”

“Us?” 

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-concealed look of astonishment. You feel the blush that spreads across your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Him,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “it could buy him some time to figure out what to do.”

He grabs a pen and scribbles on a sheet of paper on the desk.

“Nicaragua, okay. Got it.”

“And please -- if you can -- get him this,” you say, handing Yoongi your own slip of paper with a number written on it.  “It’s a burner.  In case he needs to get in touch.”

Yoongi takes the number from you and nods.

“Alright.”

You stand to leave, knowing you’ve taken as much of his time as you’re allowed.  

“One more thing and I promise you’ll never hear from me again,” you say, pointing to the monitor inside the office.

“Delete that,” you say. “Please.”

*************************************

You dig around in your cabinet until you find the wine glass you’re looking for -- the huge one -- and then you reach into the fridge for what’s left of your Sauvignon Blanc and dump it into that glass.

Nothing to do now but hope he gets the message in time.  

Nothing to do now but watch your work phone and see if he’s been arrested.

Nothing to do now but watch your burner phone to see if he’s contacted you.

It’s time to admit your nerves are shot.  Weeks of heightened anxiety are taking its toll and the past two days have felt like a marathon.  

You run a bath -- make sure the water is close to painfully hot before you sink into the tub.  Your body feels exhausted but your mind is still racing like you’ve shotgunned a cup of coffee.  

You lean your head back against the ledge of the bath and take a long drink of the wine.

What if he makes it to Nicaragua? What does that even mean? You buy a few more weeks of the same on-the-run bullshit and for what? 

What is the end game here? And for that matter why on earth are you doing any of this?

You barely know this man.  And now it’s starting to feel like you barely know yourself.

Your fingers and toes are pruny and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally crawl out of the tub.  You down the rest of your wine, throw a soft t-shirt on and fall into the bed.

All night you toss and turn and when you finally wake it’s like you never slept at all.

****************************

It’s a few days before you see Novak again.  

You happen to overhear his obnoxiously loud laugh just outside your office and your entire body jolts to attention.  

You jump up from your desk and peer outside.

Novak is busy chatting up a woman who works a few spaces down, no doubt boring her with unwanted banter about his weekend.  He happens to look up and you motion for him to come over. 

“Hey, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he says, and you head back to your desk on leaden legs.

Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t.  

You’ve got to figure out how to walk the line between interested in the search for Jungkook but not too interested. Thankfully, Novak doesn’t strike you as the type to pick up on the subtleties of most interactions.  If he was, he’d stop bugging that woman right away.

He knocks loudly on your open door when he finally makes his way over.

“Hey,” he grins widely. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you smile back, feeling a cold panic spread across your chest.  Maybe you’re not ready to hear what he has to say. 

“I was wondering if your buddies ever caught up to Jeon.”

“Man listen,” Novak says, helping himself to a chair. “You are not going to believe this shit.”

Your fingernails grip your legs underneath the desk, dig painfully into the skin just above your knees through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Did he...get away, again?” you ask, desperate to keep a note of hope out of your voice.

“Yup,” Novak confirms.  “Piece of shit cleared out by the time the Marshals they sent down there managed to get to where he was. Some place in Honduras or something.”

Novak shakes his head.

“My buddies are sick of looking for his ass at this point. At some point they’ve got to call it off, right?”

You can barely register a thing he’s saying because oh my god he made it out.

“Wow,” you manage, trying to appear appropriately sympathetic and outraged. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah so,” Novak says, “back to the drawing board on that one, I guess.”

You’re forced to sit through a few more minutes of his blabber and small talk but all you can think about is Jungkook making it out in time.  All you can think about is getting back to your house and to that burner phone.

When Novak finally stands to leave, you nearly sigh out loud with relief.

“Hey, good luck to your buddies, yeah?  That’s got to be pretty frustrating,” you say, walking him out the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll pass the message along,” he says. “I’m sure you’re just as ready as they are to see this guy get what he deserves.”

You smile weakly.

“Oh, definitely.”

***************************

You make a beeline for the ladies room and walk right into a stall.  

Once inside, you drop the seat lid and sit on top, desperate for just one moment to be alone with your thoughts.

He made it out.  He’s not in custody.  Maybe there’s a way to fix this entire mess.

Then you fall apart. 

You’ve reached the limit of what you can handle without some kind of emotional release.  The panic and the anxiety and the relief and the hope come together and boil over inside you.

The tears start coming and they don’t stop. 

You have to flush the toilet three times to cover the sound of your sobs.

***************************

You race home from the office and practically dive for the burner phone in your nightstand.  The entire drive back, you’ve told yourself not to expect a message.

It’s entirely possible he doesn’t want to contact you.  

It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t have anything to say to you after the way you left things in San Juan.  You tell yourself to be ready to see absolutely nothing when you check the burner.

But when you do unlock the phone, you find a waiting text.  You steel yourself for what he has to say.

nicaragua is boring [ 3:15 PM ]

send nudes [ 3:15 PM ]

You laugh.  

You laugh for so hard and so long your tears gather in the corner of your eyes.  You laugh until your sides start to hurt from the absolute absurdity.  

It’s so him that you have to laugh.

That night, when you fall into bed you sleep an inky black sleep, without dreams or interruptions.  

It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks.

************************

[impala-dreamer]

Crime & Punishment - Chapter Seven

~Y/N breaks one of her biggest rules while in bed with her Sir, and Sam has no choice but to punish her. Luckily for them both, his punishments tend to lean towards the more creative and…exciting.~

Dom!Sam x sub!Reader, Dean

2,578 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Touchless Edging. Knee Riding. Blow Job. Delicious

Series Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ My Original Works on Amazon

Twenty-seven was reached pressed up against the washing machine while she ran a load of whites. Twenty-eight and twenty-nine were immediately after as she sat on top of the dryer. It didn’t take much to get her close, it was almost as if she was constantly right on the edge, and the slightest push or sensation would send her back down into the stunted pleasure that made her mind melt and her lips drool.

Thirty was a total accident, occurring while talking to Sam in the kitchen. She bumped against the edge of the table and gasped as the rounded corner dug between her legs and rubbed right over her clit. Serendipitously, the alarm went off at that moment, so she kept bumping into it, rubbing herself over the edge of the table while Sam chopped veggies for stir-fry that night.

Thirty one was rather difficult. There were only so many things she could use, only so many ways to rub. She’d just about humped every chair in the Bunker, every nightstand and table. Nearing five o’clock and dripping down her thighs, she texted Sam begging him to let her use her hands, or at least one of the toys hiding in their play box.

His answer was a definitive, no.

As her alarm was sounding for the thousandth time, Y/N happened past an empty beer bottle decorating a ledge in the War Room. Making sure she was alone, she silenced her alarm and carried the bottle to the table. She sat in the chair closest to the stairs, aiming it so that she could see if anyone was walking by. Coast clear, Y/N leaned back and spread her legs, hitching the left up high onto the glowing table.

Y/N was hesitant, but she could almost hear the clock ticking. After sucking a bit on the top, she dragged the bottle down across her slit, shivering as the cold glass touched her heat. The contrast made her gasp, the slide of the smooth edge across her clit made her whine, and soon, Y/N didn’t care how weird or dirty it might be, she just needed to be filled up. It had been so long since anything thicker than her fingers had been inside, and at that moment, it didn’t matter what it was, only that it was there and ready.

The bottle went inside easily, neck pushing at her walls, spreading her gently. The lip was rounded and smooth, gently caressing her cunt as she began to fuck herself in ernest. She rocked her hips up into the bottle, pumped her hand in time, shoving it as deep as it would go.

Y/N’s moans filled the cavernous room, bouncing off the warded walls and disappearing down into the hallways. If anyone was nearby, they would have heard her, and oh, what she’d give to have Sam walk in right then.

Sucking in her lip, she opened her hazy eyes and trained them on the entrance to her left, imagining her giant lover suddenly filling the doorway. Would he comment on her choice of instrument, or merely stand, arms crossed, shoulder holding up the wall, watching?

Y/N shuddered at the image and held in a scream as her body tried to release. Quickly, she pulled the bottle away and closed her legs, taking deep, calming breaths until the throbbing ceased.

‘36. Edges. Sir.’

Her text was clipped and went unanswered, but she had obeyed, and that was all he needed to know.

Like a zombie with knees that barely worked, Y/N made her way to the kitchen to toss out her new best friend, and vowed never to speak to anyone about the time she fucked herself on one of Dean’s beloved Margiekugel’s.

Dinner was difficult. Y/N was so strung out and horny that she couldn’t focus to eat, and twice, Sam had to lift her hand and place it on her fock.

Dean watched the goings on with silent glee, amazed that their game was still going on. He toyed with his vegetables, mostly pushing them around on the plate so he appeared to have eaten them while really only picking out the chicken. He couldn’t believe how lost Y/N looked and yet how calm. She seemed drugged, dazed, unable to follow much of the conversation let alone participate in it. Still, she looked happy; a faint smile stuck on her pretty lips, a gentle hum of agreement whenever Sam said anything. It was cute. The collar was a shock, but she acted like it wasn’t even there, so Dean played along, not bringing it up.

When the alarm went off towards the end of the evening, Y/N looked at Sam with worry in her eyes, but he nodded and she was allowed to excuse herself to the bathroom. Much to Dean’s surprise, she never came back.

After dinner, he found himself in the Library, sipping a glass of scotch while playing Cookie Jam on his phone. He was stuck on level ten-forty and it was making him insane. So insane, he hadn’t noticed Y/N skipping down the stairs with a stack of hardcovers in her arms.

“Shit! Come on!”

She turned as he yelled, dumb concern covering her face. “You OK, Dean?” She sounded drunk, her tongue sloppy and loose.

He looked up and laughed at himself. “Yeah, just this stupid game.”

Y/N smiled and stared up at the shelves, trying to go over the alphabet in her head. “What comes after G?” she asked, not even a hint of jest.

Dean’s brow crinkled in concern. “H. Are you OK?”

“Oh, I’m amazing,” she said, barely able to cut off the word at the end. The letters just faded away as she shoved a book into its place on the shelf above her head. “Just feelin’ little stupid.” She stopped to laugh, then looked at Dean, which made her laugh even more. “I think my brains all leaking out of my pussy,” she whispered, cupping a hand to her mouth.

He smiled despite the horror of such an idea. “You’re gonna need a nap,” he said with a laugh.

Y/N shelved another book and let her head roll to the side as she sighed. “I’m gonna need a-”

A buzzing stopped her words and Dean watched as Y/N placed the stack of books down on the floor and silenced the phone that was tucked in her cleavage. Mindlessly and without explanation, she hopped up onto the reading chair next to Dean and tossed a leg over the arm. He watched in awe as she began to ride the arm, rubbing her pussy over the upholstered leather.

“Uh…” He laughed nervously but couldn’t look away, finally deciding he had to know what was going on. “Y/N?”

She moaned and looked up at him, her eyes dark and amazing. “Hmm?”

Dean shivered. “Whatcha doin’?”

Y/N’s tongue hung out of her mouth for a moment as she hit a particularly amazing spot and her body shook with pleasure. “I...I hafta rub but I can’t use my hands,” she whimpered, trying to focus on Dean and her pussy at the same time.

“Wow.” He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat, giving his dick a little more room against his zipper. “That’s...wow.”

“Hafta edge all day…” A growl left her lips and Dean’s jaw dropped.

“Really? Well, that explains it. Lemme guess, every time your alarm goes off?”

She nodded quickly, her bottom lip tight between her teeth. She groaned and pouted in frustration as the chair wasn’t giving her what she needed. Her eyes popped open suddenly and settled on Dean. Before he realized what was happening, Y/N was standing in front of him, her dress wet and nipples hard. He could smell her sex, feel the heat radiating off of her.

Y/N pouted and Dean lost himself in the desperation in her eyes.

“Come on,” he said, sitting back and patting his knee.

To his amazement, Y/N turned and sat on his thigh, straddling him just as she had the arm of the chair. Her back was to him and she dug her fingers into his knee as she began to rub herself on his thick thigh.

“Oh, fuck.” He could feel the denim getting wetter with each bounce, and his cock swelled, trying to reach her delicious ass, so close, yet so far away.

Y/N held on and rode his leg like it was the only thing in the world she needed to do. Breathing wasn’t even a necessity any longer, not when she had Dean’s amazingly thick and muscular thigh to grind down on. She held her breath, cursing silently as her clit began to ache.

Boots echoed through the room and Y/N and Dean both looked up to find Sam in the archway. He stood in the center, arms crossed, eyes glued to the picture in front of him. Y/N paused for a moment, but Sam nodded at both of them, allowing it to continue.

Dean could barely believe what was happening. His dick was full and throbbing and his fingers were aching to touch her. He leaned close and asked them both, his voice loud enough for Sam to hear, “Did he say just your fingers or…?”

Y/N gasped and looked to Sam again, lifting her glassy eyes. Once again, Sam gave his permission with a subtle nod.

“Do it,” she whispered over her shoulder. “Touch me, Dean. Please.” Sam cleared his throat and Y/N corrected herself quickly. “Just not my pussy,” she warned. “That’s not yours.”

Dean growled loudly and agreed with a nod before wrapping his arms tight around her. He sat up, pressing his chest into her back as his lips grazed her bare shoulders. The spaghetti straps of her sundress were no match for his greedy fingers and Dean pulled them down quickly, exposing her bouncing tits to Sam’s authoritative gaze.

“God, you are perfect,” Dean whispered, keeping his voice low, just between them.

Y/N moaned and let her head fall back, finding a cradle in the crook of his neck. His hands were hot as they cupped her breasts, fingers rough and unforgiving as they tugged on her nipples.

Sam kept a close eye on Y/N, waiting for the moment to pull the fun away. Her lips began to shake and her thighs clenched around Dean’s knee, but he let them go a moment longer, wanting her to fight the orgasm away with all of her strength. Thirty-nine edges was quite a feat for three days, but forty would be his. Her orgasm would be his.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath as Dean’s teeth grazed her throat and Sam pulled the plug.

“That’s enough.” His voice rang out through the room and Y/N pulled herself off of Dean, leaving a mess behind on his jeans.

“Jesus, fuck.” Dean breathed out the curse as Y/N left. He looked down at the puddle on his knee and groaned as his cock jerked against his zipper. “Oh, damnit.”

Sam looked to Y/N and pointed at his poor brother. “Take care of him, girl,” he commanded, deep voice steady and firm.

Y/N smiled dumbly and nodded. She spun around, skirt flaring around her bare ass, and sank to her knees, immediately lifting her hands to Dean’s belt.

He startled but lifted his hips, helping her work his jeans open. Once his cock was free, Y/N licked her lips and leaned down, her eyes glued to Dean’s.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking back and forth between her and Sam.

Sam smirked. “She wants to. It’s fine.”

Y/N gave Dean a silent wink before kissing the tip of his cock and blanking out the rest of the world from his mind.

“Oh, sweet mother of god!” Her mouth was hot and tight, wet and hungry. She took him deep right away and then toyed with him, hands and tongue caressing and teasing every spot that made his breath hitch and his eyes roll. He sank deep into the chair, his bones and muscles melting under her touch, all save one.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back and high as she sucked him down, lovingly swallowing around his cock with each pass. As she got into it, rocking on her hands and knees, her skirt flew up, exposing her soaked cunt to Sam’s watchful eye.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “Rub,” he commanded, and Y/N obeyed, reaching one hand between her legs to give him another edge while Dean’s cock jabbed at the back of her throat. “Harder.”

Y/N moaned around Dean’s cock as her body shook, out of time and rhythm, rubbing and sucking like a fucking machine.

“Slap it.”

She screamed as her own palm came up, slapping her swollen pussy hard.

“Again.”

The thwack was wet and her moan vibrated through Dean.

“Jesus Christ,” he grit, jerking his hips up into her mouth, fucking her throat deep. Spit ran down from her face, falling from her chin onto her tits and the floor.

“Again!”

Y/N slapped herself once more and her body spasmed as she clamped down on Dean’s cock, lips tighter than ever, her throat constricting around him.

He came like a fountain, shooting a hot stream down the back of her throat, unable to stop it even if he wanted to. He grunted like a caveman and gripped the arms of the chair, holding on as his body let go.

Sam watched as his good girl stopped rubbing and sat up, drinking Dean down and massaging his thighs as he relaxed.

Sitting back on her heels, Y/N licked him gently until he was soft and overly sensitive, only leaving him alone once Dean waved her off, groaning.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand down his thigh. He leaned forward, trying to reach for her, but she was too far. His fingertips brushed her cheek, patting gently, and Y/N smiled proudly.

Sam’s voice broke through the glowing moment, bringing Y/N back into her task. “Number?”

Y/N sat up straight and let out a deep, calming breath even as her body surged with pride. “Forty edges, Sir.”

“Very good,” he said, turning away from the scene. “Go clean up. It’s almost bedtime.”

She nodded and stood up, squeezing Dean’s knee as she did and giving him another wink. “Yes, Sir.”

Sam was already gone and Dean grabbed her hand as she turned, pulling her back a bit. She nearly took a tumble in her heels, falling backwards and landing on his knee once more. His jeans were still soaked and the cold startled her.

“Dean,” she smiled, twisting her hand from his. “I gotta go.”

“I know,” he said, lips plump from biting, shining with spit. He looked her over, moaning under his breath as he saw the damp circles on her dress from where she’d drooled. “I just wanted-”

Y/N leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a breath, drinking in her scent and heat, filing it all away for later. “Thank you.”

She was gone when he opened his eyes, the click of her shoes echoing as they disappeared down the hallway.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

Hitmen AU! | Head Canons | 19+ [Haikyuu!!]

KΛЯΛƧЦПӨ [PART i] [PART ii] [PART iii]

Hello! Welcome to my first AU here on tumblr~! I hope y’all enjoy~ sksksk

feel free to ask questions or request anything from this AU! (Just specify so I know~)

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««  

‣ A newly established group in the underworld.

They’re not that big of a group, but damn did their rookies make an impact on their first assignment.

The target was neutralized like that.

D̴a̴i̴c̴h̴i̴ ̴S̴a̴w̴a̴m̴u̴r̴a̴

Daichi be the head honcho, I’m sure we’ve been known

He’s cool and collected, normally very level headed and able to handle the chaotic shit his fellow group mates cause (*cough* tanaka noya hina kage *cough*)

His skill set is a wide variety, but his specialty is close combat.

Besides Sugawara, he’s the one to quickly defuse any situation that arises from their group whenever one of them acts...rowdy

But don’t get me wrong, these boys know very well when their boss is ready to blow up and always find excuses to be out of his way. (out of sight out of mind amiright?)

“Are you fucking shitting me? This is the 3rd time this week that I’ve gotten a messy report coming back from you two!”

Irritated and tired, Daichi slammed the heavy file onto the antique table. His lean form melting into the chair as he let out a heavy and slow sigh before finally letting his gaze fall onto the two bowed heads before him.

“I want you both to explain to me in detail how you managed to, not only get yourselves injured, but how in the absolute fuck did you guys make literal chunks of our target rain over 5th street.”

But I’m sure y’all wanna know how he be looking right  ｡ ◕‿◕｡

He’s 5′9″ [176cm], beefy (sksksks) with a handful of tattoos

Big ol hands, bb gotta smack some sense into his boys as well as be able to get a good hold of a runaway target.

Is not one for piercings, but has two basic black studs on his ears.

He’s usually in the background for assignments.

Torture session? He in the shadows

Assassination? In le other building prepped and ready in case the unexpected happens

If his s/o is a part of their rag tag team he will be only slightly lenient on reprimanding them

Loves to have them close by as he works and tends to have lots of stress relief smex

is highly protective of s/o

like shit watch out bro

s/o is one of the few things that help him keep his humanity especially with all he does

Any who, onto the next bb

K̷o̷s̷h̷i̷ ̷S̷u̷g̷a̷w̷a̷r̷a̷

Sugawara is 1/2 of the brain and tactics in their rag tag team of misfits

Acts like the motherly hen around the rookies, but can be just as terrifying as Daichi when ticked off

There can only be so much he can take as 1/2 of the brains and tactics of their little group.

As expected he handles the tactical planning for upcoming missions

and tends to get highly irate when none of his members listen or follow through a very simple phase of his plan

scares a lot of people shitless when he gives them The Smile ™

Made Asahi cry on their first meeting after he bore witness to The Smile ™

His main strong point in regards to fighting is blade wielding.

Dislikes the use of guns, but will use them if he has to.

Relishes in ending a very irritating target’s demise

Is also the group’s main medic

“Did you really think you’d be able to actually get away that easily?” A mocking laugh danced through the tense air as piercing russet eyes settled on the trembling man before the blood splattered figure.

The begging man’s allies laid in disarray on the floor in various forms of ‘sleep’ as the silver haired male meandered closer.

“I applaud you. You and your rats have given us something to actually do. Of course that doesn’t excuse the fact that my team wasn’t competent enough to follow through with the first phase of our plan.” A sharp, yet brief glance at the squawk of blame between the two bickering members in his assigned team had him repressing the urge to whack both upside the heads.

“Now then...let’s go ahead and have a little...chat. I’d love to hear how you got information on our group...”

Appearance wise, Sugawara is just a couple of centimetres below Daichi’s height

Unlike Daichi, Sugawara is a lot more lean muscle with scars littering his body

Has only one tattoo at the nape of his neck

Is usually the one on clean up duty after the rookies weak havoc on their latest target

is very doting on his s/o

when the rest of the team saw this version of Sugawara they all thought that Kiyoko had laced their food with some crazy drug

Sugawara gives them all a look as they theorize what was happening before them

he likes to cuddle s/o when they sleep it helps keep the nightmares away

likes to take s/o out on normal dates whenever he can

Next bb!

A̴s̴a̴h̴i̴ ̴A̴z̴u̴m̴a̴n̴e̴

Ah yes, soft baby, or what we’d like to think is soft baby

Little do we know Asahi is a part of information collector and clean up duty

Which in short yis, he be part of torture club SKSK

Granted he doesn’t partake in a lot of it. His look of indifference does help set tension and fear into the victim though

ya know, since he always be assumed to be a terrifying big ol man

Is part of the clean up team, and helps keep Sugawara level-headed and calm as they discover just how much ‘fun’ the younger members of their group had when they were getting rid of their target

Tends to also be the voice of reason when Sugawara or Daichi are about ready to skin the young crows alive

“Are you-- Asahi are you fucking seeing this shit?! I’m going to wring their necks...”

Chuckling, the man in question could only place a comforting hand on the blade wielder’s shoulder.

“Well, they did get the job done; and the target was a bit more clever than usual,”

Picking up a bit of discarded flesh and flinging it to their bins of ‘goodies’, the calmer male gave the fuming one a serene look.

“but they did capture a good portion of their second in command. So if you’d like, you can join in our session for some stress relief.”

Despite the calming look on his face, Sugawara knew Asahi needed some stress relief as well. Especially after having dealt with Noya’s adventure the week prior.

With that, the medic caved, and nodded; appreciating the offer for the urge to spill blood.

Now, how does bb look? He’s the tallest out of the veteran group

a strong build and can be seen as the sturdy immovable wall (hehehe)

Like Daichi and Sugawara, Asahi has a couple of tattoos

Usually keeps his hair in a half man bun as he works

He’s very gentle with his s/o

Which comes to a surprise to absolutely no one

Is the most ‘normal’ out of the group when it comes to having a relationship

Last but not least~!

K̷i̷y̷o̷k̷o̷ ̷S̷h̷i̷m̷i̷z̷u̷

The main decoy who infiltrates any sort of hard to meet target

A skilled assassin who uses medical knowledge to quickly and effectively get rid of targets

currently training one of the newest rookies 

She’s mainly seen as indifferent no matter what antics the rest of the group manage to pull

The last to be called into help with interrogations if the victim manages to still hold through 

helps Sugawara in terms of healing any of the more rambunctious who get too badly hurt after a chaotic mission

besides Asahi she’s seen as another voice of reason

Stepping into the room with practiced ease, the fair woman couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh as she observed the state of the room. Rose petals, wine, the usual works of a serenade in the works. It might’ve worked on someone who actually had good intentions and emotions for the sleeze of a man before her, but she was here for one purpose and one purpose only.

Acting her part, she played the male before her into her hands as she pushed the male down towards the bed. A seductive smile gracing her features as she leaned down to kiss his neck. The male’s eyes fluttering closed in anticipation for the night of his life. Yet within that brief moment, she struck. Syringe imbedded deeply into the main artery in his neck, she watched as he began to choke and writhe about in pain as his airways shut. The slow and torturous burn eating away at the man before he fell limp into the sheets.

Slowly sitting up, the woman went to dress herself as she sent a simple voice message.

“Target neutralized. Clean up requested.”

It’s no lie that she’s a literal goddess among humans.

Her looks and indifferent reactions have many thinking she’s playing hard to get when that’s not the case

Like the rest of the veterans, she has a handful of tattoos decorating her skin

with her s/o she’s a bit more expressive in her emotions 

she doesn’t trust easily, but with time builds trust with her s/o and groupmates

she’s quite shy in showing PDA initially, but when she feels confident that s/o won’t leave her she shows it more often

loves to get kisses before and after missions

could be considered emotionally constipated, but she’s truly not she just unsure of loving for the first time~

[sickfic-with-kiko]

Maybe someone from a couple of your choosing could get sick on their first real date and they’re mumbling apologies whilst caretaker just wants to get them home in one piece? Bonus points if sick character denies it up until the last second and then slumps into their date and/or throws up on their shoes. Idk the main thing is comfort!!!

I chose SakuAtsu because I desperately need more Sakusa content in regards to sickfic. Don’t read this one if you don’t like vomiting, folks.

Sakusa had started dating Atsumu three weeks ago.

He’s not sure how he’d managed to fall for him, or how he’d managed to get a confession out of him. Atsumu, as it turns out, was rather shy when it came to dating. Upon a small amount of questioning, even Sakusa had more experience than him.

He doesn’t really mind. It’s refreshing, and it betrays his expectations of what Atsumu would be like to a partner. He wonders why he’d even made those assumptions. He’d only ever seen him glaring at fangirls who didn’t shut up during his serve.

And now, sitting at a table in a small antique cafe, Sakusa is waiting for Atsumu to meet up with him for his first date.

Going out together as busy high schoolers is hard. Hyogo and Tokyo aren’t exactly neighbouring prefectures, and to emphasize it once more, they’re extremely busy . Schoolwork to be done, practice to be attended. There’s not enough free time, they only realise when they need it.

“Hey! Uh, sorry, did you wait?” Atsumu hops into his line of vision, pulling out his phone to check the time. “You’re so early, Omi-kun!”

Sakusa shrugs. It’s the result of a lot of preparation on his part, dressing appropriately after being laughed at by Komori (“You’re not meant to wear that school jersey, you dumbass!”), grabbing some spare masks and making sure he was feeling completely fine.

He had no problem with completing two of them. But feeling fine is an extremely rare occurrence for him. Something always seems to be up with him— his head hurts, his shoulder feels unwell, his eye is twitching in the wrong manner. It’s all in his head, he’s heard from every possible person. It doesn’t make the wrongness disappear.

“...I didn’t wait.” Sakusa says, picking up the menu with a small frown. “I’ll get some yokan.”

Atsumu’s eyes blow open. “Yokan? Wow, are you a granny?” He teases, in his thick kansai accent. “But it’s cute, Omi-kun. Unexpected.”

Sakusa feels the blood rushing to his face, but glares at him instead. “Cute? I think you need a doctor’s appointment. Something is up with you.” Cute should be used on small animals or fancy decorated cakes, not a sullen high schooler like him.

Atsumu looks at him with his smitten eyes, smiling. “Is it that weird, to call your boyfriend cute? We’re dating, right?”

“Yes. It’s pretty clear that we’re… partners.” Sakusa rolls his words around in his mouth, as if they’re little pebbles that get in his way.

They order their food and drink, and chat for a bit until it comes. Sakusa can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, but he ignores it for the sake of his date. It’s the one thing he can’t ruin. No matter what.

“Omi-kun. You have a little something there.”

Atsumu wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He doesn’t try to be suave or flirtatious in doing so, surprisingly. He just grins at him like he’s seen something special. Sakusa’s heart jumps, doing a somersault.

“...Thanks.” Sakusa murmurs. He feels… boring. He isn’t sure what Atsumu sees in him. He barely talks about anything interesting, and it’s not like he has the looks or personality. And even if Atsumu is annoying, some could find that endearing.

“How’s volleyball been? Is it fun?”

There isn’t really anything else to talk about, besides volleyball. It’s that, or studies. And Sakusa knows very well about how much Atsumu hates studying. There’s nothing else for them to focus on, really.

“It’s been a busy few weeks,” Sakusa answers. “I have to make sure my team will be fine without me, after Spring High.” Maybe mentioning that was a bad idea. A dead weight sinks into his stomach, forcing something up to his chest.

“You’re really responsible, aren’t ya?” Atsumu says, slurping on his strawberry milk. “I’m sure my team will be fine. But maybe I should look out for them a little more.”

Sakusa shrugs. “Maybe.”

After a short pause, Atsumu finishes his drink and stands up. “Come on. Change of scenery. We'll go for a walk around here.”

Sakusa can’t help wondering if he’s done something wrong. Had he said the wrong thing? Had he said too little? He lifts himself up, his chest thumping worriedly.

They exit the cafe and head down the street, down to a quiet park. It’s a warm day, but Sakusa can’t stop trembling periodically. There’s something strange going on with him. He can’t let it ruin his date.

“...Omi-kun, you okay? Did I do something to make you mad?”

Sakusa shakes his head quickly. Bad idea. A wave of dizziness overwhelms him, and he realizes. It’s not all in his head, like it usually is. He’s actually, truly sick.

“No. Not your fault.” Sakusa can only mumble, sitting down on a nearby bench before he loses footing. “I’m fine.”

“Ya sure?” Atsumu says. “You looked a bit... out of it.”

Sakusa bites his lip out of frustration. He can’t be seen through. Atsumu isn’t meant to be perceptive like this. Everything is his own fault. He hates how he ruins everything. He’s horrible—

He pulls himself out of his brain. “...Sorry. I’m making everything worse. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Atsumu reaches over to him, and pulls back when he touches his shoulder. “Is it just me, or are you hotter than usual?”

“It’s just you.” Sakusa mumbles, waving Atsumu’s hand away. “I’m not sick. Leave me alone.”

“I never said ya were,” Atsumu raises his brows, and Sakusa realises he’s screwed up. He wouldn’t have done something so stupid if he weren’t sick. Now that Atsumu is catching on, he feels even worse.

He starts to shiver. It’s too cold, and he feels sleepy. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, Atsumu.”

Atsumu grabs him, when he ends up unknowingly slumping against him. “But Omi-kun, you have a fever! Yer not fine! You need to rest, or else you’ll get worse!”

“But our date. I can’t be the one to ruin it.” Sakusa whispers, and Atsumu sighs softly. His arm wraps around him tighter, his grip comforting and warm. He snuggles closer, shutting his eyes.

A soft kiss is planted onto his cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s okay. I love you all the same, sick or not.”

Sakusa feels like the luckiest man on earth. The possibility of someone like him getting a boyfriend is slim, and yet he’s somehow winning so much at life. He returns the hug, while Atsumu strokes his curls softly.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.” Atsumu pats him on the shoulder, helping him to his feet. “I can take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Sakusa mumbles, too sick to care. They have to walk to the train station, for that to happen. His face is reddened beneath the mask, and he’s aware of how hot his breath is. To stay standing is a chore.

With every step, something in his stomach seems to grow heavier. His mouth is watery, and he stops mid-step to press his hand to it. He can’t walk anymore. If he continues like this, he’ll be sick.

“Omi-kun? What’s wrong?” Atsumu peers into his face, and Sakusa crouches down at the exact same time with a groan. “Does it hurt somewhere?”

A sick hiccup comes out of his mouth. There’s no time for him to react, before it turns into a gurgle. When he inhales shallowly, a thick rush of liquid rises to his throat. “Oh, fuck, I…”

Atsumu rubs Sakusa’s back in gentle strokes. “Aw, man. You really are sick, huh?” He murmurs, staying by his side and showing no sign of disgust. Sakusa is starting to wonder if he’s a saint. He knows that if anyone close to him was as sick as he was, he would take off running and not even look back.

But there’s no way of thanking him. If he opens his mouth even slightly more, he’ll surely throw up. He holds his knees tightly, bracing himself for the inevitable. A bead of spit dangles from his lip. There’s a strong sense of anxiety in his chest, because he hates how he’s so sick, hates how disgusting he looks.

“There’s nobody here. It’s just you and me, okay?” Atsumu reassures him in a soft voice. “And I promise I won’t tell. Just let it happen, and I’ll take care of everything.”

A strained cough tears out of Sakusa, and the pressure in his chest squeezes tighter. He can barely breathe. Every wave of nausea brings him closer to throwing up. A choked gag rises to his throat, and his stomach takes it as a cue to let loose.

Vomit flows into his mouth, splattering onto the pavement with a sick-sounding retch. He screws his eyes shut so that he won’t have to see, but the smell is overwhelming. As soon as he takes in a breath, a second wave of vomiting hits. He can’t believe this is happening.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re doing fine.” There’s a comforting hand rubbing Sakusa’s back. It belongs to Atsumu, whose day he’s sure he’s ruined. He’s sick, and not even in a cute way. Instead of just sneezes or a mild fever, he’s emptying his guts loudly without a shred of dignity.

It doesn’t ever seem to end. Wave after wave of liquid pours out of him like a faucet, leaving him at the mercy of his stomach. The heaving puts pressure on his eyes, and tears slide down his cheeks one after the other. He wants to go home.

Atsumu hands him some tissues, grabbing a few coins out of his pocket to buy a drink. “Let’s try and head to the station. Ya feel okay?” Sakusa nods, wiping his mouth and spitting bitter slime into the tissues.

The ground is spinning beneath his legs. He can barely focus on standing up, and there’s a lingering ache inside his head. “...Atsumu. Can you call my parents? I don’t want to puke on a train.”

“Sure thing. Drink some water, you need it.” Atsumu tosses a bottle over to Sakusa, as he hands him his phone. “Will your mom pick up, do you think?”

Sakusa nods, wobbling over to a low wall and leaning against it. He uncaps the bottle of water, swallowing some of the liquid. It makes everything slightly better, once his mouth is no longer lined with drying vomit.

Atsumu shuffles beside him after a few minutes, giving his phone back. “I called. They’ll be here soon.”

“...Sorry I made you take care of me.” He murmurs, guilt and stomach pain eating at him. “I want to make it up to you, when I’m better.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just thank me. And when ya take care of me someday, I’ll thank you!” Atsumu snickers, patting Sakusa’s back playfully. “Come on. We’re boyfriends. This shit was gonna happen someday. It just came sooner than expected, right?”

Warm arms wrap around Sakusa, as he leans into Atsumu and shuts his eyes tightly. “You’re a good boyfriend, Atsumu. I love you.”

“Love ya too.” Atsumu ruffles Sakusa’s curls, noticing how hot his body is to the touch. He needs plenty of sleep and care, so he can shake off whatever nasty sickness he has. “Rest well, okay? You deserve it.”

[ashesonthefloor]

baby, you’re a haunted house (ot4)

summary: Michael really wants to go to Sydney’s most famous haunted house. He may or may not get super startled by one of the actors, and may or may not hit them in the nose by accident. And, after that, he might keep coming back to to try and apologize properly. And the haunted house might just have a never-ending supply of cute guys working there. (That’s a lie. There’s only three he cares about). ao3 found here

prompt:  “I’m working as an actor in a haunted house and when I scared you, you punched me in the nose. Now I’m bleeding and someone had to get me an ice pack, and you won’t stop apologizing. You’re lucky you’re cute” (except i changed the POV because i wrote the prompt and i can do what i want thank u <3)

word count: 12,433 

content warning: blood! there is nothing too graphic, but, as depicted in the prompt, someone is accidentally hit, and there is a nosebleed. it is all handled and fine, though, and it isn’t too detailed. lots of pining :)

A/N: whew! i’ve worked on this baby for the last two months and only just finished her this week but i am PROUD! i actually really love the way it came out, and my plot! please let me know what you think, i’m a slut for feedback! this was done for my sexy, sexy halloween event that is happening right now! massive shout out to @mikeycliffords​ and @glitterblazercalum​ for beta’ing this! maddie ur comments gave me endless validation and i adore u, and iba u caught all my sexy grammatical errors and i love u for it (and ur reaction to luke’s major <3). and to both @calumcest​ and @clumsyclifford​ for having to listen to me scream and not know what i was writing. unfortunate shoutout to Mr. Gerard Way for the vibey Halloween song i named this after. baby, you’re a haunted house slaps.

Michael loved Halloween. He was pretty sure it was his absolute favourite holiday, and would say that to almost anyone who dared to ask, though most people who knew him knew not to. It was in Fall, so it was nice and chilly, and he had an excuse to bundle up in hoodies and stay there until spring. And he was an absolute slut for horror movies of any sort. He absolutely adored them, no matter how cheesy and poorly-produced. If he had any talent in it at all, he said fairly regularly to his few friends, he’d be an SFX artist. But he didn’t, and he was stuck working as a barista and getting his degree in film studies. 

So when his best friend in the whole fucking world landed a job working with Sydney’s infamous haunted house - known for being realistic, and terrifying, and all the makeup being technically perfect - and invited him to come see it, insisted he can get him in, who was he to say no? He absolutely couldn’t refuse - didn’t even want to, and he’d wanted to go for years, so this was the opportunity of a lifetime - and that was that. It was most of his favourite things all rolled up into one, with the bonus of it being sort of exclusive. Because it was so well known, they always ended up having to open a month early, and the line still wrapped halfway around the block every night. Michael was going to get a backstage pass to all sorts of shit. 

He dressed fairly warm for the occasion, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough yet to justify it, with his hoodie on, oversized so he could cover his hands with the sleeves. Sue him, okay, it was comfortable and warm and he liked tugging on the sleeves or his hoodie strings when he was anxious. Not that he ever wanted anyone to know he’s anxious. Michael worked fairly hard on keeping that part hidden away, so no one else could ever see it. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, exactly. He just...didn’t want anyone knowing. It took level eleven Michael friendship to unlock his insecurities, thank you, and even then, there weren’t many he'd really disclose.

Sydney never got properly cold, so the hoodie was more than enough to keep him warm in the chilly end-of-September breeze. He made his way to the haunted house, queuing up in the line with the rest of the people preparing for the best fucking scares of their lives. 

The waiting process was the worst part of the whole thing. It was just him standing by himself in line, bouncing slightly on his heels every so often and worrying with his sleeves, from excitement, nerves, and maybe it was actually slightly chilly for once. He texted his friend a few times, only to get no reply. He frowned at his phone after twenty minutes of trying with no success. He was supposed to come get Michael at some point. If he was waiting to show him around at the end, wouldn’t he want to know which group he’d be in, or when he was going through the haunted house? Or at least answer him and tell him what his plan was? Apparently fucking not, though, since he made it up to the front without a single stupid text.

His jitters weren’t helped at all by that, but he eventually just jammed his phone into his hoodie pocket and hoped it didn’t fall out in the house. Michael and the people around him were finally let into the haunted house and given the long list of instructions. It was all the usual shit, that everything inside was fake, and to keep that in mind. To remember that the actors were just actors. And to go over the last few warnings - like that the actors would jump out, target people to scare them, ask questions, and generally, you know, act. Everyone agreed to the rules with varying degrees of excitement, and then they were all corralled into the waiting area. 

Michael was back to bouncing slightly in place, hoodie sleeves fully over his hands at this point. The decorations weren’t too scary yet, just meant to keep the haunted mansion theme going. The premise was something about a doctor and his torture chamber and all his patients gone wrong or something. Michael has forgotten a couple of the details, but he remembered the gist of it. He couldn’t make out anything specific, really, not through the awful dim lighting and the light fog rolling in close to the ground, thanks to the hidden fog machines, only adding to the chill in the cold building. 

One of the women in front of him was murmuring quietly to her boyfriend, gripping tightly to his hand. She didn’t seem much like she really wanted to be there. Michael hoped, for her sake, she’d remembered the safe word. Which was a nice touch, making sure everyone could yell it if needed. That rule was burned into his brain: if you yelled the safe word - mercy - any actor nearby would drop their act and escort you to the nearest exit, and you would absolutely not be allowed back in. Michael wanted to make sure he remembered it, but this was practically a once in a lifetime chance, and he really didn’t want to blow it. 

Finally - finally - they were allowed into the actual haunted house. The first room wasn’t too bad, just the doctor guy’s living room with some narration about who he’d been and a little about his ‘abominations’. Michael got enthralled in the story pretty quickly, gaze lingering on the (fake) family portraits on the (equally fake) mantle and on the walls. 

Room two brought a couple of scares, but he still wasn’t doing too badly. They were easily moved from room to room, sticking together in a clump. When the narration ended, basically, that was their cue to move on. Or for some sort or scare to jump out. 

But, of course, the greatest horror house in Sydney wouldn’t stay predictable. After room number three, the smooth transition was broken up by a long, dark corridor, with the sides pressing in on everyone as they went through. Michael curled in a little on himself, shuffling forward so close to the next person in line that he accidentally stepped on their heels. They didn’t even have time to be annoyed before they were in the next room. 

After room number four was worse. They went down an equally dark staircase, Michael’s grip on the handrail white-knuckled, pale skin almost luminous even in the pitch black. He shuffled forward once he managed his way down, unable to see anything, but didn’t bump into anyone. Which was...odd, given how tightly packed they’d all been up to this point. He took a gamble and swallowed his pride, sticking both arms out and stumbling forward, completely blind in the dark. Only then did the awful strobe light kick on above him, even fucking worse than the dark. He only got vague glimpses of where he was, and he couldn’t even see anyone around him in whatever room he was in. Fucking great, he had the best fucking luck in the entire world. Which he mumbled to himself as he continued his blind zombie-shuffle forward until his outstretched hand brushed a wall. Finally. 

He kept that palm pressed against the smooth (fake) stone, moving in one direction he chose to believe was forward. He was pretty sure it was the opposite direction from the staircase, at least. Hopefully he’d make some progress that way. This was so fucked. Where had his group gone? He was very, very sure he’d been with them. They’d filed down the staircase with him, hadn’t they? Where the fuck were they? Where the fuck was he? This certainly seemed like a fucking dungeon. 

He kept going until the shadows seemed to stay in one corner. He stretched out his unoccupied left hand, fingers brushing against another wall. He let out a frustrated groan, quiet and under his breath, even though he was pretty damn sure he was alone. He pressed his hand against it, palm against the cool stone, and he felt it open with a soft click. And he really didn’t care what was on the other side, he just wanted out of the stupid fucking strobe lights. 

And, of course the strobe lights turned off as he stepped towards the open door. His luck was so fucking perfect today, wasn’t it? 

He stepped through the hidden door (or whatever it was, Michael really didn’t care at this point), letting it slowly close behind him with the same soft click that definitely wasn’t ominous at all. This room, at least, wasn’t completely pitch black. There were lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and fake torches along one stone wall, that provided dim lighting. He skirted over to the side of the dungeon that was lit, gaze lingering on the shadowy side. His eyes still hadn’t really adjusted to the lighting, still absolutely fucked up from the stupid fucking strobe light. He would enjoy this a lot more if he knew this was intentional - if it was intentional - or if he was with his fucking group. Sue him, okay, maybe this shit was slightly better with company. 

He heard something shift from the direction of the door, gaze sliding over there. The room really wasn’t that open, and was pretty small in size. He felt something brush his left shoulder and jumped, stumbling forward toward the shadowy side of the dungeon room - backward, now, maybe, since he definitely whirled around to look at whatever the fuck had poked him, only to find nothing but the stone wall. What the fuck was this fucking place? He knew that wasn’t a bat. Maybe it was a bat? He really, really didn’t know. 

There was a weird sound from the shadowy side of the dungeon, which he was way, way closer to, now. He turned to look at it, only to flinch back when something lunged at him, snarling. Michael whirled around to look and let out an absolutely dignified shriek, reacting entirely on instinct, which was the only reason he realized, seconds too late, that that horrifying crunching noise had been his fist colliding with the thing’s nose. 

The thing, that he was now realizing, was an actor, chained to the wall with long chains. They’d made the noise earlier, scraping against the floor, as the actor had shifted. Probably. “Oh, fuck,” Michael said automatically, eyes widening. His knuckles fucking hurt, sure, but he was more focused on the poor actor. 

The makeup was, as promised, spectacular. He was a half-turned werewolf, shirtless and covered in gruesome patches of fur and deep, gory claw marks. He had some sort of fangs in, too, and weird orange contacts that definitely made him look feral. What Michael was most focused on, though, was the blood dripping from his nose that was definitely not stage makeup. 

The actor had a small frown on his face, two fingers coming up to gently touch his nose. He let out a soft hiss, frown pulling more at his lips. “Damn,” he murmured. 

“Oh, fuck,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. “Oh, fuck. Dude, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t- I’ve never hit someone before in my life, I don’t know what the fuck-“

The actor shook his head. “It’s alright. It happens.” He gave him a small smile, one corner of his lips pulling up, before it dropped right back into a frown. Probably aggravated his injured nose. That Michael had done. Fuck. “Hazard of the job, you know? I told them not to activate the strobe lights and then put a jump scare after them. They make people jumpy since they fuck with your vision. They put people on edge. And then to have someone jump at you out of the dark….” He just looked sort of amused. Vindicated, too, maybe. “I figured it would happen at some point. I just got lucky until now, I guess.”

“Fuck, I’m so….I don’t even…..I’m so sorry,” Michael said again, brows drawing together. He really hadn’t meant to. Had he made that clear enough yet? He hadn’t meant to. His panic wasn’t helped by how fucking cute the werewolf was. 

The werewolf just ran a hand through his brown curls, pushing them back out of his eyes. “It’s alright. Really. It happens.” He eyed Michael, amusement in his eyes despite Michael’s clear panic. “I’m Ashton, by the way.”

Michael felt like he was still a few steps behind. Shouldn’t the werewolf be mad at him? Or kicking him out of the haunted house or something? “Oh. Uh. I’m Michael.” Ashton was a pretty name. And Michael was pretty sure it suited him, since it was clear Ashton was pretty attractive, even under all the makeup. And the blood. His nose was definitely bruised.

Speaking of his bloody nose, Ashton pressed two fingers right below it again, frowning as they came away covered in blood. “Well, Michael, you can definitely pack a punch.” He looked almost amused again before it gave way to concern. “Are you okay?”

Michael’s internal monologue still hadn’t shifted from ‘fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck.’ on loop in his head, so it took him a second to register the question. He still felt like he was short circuiting, adrenaline from the scare and the acute embarrassment immediately after still tingling up his spine and all the way to his shaking hands, fingers trembling a little where they were uncovered by the hoodie sleeves. “Wha- me? I’m- yeah? Fine, I- yeah, uh, think. I think, I mean. I mean I am, I’m fine. Okay. Yeah. Good.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer. Michael was pretty sure he could hear his own heartbeat, too loud and too fast, echoing in his ears. Not loud enough to cover the unsettling scrape of metal against stone as Ashton’s chains moved with him. He focused on breathing, pretty sure he’d stopped for a second, inhaling the stale taste of the synthetic fog, permeating through the entire building, though the air lacked the telltale haze of a fog machine, and the equally stale, dank smell of the room itself. It was grounding, sort of. He was definitely not freaking out, though. Not at all. Not with Ashton right in front of him now, gaze fixed on him, Michael’s right hand still tingling, knuckles still aching. This definitely wasn’t social anxiety nightmare fuel. He was definitely perfectly fine.

Ashton reached for Michael’s hand, Michael numbly letting him take it, unable to do much more than watch. Ashton leaned forward a little, chains scraping again against the floor to make the worst sort of unholy noise, grating on Michael’s frayed nerves, thankfully on the edge of what he was paying attention to. He was too focused on how warm Ashton’s hands were, fake blood splattered over them like he was supposed to look like he’d been clawing at himself. “You’re bruised,” Ashton said, inspecting Michael’s knuckles where they’d made contact with Ashton’s nose. “Or, you will be, at least. You didn’t hit as hard as you could have, so I think you’re okay.”

With Ashton tilted forward, it was easier to see that he was definitely still bleeding - which, fucking duh, it hadn’t been that long since he’d punched him - dripping slowly but steadily onto the floor. Noticing Michael’s gaze, probably, Ashton took a few steps back out of Michael’s space, head still tilted forward a little. He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, giving Michael what was probably supposed to be a lazy half smile. 

“Should you- do you need help?” Michael asked lamely. It was a pretty fucking stupid question, since he’d literally just punched Ashton in the nose. And he was bleeding.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Ashton said, as calm and collected as he’d been the whole time. And fantastic, at least one of them was. “I’d go tell someone, but I’m a little bit stuck.” He raised his free hand, chains rattling a little bit. “I’m actually chained to the wall. Someone comes by and lets me out between every couple groups or every couple hours so I can use the bathroom and grab a drink and all that shit. I can’t get myself out on my own.”

“Oh, fuck.” Michael frowned. “That seems like a pretty big fuckin’, like design flaw. Who the fuck came up with that?”

Ashton laughed, short and sweet before he cut himself off, probably because his nose hurt. Which sent a jolt of regret and embarrassment through Michael. “There’s a lot of stuff like that for the sake of ‘authenticity’. Don’t tell anyone I told you, they’d have my head. I don’t mind too much, though. Only lasts two months every year, and it’s fun. Well, except for the occasional scare that goes too well.” He gestured at his face to prove his point, smile tugging slightly at his lips again before it dropped.

Michael didn’t get a chance to reply before someone came in, freezing at the sight of Ashton slightly tipped forward, nose still dripping, but much slower before, and Michael standing stiff and shocked in place. “Oh, fuck,” the stranger said, echoing Michael’s sentiments. “What the fuck happened?” 

“Well, Michael here got so startled when I jumped out that he hit me.” Ashton answered for the two of them. “We’re all good, he didn’t mean to. He’s been keeping me company.” He winked at Michael, making Michael’s face heat up, especially noticeable in the gloomy chill of the fake dungeon room. 

“Fuckin’ hell, man,” the strange guy said, immediately moving forward to free Ashton from the stupid chains. “So, you mean, the same shit you kept saying was gonna happen, happened?”

Ashton let out some sort of noise that was probably meant to be a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much exactly.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the stranger said again, succeeding in freeing Ashton. He leaned in close to look at his nose, frowning. “Well. You definitely need to be cleaned up. You’re out of commission for tonight, we’ll just leave the room empty and the supervisors can suck my dick. Come on, let’s clean you up and get you an ice pack or something, and you can sit down for a while.” He wrapped an arm around Ashton, hand splayed out in the middle of his back. They were clearly comfortable with each other, and had the easy familiarity of close friends. Or something. The stranger nodded his head at Michael. “You, uh, Michael, was it? You can come with us, we’ll get you out.” He paused. “Unless you want to finish the house..? But I’m gonna take a wild guess and say probably not, after that.”

Michael startled a little at being addressed, temporarily forgetting he had a corporal form. “Oh. Uh. No, not really. I”m- that was enough, I think.”

The stranger nodded his head. “Makes sense. You kind of got separated from your group, it looks like. Usually people are in groups of two and three. You sort of had shitty luck tonight, huh?” He said it kindly, though. Like he was sympathetic. “My name’s Calum, by the way.”

“He’s not usually the responsible one,” Ashton teased, shooting Calum an amused look, only making Calum roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Ashton. You’re always Mr. Responsible. That’s why we’re going to patch up your boo boo.” Calum patted his back consolingly, shooting Michael a grin. “So is this your first time here?”

Michael glanced up, fingers pausing mid-tug where he’d been fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Uh. Always wanted to come but it’s hard to get in and last year I got stuck closing most days and couldn’t make it early enough.”

Calum nodded, like it was a solemn affair, or he was thinking. Michael’s ability to figure things out - he was pretty sure it was called perception, but it just proved his point - was absolutely shot through with his adrenaline. He was still waiting for someone to get pissed at him, to kick him out and ban him for life. “It’s a fun place, yeah. I can’t remember if I actually ever went through it before getting to work here and see ‘behind the scenes,’ but we get pretty good reviews.” Calum grinned. “I’d say a bloody nose means you’re pretty fuckin’ scary, Ash.”

Ashton let out a half laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Or people scared shitless and blind in the dark don’t like jumpscares. One of the two.”

Calum had led them through a couple dark, narrow back hallways, clearly meant for the employees, the whole time they’d been chatting. They get to the doorway of a brighter-lit room and hear a woman gasp. “Oh, Ashton! What happened to you? Oh, god, it wasn’t those dicks from last night again, was it? I swear I’ll hunt them down-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ashton consoled, stepping into the room where the woman started fawning over him, leaning up to inspect his face and make sure he was okay. Calum, letting her take over, gently nudged Michael out of view and stepped back into shadow with him.

“Look, Ashton’s a trooper, he’s okay,” Calum murmured, nothing but soothing sincerity in his eyes and coating his voice. “I promise. You seem pretty worried but, uh...The floor managers might not be too happy, you know? We’re missing our werewolf for the rest of the night, so the room will be empty...No one else gives a shit, I promise, I just mean that if you want to come back, you might want to leave before anyone figures it out, you know? Not personal at all.” He gave him a sweet smile that probably would’ve rendered Michael incoherent and weak-kneed any other time, but with his nerves as wired and burnt-out as they were, it only tugged at his anxiety-ridden heartstrings.

“Actually,” Calum continued, tilting his head, “I can get you a ticket or something for another night if you want to do this again.” He gave him a lopsided smile. “You know, as long as you don’t hit another actor again.” Michael assumed he must’ve looked panicked, because Calum was quick to console him. “Hey, hey, I’m kidding. Sorry, too soon.”

“Holy, fuck, Ashton, is that real?” Someone else asked, entering the room behind them.

Calum looked back at Michael, expression apologetic. “I’ve gotta- I’ll have to run damage control, Alisha - the girl - is nice but he’ll need, uh, help. Uh...The exit’s right through there, down the stairs, to the left. If you can get back before we open sometime, cut the line and ask for me. Uh. Calum. That should get you in.” Michael only realized Calum had put a hand on his arm at some point when he squeezed it gently and let go.

With another hasty apology, Calum had to return to Ashton and the whole mess Michael had caused. Michael stumbled on nerve-numb feet through the dark employee back-passageways, hearing the occasional shriek from the haunted house proper. He couldn’t help but berate himself and wish he’d done the entire fucking thing differently. And where the fuck had his friend been? Maybe he wouldn’t have been so nervous to begin with if the fucker had actually texted him back at some point. 

This whole thing had been social-anxiety massive-fuckup nightmare fuel. Seriously, Michael thought as he finally managed to make his way out of the stupid house into the city, shivering in the much-cooler nighttime air, this was going to haunt him for years. Let alone punching anyone in the first place - his hand still sort of hurt, though not a proper hurt, more like the vague ache wrapped in the anxiety-spiking memory of what he’d done - but punching an absolutely gorgeous guy in the face? Fucking hell. Worst thing he could think of.

It was still fresh on his mind as he tucked himself into bed, fresh from a shower as he’d tried to scrub the stupid memory off his skin. He just hoped he managed to actually get over this and it didn’t haunt him forever. Though, he’d been pretty fucking haunted when he’d gone to grab pizza and when the guy had said “enjoy your meal,” he’d said “you too, thanks, mum.” He hadn’t even realized his mistake until he’d gotten outside with his prized pizza. In his defense, he’d been texting his mom, and gotten mixed up. There wasn’t really a defense here.

Fuck. He really hoped this didn’t haunt him.  

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

Well. It haunted him. That first night had really, really sucked. Like...really sucked. It had taken ages to manage to fall asleep after that, since every time he tried, he was painfully reminded of the moment he hit Ashton right in the nose, and how awful that had felt. And everything afterward had just been an anxiety-fueled mess. 

He had class the day after, too, which really fucking sucked, but it meant he didn’t have to sit and dwell on every single mistake he’d ever made in his life. The biggest one was obviously his birth, followed very closely by hitting Ashton. He decided, though, by the end of that day, that he definitely wanted to go apologize again. Just because it hadn’t felt quite like enough just saying he was sorry. He needed to actually prove it somehow. Maybe. Or he was just an idiot. Only time would really tell. 

He got a gift card for the coffee shop where he worked, because he got a discount on it, and everyone liked coffee. Did Ashton like coffee? He really hoped he did. He was still kicking himself for not getting his number so he could make sure he was okay and apologize, but, in his own defense, everything had gone upside-down topsy-turvy really, really fast. 

He got down to the haunted house, still a while before it actually opened. He went straight to the front of the line, remembering Calum’s promise to get him in. Hopefully he could use the advice to apologize properly to Ashton. The guy at the front of the line was kind of a dick towards him, but Michael managed to find a worker in one of the designated t-shirts for the house. 

“Hey, uh, is Calum or Ashton here?” Michael asked, praying he didn’t seem near as awkward as he felt. He just wanted to apologize and leave before he embarrassed himself any further, that was all. Everything was fine. It was fine. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you one of their friends or something?” The guy glanced at him before shrugging. “Calum’s working customer service and merch. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Michael followed the guy into the house, down a hallway that wasn’t super obvious, to what was clearly right after the exit of the house. There was a booth set up, shirts dangling from the top and displayed in the back, along with magnets and other sorts of merch along the table. Calum was sitting behind it, earbuds in, focused solely on his phone. The guy Michael had been following tapped on the table to get his attention, making Calum’s eyes snap up. He grinned over at Michael, pausing his music and tugging his earbuds out. 

“I’ve got to get back to the front, but this guy was asking for you and Ashton. You know him?”

Calum’s smile didn’t dissipate. It didn’t do much to sooth the suddenly overactive butterflies in Michael’s stomach. “Yeah, I do. I’m good, you can go.” The guy nodded and left, leaving Michael alone with Calum. 

“Hey,” Calum greeted, grinning again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back. I was hoping you would. Are you here for the house?” His smile went coy. “Or for me?” He was clearly teasing, but Michael’s face flushed. 

“Uh. I- well. Uh. I came- well, I’m here to apologize. Yeah. To, uh. To Ashton. Again. For hitting him. I mean, by accident. I didn’t mean to.” And wow, way to be smooth. Michael just didn’t know how to function around cute guys at all. Especially not when they sounded like they could possibly be flirting with him, if they were on another planet, where people actually flirted with Michael. 

Calum just gave him another sweet smile, standing and leaning against the table. Michael definitely didn’t pay attention to the way Calum’s back arched, or the way he tilted his head sometimes without meaning to, or how good his jeans looked on him. He didn’t see any of that at all because he was a good person. He just..wasn’t blind. And Calum was cute. “Ashton’s fine. I think he’s working tonight, but I can shoot him a text.” Michael didn’t even have to reply before Calum was pulling his phone out of his back pocket and sending a text, presumably to Ashton. 

“The house opens soon,” Calum continued, “but we’ll see if we can get him up here.” He smiled a little. “You know, after you hit him by accident, they tested out some fake chains. They thought it worked great - until they did a test run, and Ashton broke them when he moved forward. Guess even plastic couldn’t hold up to his upper body strength, huh?” He smiled, eyes squinting a little when Michael flushed darker. Everything was absolutely, perfectly fine. 

Calum’s phone vibrated again and he checked it. “Oh, shit. He’s a bit hung up right now. You want to stick around for a minute and see if he can swing up here? I can give you a bit of a behind-the-scenes tour.” 

Michael considered but nodded. “Yeah, uh. That would be great.” His friend - who still hadn’t fucking gotten back with him, it had been two days, asshole - was supposed to do that when he’d originally come to the house. Better late than never, at least, even if he’d never gotten to actually make it through the haunted house proper. He just had to survive spending time with a super cute guy in the stupidly narrow employee hallways. 

Calum grinned again. “Great!” He slid over the top of the table, knocking a couple magnets to the floor. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I’ll deal with that when I’m back. Come on.” He grabbed Michael’s wrist, his hold warm and gentle, and lightly tugged him towards another hallway. “So what do you want to see first? How we put everything together? How we make a couple of the rooms function? Where we keep all the fog machines?”

“Uhhh……” That was….a lot of options. Michael honestly wasn’t sure where to start. The last comment earned Calum a laugh, short and a little nervous. “Anything?”

Calum nodded sagely, like Michael had made some interesting comment that could be considered, instead of fumbling over his words. “I’ll just start with the basic tour then.”

Calum tugged him into another room, launching into an explanation of how they put it together, and how it matched up with the other rooms in the house. He talked about how they had speakers in each room, and made sure the haunted house genuinely felt like an old rundown mansion with a stone basement. The next room was every bit as interesting, if a bit colder.

“That,” Calum explained, “would be because we keep one of the fog machines in this false wall.” He knocked on it, the sound hollower than a real wall would have made. “It adds to the vibe.”

Michael just agreed that it did, in fact, add to the general vibe of the haunted house, unsure what else to say to that. 

“You know,” Calum said, eyes lighting up a little when he smiled, bright and mischievous, “I’m pretty sure they spent most of the decorating budget on the fog machines. In order to get the light fog in the dungeons, we had to keep one every couple rooms. And then the one in the front room, so people know we’re spooky.” He wiggled his fingers with his free hand, his other hand still warm on Michael’s wrist where he hadn’t let go yet.

Michael laughed, earning another triumphant smile from Calum. “That sounds right,” he said honestly. The basement - or what little he’d seen of it, at least - had definitely been neat, with the very light fog swirling around his ankles. He just hadn’t really made it that far.

And, like Calum was a mindreader, he almost immediately said “Hey, you didn’t finish the house, right? Want to get a tour of the basement? I can show you where I had to use Klorox wipes to get Ashton’s blood off the floor.” Another grin, clearly amused with himself.

“Uh...Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. Being in the presence of a pretty guy did not help him at all, only serving to shut down any critical thinking skills he’d ever had.

“Great! This way-” Calum started to gently lead him out of the room, hand still warm on Michael’s wrist in the chill of the room, before he was interrupted by his phone buzzing. “Fuck, what now?” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, which Michael found impressive given how stupidly tight they were. Calum let out a huff, letting go of Michael’s wrist so he could send a text back. “Fuckin’ hell. I’m gonna have to go.” He gave Michael a look that really looked like apologetic puppy dog eyes, but Calum somehow pulled it off. “We’re letting in the first group soon. I’ve gotta go back to my booth.”

“Oh, shit.” Michael was pretty sure that was the right response. He was still distracted by the smiles Calum had flashed him just moments before. Sue him, his weakness was cute guys, okay? And social interaction. Especially social interaction with aforementioned cute guys. Like Calum.

“I’m sorry. I guess Ashton will be wrapped up in that, too.” Calum frowned, thinking for a moment. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Michael flushed, a natural reply to being asked that by A Cute Guy. “Uh. Yeah. I have class in the morning, but I’m free after.”

Calum grinned again. “Great. Swing by here again? You can ask for either me or Ashton. We’ll get you taken care of, don’t worry.” He winked at Michael, smile still on his face. Michael felt himself flush deeper, praying it wasn’t too visible in the dim lighting of the haunted house.

“Yeah, uh, okay. I can...I can do that.” Maybe he was reassuring himself a little bit. But it would be fun. Calum led him back out of the room, his hand going to the small of Michael’s back, warm even through his hoodie. If Michael’s blush had faded, that brought it back full force. Calum’s hand dropped once they were back in the hallway, but his hand brushed Michael’s on every other step as he led him back to the front, to the area where Calum’s merch booth was.

“Here we are. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Calum asked, expression earnest. He squatted to pick up a couple of the magnets and buttons that he’d knocked to the floor earlier. Michael definitely didn’t glance at his butt, because he was a very nice person, and very good at resisting things. 

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be here.” Michael was completely fucking incapable of going one sentence without stumbling over his words. It was annoying. It was like being near any attractive guy whatsoever made his brain completely short circuit and stop working. He was pretty sure he just suffered from Dumb Bitch-itis or whatever. It was fine.

After a quick goodbye, Michael made his way to the exit and started the walk back home again. He couldn’t say that excursion was really a failure but he still hadn’t done what he’d meant to do. How many cute guys could work there, anyway? That had to be it. So hopefully he’d function properly next time he had to go, even if Calum and Ashton both completely shut his brain down. The gift card was still in his pocket, even as he reluctantly shucked his outside-hoodie to switch to his sleeping-hoodie. At least this time he didn’t have too much to haunt him before he fell asleep.

Except punching Ashton, his brain helpfully supplied. And with that, his hopes for some peaceful sleep went out the window, just like his critical thinking skills had earlier when he’d had to talk to Calum.

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

Michael prayed that this was the last time he’d have to go to the house. He didn’t dislike it, honestly, it was interesting and incredibly well put together. But he really just wanted to apologize to Ashton and have the whole thing be done with. Or, half of him did, at least. He hated when things got drawn out like this, and something hung over his head. He didn’t like feeling like he owed any debts at all. The other half of him, though, kind of didn’t want it to be over. Because then he wouldn’t get to see Calum or Ashton again. And alright, maybe he was a bit of an emotional masochist knowing that they wouldn’t like him but it was...nice, kind of, hanging out with people. And he wasn’t going to complain about getting to hang out with cute guys. Like...ever.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t like he could really be friends with them. He’d fucking punched Ashton right in the face for fuck’s sake. The friendship ship had long since sailed, and he’d lost any chance of talking to him like a functional person as soon as he’d panicked and hit him. Which sort of destroyed any chances he had in befriending Calum. And maybe he was a little bit lonely, and tired of spending all his free time by himself. The cute guys at the haunted house were a no-go, though, so he wanted to be done with them as soon as he could be.

Michael tugged his hoodie back on, and made his way back out into the outside world, where people weren’t so kind, and there were cute boys to accidentally hit and regret your entire life over. He didn’t want to think about having to talk to Ashton again, or Calum, doing his best to save all of his brain power for actually having to socialize, rather than wasting it on indulging his anxiety now.

He cut through the line again, though it was a bit earlier this time, so it wasn’t as long as it had been, and made his way to the front of the house. One of the workers, in the same haunted house shirts he’d see the others in the days before, stopped him.

“I’m here for Ashton?” Michael said, still not entirely sure of himself, like this wasn’t the second time he’d come back to the house and had to ask for them. “Or Calum.”

The girl glanced Michael up and down quickly, seeming to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. And really, why the fuck would he bother lying? He wasn’t even really trying to get into the house, but apologize fully to Ashton so he could hopefully stop being haunted by the memory of his major fuck-up.

“Alright, come on,” she said, turning on her heel and leading him inside. He followed her back through the room Calum had been stationed in the day before, the merch booth left empty, now, no cute guys with equally cute smiles there to drag him through the maze of the house.

The girl led her down a couple hallways Michael definitely didn’t remember, but he really hadn’t been paying as much attention to the hallways of all things the last time he’d been there. But he was pretty sure he didn’t remember any of this. Which was only reaffirmed when she stopped in a doorframe. “Luke,” she called in, hand on the doorframe. “This guy’s asking for Calum and Ashton. I’m busy downstairs. Can you try and track them down for him?” 

Michael could see over her shoulder, but couldn’t see who she was talking to. Luke gave her some form of affirmative, he guessed, because then she was turning back to look at him. “Right. You stay here with Luke. He should be able to find Calum and Ashton. You can wait with him. Good luck.” She turned and headed off back down a couple narrow hallways, leaving Michael more confused than he had been before she’d tried to help.

“Come in, I don’t bite,” came a guy’s voice from the other side of the room. Michael reluctantly shuffled in, already tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. How many times was he going to be shuffled from person to person before he managed to actually give Ashton his stupid gift card and go back to his life of reclusivity, hidden away in his single dorm room. Then he’d finally get to forget how massively he’d fucked up, and not have to think about all the stupidly cute boys that worked at the stupid haunted house.

The room had several chairs set up, with a couple of tables cluttered with a bunch of weird bottles, makeup palettes, and gallons of stage blood. It was empty, except for a girl sitting in one of the chairs, and a guy working on her makeup. He was tall, with ridiculously long legs, and his blond curls pulled back into a small bun, messy, with flyaways wisping around his temples and a couple strands of hair in his eyes when he flashed Michael a quick smile. “Alright,” the guy said, pulling back to inspect his work. “You’re good to go. But maybe try not to fuck up your chest wound next time? It’s not so easy to fix.” She murmured some sort of agreement - and what sounded like an apology - before heading back out, probably to wherever she was supposed to be stationed.

The guy turned to Michael and flashed him a smile, tucking his brush behind his ear and wiping his hands on his thighs before offering one to Michael. “I’m Luke. But, uh, I think you already knew that.” His smile went a little sheepish. Michael just shook his hand, internally cursing himself for having cute boys as a major weakness. Because Luke was definitely cute.

“I’m Michael,” he said, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t yet, and it seemed like the proper time for an introduction. His brain might short circuit a little bit around cute boys, but he didn’t completely forget everything. Usually. Not yet, at least. He was just hoping to keep at least a fraction of his critical thinking skills. So he didn’t end up hitting him in the face, his brain supplied helpfully, even though that had only ever been the one time, and under very different circumstances. It didn’t make him feel much better.

Luke broke into a smile almost immediately, letting out a laugh - more of a giggle, really - that made his nose crinkle. “You’re the guy that punched Ashton,” he said, eyes crinkling a little with amusement. “Holy shit. You’re a legend.”

Michael flushed, feeling his whole face heat up, even though the room was just as chilly as the rest of the haunted house. “Uh. Maybe just a little. The one time.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the ground, suddenly a little nervous. Or...more nervous. Luke was just as cute as the others had been, stray glitter stuck to his hands (and Michael’s palm, now, after he’d shook his hand), and his hair in that stupidly endearing bun. And apparently he knew about the biggest fuck up in Michael’s entire life, which really wasn’t all that good for his already not so fantastic self esteem. 

Luke nodded, still looking only a couple seconds from laughing. “The one time. Yeah. Ashton thought it was hilarious. It worked out, though, he got the rest of the day off, and convinced them to fix his position so it hopefully wouldn’t happen again. Well, I mean, they mostly agreed that he could keep his phone on him as long as it was silent so he could call Calum or something to come get him if something happened. But he counted it as a win.”

 Luke leaned against the table, hip causing a couple bottles to fall over. Luke flushed, pink covering his pale skin, as he rushed to sort everything out, right all of the bottles. He knocked one of them off the table, squatting down to grab it and smacking his head against the edge of the table on his way back up. It knocked the brush from behind his ear, which hit the floor with a quiet clatter. Luke managed to stand up properly, though, his face red, and clearly flustered. “Um. Anyway. So you- Uh.” He shook his head, more curls coming free of his bun and dancing around his temples when he moved. “Ashton wasn’t upset, you’re okay. He’s kind of hard to rattle. Calum and him have been joking about it, mostly. They just didn’t mention you were cute.”

Michael had watched Luke’s moment with the bottles, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he hadn’t wanted to overstep. He’d gotten it sorted, anyway, and his head seemed fine. So he didn’t ask, just watched him with the same slightly cautious expression. Luke’s last sentence threw him off, though, and it was Michael’s turn to flush, staring at Luke a few beats longer than socially acceptable. “Oh, uh- you think- I’m not- I’m pretty, just, you know- uh. Thank you. You’re- the same. Cute. I mean.”

Luke laughed, soft and gentle and warm, meant to be with him rather than at him. Michael’s blush darkened, but he didn’t feel quite so bad about being an absolute idiot. “Thank you,” he said, head tilting a little to the side, smile back on his face. Luke was tall. Taller than Calum and Ashton had been, enough to make Michael aware of the difference. No wonder he’d been clumsy, though he’d seemed to have reclaimed his grace now, lanky limbs seeming only to add to his charm and poise rather than detract from it now that his footing was stable and no bottles were falling on the floor. 

“So why’d you come back, again?” Luke asked, yanking Michael out of his reverie. He’d moved to straighten some of the bottles and makeup palettes cluttered on the table. He glanced at Michael before his eyes shifted back to what he was doing. And yeah, that was definitely stray gold glitter stuck to his hands, front and back. 

“Oh. Uh. I wanted to say sorry to Ashton again. I just...haven’t been able to catch him. Came back yesterday and same thing.” Michael tugged at one of his hoodie sleeves, watching Luke’s long fingers tighten what looked like a tall bottle of latex. And okay, maybe he’d watched a few too many behind the scenes videos of his favourite horror movies, and wasn’t completely brand new to SFX stuff. 

Luke glanced up at him again, interest in his blue eyes and all over his face. His hands paused where they were. “You were here yesterday?”

“Uh. Yeah? I was just with Calum for a while but then he got some text and I didn’t get a chance to see Ashton before I had to leave.” He didn’t know what about that was so interesting, but whatever. At least he wasn’t tripping over his words now and could talk to Luke like a proper functioning human being. 

Luke hummed but didn’t offer an explanation for asking. “Do you want me to do your makeup or something while you wait?” He asked, as random and out of nowhere as anything. 

“What?” Michael asked, brows drawing together again. He was pretty sure Luke hadn’t said what he thought he’d said. 

“Do you want me to do your makeup while you’re waiting?” He repeated, gaze as earnest as ever. He wasn’t lying. 

“I mean, holy shit, yeah,” Michael said, maybe just a tad too eager. Get his makeup done by a makeup artist at the haunted house that had won awards for SFX? Hell fucking yeah! He wasn’t turning that opportunity down. Hopefully it went better than attending the haunted house had. 

Luke beamed, looking absolutely pleased with himself. “Okay, come over here and sit down and I will. Do you want, like, a cut or something? I have a couple spare prosthetic injuries I could use. I know I can’t do the missing eye one on you, you can’t really see in that one. I have a couple of the small claw ones, like I think I used on Ashton? If you want some of those.”

“Uh. Yeah, that works.” Michael made his way over and sat down in the chair, shifting a little bit. He’d never really had his makeup done before, but he was more excited to get to see someone do SFX up close. On him. 

“Can you pull the hoodie off?” Luke asked over his shoulder, starting to sort through his supplies. “I need more space. I can do it right below your collarbone, I think. That’s enough space. With Ashton, I think I slotted some at the top of one of his pecs and then some on his ribs, on his side.” 

Michael flushed but tugged his hoodie off, getting his head stuck in the stupid thing only momentarily, before it was off and he could ball it up in his lap. Luke turned back to look at him, humming softly to himself. He tugged his hair free from the bun, curls falling freely to frame his face, before pulling it right back again. Just like before, curls too short to fit in the bun curled around his temples and his ears. Luke ignored it, stepping closer with the small prosthetic in hand. 

He hummed a little again, eyeing Michael’s collarbones and chest. He tugged the neckline of Michael’s shirt down a little bit, holding the prosthetic up, just below his collarbone as he’d said. “This should work pretty well. Has anyone ever done makeup on you before?” Luke turned to grab something else, probably his adhesive, before turning back and frowning. “It might be easier, since I’ll need both hands for this. You can put it back on afterward, it’ll sit right above your neckline. Right here.” Luke tapped a finger lightly where he planned on putting the prosthetic.

Michael flushed. “Uh. Yeah, okay, I guess.” He really wasn’t used to this. Going shirtless in front of a cute guy? Yeah, that really didn’t happen. Like, ever. He reluctantly tugged his shirt off, though, still not about to turn this opportunity down. The shirt joined his hoodie, both balled up in his lap. He was rewarded with a sweet smile from Luke, before he was surveying the area he wanted to stick the prosthetic, which did little to help Michael’s blush.

“This might be a little bit cold. It’s room temperature, kind of.” Luke started applying the adhesive, completely in Michael’s personal space. “So did you like the house?” He asked, fanning the adhesive with his hand, gaze shifting to Michael’s face. “When you came? Before the thing with Ashton, I mean.”

“Yeah, I did. Uh. I’ve been wanting to come here for years, and I finally got to get a look. I really, really like horror shit, and thought about being an SFX artist but I don’t have the talent at all.” Michael resisted the urge to shift in place, or bounce his leg. He didn’t want to fuck up whatever Luke was doing. “It’s, uh, really well put together. No wonder it’s won awards and shit.”

Luke hummed, tapping the adhesive before grabbing the prosthetic and leaning down, tongue sticking out a little in concentration, as he carefully stuck it down. He held it in place for a moment, pulling back to inspect his work. He moved to grab one of his makeup palettes. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work to pull it together and get everything set up properly. But I can get out of some of it sometimes, since I do makeup.” He grinned at him before starting to add colour to the prosthetic. “You wanted to do SFX?” His gaze flickered up to him again, before again it dropped to what he was doing. “I could always show you some stuff, if you wanted. I’ve been doing it for a couple years, so I think I’d probably be okay at that.”

“Didn’t you guys win something last year for your makeup?” He asked, tilting his head a little bit.

Luke turned pink. “Well, yeah, but that wasn’t just me, that was the whole team. But, um. If you wanted that, I definitely could.”

It was then that it really clicked what Luke was offering. This was a chance for Michael to actually get hands-on experience with SFX and get to see it up close. Not only that, but he’d get the chance to actually do it himself, with someone else’s guidance, and see if he was actually shit at it. And that someone happened to be award winning. And really cute. “Fuck yeah, I definitely want that.” Okay, he needed to curb his excitement. Just a little.

Luke let out another one of his giggles, still working on the colouring of the prosthetic. “Okay. I’m happy to show you. I’ll get your number when I’m done? So we can set up a time?”

Michael definitely didn’t turn pink at that or anything. He was totally suave, totally used to getting cute guys’ numbers, especially while he was shirtless in front of them. Obviously. And maybe that was a little bit of a lie, and this was brand new. And maybe he was a little bit pink. “Uh. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Luke hummed, attention mostly back on the prosthetic. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You said you wanted to do SFX. So what do you do instead?”

“Oh, I’m a film student. I work at, uh, Great Awakenings? The coffee shop a couple blocks down from here on campus.” Michael, again, had to resist the urge to shift around in place. Not because it felt weird, but because he didn’t know what to do with himself, or his nervous energy. He couldn’t even tap his foot or anything on the ground, for fear of fucking up what Luke was doing. 

“Oh, that’s neat! I’m doing philosophy right now. Ashton’s doing English. Focusing on literature, I think. And Calum’s doing psychology,” Luke flashed Michael a bright smile before going back to his work, still carefully adding pigment to the prosthetic. 

“Oh, that’s, uh...pretty cool. What made you choose philosophy?” Michael asked. 

Luke hummed a little to himself. “I dunno. Just thought it seemed interesting. I’m pretty happy doing this, but I don’t know if I can make a career out of it. Or if my skills are even enough to try.” He paused. “I know I’m good enough to work here, I just don’t know about beyond that,” he corrected, fingers stilling where they’d been working. It only took a moment before he was back at it again. 

Michael understood that, honestly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. That’s why I’m in film. I don’t know how far I’ll make it, either,” he said honestly. 

Luke gave him a frown, more adorable than it had any right being. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it, Mikey.”

Michael flushed at the nickname, but didn’t have any time to add anything before Luke was turning around to face the table. “Okay, I just have blood and then I’m done.” Luke grabbed the bottle and a tiny brush, turning around to face Michael yet again. He gave him a tiny smile before he was back to work, tongue poking slightly from between his lips in concentration. 

Luke was pretty. Michael was struggling to think about anything else, even with how desperately he wanted to do SFX, and how much he’d wanted to visit the haunted house. It only took a few minutes before Luke pulled back slightly, surveying his work. Good thing, too, Michael was starting to get chilly. “Okay,” he said, eyes still on the prosthetic, forehead creased slightly, lips pulled into a small pout. He looked thoughtful. Michael refused to admit it was adorable. “I think I’m done.” He gave Michael another smile, nose crinkling slightly with this one. 

Michael’s number one weakness was definitely still cute boys, because his brain short circuited immediately. He was saved from having to say anything, though, when a girl poked her head in the door, knocking twice on the doorframe to get Luke’s attention. “Hey, house’s opening in a few. Stand by in case of any fucked up makeup.” Luke just nodded, and then she left. 

Luke frowned a little at Michael. “Okay, you’ll probably have to go before we officially open and groups start coming through. I might get busy, and we aren’t supposed to have visitors.” Luke chewed at his lip, thinking. “Okay. Uh.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket - Michael didn’t know how he fit anything in his pants pockets, they were stupidly tight and didn’t look all that comfortable - and offered it to Michael. “Give me your number? I’ll text you and figure the whole Ashton thing out so you can say sorry to him or whatever. And then I can show you how to do makeup.”

Michael nodded, taking the outstretched phone from Luke and obediently putting his number in. “That, uh, sounds really great. Thanks, Luke.” He passed his phone back and earned another smile from Luke that definitely didn’t make his stomach flip. Michael went ahead and tugged his shirt  back on, careful not to fuck up his new prosthetic. 

“Okay, sweet. Can you find your way out or do you want me to show you?” Luke asked, as sweet as he’d been the whole time. 

Michael shook his head at the offer, though. “I’m okay. I can get out. Thanks, though. I’ll...I’ll catch you around?”

Luke gave him another smile. “Yeah. See you, Mikey.”

Michael made his way out of the haunted house for the third time, hoodie balled up in his hands despite the evening chill so he didn’t get fake blood on it. And maybe he stopped in front of the mirror once he got home to look at his makeup, stupid grin on his face remembering Luke (and the other cute boys that worked there). And maybe, just maybe, that was the first night since he’d punched Ashton that he didn’t seriously struggle to sleep. 

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

Michael had almost forgotten the whole dilemma, when he woke up to a text from Luke. The phone screen was stupidly blinding in the darkness of his bedroom, and he cursed himself for bothering to check his phone in the first place. To be fair, though, he’d only wanted to see the time - he slept with his phone on do not disturb for this very purpose - he hadn’t expected the text.

Luke H: hey, r u free 2day? :-)

Michael stared at the text, blinking sleep out of his eyes, before he managed to get his brain to function enough to reply. And of fucking course Luke added a nose to his emojis. He might have only met the guy once, but it definitely seemed like a Luke thing to do.

Michael: yeah I should be. y?

Michael didn’t have a chance to even roll over before Luke had replied, phone buzzing again in his hand. Did Luke have nothing better to do? It had to be fucking early in the morning, and Michael’s main priority was going back to sleep. Though, in Luke’s defense, it usually was.

Luke H: no reason

Luke H: can u meet me at that coffee shop @ 1 later 2day? 

Luke wasn’t making any more sense, even with his clarifications. And Michael was way too tired to think too much about his cryptic messages. So he just agreed.

Michael: yeah

His phone buzzed again, seconds after he’d hit send. Did Luke have nothing better to do than text Michael at fucking nine am on a Saturday morning? Didn’t he know how to sleep in?

Luke H: great :-)

Michael tossed his phone to the side with a sigh, resolving himself to being awake way, way too early. This wasn’t usually how he spent his mornings; normally, he slept in until noon if he didn’t have work, and spent the day catching up on homework he didn’t feel like doing during the week, and finished the day with pizza and a few rounds of FIFA. He didn’t usually meet cute boys at the coffee chop, for god knows what reason, and he usually didn’t wake up so fucking early.

The rest of his day passed slowly, starting with two cups of coffee to try and keep himself awake and functional. He could hear his mum in his head, reminding him that nine am isn’t even that early, that most people were already awake and functional by that point. So he just shook his head and told his imaginary mum to piss off, and that he wasn’t most people.

He managed to waste most of the day away until he was already running late to meet Luke. He tugged on a hoodie that he’d only worn once that week, making it objectively cleaner than most of his other ones.

By the time he made it to the coffee shop, he was a couple minutes past one. Which was fine, it was pretty standard for Michael. He never really knew what time it was, but he tried his best. At least he was only a couple minutes late this time. Hopefully Luke didn’t mind too much.

Speaking of the devil, Luke had taken a seat in the corner and, when Michael spotted him, was mid-laugh at something Ashton had said to him. Ashton, who was sitting right next to him, grin on his lips. Oh, fuck. Had Michael just been invited to fucking third wheel them or something? You could third wheel a friendship. Michael knew that, from trailing after a pair of best friends when he was a kid, before he’d just decided to be a loner for the rest of his life. But they seemed awfully cuddly now, too. Maybe they’d just invited him to laugh at him.

Or, the much smaller rational part of his brain pointed out, maybe Luke had invited Ashton since Michael had wanted to apologize to him again and had never gotten the chance. Maybe Luke was just being nice.

Michael just did his best to shove all those thoughts aside. There was no point in freaking himself out now that he was already here. Better to just figure out what Luke had planned and get it over with. Or enjoy it, maybe. Maybe. 

Michael made his way over to their table, awkwardly taking his seat in front of them. Luke turned and gave him a bright, happy smile. “Hey, you made it!” He greeted, clearly pleased. “I went ahead and brought Ashton, I hope you don’t mind. You said you wanted to apologize, and we both think you’re pretty cute, so-” Ashton smiled fondly, but nudged Luke anyway.

“Don’t freak him out right after he gets here,” Ashton chided gently. He gave Michael that warm smile, shifting in his chair. “Hey, Michael. Good to see you again.”

Michael nodded a little, socialization abilities immediately leaving him. “You look good,” he said, before flushing. “No, you don’t. I mean - fuck - I don’t mean that, I mean you look good now that you’re not covered in blood. Or, you looked good then too. Well, not really, because I hit you in the nose-” Michael snapped his mouth shut. “I mean, it’s good to see you too.”

Ashton just laughed, good naturedly, but Michael was pretty sure he was one fuck-up away from them hating him. Still, though, his laugh managed to calm some of that built-up nervousness he was holding on to.

“You look good too, no worries,” Ashton said, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile. 

Michael just nodded a little, steeling himself before he spoke. “I’m, uh. Really sorry about hitting you. I didn’t mean to at all, and still don’t know how I managed to fuck up that badly.”

Ashton gave him another smile. Luke was busy fiddling with one of his curls, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation, if at all. “It’s okay. Really. You didn’t do any lasting damage, and you didn’t mean to. I’m fine now, and it made the managers have to reconsider the position. Besides, it just meant Calum and Luke were a little overprotective for a few days. I’m fine now, but they were worried for a couple days about bruising and possible lasting damage. You should really be apologizing to Luke for having to deal with blood.” Michael must have looked confused, because Ashton continued. “I don’t know why, but it freaks him out. He’s fine with all the SFX shit, he’s okay with gruesome fake injuries and fake blood, but any time there’s real blood? He freaks out.”

Luke abandoned his curl, tucking it behind his ear, to pout at Ashton. “Hey. I just don’t like it.” 

Ashton gave him another stupidly fond smile and draped an arm over the back of Luke’s chair. “I know.” Michael felt like he was third wheeling, again. Which, okay, Ashton and Luke were cute, but he couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped a little. He’d thought they were pretty cute, and he hadn’t deluded himself into thinking anything would happen with either of them. But it didn’t really make it feel much better to realize he was third wheeling.

Sometime into his quiet sulking (which only could’ve lasted a minute or two at most), Calum had come up behind him, because now he was pulling out the chair next to him. Michael was effectively caged in now by attractive guys. Which, okay, was manageable. If his brain would stay functional. At least now he wasn’t third wheeling Luke and Ashton by himself anymore.

“Hey,” Calum greeted all of them, smiling in the way that made his cheeks squish up and his eyes squint. And okay, yeah, Michael definitely needed to get back into the dating world. 

“Hey,” Luke said, brightening a little again at the sight of Calum. “Michael came.”

Calum nodded, giving Luke the same fond smile Ashton had. “I can see that, babe.”

Luke reached his hand across the table, towards Calum. Calum took it, gently squeezing his hand. And fucking great, had Michael gone from third wheeling to fourth wheeling? Was fourth wheeling even a fucking thing? It clearly was, if what he was thinking was correct. Because Calum, Luke, and Ashton seemed awfully fucking close - Calum had just called Luke babe, for Christ’s sake - and he was pretty fucking sure they were all dating. Or involved together in some way. So why fucking bother inviting Michael if they were going to act like that? It wasn’t like he thought it was a date or anything, but it seemed...rude to just be all couple-y with a fourth person there.

“I’ve gotta take a call,” Michael said, and the excuse to step out sounded lame even to his own ears. But it had seemed like they’d been...maybe not flirting with him, but flirty, and he felt pretty fucking awkward fourth wheeling them the way he was doing. So he wanted an excuse to step outside for a moment and breathe. He pushed his chair back, wincing at the noise it made, and awkwardly stumbled outside of the door. The bell above the door chimed as he did, which did nothing for his annoyance. 

He took a few steps to the side, so he wasn’t in anyone’s way if they tried to go into the little coffee shop. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, forgetting his excuse, and completely forgetting that he should probably at least pretend to be on the phone. Even if his phone hadn’t been ringing in the first place.

His melodramatic inner monologue of suffering was interrupted by the stupid bell chiming again. It earned enough of his attention to look up. And none other than Luke was standing there in front of him, apologetic smile on his face. “Hi,” Luke said, making his way a little closer.

“Hey,” Michael said, a little unsure.

“I just, uh...I’m sorry,” Luke said, fidgeting a little in place. His gaze shifted down to his feet, where he was absently scuffing the toe of his converse against his other foot. “I should have warned you about us. We just...it’s still kind of new, telling people, and we all...well, we all thought you were really cute, and I thought the rest of it would be easy if I managed to get you here. But life isn’t really like the movies, and I was kind of a dick to not at least warn you. Ashton said I should have, and he was right. I should have.” 

Wait...what? Michael was left reeling a little. At least he wasn’t fucking crazy, and he’d been right about the three of them being together. Or, that was what it sounded like, at least. But the rest of it? What did Luke mean by them thinking he was cute? What the fuck? Why did Luke have to be so cryptic? “What?”

Michael was pretty sure Luke blushed. He just scuffed his toe against the ground again, before making eye contact. “I’m dating Calum and Ashton. Or, we’re all dating each other. Um...and we thought you were cute. We think you’re cute. And I fucked up and should have explained all of that earlier. So you didn't, uh...get blindsided by it when you got here.”

Well, that was...a lot. And unexpected. “So...is this a date or something?”

Luke shrugged. “It is if you want it to be.”

Michael considered that for a moment. Did he want it to be? He’d never dated more than one person before - hadn’t really dated many people in general, honestly. But he didn’t dislike the idea. He had gotten along with all of them individually pretty well...and they were already established, right? So maybe it would be easier for him to just join that. Maybe. “I think so, yeah.” He nodded a little.

Luke grinned, shoulders sagging a little with relief as. “Great! I’m sure we’ll talk about everything soon. Like, boundaries and limits and telling other people and the future and stuff like that. Ashton and Calum are pretty good about all that.” Luke reached for Michael’s hand, and he took it, letting Luke lace their fingers together. “For now, though, let’s go get coffee.” Luke tugged him back into the coffee shop, a triumphant grin on his lips. Michael couldn’t help the smile he gave him, just as fond as the ones Calum and Ashton had worn earlier. Something about Luke’s happiness was just...contagious and sweet. It made you happy to see him so happy.

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

The relationship ended up working out like a fucking dream. Michael had never felt so supported in his life, and he was pretty sure his boyfriends felt the same way. After the initial coffee date, they’d gotten themselves established, and talked about what they wanted and what they wanted the relationship to look like, and the future, just like Luke had said. And, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the conversation was guided by Ashton.

Telling his mum had arguably been the hardest part, but even that was made a little easier with their support. Answering her questions hadn’t been fun - he’d deflected the over-the-line questions, as anyone else would, and flat out refused anything rude - but they’d gotten it taken care of, and she’d been about as accepting as Michael could have hoped.

As promised, they managed to get Michael a job at the haunted house the following year. One of the managers had gotten fired after the incident with Ashton - not that that had been the cause, but he’d been a massive dick about it, according to Calum and Luke, and it hadn’t been a good look, so he’d gotten canned - which let Calum get a promotion. Ashton was happy to stick with being an actor. As long as, he’d said when they’d broken the news to Michael, stupid grin on his face, no one else punched him in the face. He didn’t want another boyfriend. It had earned him three eye rolls, and three fond smiles, from each of his stupidly indulgent boyfriends.

But it had meant there was an opening for the merch stand, and Michael would get three glowing reviews. So they’d managed to get him the job. And, Calum had reminded them at the time, pleased smile on his face, they had a lot of sway with one of the managers.

So after everything got settled, Michael’s life was the best it had ever been. He had three loving, supportive, wonderful boyfriends, a job he loved, and date night every Friday. Even if he was working, they were happy to come sit and entertain him until he was off. He didn’t feel left out with them anymore, either; after that first time, they’d gotten it sorted, and were quick to comfort and console him.

Ashton never fucking let him live down the way they met, though. He made dad jokes about it as often as they let him - “watch out for Michael, he packs a punch,” “ah, Michael’s got quite the feisty personality,” “Michael’s really got a nose for this sort of thing. He fucked up mine, so it’s only fair, I suppose” - which was way, way too often, given how bad they all were. Michael couldn’t even bring himself to care, though. Not when accidentally punching him in the face had been the one thing to pull his life together. Ashton’s dad jokes were definitely worth all of that.

[anika-ann]

A Matter of Trust

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 5470 (oops)

Summary: You and Steve get to go to a mission together after a while; free drinks, partying, dressing-up nicely, stealing blueprints, the usual. You might even enjoy this as a couple.

Or… not really. Of course something would go awry. What else did you expect when wearing these killer heels anyway?

A/N: Written for or @wkemeup​’s 4k writing challenge; congratulations! Well-deserved, no arguing here; shall the number continue to grow ;) Thank you for letting me participate!

Prompt: “Get in the closet, now!” (bold in the text)

Warnings: suggestive language, mentions of a kink, objectification, gun violence (brief), swearing (always), attempt at humour, fluff…?

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In your whole history as an operative of S.H.I.E.L.D. slash Avenger, time had never dragged so slowly as it did at this party.

Not even Steve’s presence cheered you up, mostly because he was busying himself with being everyone’s company but yours despite you two coming here together. For a mission. To work, you reminded yourself.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been there for the plan-making which had resulted in mutual agreement of Steve falling into the role of an honourable man whose infamous good nature prevented him from saying no to anyone who asked for a moment with him even if it meant leaving you alone. Which you supposedly mind, because you were here with him only to sneak in here and possibly get your five minutes of glory if he stood by your side long enough

And that was only an act for people who would have noticed you had arrived together.

For the others, you simply attended the party – a known cover-up for a place of business in arms-deal among the powerful men of the underground world – to have fun and seduce some rich businessman.

Sipping from the very same glass of champagne you had helped yourself with about an hour ago, you scanned the room in the search for the big boss. No, not Steve, but the man of the hour, the one whose blueprints you were meant to steal. The blueprints of a potentially large bomb that could kill tens of thousands if it went kaboom and released the nanoparticles of a dangerous virus to the air.

Lovely. Someone clearly had too much time on their hands coming up with crap like that only to make your life miserable.

“What’s a gorgeous lady like yourself doing at this party alone?” a velvety voice interrupted your dark musing and you vainly tried to cover the shudder running down your spine, cursing at the heat curling in your stomach.

Was this how he was talking to all the women who were throwing themselves at him tonight? Probably.

Had you been through that before? Yes.

Had you expected it to happen tonight? Sadly, yeah.

Was it bothering you? Hell the fuck yeah, even if you knew it shouldn’t and that it didn’t mean anything but Steve doing his job right.

You cursed mentally at your weakness and sighed out loud, spinning around to face the man.

“Waiting for a bulky blond supersoldier to come save her, naturally,” you hissed back, hating yourself for letting your jealously get the better of you.

Steve had never ever made you as much as doubt that you were the one for him, but that green bitch of an emotion still intruded on you tonight. You blamed the upcoming visit from aunt flow and the rush of hormones arriving with it and the fact you were itching to leave and go home just for getting rid of those ridiculously high heels alone.

You usually enjoyed wearing high heels, they gave you confidence as gazes of many men and women followed you, but the stilettos you had got chosen tonight could be used as murder weapon.

Ha, maybe you could try and sell them here, you’d make a fortune!

A frown appeared on Steve’s face, one of curiosity, regret and surprise when he registered your irritated tone.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded quietly, whispering to your ear intimately, only making the situation worse.

“You shouldn’t be talking to me, Captain Rogers. You’ll blow it.”

His eyebrow jumped ridiculously high and you realized what you said; you groaned both at his cheekiness and your stupidity.

“Blow our cover. Get your mind out of the gutter…” you muttered, putting some distance between the two of you for the sake of the cover.

“Maybe I’m feeling a bit reckless tonight,” he hummed back, his large palm resting on your lower back and you had to take a moment to swallow the blissful groan at his gesture. You loved his hands and the heels were not only killing your feet, but also you back, and the warmth radiating from his skin felt like heaven. “But seriously, are you okay?”

“You could have asked through the comm.”

“I wanted to check up on you personally.  So?” he insisted and you couldn’t but sigh again, finishing your glass of champagne when you spotted Wagner, aka your target. You stepped away from Steve.

“Just tired. Want this to be over with. Go mingle, Steven.”

Pausing when you took a note of the harshness in your tone, you found his concerned gaze over your shoulder, whispering as softly as you could: “Thank you for your concern… Captain.”

You caught a glimpse of his discreet lopsided smile before turning away fully.

As you walked into the crowd, your long crimson dress curled around your feet with every step due to the provocative – read practical – slit ending mid-thigh. You hoped that the memory of watching you go would occupy his brain for some time while he talked to the flocks of both male and female admirers.

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Two hours. It took you another two hours to ensure you’d be safe sneaking into the Wagner’s office slash bedroom.

Of course his bureau would be his bedroom; men like him knew nothing about good old sleep hygiene, because the thought of their money distracted them from the evil they were doing to the world and had them sleeping like babies.

Using the key-card you had snatched about three minutes ago, you easily entered the over-decorated room.

Looks like someone’s compensating for something, you noted mentally, not losing any time and activating the no-prints mode on your gloves; one of the perks of working with Tony Stark. You were wearing the nanotech the whole evening and no one had a clue, because the particles were imitating your skin. You’d leave a print on the glass of champagne if you wanted; if you planned on rummaging someone else’s office, leaving a trace was a different case and you wouldn’t take any risks.

Systematically starting on the right from the door and working your way through everything that looked even remotely like a possible hideout, you didn’t forget to gingerly place your palm over the wall-length closet so Friday could run scans.

God, you loved that Tony Stark was on the side of the angels despite not quite being one himself; according to him at least.

“No signs of anything else than overpriced shirts, tuxedos and sets for dom-sub play,” the AI announced, barely audible, and you cringed. Not what you needed to know. “Cuffs are men’s size. Dominatrix set for a wom-“

“Enough, enough! Gee, Friday…” you muttered under your breath, not liking the visual of Wagner in the middle of enjoying-

Gross.

“No need for that much detail…”

Shaking your head, you moved onto the desk; an obvious, perhaps too obvious choice, which was why you wouldn’t place your bet on it. But hey, you could never be sure enough until you checked.

The sudden noise on your right had you drawing your gun at instant, your pulse skyrocketing.

The first thing you saw was a large frame of the newcomer and neatly combed blond hair. Your shoulders slumped.

Steve raised his hands as he moved from the doorway to stand inside, his face visibly relaxing at the sight of you searching another man’s desk.

The door clicked shut behind him and you forced yourself to breathe in, shoving your gun back to the holster placed on your covered thigh.

“Jesus, Steve!” you whisper-yelled exasperatedly and resumed your inspection, paying him no mind anymore. You had more important things to do at the moment; not that you wouldn’t do him; Steve in a tux was sight to behold, like hold onto THAT, literally get your hands on it, but you were here for a job.

“You weren’t responding!” Steve replied in the same manner, causing you to freeze.

He had been trying to contact you? And you couldn’t hear him? But-

“Oh,” you let out intelligently, doing the math easily. “He must have some sort of a jammer in here, makes sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I’m fine,” you stated, shutting one drawer, opening another. “How did you even ge– never mind. You should go-“

“Don’t wanna cloooose my eyeees!”

The distant howl-like shout from the hall turned your blood into ice, your eyes widening.

You had studied Wagner the whole evening; you’d recognize his voice anywhere, even when he was singing ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ out of tune.

“-before THAT happens! Shit!”

As you pulled out your phone, the live-feed from the camera in the hall offered you a marvellous view.

Two gorilla-men were dragging Wagner towards his room as his feet barely kept him standing. Gorilla number three was walking behind them just in case that their boss’ face decided to meet the floor despite the support offered to him.

Shit, shit, SHIT-

Closing the drawer you were currently scouring, lips pressed into a tight line, you eyed Steve; he was already bracing himself for the fight, caught in the middle of the process of discarding the jacket to have wider range of movements.

You whined internally – firstly, what a sight, it would always make you weak in knees no matter what. Secondly, if this was to end in a fight, the chances were that you’d make it out without the plans and you had spent the night in those killer heels for nothing.

Oh no, you don’t-

“Cause I’d miss ya’ BABY—I don’t wanna miss a THIIIIING!”

Scanning the room once more, your mind running hundred miles a minute, your gaze fell on the huge-ass closet of which contents you had learned more than you’d like to.

Your lips parted in surprise at the plan forming in your own head.

This is a terrible idea.

It’s yours!

Exactly.

Yeah, okay, fair enough-

NO TIME TO COME UP WITH A BETTER ONE-

Steve was kind enough to follow when you grabbed his arm and pulled him from his spot in the middle of the room, though he did shoot you an utterly confused look.

You met his eyes and gulped when the singing approached the room way too quickly to your liking.

“STILL MISS YA’ BABY–“

“I need you to trust me now,” you pleaded in hushed tone, seeing Steve’s pupils go wide, covering the somewhat always warm blue of his irises.

“With what?”

Well, he asked for it.

“Get in the closet, now!”

A second of shocked silence followed your request before his brain made the connection and a scowl twisted his handsome face.

“What? No! I’m not leaving you alone to face them!” he raised his voice minutely and you covered his mouth to remind him that there were ears present, inching closer with each second passing.

“DON’T WANNA FAAAAALL ASLEEEEEEP-!”

“That’s exactly what you’ll do! That’s easier to play off.”

Steve very much not agreed if his eyes flashing with anger were anything to go by. His hand pushed yours away as he towered over you.

“I’m not leaving-“

“Look at the gorillas, Steve!” you shoved the phone to his face, unlocking the closet and throwing its door open. “One word from them to the rest of security and we’re screwed. Get in!”  

Something between a whine, a groan and a growl – neither of those sounds sexy given the circumstances – escaped his lips and you assumed he had to admit to himself that you were right.

Taking a mental note of his resistance diminishing, you easily pushed him towards the limited dark space.

“CAUSE EEEEEVEN WHEN I DREAM OF YOOOOOOOU- THE SWEETEST DREAM WILL NEEEVER DOOOOOO-“

“We can still play it off toge-“ he tried to protest one more time but you pushed against his chest adamantly.

“And say what? This isn’t what it looks like? We just happened to choose your office to get freaky? I’ll handle it. Trust me.”

Steve gave you his unfairly disarming pleading look, his puppy eyesTM, but backed into the closet without another word, clutching his previously stripped jacket to his chest, because he did trust you.

Fingers on the handle, you hesitated when you realized what could ruin the charade you came up with and planned on pulling off.

Swallowing hard at the terrible idea, you gave Steve a tiny encouraging smile as you drew your gun and three knives from your leg holster/sheath and pressed it to his hands.

“Hold these for me.”

Swiftly closing the door, the last thing you saw was the horror on his face.

As the door swung open and you spun on your heels, he had no chance to react.

The loud song which had been reaching your ears for seemingly endless time died on Wagner’s lips and the third extra gorilla of a man behind him instantly pulled out his gun.

And aimed it right at your face. While you had nothing to defend yourself but your bare hands.

Yay.

“Who are you?!” he thundered and like a charm, Wagner stood straight so the other two guards could have you at gunpoint as well.

Yet, what sent an unpleasant shiver through you was Wagner’s sleazy eyes travelling from your killer heels to your ankles, up to your partly exposed thigh, your waist and finally settling on your cleavage, not bothering to make it higher to look into your eyes.

So. He’s a pig. Shocker.

For once, you were grateful. Not that he was supposed to know that.

A sweet innocent smile spread on your lips as you eyed the weapons with what seemed to be almost a satisfaction, you hoped.

“A government agent, of course,” you said, voice pitched just a bit higher than usual. You felt a bit sorry for Steve at the moment; you were well-aware of nearly giving him a heart attack by saying that. “I work with Captain America.” Scratch the ‘nearly’. Poor Steve’s heart. “I was given the task to scour this place… very… thoroughly.”

Your tone husky now, your teeth bit down on your lower lip, your eyes watching Wagner with faked interest. He hypnotized your red lips before shaking his head as if snapping from a haze.

“They told me you’ve been a bad, bad man. I kept my eye on you all evening,” you admitted, not even having to lie.

The following smile you sent his direction was perhaps too predatory, but that could work. For him anyway.

“Who do you work for?!”

The guards were not as easily fooled as their drunk boss apparently; then again, you hadn’t expected them to.  

“Oh. A.R.M.O.R. America-Related Manpower Operatives and Reinforcements.” God bless their hearts if they were going to buy that, seeing you were obviously trying to imitate the SHIEILD acronym. Very poorly. Playing it up, you let a giggle escape you before your expression turned serious, guilty even. “Oh. Probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s only my first time, you see. I finished my training few days ago.”

“Mm… look at ‘dat…” Wagner drawled and nope, it had nothing on the way Steve spoke when his accent peeked through while he was drunk on Asgardian liquor or lust alone.

Not relevant.

Wagner waved off his guard dogs, gesturing to one of them to approach you. “Why don’t we search you first?”

“Make it quick. I have…” you let your eyes trail over Wagner’s body, licking your lips when visibly lingering on his crotch, “more important tasks at hand. I came here for a mission. I’d like it to… finish.”

Two men instantly went to inspect you, patting you from the back, from the front, up and down, way longer and more thoroughly than necessary.

And they found what they were looking for.

One large palm harshly slipped between your thighs and you closed your eyes, willing yourself not to throw up at the pawing.

Gorilla One’s head snapping up to you, he pulled out the only weapon left on you, handing it to his boss and Gorilla Two grabbed your wrists and locked it behind your back, causing you to nearly hiss in pain.

“Oops,” you shrugged instead, burning gaze locked onto the man who was holding both your weapon and your life in his hands.

Your heart was beating frantically in anticipation, your confidence wavering as Wagner inspected the knife.

A slow smile spread on his face, his left eyebrow rising and then he finally, finally burst out laughing.

A confused ‘what’ sounded from behind you as the man’s utterly smashed boss howled in hysterical laughter.

“This—this is GOL-DEN!” he choked out, tossing the item to the very man who had handed it to him.

“It’s a stage-prop,” Gorilla One sighed.

And that it was. Thank you, Natasha Romanoff.

“Oh. So it’s fake.”

“Told you I have more important things at hand… so if—my hands could find some release please…” you asked sweetly over your shoulder. The very next second, you remembered just what was in the closet; and you weren’t thinking Steve. So you switched tactics. “That’s an order, actually. Let. Me. Go.”

“What the agent said, Greg,” Wagner beckoned, still chuckling, a new twinkle appearing in his eye, his face free of mistrust. Gorilla Two, Greg apparently, released your hands with reluctance. You didn’t bother thanking him. “And let her work. Off you go.”

When the gorillas wavered for few moments, you felt your impatience grow along with the pain shooting up your calves. Damn heels.

“Have you not heard your superior? Do I need to teach you some discipline?”

Wagner licked his lips, taking two wobbly steps towards you. It seemed to seal the deal for the guards, because they left the room.

“Someone went out of their way to get you… Must be my birthday then,” he grinned sleazily, his fingers twitching as if he craved to touch you, his hands stopping few inches from your hip. “I’m all  yours, agent. Why don’t you go on with the… thorough inspection?”

Straightening your posture, chin stuck up, you nodded curtly.

“Of course. Sir, I’ll have to ask you to raise your hands to your head. Don’t move otherwise. I’m gonna feel for weapons now.”

“Yes, madam,” he responded breathlessly, but the second you started the process, his hand landed on your hip.

You stopped in your search, locking serious gaze with him. His pupils were blown, eyes dark with lust. His fingers squeezed, his gaze flickering to your mouth as you stood nearly chest to chest.

“Sir, this is highly inappropriate. I’m gonna have to ask you-“

His palm slid to your bottom, fingers digging into the flesh.

You narrowed your eyes, not even having to pretend you didn’t like that. You slapped his hand away, earning a sly grin. He didn’t try again immediately, which you were endlessly grateful for. Instead, he obediently raised his arms so he looked ready to be either searched or crucified.

Oh, you’d gladly.

“Sorry, Agent, I couldn’t help myself. What is such… pretty face like yourself doing in business like this?” he questioned in a husky voice and at that moment, you knew that your time spent around Tony Stark had taken its toll on you, because you simply couldn’t resist that pass.

“Stealing intel from pricks like you,” you mumbled under your breath, giving him just enough time to realize something was wrong.

A fraction of second later, the edge of your hand hit his throat, bruising his larynx and causing him to release a shocked huff of air. Kicking his knee next, your elbow met his face. A choked groan escaped his lips and you prayed to god he didn’t truly find his voice to call the guards.

You elbowed him in his right temple for a good measure, incapacitating his other knee so he nearly sunk to the floor. You slipped around him in one swift movement; your arm sneaked around his throat and cut out his airways.

Too stunned, he barely fought you and you felt all tension leave his muscles in no time.

Wagner’s body hit the ground as he slipped through your hands despite your best efforts. You winced at the thud shaking the floor; you quickly giggled loudly, playing it off as a drunken fun-time shenanigans. Just in case the guards were still at the door.

Satisfied and relieved when no one burst in with guns blazing, you walked to the closet, losing those damned stilettos on the way.

As soon as you unlocked the closet, Steve nearly hit you with the door when abruptly leaving the limited space. His eyes scanned you head to toe to find any sign of an injury, the flames in his glare fading only a bit when he found none.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” he whisper-yelled and despite the circumstances, you couldn’t but giggle, this time from honest amusement as he proved your earlier thoughts right.

There we go…

“Worked, didn’t it? Now help me since you’re here, he’s fucking heavy…”

Steve gave you an incredulous look, one promising a storm coming once you had the time for it, but he went to pick Wagner’s body up without protest.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Steve was kind enough to have you use the bathroom first, so by the time he emerged – around half past three a.m. – you were already tucked in bed, waiting for him. His feet shuffled against the floor and he seemed utterly spent, as if he had been fighting an army from space.

You had both left the party unharmed; then again, you could imagine that socializing the way he had had to could be as tiring as an alien invasion itself. Also, he had been the one leave Wagner office-bedroom through the window, while you simply walked out of the room, winking at the guards who had indeed stayed by the door.

Steve slipped under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, the warm light replaced by inviting darkness. Your eyelids felt heavy after the long night and you couldn’t wait to enter the blissful land of sleep.

Having Steve’s arms around you, a pleasant habit of his, you knew you’d be out in no time, but you made the effort to shift further into his embrace, sighing in content and murmuring ‘goodnight’.  

Already halfway out as soon as you closed your eyes, you still registered his arm winding tighter around your waist, his nose pressed to your nape. A deep inhale, then another, warm breath and his lips inching closer with each second.

Pulled out of your slumber, limbs already heavy and yet floaty, half-hearted question left your lips.

“You ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, his foot wedging between yours to pull you impossibly closer, his exhale long and wavering.

The tremble in it alarmed you, urging you to check up on his expression, on him. Willing your body to move, your heart skipped a startled beat when he wouldn’t let you turn around.

“That didn’t sound-“

His fingers wormed its way under your side laid on the mattress, flexing on the flesh of your waist.

“I’m fine….” Bullshit. “It’s just… you have no idea how hard it was to stay put while listening to all that, do you?”

Eyelashes fluttering in surprise, you took in his words, the subtle taste of fear in them, concern for how your abrupt plan could have easily go awry.

You allowed yourself a few moments before responding, forcing your memories, the images of you helplessly lying pinned to the ground after you saw a building explode – a building with Steve still in it – out of your mind.

“I… I think I can imagine. I’m sorry. I came up with an idea and thought it was for the best,” you whispered.

Honestly, you were still convinced that it had been the best thing to do given the circumstances, but that was momentarily beside the point.

“You literally told him you worked with me. I swear to God- I–“

Hearing the shift in his voice, a different emotion interfering – the pure horror, laced with exasperation – you softened your next words even further, running your fingertips over the back of his hand coaxingly.

Without any real hope, you attempted to turn in his firm embrace; this time, he reluctantly let you, your palms instantly trapping his miserable face.

“Hey. Hey, Steve, it’s fine. We handled it. We’re good. I just remembered Friday told me that he was a kinky bastard-“ Steve nudged you at the word and you fought hard the eye-roll he had coming at that “-and decided to use it.”

“You gave me your weapons and went against him empty-handed– never ever do that again,” he demanded, voice equally pleading and firm. You couldn’t help but nudge him back, because in your line of work, promising that technically equalled lying. “If there is any other option.”

You sighed, understanding all too well how he was feeling, willing to promise the latter to ease his mind. And to erase the worried wrinkles on his forehead. You kissed him there, the tension resolving under your loving gesture.

“Noted. I didn’t do that to get off, to have a high.“ Unlike some people, who seemed to do that sometimes. "I promise.”

“I know you didn’t,” Steve said, having the decency to add an edge of guilt to his voice, your verbal call for hypocrisy not going unnoticed. He kissed your left collarbone, tender and greedy, his lips sliding an inch lower to faintly feel your heartbeat and lingering.

“You know me well,“ you stated, running your fingers through his still damp locks, musing. "It’s… nice. Not as scary as I expected once.”

“Thanks…?” he murmured against your skin unsurely and you chuckled, a tired but oh so content sound.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours, finding your lips with his to deliver a lazy but heartfelt kiss, one you felt reaching your very soul.

Shifting so your head was tucked under his chin, you nestled into the most comfortable position possible and Steve hummed into your hair, once more pulling your body against his, not an inch of space left between you. You melted into his warmth and finally, you felt his muscles fully relax as well.

As you once more walked the fine line of dozing off, a sudden thought caused you to snap your eyes open, your heart skipping a curious beat.

“Steve?” An absent hum was his only response, but encouraged by any reaction at all, you continued, knowing that you wouldn’t fall asleep without having the answer. “When you said it was hard… you weren’t referring to a… certain situation of yours, right? … or were you?”

Even with his body turning rigid, a rock-solid prove he was fully awake, he put effort into sounding sleepy.

“Just go to sleep, woman.”

“…were you?! Do you want me to… do some thorough inspection of y-“ you teased, fascinated, never finishing your thought as Steve’s large palm covered your mouth.

You resisted the urge to release the surprised laugh bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you thought Steve’s desire was ridiculous; you were just that amazed that it never came up; a true wonder given your line of work.

Momentarily incapacitated, you didn’t speak, but grazed your teeth over his palm so he would release you.

“Hush!”

“ ’khay-“ You muttered and he removed his palm, sleepy blue watching you in warning. You strained your neck to kiss the previously teased skin of his hand. “We’ll explore that another time. I’m beat. Still love you. Goodnight.”

With that, you curled back into his body, feeling the wide expand of his chest followed by an exasperated puff.

“Goodnight, you maniac. I love you too.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ 

Pins and needles in your toes ripped you harshly from the dreamland and you groaned quietly, rescuing your foot from the vice created by Steve’s own.

Shared sleep was blissful, releasing endorphins, the feelings of comfort and safety it provided irreplaceable and all that, but having your limb pinned to the mattress by a supersoldier was no joke.

You checked the clock on the nightstand; 8:27 AM. Sparing a glance at the man sleeping beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist, palm sprawled over our abdomen, you smiled despite the early hour.

Any other morning, you would have shaken off the cramp and scooted over to get even closer to Steve; however, determined to do something nice for him and make sure he was alright with what he had clearly considered an irresponsible stunt of yours yesterday, you thanked heavens for the unexpected get-up call and planned on wiggling out of Steve’s grasp.

“Where ya’ goin’?” he mumbled sleepily, the inches you had managed to put between your bodies erased as his arm pulled you back, his nose nuzzling your hair with a sigh.

“Bathroom,” you lied easily, lightly patting his forearm. “We’ve barely slept for five hours. You still have thirty minutes till your usual start of the post-mission day, you crazy-ass lark. I’ll be right back.”

“Mm-hmm… I’ll be waitin’.”

Chuckling silently, you freed yourself fully, this time without his protests.

“I’m sure you will, Steve,” you whispered, your smile widening when only ten seconds later, your words were followed by his quiet snort.

Grabbing one of Steve’s hoodies thrown over the backrest of a chair and sliding into it, you made your way to the communal kitchen instead. Your mission was to make Steve breakfast, secretly hoping you could talk him into skipping the usual run today and actually spending a day in bed. You thwarted big bad’s plans yesterday, for god’s sake, you both deserved a break…

As a reminder of the past events, a bruise the size of a boot on your thigh – which you didn’t remember getting – stared accusingly at you when you passed a mirror. You inconspicuously pulled the hem of Steve’s hoodie an inch lower in attempt to cover it. Vainly.

Rolling your eyes, you wondered just how nice you needed to be today; Steve had seemed more freaked out than anything else; nevertheless, the anger could come today and you rather if it didn’t.

Deciding pancakes, eggs and bacon were a safe bet, you hummed and opened the fridge.

It was the exact moment something caught you eye, a change in decorum; right above your head on the top of the fridge.

A big fat zero stared at you from the sign you had got Steve a while ago, a memorandum of your first first-hand experience of his utter recklessness on missions. Ever since then, you and the rest of the team made sure to have the board up-to-date, sometimes proudly and sometimes regretfully rewriting the number of ‘days without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’.

Now there was a zero. Your jaw went slack, your heartbeat skyrocketing.

It was not the only change on the sign.

Someone, and you had a very good idea who that might be (hint: he was sleeping in your bed), plastered your name over Steve’s.

Your smile froze on your lips and at that moment, you could have been knocked out with a feather.

Unbelievable.

Un-fucking-believable.

Shutting the fridge with a loud thud, bottles in its door clinking, you strode back to your shared room, sputtering curses.

The audacity of him!

When had he even- how had he done– all night— you had woken up before him-!

Forget pancakes, eggs and bacon; snark was on the menu today.

“STEVEEEEEN!”

You heard his laughter before you even reached the bedroom.

Looking at the bright sight of things, Steve being a little shit was a positive shift from his late-night anxiety. A brief smile crossed over your face before you stormed into the room, finding the blond culprit muffling his chuckles in a pillow.

Your pillow.

Jumping to the bed, you grabbed his own and opted to show him just how stupid you could get.

Because trying to take down a supersoldier in a pillow fight? The zero might have to stay on the board for one extra day.

As Steve’s carefree laughter echoed within the walls of your bedroom, filling you with pure joy, you decided you could live with that.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━  ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

If you’d like to know the origin of the board, I kindly point you towards my S.R. masterlist, specifically to Challenge Accepted…? Fair warning: it has more drama than this one.

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[parkeraul]

PLEASE A ONE SHOT of Tom revieving good treats sighing and closing his eyes !!! Im death !!!!! i need this in my life haha

→ me necesita | t.h.

author’s note — helloooo! i’m so sorry for the long waiting and for this piece so short. lately i’m lacking energy to write for some reason???? but i truly hope you like this little thing. it actually makes NO SENSE AT ALL.

pairing: tom holland x reader

masterlist ┊add yourself to my taglists ┊give me feedbacks.

warnings — smut. plus, this scenario involves only 18+ people, so that’s why i haven’t specified with y/n or whatevs. 

Tom had woken up from an agitated dream for the day ahead of him, a long comic con from the very beginning of the afternoon until the middle of the night. But what he couldn’t let show is that he didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours, because the other ones were energetically disturbing throughout the night. 

He was resting peacefully, mind totally empty and ready to relax and it did work for a while — but his dreams were bothered by a mysterious woman whose face was barely showing, though her silhouette was perfectly standing out from the blurriness of his weird dream. 

She walked in a never–ending way towards him, black dress framing every curve of her body and cascading into a round skirt. The straps were fragile, only there to hold the fabric up and hide the most tempting part of her cleavage. 

There were shadows covering her eyes, only displaying her features from down her nose. She had a gorgeous smile, pretty lips and something about the energy she was exhaling got Tom shifting in bed, pressing his front to the mattress and moving his eyes from side to side underneath his closed eyelids. He knew he wanted her, he wanted to unravel more than the paper–thin black fabric and find out what’s about her that makes he wanna come undone.

He had never experienced a dream so real, so full of anticipation and curiosity. 

Her exposed legs were silky and begging for his hands to caress the smooth flesh, and he craved it so bad he could almost smell the scent of them, or feel the warmth of her thighs close to his lips like he wanted it to be. 

The slight moment when the shadow disappeared and gave him the sight of her entire face, Tom got trapped into the way she looked deeply at him and cursed himself for asking not to get up so soon, because the dream got stolen from him right when she stopped in front of his frame — so close and so far away as she winks him goodbye.

In that small dressing room backstage, Tom closes the door and locks it kind of clumsily. His throat is dry and no matter how many times he gulps, the lump of the anticipation won’t go down. He blames himself quietly for picturing scenarios in his mind the whole time, barely listening to the questions they were asking him. Now here he is, pants tight on his body and shirt squeezing his arms and chest, making the warmness wandering along his skin start to simmer helplessly. 

Tom can’t quite understand why and how he came to this point — his hands were slightly shaking and curling them into fists wasn’t easing the nervousness, the impatience. His rationality isn’t working better than his senses, so his open palms rubs his face roughly and they travel up to his short hair, brushing the small locks back. He tries breathing deeply once, twice, three times and the expected state of stillness went away as fast as it came. 

His hips buck into the air subconsciously.

And that’s it for him.

From the top of his head, Tom’s hands moves to the nape of his neck with the fingers of his left hand hooked together with his right hand ones. They rest there for a few seconds, while he concludes that there is no other way. 

The fingers loosen, and his arms drop down to the shirt tucked inside his trousers. Tom pulls the fabric out of the firm waistband and his index bump into the button of his pants — and he sighs heavily, a trail of chills embracing the nape of his neck and the extension of his arms.

His worked–up mind flies back to her and the image of her silhouette hugged tightly by the black dress. He remembers how the top part squished her chest in the most sinful way, how the swell of her breasts were discreetly calling his attention, begging for kisses all over the skin he didn’t need to touch to know it was so tender. Tom exhales, cursing his imagination for setting the image of that girl starting to kneel down on the white floor, passing her delicate hands along his thick thighs as he undoes the button of his navy blue pants. 

“Holy shit!” He laughs to himself, not believing the power that his thoughts had on him. In his head, she is there on her knees just perfectly, adjusting herself and watching his zipper going down slowly, attentive as Tom feels a weak sensation of relief take over his lower stomach and growing bulge. 

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Tom mutters, discarding his leather belt to the floor. “On your knees for me.”

He tilts his head down and that’s when her utopic company makes its presence solidly, earning the shiest growl out of his throat. She looks up at him through her lashes just like she was looking at him hours ago during the dream. God, she’s got the most breathtakingly pair of eyes, glancing at him expectantly. Tom dares to replay in his head the way she winked at him and the sight of that gets his member twitching, then softening as he frees his lower half from the trousers keeping that warmth playing way too dirtily with his current state. 

Now, there in his fantasy, she’s batting her eyelashes and putting her hair behind her ears, getting ready for what’s about to come. Tom smiles to the memorable image of her unmistakable beauty, and kneeling on the floor in front of him she’s managed to look impossibly prettier — to a point where words of praise and orders couldn’t stop falling from his lips, and he’d never thought someone would acquire such thing in a quick period of time like this. But Tom couldn’t stop himself, her awaiting expression begs silently for instructions and compliments that he’s more than willingly to give away.

“Hands behind your back,” He whispers, holding onto the elastic waistband of his black Calvins as she complies in his brain. Tom needs to take in a sharp breath and resist the dizziness taking over his nerves, mouth watering to the delusion of her arms hooking behind her back, the strap of her dress falling from her shoulder deliberately. Fuck, the things he’d do to actually have her in this exact position right now. “Good girl… That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

His briefs lower and his aching length springs out, bouncing from side to side and he pictures her staring at it hungrily. The boxers get stuck no further past his crotch, his legs opening faintly just like her lips parting in unison after her tongue swap gently on them to moisten the plump flesh. She bites onto her bottom lip and Tom mirrors the action, seeing the way she leans in with her wanting mouth more than ready to welcome all of him.

Tom holds his own cock and starts to grope the middle of it still weakly, pushing and pulling the mild skin as he opens his eyes lazily to tilt his head back up. He searches for all the air he can get in his lungs as his hand wraps around his dick, tightening the touch gradually whilst his movements never stop. Tom allows his eyes to wander around a blank spot of the room, thinking about how wonderfully it would to be to have those pretty lips covering the leaking tip of his member. He can’t help but hold himself harder, hissing strongly when a pulsating wave of pleasure heats his entire length and increases the coil in his lower abs, “Open up, gorgeous, I know you can take more.” 

He imagines what her face would look like, smirking back at him the best way she can while swallowing his hard cock, mouth completely stuffed — and in his head, she wouldn’t feel satisfied even with most extension of him inside her. Struggling and gasping, she would still lean in for more in his mind and Tom could almost taste the feeling of getting stuck in the beginning of her throat. To that, he swipes his thumb right where his pre–cum is leaking unstoppably, drawing tight circles and massaging his cock with his other fingers and palm. The vein underneath it is quivering, unsatisfied with the slow pace while Tom’s eyes even begin to water from how good it feels. His hand narrows and curls around himself in a fist, pumping the thick length with the might he needs all the way from the base to the head, bringing a moan to erupt from his lips while he thinks about how warm her tongue would feel, how wet and loud the sounds out of her mouth would be. 

“Fuckin’ shit, darlin’,” Tom growls, fastening his moves and clinging his head to the wall behind him. All he can think about is the stubborn strap of her dress falling more, revealing the skin he’s been dying to decorate with hickeys ever since she bent over towards to glance at him with that tempting look in her eyes, “Suck harder, show me what this mouth can do, c’mon.”

   And if Tom only could,

   he’d take a good handful of her hair and shift it into a high ponytail,   

and thrust into her mouth as he bobs her head against himself.

A thin layer of sweat wets his hairline, and he blows the air in his mouth in search of his painful relief. At this point, Tom can’t suppress the groans slipping out of his lips anymore — and he tried biting his lower lip, he tried clenching his jaw but nothing could forbid him. He just hoped no one outside would hear his muffled cries as he pumped himself hardly, making smacking sounds out of his force.

His orgasm begins to come across, so he closes his eyes again and sees her gagging onto him with drooly lips along with watery eyes, his hips bucking against his fist helplessly. She’d take her hands from behind her back to lower both straps of her black dress and display her bare chest to him, staring deep into his brown eyes. The squelching noise out of her stuffed mouth would sound as delicious as the suctions straining his cock, those beautiful–shiny eyes capturing every reaction from Tom, waiting for his release to come.

At this point, Tom is a panting mess. Everything is hot and yet satisfying, making his head spin as he licks his own lips and feels his dick throbbing vigorously, while the rhythm of his movements grow insanely quick. His tip drools more, his hand consequently collects the wetness and soak his extension with it, making his imagination bring him to a state of bliss as it matches with the reality he wanted — his cock covered in a messy humidity, all damp, dripping and immersed in a pleasure he’d never felt before. 

“Stick your tongue out,” He hisses lowly, face contorting in a painful euphoria as his touch grows sloppy. She’d be there with her middle exposed, pinching and rolling her own nipples with her tired mouth still pleasuring him. To the request, she would look up at him with puppy eyes and she just wouldn’t beg for his cum because she wouldn’t dare releasing his member before his high. Tom, in his utopia, would drop her ponytail to hold her by the chin and tilt her head up, taking away most of his length and leaving the red tip inside her drenched mouth. He trembles in both scenarios, moaning accidentally louder in broken sobs as the tight coil explodes and sends the sharpest vibrations of the most delicious orgasm he had given himself — it sparkles through all of his nerves, taking over him in a long high, the longest he’s probably had, “Take it, take it, oh…”

White and hot ribbons would fill her mouth, to which she’d open her mouth for him to see. He comes so hard his vision goes blurry and his legs start to lose stability, pants and sighs echoing throughout the tiny room. She would milk him until the very last drop, not minding how full her tongue is or how much it is holding — she would swallow it little by little, always freeing space to the last shots coming up suddenly and end it with the last deepthroat of the day, catching him by surprise.

Tom breathes in deeply as much as possible, looking down at his flushed cock still hard and the veins pumping, his own cum in so many different spots and distances in front of his tired body. His other hand goes to his forehead, fingers tugging at the short locks of his hair when he realises that this reverie brought him up to cloud nine, feeling a mix of pleasure, frustration and shame. He was so hard for her that it happened so fast, but in his mind it took an eternity — and yet his cock can’t smooth down, he fears that this desire might follow him for the rest of the month, wherever he goes.

In the elevator, thinking the whole day over and over again, Tom sighs and steps out of it as soon as the silver doors open up. When he gets out, his phone vibrates in his pocket with that signature notification sound reverberating across the hallway. 

He takes the phone out, not reading the screen yet due to the sound of keys clicking together as one of the doors of the corridor gets locked. Tom decides to pay attention to the way, watching the lights identifying movements by the sensor and illuminating the space, reflecting on the ground. 

Steps bang against the floor and he brings his eyes up to see the frame in front of him, crossing the opposite direction.

The black dress, putting together all of the details of his daydream just exactly.

Tom even stopped staring at the 11 number craved on his door to watch her walk by, her scent inebriating the entire space and landing onto his nostrils, intoxicating him with a shocking desire.

He totally deadpans, lips parting very timidly but in a thirst he didn’t know he had been feeding.

She winks at him, putting a strand of her hair back and smiling warmly, walking past Tom but turning around to catch the view of him doing the same damn thing. He smiles back, even letting out a little breathy laugh. Was he dreaming again? 

Before he can actually do something, she enters the elevator and he concludes it’s game over. Should he run after her? Should he interview every neighbour to get information?

When Tom looks at the screen to see the time and check if it’s early or late to go after the girl, he spots a message from the doorman.

Mr. Tom, the lady on the apartment 12 asked me for your number. Shall I give it to her?

—

Taglist: @outlandishnerd – @jillanaholland – @space-holland – @snowflakeparker – @tomhollandseverything – @neverletyoufall – @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory – @peterspideysense – @fanficscuziranout

[overwhelmedbyskeletons]

When Nothing Moves

I can’t sleep. The sun is too bright.

I started this job cleaning out fruit slicers all night a month ago and I haven’t had a good nights sleep since. Every night filled with tossing and turning, trying to find a way to comfortably shield my eyes from the suns blinding light. Working a graveyard hours job meant I was sleeping all day and working all night. The cruddy curtains in my room were doing fuck-all for blocking out sunlight. Some of the guys at my job that were friendly enough told me to buy some blackout curtains and it will make my room completely dark, even with the sun beating down and hopefully it will help me get some good rest. after my work week ended, in my car I ordered that highest-reviewed blackout curtains I could find online and they were due to arrive at my apartment the next morning, in seven hours.

I woke the next day to a knock on my door and a shine directly into my eyes. I could have rearranged my entire room several times and still wouldn’t be able find a way to not get work on my tan while I sleep. I hurried to the door to get the package and gave a wave to the delivery driver before they made it down the stairs out of view.

Putting up the curtains was smooth, even though they were quite heavy material. My biggest fear was that they would pull the curtain rod from the wall, but that worry didn’t last long as the void that my bedroom had become was a sight for sore and tired eyes. I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen before sitting down on my bed. Before I could take a sip, the comfort of my sheets began to sing symphonies to my tired muscles and lull me back to sleep.

I slept in, something that was unheard of even before I started my backwards sleep schedule. The clock on the bedside table read 9:23pm in red digital font, illuminating my wallet and phone that I had forgotten to plug in after last nights shift and was now most definitely dead. Still in a sleep state, I reached down to grab the charger and plug it into my phone when I heard a noise come from the other side of the bed. A tapping in a rhythmic matter, which would explain why i hadn’t noticed it sooner, but now it had gotten louder, almost annoyed at me paying it no mind and I froze leaning halfway off the bed. The jolt of fear that swarmed my body woke me up better than any instant java could ever wish. It knows that I know and its playing with me now. The tapping is getting faster and multiplies and I now that it is the sound of fingernails tapping on my wall.

(Did somebody break in am I really going to get murdered in my bed after the first night of decent sleep in my life?)

The tapping stopped suddenly, followed by a bang on the wall knocking out one of the nails holding up the curtains. My fists clenched among other things. I roll off the bed into a stance and with a sorry excuse of a warcry ready to fight whatever it was in my room to the death if need be. Nothing was there; I was sure of that. The curtains had fallen letting in the bright glow from the 7-11 across the street, revealing the only thing out of the ordinary in my room was that I needed to clean.

“Must’ve been a dream.” I said out loud, an attempt to calm myself after what I just experienced or just only imagined.

I flicked the flicked the lights on and fixed the curtains. Hammering in the nails all a little more for good measure before walking out of my room to start my day.

My apartment is in no meaning of the word interesting. I’ll state that I had, two chairs, a couch, some scattered goodwill tables of varying size, and a flatscreen TV on a small Swedish table decorated with a collection of games and movies. It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed what I had.

I prepared myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch to watch a show when I noticed movement down the hallway into my room. It wasn’t a natural movement in any sense and even now it is hard to explain. It was as if the world had lost focus of that specific spot in my bedroom doorway and it had grown hazy and distorted. It had the height of a man in a sheet ghost’s clothing and it was raising what I presumed to be its arms when an ad on the TV startled me back to reality. I started up a show and began eating my food quickly, doing my best to forget what might be lurking down the hall and failing as thoughts raced through my head.

(I didn’t check under the bed FUCK no one can fit under there anyways FUCK THE CLOSET FUCK it’s nothing probably just a reflection YOU HAVE NO MIRRORS IN THERE DUMBASS AND YOU CLOSED THE CURTAINS IT’S A GHOST YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED CONGRATULATIONS SHIRLEY FUCKING JACKSON WOULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT YOU CALLED THE IDIOT’S HAUNTING IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE)

Frustrated with myself I hopped up and marched down the hall to my room huffing and puffing with each authoritative stomp, making sure that whoever await beyond the door knew I meant the most serious of business, as well as sloshing my breakfast everywhere. As I pushed the door open fully I was rushed by what I can only describe as a shadow, knocking me on my back. spilling cereal and milk all over me and as I looked up I could see the shadow turn left at the end of the hallway into the TV room and out of my sight.

I was terrified. I tried to stand myself up while keeping my sights on where I last saw it. As I got to my knees and began to prop up, the shadow peaked around the corner with a featureless, translucent face starring at me with what I assumed was malicious intent. Frozen in fear, I could only muster up the breath to ask a single question.

“Who?”

To which, to my absolute horror it responded in a echoed whisper.

“Boo.”

And vanished.

With my pants shit and my legs like jello, it took me a moment to breath, let alone move. When Blood returned to my veins I hastily made my way to the bathroom to clean myself of spilled Golden Grahams and milk and to face the realization that what I had just witnessed was anything but normal. I spent a moment arguing with my thoughts, fighting the impulse to sleep in my car. My reflection in the bathroom mirror helped to ground me in reality, to remind me that I am fine and no harm was done. I convinced myself of a resident Casper The Friendly, albeit roughhousing ghost. I soon after left the bathroom.

I poured myself another, bigger bowl of cereal and sat down to watch anything the TV had to offer. I spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating and finding any excuse to not look down the hallway.

At around 2:51am I had had enough of wracking my brain, thinking that at any moment the shadow would reappear and attack me again, this time finishing the job. I bolted down the hallway to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out my apartment to go across the street to the 7-11 for a early morning slurpee. The cashier knew me and joked about my usual purchase of sugary drinks and snacks. I gave no response, paid my $6.23 and headed out the door.

As I was crossing the street back to my apartment, I looked up to my second floor bedroom window, half hoping to see nothing, other half expecting bloody Mary herself. After what I had been through that night, I’m not sure why I even went back into that apartment. The curtain rod had been torn out of the wall again and standing in my room were two of the shadow figures latched to the windowsill, with the distinct outline of hands pushed against the glass. They watched me as I continued crossing the street; my heart was almost bursting out of my chest. I was running on fear induced auto-pilot and my destination was my apartment door. When I reached my door I finally paused and reflected on what had happened tonight.

(If they wanted me dead, They could have done it already. They were playing games with me, but why?)

I stood in front of my door for a minute before realizing I had never locked it and walked right in ready to confront whatever was inside. I flicked the kitchen light on, set my drink and bag down, and looked down the dark hallway. Spilling out of my room were dozens of shadows piling over each other, all different shapes and heights of darkness, fading in and out as if there was a draft blowing through them. I began nervously pacing in my small kitchen, checking on the hallways inhabitants every few rounds. They never moved. After a while a voice moaned from my bedroom.

“Leave”

“No.” I spat out responded in annoyance.

“Leave or...”

“Or fucking what?” I shouted with such ferocity that my neighbors definitely heard me.

“Die.”

All the blood drained from my face and immediately the shadows in the hall began screaming and moaning, shifting from side to side,all while inching towards me. My legs turned gave out from under me. trying to catch myself from falling I had turned the kitchen light off which seemed to invite the shadows to come closer. As they got closer, their faces appeared mangled and distorted consisting of holes where a human features should be. As their shadows began to overtake my motionless body, I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt. Amidst the moaning I heard one last phrase.

“Sleep again now. We’ll do the rest.”

The next thing I know, i’m laying on the doormat outside of my apartment. I didn’t care how I got there. I quickly got on my feet and down the stairs to my car. I closed my eyes as I backed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to ever look at that window ever again.

I stayed at my friend Aiden’s place for a week. He lived alone, so he liked the company and he had the room for it, so he didn’t mind. I had told him a lie of how the landlord was spying on me when I showered and once tried to seduce me while fixing the sink. I think he believed it.

I only wanted to go back to the apartment once to get my stuff. After a week of staying with Aiden, the two of us drove to the apartment building and found that where my bedroom window used to be was blown out, stained black with burn marks. Aiden didn’t know what to say and I was beyond confused. We parked the car and I went to the landlord’s door alone and asked what had happened. He told me in detail that four days again my room had exploded from a gas leak and that I was lucky I went on vacation or else i’d be a deadman. There was nothing to be packed up that wasn’t ash. I apologized to him about his building, and said goodbye. I headed back to my friends car who was waiting with a drink for me from across the street. I got into the car without a word.

“What the fuck happened? Did he try to kill you? Tried to burn you alive cuz you weren’t turned on by his wrinkles?” Aiden said as he started the car.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened. Gas leak they think, he told me.” I said. “Let me take one last look.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, shutting the engine off. I rested my arms on the top of his car looking up to my once bedroom window now black from the fires, but somehow still intact. I thought I saw something and ran across the street to see it closer. There were two marks on the burnt windowsill; marks I could swear were burned in hands.

“You ok, Rick?” Aiden shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, no, I’m good. Just getting a closer look.” I said as I ran back to the car. “Just saying goodbye is all.”

“Well alrighty, you want to grab some burgers?”

I nodded and smiled.

I never asked him if he saw the handprints.

We pulled out of the parking lot, passing my old apartment building one last time. I instinctively waved to the window that used to be my bedroom. Nothing waved back.