#not bad considering i was on my tip-toes!

[notesonartistry]

LWYMMD, Eras Tour London, 17/8/24

[cakesexuality]

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[hyunsvngs]

🪅 anon againnnn!!!!!!!! Thinking abt reader and chan visiting reader's childhood home when chan gets so needy he begs to put 'just the tip in' while theyre in reader's old bedroom😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 but eventually he fAILED and aAAaGgHhhH

𝐛𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 - bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

sw: daddy kink, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, bang chan’s big dick, degradation (a bit), dumbification, dom!chan, sub!reader

as soon as chan pushes the duvet off of your legs, you know where this is going. his fingers dart up the skin newly exposed to him in your sleep shorts, until he’s cupping a handful of your inner thigh and inching closer towards you. it’s not hard to be close to you - your childhood twin single is anything but spacious, yet you still jolt in surprise when his breath fans over your neck.

“you look so cute,” chan mumbles. you feel his big nose pressing into your skin and you gasp when he kisses just below your ear, nibbling your lip when he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. “will you let me play with you, baby?”

“c-chan,” you try, but you know your answer. it’s always yes. enthusiastically, actually. “my parents are in the other room, i don’t- i don’t know if i can be quiet, and-“

“i’ll just push the tip in, yeah?” he says, pulling his face away from his neck. the room is darker than usual, only your lamp providing a semblance of some light, but you can see his dark hair and how it’s forming curls after his shower. his eyes are even darker, plush lips in a teasing, almost questioning smirk. he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. “just the tip, baby. i promise.”

“mm- mm, just the tip?” you question, but your thighs are already falling apart. your toes curl underneath the duvet, and you let him pull your shorts down with two thumbs hooked into the waistband. he groans when he sees you. you know you’re wet, you always are when you’re in bed with chan, and he can’t help but to take his hand from your face and swipe over your clit. you whimper, soft and barely audible, and chan licks his lips.

he’s just in his boxers, expensive vetements ones that always make you feel bad when you’ve gushed all over them after a dry humping session. the light coming from the lamp is a sweet orangey-pink that highlights his abs as he shuffles over and settles between your legs, and you pull your sleep shirt up to expose your tits to him.

“you know just what i like,” chan coos, eyes fixated on your chest. your breasts jiggle with every stuttery breath that comes from your lungs, and you wriggle around impatiently while he pushes his boxers down strong thighs. “my good girl. daddy’s good girl, yeah?”

“yeah! yeah, ‘m daddy’s good girl,” you nod eagerly. he chuckles, and your eyes widen when you see his cock. it’s nowhere near close to the first time you’re taking it, but chan’s big big big, thick and heavy with a pink mushroom tip that has you drooling. “r’ya gonna give it to me now, daddy? i wan’ it.”

“yeah, i’ll give it to you, baby,” he mutters, hand moving to grip his cock. he pumps it a few times, and you see a droplet of precum dribble to christen your fresh childhood bedsheets. he leans over you, cock still in one hand and his bicep tensed next to your head. he’s close like this, letting you see every freckle and mark on his face but before you can even consider kissing him he’s fucking his cockhead into you. your mouth drops into an o, a silent whine, and chan audibly laughs this time. “ah, there you go. there’s that sweet face.”

“i- you’re really hard, daddy,” you say, in lieu of saying anything else. your eyes flutter shut, and his cockhead fucks into you slowly a few times, all two or so inches. your pussy squelches audibly with every movement. chan huffs out a breath, and then you feel him slide another bit of his cock home. your eyes shoot open, blinking rapidly at his smug expression. “daddy! you said- you said just the tip!”

“i think you need more, don’t you?” he asks, eyebrow raised. his lips are curled in a teasing smile, and you try to deny it, try to shake your head and pout but he’s all too knowing. “you need daddy to play with your messy pussy, fuck it open with my cock until i’m breeding that hole. isn’t that right? tell me i’m wrong, baby.”

you whine, legs kicking around in your mini tantrum. chan catches your knee while you’re squirming, pushing it upwards until you’re forced to hold it back yourself. despite your confused expression, he pushes forward, and then his cock is filling you all the way to the base.

“i- ah, daddy?! daddy, it’s-“

“i know, i know,” he croons, leaning down to press his lips against yours. it’s a chaste kiss, almost an apology, but then he’s fucking into you so deep it has your eyes watering. he moves you around, pushes his chest to yours so your nipples rub against his hard pecs. with him this close to you, your clit rubs against his trimmed pubic hair in such a delightful way that you want to cry. “takin’ it so well, that’s my girl.”

“‘s big,” you slur, eyes rolling back into your head with every buck of his hips against yours. it is big, cock stretching your hole to the point it almost hurts - yet you love every second of it. your pussy gushes and makes its own noises of pleasure around your boyfriend’s length, and if it was any other situation he’d laugh at you. he won’t this time, though, not when you’re being his pliant little thing, wet and ready for him to tamper with.

his pace is slow, almost as if he’s using his thighs to bounce into you over and over, and your pussy flutters with it. chan grunts and moans deeply, quiet but still audible with how close he is. you huff little whimpers of your own, drooling all over your pillowcase.

“god, you’re so- this pussy’s so tiny, baby, i don’t know how you fit me in,” chan’s lips part, pants of air leaving his lungs. “messy, tiny fucking cunt. sloppy thing, you’re so perfect for me. my pretty angel and her cute little hole.”

“she likes you too,” you mumble, completely lost in the feeling of his cock inside of you. chan giggles at that, and you whimper when he adjusts you again, pushing both legs upwards to rest on his broad shoulders. he takes a quick glance at you, smiles when he sees you drooling on the pillow in a world of ecstasy, and then he’s fucking you senseless. you almost shriek, a loud gasp leaving you when his cock rams against your cervix, but chan’s hand moves to cover your mouth with godspeed.

“quiet, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod, eyes watery. his hand stays there, though, his own puffs of air leaving him with every thrust. “good girl. feel daddy’s cock, just take it.”

it’s so easy to get lost in it. the glide of chan’s cock inside of you is hypnotizing, your pussy drenching his shaft with every movement in and out and in again and you can’t help but let out tiny whimpers. you’re embarrassed, letting your boyfriend fuck you open so easily on your childhood bed but god does it feel good. your clit throbs with it, nipples sensitive and pebbled in the air of your bedroom, and you start to fuck yourself back on him without realising. it’s delicious, and you’re getting too loud, babbling and slurring your words.

“i- chan, chan, daddy! daddy, hnng-”

“ah, shit,” he curses, exasperated, and then he’s sliding his dick out of you. you want to whine, throw a tantrum, but his calloused palms come to your hips to flip you over. your face is pressed into the pillow like this, and chan pushes your head down harder for good measure. “you have to be quiet if you want me to keep fucking you.”

“i’ll be quiet,” you try, but your words are muffled in the fabric. you imagine he’s pumping his cock judging by the quiet grunts coming from his parted lips, and the thought of his cockhead leaking in his hand has you huffing in annoyance, pushing your ass backwards to grab his attention.

it works. “oh, fuck,” chan groans, and you feel his hands go to your ass. he grabs a handful of the flesh, kneading like a cat, and you jolt when his thumb rubs over your asshole. his thumb moves downwards, rubbing over the slight gape of your pussy from his cock, but then he’s smacking your ass with his other hand just for good measure. “this ass. fuckin’ delicious, daddy’s pretty girl.”

you whine, turning your head just a tad. “daddy, my pussy. don’t look at my ass, my- my pussy, daddy, i need you!”

“yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and he’s crowding into your space all of a sudden. his body is firm and muscular on top of yours, and he knocks your thighs apart just a tad until he’s sliding home again with a way too loud noise of approval coming from your wet hole. you push your ass back further, and in any other situation chan wouldn’t allow it but he remains stationary, letting you fuck yourself onto his fat length.

“mm, it’s- daddy, you fuck me so good,” you moan, eyes rolling back into your head. chan’s hands grip at your waist, and he goes from pulling you back onto his cock to pinning you down and making you take it. it’s quick as a flash, the way his pace changes, and you can do nothing more but drool on the pillow and slur out some praises while trying to be quiet.

“slutty pussy,” chan remarks, and you gasp, nodding in agreement. you love when he talks to you like this, and he groans, leaning forward against you more to wrap one strong arm around your neck. it pulls your head back, cutting your airflow just enough to give you that ecstatic light headed feeling. his hips slap against your ass, creating a filthy noise in your childhood bedroom that has you feeling more than just slutty, and you can’t help the gushes of arousal your pussy lets out over it. “mm, daddy’s gonna cum in this pussy. i’m gonna fill it up, yeah? d’ya want that?”

“yeah, yeah! daddy, daddy,” you babble, drool slicking down onto chan’s forearm. it makes him chuckle, the mushroom tip of his cock pressing against your g-spot with every thrust, and you try to wriggle around on your bed to find the perfect position to grind your clit onto the mattress. chan lets you reposition yourself, and when your clit hits the sheets just right you’re sure you could cry. you gush and cry on chan’s cock, your pussy fluttering and sucking him back in on every outwards thrust. he’s going insane with it, groaning and grunting in your ear.

“fuckin- shit, grind your clit, baby,” he commands, and you whine, nodding. you’re almost feral grinding your pussy against the sheets and backwards onto chan’s cock, a high pitched noise leaving your mouth. “cum for daddy. i wanna feel this cunt squeeze my cock before i fill you up, c’mon.”

“ah, ah! ah, daddy, ah- daddy, dad- i’m gonna- hnng, i need-“ you need more, harder, more of his cock ramming into your g-spot and you’ll give him anything he wants.

he knows you too well. “yeah, y-yeah, i’ll fuck you harder, baby,” he mumbles, and his arm tightens around your neck. your teeth bite into your bottom lip painfully, and his cock hits you deep once, twice, forcing your clit down onto the mattress, and then you’re babbling your way through a full body orgasm.

“ah, cum- cumming! cumming, daddy, ‘m cumming,” you wail, toes curling and breath stuttering in your throat. your clit throbs with it, pussy dripping and gushing around your daddy’s big cock, and you try to fuck yourself back on it a little more. it’s like chan’s reading your mind, because he starts to fuck into you a little faster to ride it out.

“oh, baby. that’s a big one, mm?” chan coos, and you nod, breathless, still dizzy with it. he thrusts into you a few more times, hips slapping hard against your ass, and his hand goes to the small of your back to push you down further. you’re splayed on your front, pliant and sated, but your daddy still has to fill you up like he promised. “i got you. i got you, daddy’s gonna cum, baby.”

his hips slow down, like they normally do when he’s close, and you feel his shaft throb and twitch inside of you. he gasps, thrusts stalling completely, and then you feel his cum filling you up, thick and white and flooding your cervix until you feel like there’s no way there’s any left. you sigh through it all, tears biting at your eyes by the time he’s done, rocking your hips back to help him ride his own orgasm out.

“take it, take all of my cum. there we go, good girl,” he’s talking to try and soothe you, hand rubbing down your tired legs as he pulls his soft cock out. you want to move, to turn to kiss him, but chan’s already using his discarded shirt to clean you up between your legs. he’s soft and gentle on your abused pussy, and your daddy’s so sweet that he pulls your sleep shorts back up for you.

“i wan’ cuddle,” you murmur, still on your front. you’re not sure you can move, but chan chuckles, sidling up to you and pulling you to rest against his chest.

“you can cuddle,” he confirms, lips pressing a kiss against your hairline. “ya did so good for me, y’know? my good girl, daddy’s girl.”

you hum, feeling blissful and sweet. he knows exactly what you need afterwards, stroking his fingers up your clothed back. “i love you.”

“i love you too, baby.”

[mariespen]

Who? ˳༄꠶

jealous!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ༄꠶ summary: “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man." warnings: very very mild sexual concepts, jealous Rafe

based on this request!

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Rafe Cameron was looking right at you with a death glare, the kind of look you’d pin on horrible people who were only doing horrible things. You’d think your boyfriend would understand that being in college requires unavoidable group work, which leads to unavoidable conversations with people you would much rather not know at all. Naturally, you were wrong. Devastatingly wrong.

“I don’t get it.” He said plainly for the fifteenth time that night, “You don’t even need this class if I’m honest.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus more on packing your things rather than the hole he was staring into your back.

“Don’t do that shit.. c’mon baby..” Rafe said, getting up to stand closer to you, a persuading hand on your hip, “M’working so hard to give you a life where you don’t gotta work and-“

“Rafe, we’ve talked about this too many times.” You cut him off in hopes to finally shut him up.

“Well why don’t we talk about it again,” He said, a tiny smile on his face, “Like right now? Over dinner?”

“Baby you know that my group members will kill me if I don’t pull through.” You shrugged past him, walking to put your shoes on.

You weren’t wearing anything near special. Sweatpants and one of Rafe’s oversized hoodies were all that you were planning on showing off. But in Rafe’s eyes, HE would fuck you in that, so who’s to say that no one else would? Naturally, he carries a heavy bias considering that Rafe would fuck you in anything, but he says ‘that’s not the point.’

“So what, you’re gonna spend all night with people you don’t even like?” He asked with a scoff.

You gave him an annoyed nod, trying to prove your point.

“That’s gotta be like.. bad for your uh.. mental health. You should stay in.”

“Rafe stop-“ You started before getting a ping on your phone. You groaned to finish the sentence, storming off to get your shoes on.

“What?” Rafe called after you, quietly shuffling behind before picking your phone up and looking at the recent notifications.

Connor: When r u getting here?

“Who’s this?” Rafe asked, pointing to the phone with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

“One of my group members, love.” You said, trying to stifle a giggle over how protective he was over you.

“Another man? Absolutely not,” He said, turning away from you to block the door out of your shared apartment before continuing his rant, “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man. Who do you think-“

You pushed past him, backpack already slung over your shoulders as you made your escape to the front door.

“Nope.” He said plainly, grabbing the back of your bag and making you look at him, his fingers tracing your jaw and holding your eyes to his.

“Rafe..” You whined, but his touch was strict.

“You’re mine, baby. Not Connor’s, a’ight?” He said, brushing hair from your face.

“I’m yours.” You repeated, standing on your tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes softened and he thought he got you wrapped around his finger, pulling away to look at your flushed face. Instead, you darted to the door when his touch weakened, hand on the knob before Rafe could get another word in.

“Love you!” You said, closing it before everything caught up to him.

The group work went fine and almost exactly like you thought. A long session and a gut wrenching feeling of exhaustion afterwards. It’s never your favorite event but there were worse things that could happen. Things like walking back into your apartment after narrowly escaping your boyfriend’s possessive hand. 

You opened the door quietly, which was already unnecessary. Of course he was still wide awake, waiting for you like a father punishing his daughter for sneaking out. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and scowling at you.

“What the fuck?” He asked, getting up to meet you at the front door.

You shoved your shoes off, setting down your backpack and walking closer to Rafe. “M’tired baby..” You said, making every attempt to walk past the intimidating block he made in the hallway.

“No, no no.. this isn’t how it’s gonna work,” Rafe said, using both of his hands to hold your shoulders and forcing you to stand right in front of him as he lowered his voice, “Can’t just do that baby.. a’ight?”

“Sorry..” You whispered, breaking free of his hold on your shoulders and instead pulling yourself into him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

You could feel the slightly annoyed laugh that bubbled from him, but you could also feel the chaste kiss that he left on the top of your head. Rafe’s soft spot for you would always shine through his anger. You let yourself melt into his arms while you contemplated falling asleep standing.

“C’mon..” He whispered into you, equally as tired from staying up and waiting for you to come back to him.

You felt him pick you up cautiously, kissing your cheek as you let your eyes start to close.

——————————————————————

The next morning was a beautiful Saturday, which of course was the day you woke up to about 15 messages from your project’s group chat. Somehow you managed to squirm away from Rafe’s death grip over your body to check your phone. Casual conversations relating to different parts of the project and other things that you wanted nothing to do with flashed across the screen.

Over your shoulder you heard Rafe groan and felt him reach for where you weren’t. He looked around for you, watching groggily as you typed out a response on your phone.

“Baby..” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry.. group project.” You whispered, giving in and letting yourself melt back into his arms.

“At 9 in the morning?” Rafe mumbled into you, an annoyed sigh died in his throat when you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sleep clouded your mind as the two of you held each other close again. He wasn’t trying to show it, but his possessiveness and jealousy were leaking out of him like a faucet.

“G’morning princess..” You heard Rafe whisper from above you, brushing the lazy hair from your cheeks.

You groaned and shifted, trying to find the warmth in the bed now that Rafe had gotten up.

“Let’s get lunch, hm?” He asked, gently moving you to face him again.

You nodded, trying to nod away the urge to dive back under the blankets.

Getting ready wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, just because Rafe had already bought you the perfect outfit and you didn’t have to fight off your hair as much as you normally did. Whenever you got ready, Rafe would always finish before you and sit on the edge of the bed, admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks would flush up and you could never get your blush right anymore because he somehow always had your face a pink shade of red.

Rafe grabbed your bag for you, a small purse that fit your pretty dress. He also went to get your phone from its shameful place at the bedside table because of course you had forgotten to charge it last night.

One text had lit up your screen and his eyes narrowed the moment he saw it was from Connor.

“Baby, why is Connor texting you?” He asked, walking to your spot in the bathroom and shoving the phone in your face to quickly get your attention.

You took the phone, opening the notification while Rafe watched from over your shoulder.

Connor: Hey, I have some ideas for the paper. You want to meet up to talk? I was thinking a Cafe or something.

You could feel the angry red heat of jealousy seeping out of Rafe’s body.

“I told you.” He said, taking the phone from you and staring at the message again, almost dumbfounded at Connor’s audacity.

“M’not going.” You said plainly, looking at him with a lightly apologetic look.

“Damn right you’re not.” He replied, throwing your phone onto the bed and looking at you with an angry glare staring down at your face.

You watched an idea form in his head. It was easily not anything good considering the way his lips turned up in a thin smile and his gaze moved between you and the phone in a heartbeat.

“Y’know.. I really don’t want my girl missn’ anything..” He trailed off, walking to where he threw your phone originally.

“Rafe..” You tried to protest, not fully understanding where his head was at.

“No.. I think I gotta be a good boyfriend here.” He nodded to himself before looking at you with an unforgettable smirk.

“Baby I don’t want to go.” You said, walking up to him and trying to read his cocky expression.

“You, go?” He asked with faux confusion, cocking his head to the side, “No no, you’ve got it all wrong.” 

Rafe stood up, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles before looking back down at you. Now it was your turn to be confused, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You think I’m stupid, baby?” He mocks, kissing your up jaw and stopping by your ear, “M’gonna go in for you.”

Whatever hint of a smile you had on your face slowly disappeared as realization dawned on you.

“I think I’ll text him right now and let him know I’m on my way. Give him a nice surprise when he realizes it’s not the pretty little girl that he wants.” Rafe said slyly, pulling back with a malicious smile.

“Then he and I can really talk, hm?”

The next day, Connor dropped the class.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[symbiomancy]

speed dating —minotaur

—summary: a speed dating event brings you together with a minotaur // AO3

—cw: minotaur x human, smut (p in v sex), praise, size kink/size difference, creampie, semi-public sex

—wc: 1,2k

Speed dating.

It’s not like interspecies speed dating is anything new. Or interspecies dating in general. Because it isn’t.

It just… has a bad reputation when humans are involved.

You bristle when the fifth monster in your speed dating roster tonight brushes you off and opts to stare at their phone for the duration of your allotted time. Embarrassment nags in the back of your mind, heats up your cheeks, and you let your eyes do a subtle sweep of the room. Everyone else seems to be having a fun time, talking animatedly, wildly gesturing, giggling with their partner.

The four minutes drag and drag and drag.

The bell dings and the naga across from you tucks away their phone, stands, fixes their jacket lapels, and saunters over to the next table without even looking at you. You swallow the bitter taste of tears in the back of your throat and reach for your purse, tuck your phone inside, and swing it onto your shoulder.

When you sidestep the table, you nearly smack into another body.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a voice says and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at the owner. A minotaur. He stands tall, biceps bulging in his white dress shirt, the topmost two buttons undone, tucked into a nice pair of pants. His horns curl towards the heavens. “Were you leaving?” You nod. “Ah, too bad, I’ve been waiting the whole evening for my turn.”

You pause, glance around the room, then raise a finger to point at yourself. “Me?”

“Yeah. But if you want to leave, that’s okay.”

“I haven’t exactly been the biggest hit with folks here tonight. Human reputation is hard to shake.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, glance up at him, and then at the small table with an LED candle in the middle of it and your half-finished drink. Then, you drop your purse and take your seat again. “I can stay for one more round, I guess.”

He’s unexpectedly fun. A good conversationalist. He doesn’t talk over you, actually engages with you, unlike pretty much everyone else you’re been paired with.

When the bell dings and he stands, something in your chest withers, but you offer him a smile and thank him for the company.

How you end up in the bathroom of the bar with him after the crowd for the speed-dating event dissipates, you’re not sure but —

You’re not complaining.

The minotaur lifts you off the floor with ease, muscles bulging against his tight shirt, and settles your back against the stall wall. It’s a tight fit and so you open your legs, lock them around his hips. His torso is wide and your toes barely meet behind his back. The bulge in his pants presses against your underwear, sopping, ruined underwear and you stifle the moan when you realize how big he is.

“Please, please, please.”

He shushes you, hastily unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other finding purchase on your clothed cunt. He runs a thick finger across the fabric, presses it over your hole. In the next moment, you hear fabric rip and feel the cool caress of air against your bottom. He bunches the sad excuse for fabric up and tucks it into his back pocket.

His cock springs free from his pants and it’s huge, thick, veiny, dribbling precum. You nearly salivate at the sight, consider fighting your way down to take it into your mouth even if it doesn’t fit — you’ll make it fit.

The minotaur pulls back, angles your body, firm hands on your ass — Christ, his hand nearly wraps around your entire thigh — and slides inside you in one smooth move. You moan, gasp for breath when he keeps going, stretching, intruding, until he’s buried to the hilt. He’s large, so large, so thick you can barely clench around him and he’s stretching your poor pussy to its limit but it’s so good, so full. You let your head tip back, rest it against the wall, try to gather your thoughts, and close your gaping mouth but your thoughts keep circling back to his cock, and how good he feels.

“So wet,” he mutters and jerks his hips experimentally, too shallow to give you any relief. You open your mouth again to beg him for some friction when he pulls out and thrusts back in roughly and firmly and you cannot stifle the lewd moan that escapes you, bounces off the bathroom walls. Heat rushes to your cheeks, sets your whole body alight because if someone hears —

The minotaur snaps his hips again and your composure begins to crumble, your mouth drops because he’s deep, so deep he could rearrange your guts and you’d thank him for the experience. You clench around him, barely, but you manage and he grunts, huffs a hot breath against the crook of your neck.

“Hot, so hot.” The tail end of his words dissipate into a groan. He sets a pace, his cock dragging so deliciously against your walls you swear you can feel every single vein and ridge, his hands on your waist, pulling you forward with every thrust to meet him halfway. “You take it so well,” he says, words slurring.

“M-More. More.” You can barely form the words. He thrusts up, hits the spot that has you seeing stars. Fuck, you’re close, so close. You put more weight onto your back, putting all your trust into the flimsy stall wall, and push back against the minotaur’s frantic thrusting. He’s so deep, so big, your pussy might just be ruined after this.

He pauses and you almost want to cry out, to beg for him to continue, as he moves his hands to adjust his grip on your ass. When he thrusts forward again, he pulls you flush against his pelvis and you nearly shriek as the blunt tip of his cock touches your cervix. His pace is brutal, the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy echoes in the small confined room. The pressure in your stomach coils, your hips desperately thrusting back against him, matching his frenzied pace, drilling into your cunt faster, deeper.

You come with a half-choked moan, clench around him, try to escape his grip, and press yourself into it at the same time. White-hot pleasure rolls under your skin, leaves your ears ringing. The minotaur speeds up, thrusts once, twice, and buries himself into your hot, wet pussy to the hilt. He spills inside with a low groan and a full-body shudder.

You press your back flush against the bathroom stall wall and attempt to regain control of your breathing. A sheen of sweat coats your skin, making the already scratchy top cling to your torso.

The minotaur is silent, hot, heavy breaths fanning the side of your neck, his chest heaving.

A lazy smile drags onto your lips and you look down at him through your bleary gaze, and tap him on the shoulder. He grunts against your skin. “You wanna do this again sometime? You owe me a new pair of underwear.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he raises his eyes to meet yours. You press your lips together to fight the smile that stretches farther.

“It’s only fair.”

part 2

banners by @/cafekitsune

[cevansbrat0007]

A Friend in the Dark: Part I

Summary: Ari receives an unexpected call from you in the middle of the night. Takes place directly after the events in The Do-Over. And be sure to check out A Friend in the Dark: Part II!

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Sexual Fantasies, Allusions to Oral Sex, References to Home Invasion, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner, who helped me come up with the opening. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari runs an agitated hand through his already tousled brown locks before tossing a stack of documents on his desk. Leaning back in his seat, he finds himself wondering why he was somehow always the one who always ended up drowning in a sea of never-ending paperwork. 

At this rate he was never going to make it home. The last thing he wanted to do was spend another night sleeping on the couch in his office. Unfortunately, it was quickly beginning to look like his only option. Of their own violation, his tired eyes stray towards the desk drawer that holds all the takeout menus. 

Maybe he’d try that new Mexican joint over on Madison – the one that claimed to have the best tamales in town. It was a bold claim to be sure. But it was definitely worth investigating if only so he could– 

A sudden knock at his door jolts Ari out of his thoughts. How strange. Buck, Pixie, and the rest of the gang had left hours ago. And he was sure they’d closed up on their way out, which meant that he should’ve been alone. 

The knock sounds again, this time a little more insistent. Next thing he knows, the door slowly begins to swing open to reveal…

You.

The woman he’d left behind months ago. Far away, in the little rinky-dink town of Bell’s Creek. Or so he’d thought. But now here you were. Standing there looking like you’d just stepped off a runway, wearing a black, off-the-shoulder mini-dress that hugged your curves just right.  

Stunned into silence, all Ari can do is continue to gape at you. His mind races as you step into his office, a million burning questions hitting him all at once. 

What brought you here? How did you find him? Was everything okay? 

“You’re a hard man to track down, Mr. Levinson.” You purr before taking a seat on the edge of his desk. Unable to help himself, his eyes stray to the hem of your dress as it rides up, giving him a glimpse of your deliciously thick thighs. 

“Why are you here?” He stammers, his mouth going dry when you invitingly cross your legs.

And now he knew that you weren’t wearing any panties.

You offer him a delicate shrug. “I tried to stay away, I really did.” Stretching your legs, you draw his attention to your stiletto clad feet. “But it was just too hard.” 

Ari had never considered himself to be the type of man who was into feet, but that never stopped him from admiring your perfectly painted toes. Tonight they were a shiny, deep red that matched your manicure. 

“Look, Duchess…I–”

“Tell me you didn’t miss me.” Reaching over, you use two fingers to tilt his bearded chin. “That you haven’t thought about me since you left Bell’s Creek.”

“Every damn day.” He admits hoarsely. “But we can’t–”

“We can.” You softly interrupt, before sliding off his desk and sinking to your knees, forcing the bounty hunter to move his chair to allow you space. “I’ll show you. Give you a taste of how good it’ll feel to have me the way you’ve always craved.”

Ari’s pulse kicks up the moment he feels you rest your soft hands come to rest on either of his thighs. Meanwhile, his already impossibly hard cock is busy straining in his jeans, desperately seeking relief. His head tips back as he waits for you to do something – anything – before he resorts to embarrassing himself by begging. 

“Did you really think I didn’t know how bad you wanted me?” You lightly drag your nails over his impressive bulge, delighting in the way he shivers at your touch. “You wanted me from the moment I walked into that church.” You allow your hands to rove higher so that you’re now gently gripping his belt. 

“Yes.” His breathing is shallow and labored.

“But it wasn’t until you found me at my shop that day, when you got angry at the thought of me sleeping with Martin, that you decided you wanted to fuck me.” You slowly begin undoing the clasp. “Isn’t that right, Detective Levinson?”

“Y-yes.” Ari rasps, licking his dry lips. He groans low in his throat when you wrap a hand around his girth, freeing him from the confines of his pants. 

“How many times have you imagined this?” The question comes out both sweet and silky. “How many times have you lain awake at night fantasizing about what I'd sound like when I’m choking on your thick cock?”

“Shit, baby!” He hisses as you begin stroking him up and down, working him with each sensual flick of your wrist. “Every fuckin’ night – gah!” 

“Wanna know a secret?” You ask at the same time as your mouth slowly starts to descend, heading in the direction of his aching member. “I’ve been dying to taste you too.” You pause, stopping just short of taking the plump mushroom head between your lips. 

“I can’t wait to find out if you’re salty…or sweet.” Ari’s hips buck when you finally take him into your mouth, greedily sucking him down as if you’d done it a hundred times. Of its own accord, a large hand fists itself in your curls, forcing your head down and making you gag as you struggle to take more of him. 

“That’s it, Duchess. Don’t fuckin’ stop. Don’t…don’t…don’t…”

Ari’s House – 3:00am

Ari suddenly shoots straight up in bed, blinking rapidly as his bleary eyes work to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. He scrubs a weary hand over his beard before vaulting himself out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. 

Without flipping the light, he immediately turns on the tap, splashing his face with water. He’s annoyed by the fact that you’d managed to find your way into his dreams yet again. As if it wasn’t enough that you already seemed to plague his every other waking thought, now he also had to worry about you disturbing him in his sleep. 

Although it had been days since you’d last spoken with each other, that hadn’t stopped him from keeping tabs on you. While he tried to tell himself he was just doing his due diligence, deep down he knew there was a little more to it. In his mind, there was nothing better than watching your hips sway as you unknowingly went about your day.

Especially when you were wearing those leopard print leggings you seemed so fond of, or better yet, a pair of denim shorts that perfectly hugged your ass. Sure, he was a fool. But some days he was beyond caring. He’d long since decided that you were the only good thing about this dingy little town anyway.

Ari flops back down on the bed with a disgruntled sigh. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, even if he could somehow convince his stubborn dick to cooperate. As he lays there, he finds himself wishing he would’ve gotten a chance to speak with you at the church potluck the other week.

At the time he’d been besieged by the townsfolk – mostly women – all of whom had demanded his attention. Meanwhile, you’d been content to stay huddled in the corner, picking at the food on your plate in a way that almost reminded him of a little bird. 

Closing his eyes, he wills his body to relax in hopes of reclaiming at least some of his inner peace. Only to jump when he hears his phone begin to ring from its place on his nightstand. 

Who the fuck was calling him at this hour?

Frowning when he doesn’t immediately recognize the phone number, he briefly hesitates before answering.

“Hello?” The greeting comes out a little gruffer than he intends.

“Ari?”

His world suddenly grinds to a screeching halt. Because while he doesn’t recognize the number, definitely knows the voice. 

He’d know your voice anywhere.

“Ari…are you there?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I–I’m here.” He gives a quick shake of his head as he attempts to get his mind to connect with his ears. “You okay?”

“I’m so sorry for calling so late. I really am, but…” There’s no missing the distinct hitch in your throat, even as you try to keep your voice low. “I think someone…” He listens as you trail off, most likely to try and collect yourself.

“You think someone is what?”

“I think someone is outside my house. I–I think they’re tryin’ to get in.” 

It’s at that moment when Ari feels all breath literally leave his body. Mostly because it was the last thing he expected you to say. Regardless, seconds later he’s on his feet, hastily throwing on his clothes.

“Where are you now?” His tone is short and clipped as he goes about collecting his things. 

“I’m locked in my room.” You whisper while struggling to keep the tears at bay. “I ran when I heard them scratching at the backdoor.”

“Good girl.” He grunts before putting the phone on speaker so that he can begin lacing up his boots. “You got somethin’ to protect yourself until I get there?” 

“I have a bat.” You supply helpfully, even as you huddle on the floor by your bed. 

“Baby, I meant more like a gun.” 

“Um, no. No.” You inwardly curse yourself for being so afraid of those damned things. Your uncle used to own one, but you’d foolishly gotten rid of it after he passed. ”I–I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Ari speeds down the stairs, taking them two at a time as he holds the phone to his ear. “I want you to stay right where you are, okay? Gimme your address.”

“Okay.” Your fear is so palpable, it’s almost paralyzing. But you at least have enough sense to remember where you lived. Thank goodness for that.

“Good girl.” Grabbing his car keys off his kitchen counter, the bounty hunter makes it out of his house and into his truck in record time. “I’m on my way. You call this into the station yet?” He asks, double-checking that his preferred gun is still in his glove compartment. 

“N–no. Because what if I’m wrong and–”

“But baby, what if you’re right?” He swiftly interrupts as his vehicle’s engine roars to life. “Look, I’m gonna hang up with you and call this in.”

“Please don’t go!” You cry, before slapping a hand over your mouth. 

“I swear I’m gonna call you right back. Right fuckin’ back, okay?” God, he hated to leave you – even for a second. But this was something that had to be done. “You have my word.”

“O–okay.” Is all you can muster as you clutch your baseball bat tighter to your just. “But please hurry.”

“I’m comin’.” He assures you as he backs out of his driveway, pulling onto the street. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. And don’t you dare open up that door for anyone but me. You hear?”

“Yeah.”

“Good girl.” The bounty hunter praises once more. “Just try and stay calm for me. I’ll be there soon.” 

Gritting his teeth, he ends the call before dialing the one cop he knew would be on duty tonight – Officer Milton. Knowing time is of the essence, he hurriedly relays the info to the one man before hanging up and phoning you back. 

Except you don’t answer. In fact, it goes straight to voicemail. When the same thing happens a second time, Ari gives up in favor of concentrating on the road. He’d be to you soon. And whoever was responsible had better hope that the police beat him to the punch. 

Otherwise the fine officers of Bell’s Creek would have a dead man on their hands. 

END PART ONE  

Official Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

@gh0stgurl

@blogbog710

@sincerelytlh

@gummydummy19

@steviebbboi

[captain-huggy-bear]

When I was in first year of uni my hall's bed was a 7ft mattress and I can say from experience that being 5ft3 and having a mattress that long is the best thing in the world because there is no possible way for your feet to fall off. I could lay in the middle of the bed and have space on both ends. Even if you were 6ft, you'd still have decent space. Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

It's not really something you ever considered. The size of Michael's bed, more specifically the length of it. It made sense to you, of course, that someone as tall as him, 6ft 5 to be exact, would need a long bed, a significantly larger mattress than the average person. You just never really considered that those were in fact a thing. That you would be sleeping in a bad made for someone most definitely not your size.

Until now. Staring at a 7ft long mattress, the largest bed you've probably ever seen. Big enough to accommodate all of Michael, his arms, his legs, and still leave some room. Not like your bed, where his feet hung off the end unless he curled up into a ball.

"Go ahead, angel." He doesn't even wait for you to ask, can see the way you're looking at the bed like you want to jump on it, to see what a bed that large feels like when you're not as large as he is. It's all the permission you need, that and the way he grins at you all goofily.

You take a running jump at his bed, landing face first, arms spread out as you land in the middle....or not so much the middle as landing half on the bed because you don't get much leverage. It's Michael who moves to the side, grabbing your hands and dragging you up the length of the bed until you're in the middle properly.

You turn over onto your back, staring up at his ceiling as you take in just how much room you have.

"Oh wow!" You can't help it, the way you practically try to make a snow angel in the bedding, head not on the pillows and still your feet are far from the end of the bed, fingertips nowhere near touching the edges of the mattress.

There's something amazing about it, just how much space there is, how secure you feel like you could roll over a million times and still not leave the bed.

"Oh, I'm never breaking up with you." You grin up at him, toes curling into his bedding as you snuggle down into the mattress. It's actually adorable the way you burrow down, the way you try to reach the edges of the bed with your finger tips and still fail.

"Because of my mattress?" His goofy smile is almost permanently attached to his lips around you, he can't really help it. The idea that he could be anything but happy in your presence seems so bizarre at this stage in your relationship, the honeymoon period in full effect still.

"Yup!"

"Can't believe you only want me for my bed...guess I'll just have to join you!" Michael all but throws himself onto you, large body squishing you into the mattress, face pressing into the crook of your neck. His weight is heavy, but there's something reassuring about it even as your breathing becomes more shallow.

"Michael! You're heavy! Get off," You protest even as you laugh, even as you smile because you can feel his own goofy grin pressing into the skin of your neck and the way his hands press into your waist.

"Nope, gonna stay right here. I thought you loved my mattress?" Michael lifts his head just enough to talk to you, reaching forward to kiss your chin before plopping back down, cheek against your shoulder. His lips lay kisses across your skin and no matter how much you try to wiggle, to dislodge him, he seems immovable.

"Michael..."

"Shhhh, angel...let me have this?" You're conceding a little almost immediately, melting a little further into the mattress, fingers coming up to comb through his dark curls even as you say you want him to get off you.

He's practically falling asleep with the way your nails scratch at his scalp, down the back of his neck and up again in rhythmic motions, every now and then catching in his curls and carefully detangling them. You've stopped caring so much about his weight on you, sure it's harder to breath, but you feel safe under him like this, in your own little peaceful bubble.

"If we break up do I get the bed?"

"Sure." He's not really listening to you at all, clearly not even aware of what he's agreeing too because your nails against his scalp, fingers running through his hair is his main focus. Because Michael is half-asleep already and if you want his massive bed that's fine, he can always get a new one, but it's also fine because you're never breaking up so win-win either way.

[daisykihannie]

𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙺.𝚂𝙼 + 𝚈.𝙹𝙽

pairing: Jeongin x afab gn!reader x Seungmin

warnings: smut, NSFW, oral giving & reacieving, degradation, praise, mommy kink, pup kink, threesome, dub-con, intoxication, hand kink, power switch, messy, choking on cock, Jeongin and Seungmin kiss and get handsy with each other, rough, unprotected sex, etc.

a/n: i more than likely missed some warnings since this took me two weeks to write, having to fit it around my work schedule.

Written for my lovely moot @chvnmax who made this request.

The atmosphere inside the club was heavy but in the best way. The bass was radiating from the floor, through the soles of your feet and traveling up your spine. god, you missed this. Work had gotten so stressful lately with all the new contracts being made with the trainees and renewing old contracts with a lot of the current idols and groups.

You’d been working under Park Jinyoung at JYP entertainment for a few years now and it wasn’t bad work, you got paid well, but you didn’t have a ton of free time lately and it had started to get to you.

Luckily you had been granted a small break and you were itching to get back into the clubs, get wasted, and have fun. You’d earned this, you deserve to let off some steam and pent up stress.

You worked your way through the sweaty bodies that were grinding against one another, clouds of smoke billowing through the air and tangling into your senses, before finally making it to the bar.

Taking your place on a barstool, the bar tender flashed a dazzling smile your way before taking your order. You ordered three lemon drops to start, downing them all in quick succession before sucking on a lime wedge to satiate the burn coating your taste buds.

You spun around in the barstool, crossing your left leg over your right and placing your elbows on the bar behind you and leaning back against the wooden surface. You took a moment to survey the crowd around you, your eyes sweeping between various bodies tangled together on the dance floor before they landed on a small group of men that were nestled comfortably in a large corner booth on the opposite side of the room.

Their eyes were already on you, all of them being insanely attractive, you could’ve sworn they were idols at your company but you didn’t interact with idols on a regular basis considering you spend most of your time in the offices, so you figured you were probably mistaken.

You watched as two of the men’s eyes raked up and down your body, their gazes burning into your flesh with the intensity and hunger displayed in them. As their eyes traveled from the heels you wore and up your legs, a smirk pulled at the corner of your lips and you shifted your legs. You slowly moved your left leg off of your right, resting them next to one another before pointing your toes and putting your right leg over the left to put on a tiny show for the men.

They watched your movements, eyes continuing their assent on your body in a languid manner, taking in every curve and detail of the outfit that clung tightly to your skin.

When your eyes met with theirs, tingles shot up your spine like hot flashes of electricity. Their aura was powerful and it easily commanded your attention without much effort. You ordered a gin and tonic from the bartender, maintaining eye contact with your head turned towards the bartender but your eyes stayed locked on the ginger man in the booth’s for a moment before shifting to the ravenette seated next to him.

Taking your new drink into your hand, you used the tip of your tongue to guide the straw between your lips with a smirk still on your face.

Knowing that they were still watching you attentively, you decided to lock eyes with the ginger man again before dragging your eyes downwards at your own languid pace, taking in all of his features from his sharp jawline, to the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, down to his collarbones that peeked out from where his white button down shirt was left open at the first two buttons and exposing a small portion of his chest.

You continued your decent down his chest and over his abdomen where you could tell he was hiding abs underneath the thin fabric, down to his hips and the hand that rested comfortably on his inner thigh. His hands made your mouth water, the long and slender fingers adorned with silver rings and the veins that protruded under the tan skin.

Your eyes moved back up his body just as slow, meeting with his once again before licking your lips, his eyes breaking their connection with yours to watch the pink muscle coat your lips with a light sheen of saliva, your eyes traveling to the ravenette next.

Your eyes flicking up to the almost wet looking hair that was parted and styled to lay over his eyesbrows but leaving his forehead exposed. He wore glasses with a thin, silver, wire frame that accented his cheekbones and square jaw. His throat was long and looked so painfully soft, you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger there for a moment, his adam’s apple shaped like a heart. He wore a beige sweater that had a wide neck, exposing where his broad shoulders and neck connected as it hung loosely to the side.

Your eyes then landed on his tiny, slutty, waist and his dainty hips. Traveling down to his thick and muscular thighs and you could’ve swore you were drooling now. Your eyes traced the outline of his body back up and meeting his eyes again, his lips pulling into a crooked smile that had you squeezing your thighs together without realizing.

They both looked beyond delicious and you’d never been this aroused before, you three hadn’t even spoke but your mind was filled with thoughts of the ginger man’s pretty hands all over your body and the ravenette’s thighs between your own. It was probably just the alcohol and your pent up stress right?

You shot them one last wink before turning back around to face the bar and ordering another gin and tonic. You’ve shown them that you’re just as interested in them as they are you, the ball is in their court now. It’s up to them if they wish to approach you now or not. Luckily, they didn’t leave you waiting long, next thing you knew there’s one firm but still gentle hand on your left shoulder and a hand gently ghosting on the small of your back with feather light touches of his fingertips.

“Care to dance, pretty?” the one on your right said, close to your ear so he didn’t need to shout over the music. You turned to be met with the sharp fox-like eyes of the ginger man. “Think you can keep up with both of us, jagi?” the ravenette said on your left, meeting your gaze with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow. You smirked devilishly in response before picking up your fresh drink, swishing the liquid around the glass. “I don’t wanna waste my brand new drink boys. Think you two can be good, patient boys while i finish this?” you said slightly taunting them.

Both of their eyes shot open, widening at your words. Clearly, they were caught off guard by you asking them to be good boys, probably not used to anyone not easily getting on their knees for them. They seemed like they were used to being dominant and in control, making you want to challenge them a bit. You weren’t gonna make this so easy for them, even with how turned on you already are.

“Do you like good boys?” the ravenette asked with a slight blush rising to his cheeks. “or do you like a challenge?” the ginger followed up. Their words had heat pooling in your abdomen, causing you to shift just slightly in your seat, using your still crossed legs to provide a slight bit of friction to your core. You needed to keep your composure, and luckily they didn’t seem to notice your slight struggle.

“What if i said i liked both?” you wrapped your lips around your straw again, flickering your eyes between the two men who still stood on either side of you. Both of their composures crumbling slightly under the weight of your words as goosebumps pickled across the skin on the arms.

They both shared a look with one another as you continued to slowly drink from your glass, purposely dragging this out as much as you could while they fought to be good for you. They both seemed to be struggling with being good and you weren’t entirely sure who was gonna be the most challenging but that alone excited you.

Once you were down to the last bit of your drink, only a sip or two left, their patience seemed to snap. They spun you around in your seat before each one took a hand and dragged you out into the center of the dance floor. The ravenette found his place in front of you and the ginger slotted himself behind you.

The ginger man’s hand found their home on your hips while the ravenette took both your hands and placed them on his shoulders before his hands made their way to rest on your waist above the ginger’s hands. They sandwiched your body between theirs, caging you in like you were prey trapped between two predators.

“i don’t recall agreeing to dance boys.” you teased, causing them both to tense up and begin to retreat from your body. Before they could get too far, your grip on the man in front of you’s shoulders tightened and you pushed your body back against the wall of muscles behind you. They got the hint and closed back in on you, beginning to move languidly with the rhythm of the music.

“I’m Y/N. What should i call you two?” you didn’t want to just refer to them as Ginger and Ravenette. “If we told you that, you’d have to sign an NDA, Jagi.” the man behind you purred into your ear as he began to grind his hips against the plush of your ass. Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of something hard against you and you were almost sure it wasn’t his phone in his pocket.

“Is that true pup?” you asked the man in front of you and you could’ve sworn he’d let out a whimper at the pet name but the music was so loud, you couldn’t be sure. “It’s true honey.” he said matter-of-factly with a smirk on his lips. You hummed in response, dancing against both men for a moment before pulling the man in front even closer and using one hand to grab the jaw of the man behind you, guarenteeing their full attention was on you. “I’ll sign.” was all you said before releasing both of them.

“The name is Jeongin and he’s Seungmin.” the ginger purred against the shell of your ear before taking it between his teeth with a gentle nibble, his breath fanning across your ear and causing a shiver to course through you. The names sounded slightly familiar in your buzzed brain but the arousal mixed with the alcohol hand you feeling dizzy in their grips so the thought of familiarity was quickly replaced by the sensation of their hands burning into your flesh.

You dragged your fingertips down the biceps of Seungmin while continuing to roll your ass back against Jeongin. The music taking over your senses as you continued to dance against the men that had your caged between their firm bodies, leaving you a bit more pliant than you’d expected to become. You felt your core begin to pulse as both their colognes flooded your nose, making you realize that you needed them in ways you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. You needed their bare skin on yours, needed their mouths worshiping your body, their pretty fingers inside you, their cocks buried inside you as they used you as their cocksleeve.

You were snapped out of your sinful fantasy of them as the ravenette spoke in a low growl. “wanna take this somewhere a bit more private? let us be your good boys?” and maybe you whimpered at his words but who would know with the volume of the music.

You bit your lower lip as your half lidded eyes met Seungmin’s that were swimming with lust and desire, and nodding your head in response. Soon enough, the ravenette was in front of you, holding your hand to guide you to an empty room as Jeongin tailed behind, holding your other hand.

it didn’t take long to spot an empty room, luckily these specific types of clubs are fully aware of the alcohol induced horny hazes that their patrons tend to fall under and had rentable rooms for this specific purpose.

The three of you walked into the room and Seungmin flicked on the light switch, illuminating the room in a red hue from the bars of led lights that were installed to the ceiling and once you were all inside, Jeongin locked the door behind the three of you.

They didn’t waste anymore time before Jeongin was flipping you around by the waist to have you facing him as his lips crashed into yours. The force of the kiss had you stumbling back slightly, your back connecting with seungmin’s chest. Seungmin’s hands rested on your hips when he caught you from falling, using them to roll your hips, ass grinding back against his crotch and his lips met the bare expanse of your neck.

Seungmin was almost lazy with the way he worked his mouth over your skin, using the tip of his tongue to trace your jugular vein, eliciting a whimper from your throat that Jeongin happily swallowed down as his kisses became more desperate. Jeongin’s tongue danced messily with your own, licking along your teeth and causing saliva to spill from the corners of your mouth as he took his chance to make you start falling apart from his mouth alone.

It didn’t help that Seungmin had found your sweet spot while exploring your throat with open mouth kisses and dragging his teeth across the soft flesh. Your knees had threatened to buckle more than once but Seungmin held you up with the bruising grip he had on your hips, the pads of his finger tips digging in to wrap around the bone slightly. You were quickly becoming overwhelmed and trying to desperately cling to the remaining thread of your sanity. you refused to be this easy.

You pushed jeongin away with your hands that held onto his shoulders, a string of saliva leaving your lips still connected before it broke away. You spun away from the two of them, Seungmin’s hands leaving your hips as you sauntered over to the bed. You crawled up the mattress, shaking your ass to taunt the two males, from the foot of the bed to the headboard where you got comfortable and rested your back against the wood with pillows piled beneath your lower back.

“Why don’t you two be good for me and sit? One on each side of me.” you called out and ran your finger tips in small circles over the silk sheets where you wanted each of them to sit. They obeyed you easily, their pants doing nothing to hide their arousal with the tents they were both sporting. You weren’t doing much better but luckily you wore black slacks so the wetness that had completely soaked through your underwear wasn’t showing.

When they both took their places on either side of you, propped up on their knees and sitting on their heels, they reached forward to touch you. Jeongin reached for your left thigh that sat closest to him and seungmin reached for your hip bone again. “Who gave you two permission to touch? Because, I certainly did not.” the boys both blinked at your words and retracted their hands, placing them atop their thighs and hanging their heads, looking like two puppies who’d just gotten scolded. Cute.

“Good boys.” You purred and put a hand on each of their cheeks, using your thumb to pet them softly and they both leaned into the touch. “Now, you’ll listen to what i say, if you do a good job, you’ll get a reward.” You commanded and they both nodded in response, shy but showing you that they can, in fact, be good boys.

“Jeonginnie~ be a good boy and take of my pants yeah? only my pants.” the ginger licked his lips hungrily as his eyes flicked from your own down to your heat and then back up, eyes half lidded in lust. He made quick work of your belt, unclasping the buckle before undoing the button and zipper of your pants with shaky, overly excited hands. You couldn’t help but watch his pretty hands work and you felt heat pooling in your stomach again.

“Minnie baby~ kiss me.” was all you said to cause Seungmin’s eyes to leave Jeongin’s hands and snap back up to you when you wrapped both your hands around the back of his neck and pulled him forward. He had to catch himself by placing his right hand on the head board and his left was planted only millimeters from your chest on the bed next to you.

the kiss was hot and desperate as you took over control of them kiss. Your tongue slipping into his mouth easily and licking at everywhere you could reach. The ravenette let out soft moans and whimpers that were easily swallowed by your lips and tongue as Jeongin finally got your pants off. You felt his finger tip swipe across the soaked center of your underwear, applying slightly more pressure to the bundle of nerves.

One of your hands slipped into Seungmin’s hair and tangled his hair around your fingers before tightening your grip and pulling him away from you hard. A whimper escaped him as his head bent back with the force. You looked to Jeongin now with furrowed brows and spit slicked lips, not letting up on Seungmin’s hair. “Jeongin. I told you to ONLY remove my pants. You did not have permission to touch me so you don’t get a reward.” the ginger pouted slightly but you turned your attention to Seungmin before entertaining him any further.

“Minnie has been such a good pup for me. Why don’t you eat mommy out as a reward huh?” you cooed and released the grip on his hair and pet his hair softly to soothe the burn on his scalp. “Y-yes mommy. i’ll be so good for you.” seungmin almost whimpered as he slotted himself between your legs and began leaving open mouthed kisses along the inside of either thigh, removing your underwear and lifting both your legs up to rest over his shoulders.

He wasted no time before diving in and licking a stripe between your folds, a groan falling from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut. “You taste so good baby.” he groaned out before lapping at your juices like he’d been stranded in the desert and this was his first drink in weeks. Your hand carded through his black locks before tangling your fist into his hair and holding him in place while you rode his tongue in the way that felt heavenly to you.

Jeongin remained seated to your side on his knees, his nails digging into the flesh on his thighs as he watched Seungmin lap at your heat hungrily and rut against the mattress. His cock was painfully hard and straining against the tight fabric of his pants. He had to take a deep breath to keep his hands from wrapping around his cock through his pants.

You watched the ginger trying his best to remain obedient, the sight of him trying so hard for you and the feeling of Seungmin’s skilled tongue tearing you apart had heat pooling in your abdomen and you could feel yourself beginning to slip into a hazy, submissive state of mind. You wanted them to use you, ruin you, break you apart and piece you back together to their own liking. The need was almost primal.

You felt your high approaching quickly, your thighs spasming over the broad shoulders of the man who lie pliant between your legs. “F-fuck… just like that- god!” you moaned out and Seungmin sped up with his mouthing to get you to cum on his tongue, he needed to swallow your climax down and savor every taste you’d leave on his tongue.

It didn’t take much longer to have you tumbling off the cliff as your climax wracked through your veins like lava, your thighs clamping down on the sides of Seungmin’s head instinctually as your head was thrown back against the pillows and wanton moans spilled from your lips. He had you seeing white stars as they exploded behind your eyelids, his tongue gently lapping at your core as you came back down to earth after swallowing everything you gave him with a few guttural groans punched from his gut.

“fuck- y/n… you look and sound so pretty when you fall apart.” Jeongin groaned from beside you. “you wanna taste how sweet they are?” Seungmin asked as he climbed up from between your legs and up your body, leaning towards jeongin, causing them to meet above you. You watched as their tongues danced together above you in a sloppy kiss. You heard Jeongin moan into Seungmin’s mouth and the sight alone had your core throbbing in need again.

“They do taste heavenly on your tongue Hyung.” Jeongin pulled away from the other male, eyes fluttering as he savored your taste. They dove back into a sloppy kiss, Jeongin’s hand left his lap to palm seungmin over his pants where the older was painfully straining against the fabric. A whimper escaped his mouth as his hips stuttered and bucked into the palm of Jeongins hand.

“Such needy boys~” you cooed from beneath them, your core yearning to be filled by them, the sight above you making you feel dizzy with want. “Wanna be mommy’s good boys and use me? you’ve earned it.” you moaned out and spread your legs open for them again, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Fuck- yes please?” Jeongin broke the kiss to reply, still applying pressure to Seungmin’s aching cock as they both looked down at you, eyes raking over the way you presented yourself for them. The dark, lust filled eyes of both men has you feeling hot, needy, and a little desperate.

Seungmin moves away from your body when you pat his thigh as a sign to let you up. You move away from the headboard and sit on your knees towards the foot of the bed, unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall off your shoulders to meet your pants somewhere on the floor. “Well? Don’t just sit there. Let me see those pretty cocks.” you purred, snapping the two men out of their haze of watching you strip. They spring into action, stumbling through taking off their own clothes, Jeongin almost tripping as he clambered back onto the bed.

Seungmin sits where you were previously, back resting against the headboard. His cock was flushed red and angry as it leaked pre-cum where it rested against his abs. You got on your hands and knees, back arched to present your pretty hole to the youngest, still soaked with Seungmin’s saliva and your own arousal. Jeongin groaned at the sight, losing his patience as he dipped his index finger and middle finger inside of you, a whine escaping your lips as you pushed back against his lithe fingers and your cheek rested against Seungmin’s muscular thigh.

His fingers curled into you, hiting the bundle of nerves that were nestled inside your heat with ease thanks to the length of his digits. You could hear him shuffling against the sheets to take his place behind you, slipping his fingers out of you and earning a whine of protest at the feeling of emptiness. You lifted your head off of Seungmin’s thigh to shoot the younger a glare over your shoulder, receiving a cocky smirk in response.

Seungmin wrapped his fingers around your jaw to pull your head to face him again. His cock was in his hand as he dragged just the tip across the slightly swollen, pink flesh of your lips, coating them in his pre-cum and groaning at the sight. Your half lidded eyes stared at him, causing him to pull his lower lip between his teeth as he continued to paint your lips and the corners of your mouth with the clear fluid.

At that moment, Jeongin slammed his long cock into you and bottomed out in one thrust. You wailed out at the stretch, pain and pleasure fogging your brain as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Seungmin used your surprise to thrust up into your mouth, cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag and swallow around him as copious amounts of saliva poured into your mouth.

All their waiting caused a build up of frustration as they abused both of your holes. Jeongin angled his brutal thrusts to slam into your sweet spot repeatedly and Seungmin kept fucking into your mouth and choking you on his cock. The sounds of Jeongin’s hips meeting the plush of your ass filled the room, mixing with the sounds of Seungmin’s tip hitting your uvula over and over again, pulling gags out of you as saliva spilled out of the corner of your lips, drenching his cock and pubes thoroughly.

“Fuck- such a filthy cock slut. Like being plugged with two cocks at once? huh?” Jeongins words rushed straight to your gut, tightening the knot that was forming inside you. You whined around Seungmin’s cock as he shoved his hands into your hair and pulled you down on his cock. Your nose buried in his pubes as you gagged repeatedly around his tip that was buried in your throat. Each time your stomach tensed with a gag, you clenched hard around the cock buried inside you, eliciting almost animalistic groans and growls from the youngest.

“God- making them choke on your- ngghhh cock makes them clench so- FUCK!” Jeongins hips stuttered as he slammed into you hard and painted your walls white with his release. His seed filled you so full that his cum was leaking out around his cock, matting his own pubes together with the mess. Finally Seungmin pulled you off his cock so you could breathe, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you panted, saliva poured out of your mouth and Seungmin was quick to use his hand to meet his own climax.

His own white ropes began to paint your tongue and you wrapped your lips around him again, suckling at the tip and swallowing everything he gave you. Soft whines escaped the ravenette and hisses of overstimulation left Jeongin who was still buried inside of you when your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. The saltiness on your tongue was enough to have you clenching around Jeongin again as you came on his cock and he rocked his hips through his overstimulation to help you ride out your climax.

After you’d swallowed everything, you pulled off Seungmin with a pop and Jeongin pulled out of you just in time for you to collapse onto the bed, cum spilling out of you onto the sheets, your head falling to Seungmin’s thigh again. You were so so so beyond gone, body trembling and vision blurry. You could hear the men speaking but it sounded like they were underwater.

You barely registered Seungmin’s fingers carding through your sweat soaked hair. You barely registered Jeongin leaving gentle kisses along the expanse of your spine and shoulders. You barely registered the youngest needing your ass and you didn’t notice when he’d taken out his phone to film his cum spilling from your fluttering hole.

You weren’t sure how long you’d layed there but when you came to, you were wrapped up in the arms of both men laying on either side of you and you didn’t feel sticky like you’d expected to from the sweat and cum on your body and between your thighs.

“There you are darling~” Jeongin cooed softly from behind you. “Welcome back to earth jagi.” Seungmin followed up, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open to see that you were cleaned and dressed and so were they. “Hmmm” you hummed out, feeling like you were floating still from the best sex you’ve had in a long time, honestly probably the best sex you’ve ever had.

The next day you had to go to work, still feeling the best you’ve felt in a while with the two men having fucked all the tension and stress from your body. Even your boss calling you at 6am didn’t seem to bring you down.

“Hey L/N F/N, the manager for Stray Kids was unable to make it in today and since it is such short notice, you’ll be in charge of covering for him temporarily. You’ll meet with them in the practice room on the 8th floor at exactly 7am. Do not be late.” and with that, Park Jinyoung hung up. Still, you were in too good a mood to let this faze you.

At exactly 6:58am you arrived at the door to the practice room and you could hear the men shouting inside. You opened the door and immediately fell into a 90° bow, hinged at the waist to greet the men.

“Hello, I am L/N F/N and i will be temporarily taking over for your manager until he returns. Please be kind to me.” You stood back up from your bow with a bright smile on your face as your eyes traveled across the faces of 8 stunning men staring at you.

Your smile fell and your eyes went wide as your gaze met the two men from last night with the biggest shit-eating grins plastered to there face. Jeongin spoke up first. “Don’t worry, we are all some very good boys.”

[freedomfireflies]

Bite Me*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun

The one where your boyfriend, Harry, is a vampire.

And you wish you could feel what he felt.

Word Count: 3.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Easy…easy, sweet dove. Need to relax for me. Can smell how nervous you are. Take a deep breath, hm?”

Shaky fingers gather in front of your stomach as you nod nervously. Staring up at your boyfriend with anticipation and remorse. “Sorry, I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, reaching up to brush some hair behind your ear. “There is nothing wrong with you, darling. It’s chemical. You’re meant to feel nervous around me. It’s nature’s design. To keep you safe.”

You nod again, catching a glimmer of light from the sharp tooth peeking out from behind his lip. “I know, I just…I wish it would stop. I wish we could just be, you know? Without me being so…”

He studies you for a moment, a look of adoration on his face as he hums again and cups your cheek. “I know.”

You nestle into his touch rather contently before he begins to smile, now dipping down to nudge his nose with yours. 

“If you want…I can make the bad feeling go away,” he whispers with a slight purr. “Can make it all better again.”

Hopeful, your lashes flutter. “Really?”

He nods once. “Mhm. Just wanna help you, dove. Want you to feel good.”

And now you understand what he means, the thought sending a spark down to your toes. It’s rare he feeds from you. After all, he considers the act to be degrading and disrespectful. He only ever feeds from animals or blood bags unless you’ve specifically asked.

But the truth is, you love when he feeds from you. For a plethora of reasons, one of which being the overwhelming sense of need and dependance on him that follows. Or the way his eyes grow darker and his entire demeanor changes. How much stronger he becomes feeding on human blood, specifically the blood of someone he loves.

But another reason lies with his fangs. The venom that becomes injected into your bloodstream, forcing you to feel whatever emotion or desire he feels. 

It’s a trick used to lure and calm his prey into submission while he feeds, but you find another use for it. Because if he’s filled with serenity or anger or lust…you feel it, too. You feel him. Only him.

And it’s your absolute favorite feeling in the world.

His other hand now reaches for your neck, fingers gently tapping the sides of your throat. “Just say the word, darling. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You feel your chest deflate, all the air evaporating from your lungs as he slowly urges you back against the wall. Bracing you there as he awaits your decision.

He knows what you want. And he knows that you’d tell him otherwise. 

Your fingers tangle in the dark shirt on his chest, desperate to keep him near you. “Do it. Please.”

He tilts your head back, letting his lip curl up until his fang is revealed. “Are you sure, my dove?”

Another fervent nod. “Yes. Please, Har…please, need to feel it. Need to feel you.”

He leans closer, letting the tips of his sharp teeth graze over the sensitive skin of your throat. Right above your pulse point. “Gotta be really sure, darling. Don’t want to hurt you. Or lose control.”

“You won’t,” you exhale, feeling more confident than you sound. “Know you won’t.”

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind if he did. Even in his darkest moments, he remains your fiercest protector. Never allowing anyone to hurt you.

Not even himself.

You feel him breathe against your neck, perhaps preparing himself for what he’s about to do. Or maybe he’s indulging in your smell. Reveling in the realization of what he’s about to do. What he’s about to taste.

Then, almost as if overcome with a surge of confidence, he bites down – hard. Enough to break the skin and allow his venom to travel into your system.

It’s instantaneous, the feeling. The way your muscles dissolve into jelly, the way your mind fills with a certain haze, and the way your stomach begins to coil.

It’s overwhelming, but it’s him. And you whimper as his other hand falls to your hip to keep you steady, making sure you remain upright and in his arms.

He waits a moment or two to make sure the venom has taken effect before he slowly retracts his fangs and pulls away. You know if he’d punctured you any deeper or kept the sharp teeth inside of you any longer, the taste of your blood would have driven him mad. Tempting him beyond reason until he began to lose control.

But he knows his limits by now. Knows exactly how far he can push himself around you, and you admire him for it.

Your legs shake as you slump against the wall, held up by his grip as he studies you carefully. Looking for signs of remorse or panic.

He’s learned a trick for sucking a majority of the poison out of your system – if it were to come to that. And while it’s tricky and tedious, you know he’d do it in a heartbeat if he felt you were in danger or if you regretted your choice.

Instead, you simply smile at him, and nod languidly. “M’good, Har,” you assure him. “M’so good.”

He seems to exhale a grateful breath, thumb stroking your cheek gently as he now glances over your wound. “I need to clean it—"

“No,” you whimper, keeping him close. “Not yet. Don’t go yet.”

He chuckles, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “All right, dove. I’m here. How do you feel, hm? You feel calm yet?”

You nod again before your lashes flutter. “Yeah. Calm, and…and happy, I think?”

He hums. “I imagine. You do make me happy.”

“It’s strange, though,” you admit, brows furrowing in thought. “Feels…heightened. Or more potent. There’s this…this yearning. This need for something.”

He regards you for a moment more. Curious and seemingly amused by your confusion before suddenly, your eyes snap to his.

You suck in a sharp inhale – something akin to a gasp. “Are you…are you horny?”

You expect his surprise, but all you find is smug fascination. “Well,” he begins slowly, letting his knuckles graze delicately beneath your jaw, “the term horny is a little juvenile. And it could never even begin to describe what I feel for you.”

He steps closer, lips ghosting just above yours while you feel your breath hitch.

“But…yes,” he whispers, glancing down at your mouth with a smile. “I suppose I am. Can’t exactly help it, darling, can I? When you look…and taste…and smell so goddamn divine.”

Another whimper bleeds from your throat as he begins to guide you away from the wall and toward the bed just to the left of you.

“Tell me…how does it feel, dove, hm?” he murmurs, touch strong yet determined. “Do you feel me? Feel how much I need you?”

This nod is quick and zealous. Because you do. It’s all you feel. This desire to have – to take and ruin. In the best possible way. It’s a similar sensation to the lust you already feel for him. Your hunger to explore the dangerous but loving man you call your own.

“Yeah?” He’s grinning like a mad man at the way you so quickly fall apart. “Can I tell you a secret, darling?” 

You whimper pitfully as you gaze up at him.

Lowering his voice, he tightens his grip. “When I’m with you…I always feel like this.”

With that, he nudges you down to sit on the mattress before surging forward to press his lips to yours. Kissing you so hard, you feel dizzy. It’s perfection. Like quenching a burning flame. Like taking that first drink of water on a hot day. Fixing a desperate need – succumbing to a craving. 

And it feels as though this kiss fixes every one of your problems. Because it does – he does. Breaks you and puts you back together again all in the same moment. It’s almost addicting. You feel insatiable, hands disappearing into his curls as you yank him down until his chest is flush with yours.

The two of you roll and writhe around on the bed for a minute or two before he leans back to offer you air. He knows you won’t take a moment to breathe otherwise, and his smug smirk merely worsens the ache between your thighs.

“Not so nervous now, hm?” he muses.

You hook your leg around his hip and attempt to grind yourself against his thigh. “Please…”

“Please what, dove?” He presses his lips to the base of your throat, trailing them down your sternum and toward your chest. “What’s it feel like, what do you need?”

But you don’t have any answer for him. Instead, all you can do is stare at the stunningly generous man as he works his way down your body. As he unbuttons your shirt and kisses over the swell of your breast. 

The stain of your blood from his lips smears across your nipple before he takes it into his mouth. Sucking and licking at the tender skin while he kneads the other one in his palm.

You arch from the mattress, desperate to disappear into his strong frame while he chuckles darkly and allows his fangs to reemerge. 

He uses them sparingly – not as a weapon but as a toy. A tool in the game of your lust.

The sharp edge pricks your skin, enough to make you gasp his name and tug on him harder. He smiles a bit bigger and carries on with his quest. Moving down your stomach and toward the waistband of your pants.

Cold, nimble fingers pop the buttons free and tug the fabric down your legs. Revealing your trembling thighs to his hungry gaze. He looks at you like you’ve been served to him on a platter. But not in the way another vampire might.

No, Harry’s look of mesmeric adoration lies in the idea of your body. In the warmth of your cunt and the soft skin of your legs. In the way you draw him in, the way you hold him, clench around him.

It’s hard for him to feel most things these days. 

But he always feels you.

He settles his body near your ankles, providing him the right angle and amount of space to spread you open and study you.

His thumb reaches for you. Pushes into your clit before dragging down between your folds as you gasp.

His expression reveals nothing. No inkling as to what he’s thinking but you know his mind is running wild with ideas.

He finds your soaked little hole, circling it once before dragging the wet substance back up and through. 

“Shh,” he coos, taming your desolate cries. “It’s okay, dove. I’ve got you.”

“Har,” you whimper, fingers itching to reach for him as he settles onto his stomach. “Please…”

You can see the reflection of light on his fangs. The way they extend past his red, swollen lips and ghost above your skin.

He nips at your hip a time or two – a slight sting that dissolves into something excruciatingly pleasurable – before he dances his mouth down. Torturing you with what’s to come instead of simply giving it to you.

“You smell divine, darling,” he purrs, groaning deep within the back of his throat. “Just might kill me again.”

You’d laugh if you had the strength, instead peering down your body at him with a desperate need. “H, I need…need—”

“Need me, hm?” He exhales a gentle breath across your clit and it’s so very cold. But it makes you jump, a new wave of arousal seeming to soak the sheets beneath. “Need me to make it better, yeah?”

You nod swiftly. “Yes…yeah. Hurts, Har.”

“Hurts?” he repeats with faux sympathy. “Oh, dove. Bet it does. Bet it’s all achy.”

Your head moves on its own accord, and you feel your stomach quiver when his cool hands curl around your thighs, keeping them spread.

“I imagine,” he whispers, returning his eyes to your pussy. “Cause I know how much it aches for me.”

He dives in, tongue lapping at your warmth and wetness without mercy as you cling to the sheets and arch from the bed.

His arms fold over your hips, keeping you pressed down and pliable to his intentions as he begins. Licking, sucking, and nibbling at certain spots – but never the spot you need him most.

The tantalizing edge of his fang grazes your soft, sensitive cunt. Sometimes harder, sometimes softer. But always impatient, desperate to feel you anyway he can.

Truth be told, you suppose he enjoys feeding on you this way just as much. In fact, this is what he claims is his nourishment whenever he’s feeling weak and unwell. One taste of your pussy and he’s a changed man.

He has you every day. Makes sure you’re at his beck and call – which you already are, anyway. 

If he’s working, if he’s cooking, if he’s reading. He merely gives you a look and calls you by that familiarly loving nickname, and next thing you know, you’re sitting on his face.

The stretch of your muscles is almost distracting, but not nearly as distracting as his groans of pleasure. The way he curses to himself as he swallows you down. Nudging at your cunt with his mouth like you’re the best meal he’s ever had.

And then…those perfect lips find your clit. He sucks, and moans, and you cry out his name. Grasping onto his hair in a futile attempt at stability and more.

He lets you tug him closer. You imagine – if he were still alive – he’d be suffocated by your pussy. Which…he’d probably enjoy.

As it is, he continues his ministrations almost mercilessly while you squirm beneath him and attempt to buck up against his tongue.

“I know,” he whispers, almost soothingly, and it feels like a vast contrast to the way he forces you into so much pleasure. “Know, darling. Can hear your pretty, little heart racing. Try to breathe, yeah? While you still can.”

You suck in a greedy gasp, eager to obey, as you focus on the sounds coming from between your thighs. It’s sinful and sensual and it echoes around the room until it’s all you hear.

“Doing so good, babydove,” he murmurs, glancing up just long enough to see the first tear slip from your eye. “It’s a lot right now, I know. I know, but you can take it. Always do so good for me. Let me see you cum, yeah? Let me see this pretty pussy cum for me.”

And you want to more than anything. Chasing the need in your own belly along with the need from his venom. The combined rush of ecstasy that makes stars explode across your eyelids as more destitute sounds fall from your tongue. 

His hands suddenly slip beneath your back, forcing you from the bed as he repositions you and nearly pulls you right through him. 

Large fingers grope the tender flesh of your ass as he holds you against his mouth and sucks the sensitive nerves between puckered lips. 

“Tell me,” he ushers softly, a golden hue to those vivid eyes watching you closely. “Tell me how bad I need you. Tell me how much I love you—”

“Har,” you gasp, trembling in his touch. “Can’t…can’t…m’gonna cum, I…please—”

“Try. Tell me. Tell me that you feel me—”

“I do,” you whine. “I do, I feel you. Feel you, Har. So good. It’s so good, please—”

“All right, darling. You gonna let me taste you? Need to taste you, darling. Can’t live without it—”

“Harry—”

He pulls away just enough to raise his hand and smack it down your cunt. The cold metal of his ring catching your clit before two more spanks are laid in succession.

You moan loudly – almost undone by the eroticism itself – before he dips back down, and grazes the delicate bud with the edge of his fang.

You feel him slip a finger inside. Pumping you once – twice – before he adds a second. Wanting to fill you and finger-fuck you to the edge as quickly as possible.

It hits you then. Overpowers you and knocks the wind from your lungs. 

You fall apart in his hands, against his tongue. Moaning and whimpering as your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head. It feels as though you cum twice as hard – perhaps a result of the venom or the symbolism of his need for you. The way your taste has satisfied his thirst.

“Yes, yes…there you go, that’s my fucking girl.” His tone is rough but riddled with lust. He groans like he’s never been filled with so much devotion. An anxious almost obsessed sound that drags your orgasm on at least a few seconds longer. “Give it to me, dove…fucking give it to me—”

“Harry—” You gasp his name like it’s the last sound you’ll ever make. Tears building in your eyes before they cascade down your warm cheeks. 

Ever the sadist, Harry works you through until your cunt is throbbing and far too sensitive to the touch. Despite your cries and whimpers for mercy, he carries on. Thrusting, licking, and sucking until you can hardly breathe.

Eventually he releases you and leans back. Perhaps able to hear the erratic racing of your pulse beneath your chest as he now works to hush your anxious mewling.

Crawling up your body with care, his fangs retract, and he buries his face in your neck to keep you still. Pressing his chest to yours in an effort to help calm you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “It’s okay, dove. You’re okay. God, did so fucking good for me, darling. Always taste so good, make me so happy.”

You tiredly grasp onto his arms, needing to hold onto him just as tightly as he’s holding onto you. Wanting to share in this moment as he smirks against your throat. 

“You okay?” he asks you now. “You’re nervous again.”

“No, I’m…I’m okay,” you assure him through a pant. “I just…it feels so good. So…heavy, you know? Overwhelming.”

He chuckles softly and pushes up onto his elbows to get a good look at you. Thumb finding your cheekbone as he traces the delicate curve of your face with great adoration. “Are you saying I overwhelm you?”

You nod, smiling giddily as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. “In the best possible way.”

Grinning himself, he leans down to capture your lips with his. And it’s soft and slow and an oddly angelic end to such a devilish evening.

“Har?” you whisper, lashes fluttering shut as you nose your way under his jaw.

“Yes, dove?”

Your kisses trail below his ear, making his fingers flex. “You know what I think?”

“What's that, darling?”

You begin to smirk wickedly as you slip your hand around the back of his neck and tug him closer. Allowing the edge of your teeth to finally make contact with his skin.

He stills.

“I think it’s my turn now.”

Just wanna put in a quick note and clarify that even though she was feeling a bit of his horniness and desire, she was still very much horny all on her own HAHAHA this was 1000000% consented to from beginning to end from both parties!

Also vampire!harry is so fun?? And I loved this?? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME??

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[lvrrgirlll]

Tolerate It (series)

Synopsis: Life as Patrick Zweig’s controversially young girlfriend should have been a dream, but it was anything but. He was a broken man. You were a girl who knew all too well. Who’s to say whether you’ve got it wrong now…

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Paring: Patrick Zweig x read

Word count: 1.4k

Content warnings: smut, p in v, age gap relationship, bit of fluff, eventual angst (there are hints so far but nothing crazy)

Notes: This is my first ever fic and I really don’t know how to feel about it so idk, take that as you will and hopefully enjoy!! :) (also this is like half proofread so forgive typos lol, I am but a lowly college student who is extremely busy 24/7)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Part 1: Getting to know you…

2029:

Cameras flashed uncontrollably as you sat at one end of a small, round table, Patrick seated at the other. His hands were folded across the table as he hunched over. Yours were in your lap. The two of you were…distant, though not too perceptibly so to outsiders.

“Mrs. Zweig! A comment please, how do you feel about your husband’s retirement after such a long career?”

2019:

You first met Patrick in a particular stage of his life he’s not quite proud of looking back.

Patrick has matched with you!

Patrick: “Hey babe, wanna get dinner drinks tn?”

Patrick had begun to ask you to dinner, before remembering he had no money, and couldn’t afford dinner, especially on a date, since he’d be expected to pay. He sighed after sending you the message, moving to swipe on other unsuspecting victims.

Seeing his message immediately, you considered your options. As a broke college student, lonely and with endless loans to pay back…it wouldn’t be so bad to have a drink with a hot pro tennis player right about now. Closing your laptop, deciding your English paper could wait, you picked up your phone to reply right away, not caring if you seemed eager.

Y/n: “Drinks tonight…sure, when and where?”

Patrick was surprised to see a reply at all, but especially so quickly.

Patrick: “Ritz hotel lobby at 8? I can send you the address”

Y/n: “Works for me. See you then.”

Looking back, the date should have raised several red flags from the start.

Firstly, the fact that a 32-year-old professional tennis player wanted to get drinks with a barely legal college student was a surprise in and of itself. That’s completely barring the fact that, being 18, you obviously couldn’t drink legally, not that Patrick or the hotel bartender seemed to care. The entire date, Patrick eyed you like a piece of meat, his hands caressing your knee and inching up your thigh as you spoke about your major and he feigned interest. And it should have especially raised alarm when he kissed you roughly and suddenly, murmuring that you both should go back to your apartment. He was lucky you had decided to skip out on dorm life.

“‘D’you do this with every guy you meet,” he asked as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his toned abs.

“No…” you breathed out, catching your breath after feverish kisses while he unbuckled his belt. “You’re different. Special.” He smirked then, a wicked, boyish grin, as if he was in on something you weren’t.

“Oh honey, you don’t even know yet…I’m not special. M’nothing…not worth your time anyways, I mean…” he let out an airy whistle “look at you.” He froze then, looking you up and down as you had stripped your cute but casual dress off. You only giggled in response.

“M’gonna ruin you…” he murmured under his breath, eyes darkening as he stalked closer. When he was finally stood right in front of you, you reached up onto your tip toes to kiss him passionately, your hands exploring his unclothed torso as he reached to your back to unclasp your bra. You let him, happily helping him out and then continuing your feverish kiss, reaching for the zipper of his pants. “Someone’s eager…” he half chuckled in between kisses.

“You’re one to talk,” you quipped back, smirking up at him briefly before he moved to trail kisses down your neck and to your chest. He pushed you onto the bed gently (to his surprise —he usually wasn’t gentle with hookups like this), mouth moving to your chest as he licked and sucked at your taught nipples. “Patrick…” you whined. He smiled at the way you said his name. You looked so pretty right now…beneath him, all weak just for him…

He stood up, finally relieving himself from the constraints of his clothes, leaving only his huge erection perked up in his boxers. You were intimidated…it’s not like you hadn’t had sex before, but you didn’t know if you could handle him. “P- Pat…,” you cooed timidly, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

“What is it,” he questioned back.

“‘Dunno if it’ll fit…” you mumbled, a little embarrassed but concerned nonetheless.

“Oh, don’t worry baby. It’ll fit. We just gotta take it slow at first…I’ll make it fit.”

And he kept his word. Pulling your panties to the side, he ran one finger, then two, through your slick folds. “Already so wet for me…” he whispered, looking up at you. He brought his fingers to his mouth, then, tasting you in an ever so erotic display. “You taste good…if only I could wait tonight.” He pulled his thick cock out, pumping it in his big hands a few times before leaning over you. “You ready? You can do it, just gotta start slow.” He offered a reassuring look through the clear arousal that was taking over him. You nodded in response, which led him to tilt your chin up, making sure you held his gaze. “Gotta use your words, sweet thing.”

“I’m ready, Patrick…more than ready. I want you bad.”

After that, he wasted no time, slipping the tip in, then leaning in little by little, till you were full to the brim. He bottomed out, holding himself stagnant inside of you for a moment so you could get used to him. It was hard for him to get used to you, though. The way you were squeezing him with your warm walls had him feeling like a teenager again, about to cum in seconds. He composed himself, though.

“Gonna start moving now…is that okay?” He asked, genuineness seeping through. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different with you…

“Mhm…I can take it,” you whimpered back at him, eyebrows knitting together at the stretch to take him. He started moving, slow at first, but then he picked up the pace. “Feels so good,” you gasped, gripping the bed sheets tightly in one of your hands as you moaned. Patrick moved rhythmically between your thighs, thrusting in and out of you at a now very quick pace.

“Shit…you’re so good for me baby. You take me so well…fuck— so good for me.” Patrick muttered breathlessly as he somehow managed to quicken his pace, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. You didn’t know what it was about him, but after this, you couldn’t imagine yourself with any other man…

“P- Pat -fuck- I’m gonna…gonna cum.”

His eyelids fell heavily over his eyes as he looked down at you, jaw slack and breath heavy. “Me too baby. Come on, cum for me…you can do it doll.” You felt that tightness in your stomach finally snap as you moaned loudly, cumming around him, leaving a wet, creamy ring around his cock. He continued to pump in and out of you for a few moments, still chasing his high, before his hips started stuttering, and he came without another word. He felt like he could collapse on top of you, but he didn’t want to hurt such a pretty little thing. He caught himself, just barely, propped up on the headboard before falling down next to you on the bed. “Night babe…” he mumbled, eyes closed, pecking your shoulder quickly before drifting off to sleep. That tenderness alone was enough to send you reeling, but luckily sleep took over after such a hard come down. You could worry about your feelings in the morning.

That night had been the best sex of your life. Of course, Patrick got what he had wanted all along: a warm body and a warm bed. He spent the night aiming to leave in the morning without a trace, but as he got up, you awoke.

“Hm…huh? Patrick?” You stretched, reaching to rub the sleep from your eyes. “W- were you leaving?” Your voice was earnest and gentle, a tinge of concern filtering through. Patrick felt a pang of guilt, then. He couldn’t do this to you…not yet anyways. You had been so good to him. So obedient for him. He knew he’d regret it later, but against his better judgment, he reached down, moving your hair from your forehead and offering a gentle peck.

“Just gotta get going for my match baby…I’ll call ya later. We can do something else, okay? Hm? I’ll be back, don’t worry. ‘M not going anywhere…” he reassured.

You nodded silently, smiling up at him as if he had hung the moon and the stars. He knew then when he saw that look in your eyes that this would become a problem…but like most of his other problems, he never knew when to quit.

[dragonsdelightstudio]

Shoe Stay Last the Broke Way

Or, you’re a cheap bitch like me and have only basic materials at your disposal.

Hello, beautiful people~

Let’s create a shoe stay together.

(I’ve been corrected in my terms, it’s a shoe last. My bad if I confused any of you!)

Most every crafter has - Glue, water, plastic wrap, paper bags (or whatever you may have on hand,) and hot glue; That’s it, that’s your list of supplies. Perhaps a sharp instrument to cut away the mold carefully.

If you are like me, my crew is chronically shoeless. Shoes are expensive! I consider myself a decent seamstress though, so why not try shoe making? When doing this it’s a good idea to have a shoe “last” or a basic mold to help shape the shoes. I’m not a huge fan of handling my dolls every time I try and make something to fit.

Enter shoe lasts stays, the broke way.

First you need a volunteer. I chose the boy who had the bigger feet to basically provide a mold to all my other boys of similar size. This is Harper. His body is an April Story Senior. He’s got his pantlegs rolled up and he’s ready to go.

Let’s get messy now and act like we are in kindergarten. You want to make sure your doll’s feet are wrapped securely in cling wrap, covering a little above the ankle. We are going to paper mache over his feet. There are many recipes online for a mixture, but I personally use a mix of wood and white PVA mixed with a bit of water.

I alternated thin Kraft paper and paper towel for a couple of layers. Make sure each one is thoroughly dry before applying the next. Try and fill out some of the area above the heel and the arch as we want to keep this basic shape but not totally form fitting.

All dry! Now you need to carefully cut off the paper Mache. This can be tricky. Much like the paper Mache dress form we want to avoid doing damage to the doll during removal. Go slow and separate as necessary. I cut down the back of the leg and heel and about halfway down the foot. I was able to wiggle the mold off at this point.

Yay! Now that it’s off, try and ease the split back into place. I use tape as a temporary closure until I can go back and cover it with a final layer of paper Cache. You don’t have to, but I just like the clean look.

This last part is totally optional but I like to fill the cavity with some sort of firm support just to ensure the longevity of the cast. My doll forms are stuffed firm with yarn scraps and dryer lint. These though, I wanted something more solid. I’m not familiar with expanding foam nor do I have any on hand but what I DO have is hot glue. In the past I’ve made hot glue gems for some kids out of molds, so I know what I’m working with.

I cut the molds to an even height and started filling from the toe up to the arch. I let it cool in that upright tiptoe position for a bit before placing it flat and adding my little handle and filling it up to the top. I tapped them on the desk a few times while doing this just to make sure the glue settled firmly. I added handles just because, but you don’t have to. I used a cheap dowel.

Depending on what kind of shoes you plan to make (either soft formed or modern shoes with a formed toe) you can build up the toe areas to give yourself that sleek shape that modern shoes have.

Credit to @dollsahoy for adding on the buildup tip!

There you have it. Let the glue harden and admire your work. If you are going to use these to shape damp leather, remember to seal them with a water resistant sealant!

I hope this provides inspiration to someone.

Cheers and happy crafting.

[hyuckiefluff]

drunk in you | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers word count: 1.9k ish warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, suggestive language, reader is down bad for mark (aren’t we all), implications of drunk sex summary: was Mark Lee’s new haircut really the drop that would tip the glass over and make you spill how you really feel about him?… Well, the haircut and also the alcohol. author's note: i’m backk!! srry for disappearing for *checks calendar* two months lol this has been sitting in my drafts since mark cut his hair aaand i wanted to post it for his bday so let’s pretend im not 3 days late! HAPPY BDAY MARKIEEE <33 it’s a bit short cuz i felt like i’d have to make a second part if i wanted to add smut to yknow fully get into it lol idk but consider this a little teaser and if it doesn’t flop I’ll post a second part :)

part 2

A sudden burst of bright light pierced through your closed eyelids, jolting you awake from the deep sleep you were in. As you gradually became aware of your surroundings, you couldn't ignore the soreness in your muscles and the strange stickiness between your legs. However, it was the foreign hand resting right on top of your ass that sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. Your eyes shot open, and regret instantly washed over you as a pulsating pain hammered at your head.

"What the fuck..." you groaned, attempting to focus your blurry vision and make sense of the situation. Upon looking around, you realized that you were in the guys' dorm, more specifically, in Mark's room...

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

If you were in Mark's room, then that hand... and the body it belonged to, had to be...

Oh my god, what happened last night?

8 hours earlier…

Drinking with your friends after a grueling week at uni wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. In fact, it'd be weirder if you were cooped up at home worrying about midterm grades instead of laughing your head off at whatever Jeno just blurted out. First sign that you were drunk, the boy wasn’t even that funny. His neck and ears were flushed crimson, a clear sign that he, too, had indulged in one too many drinks. And there was Jisung, practically glued to Jeno's side, oozing a whole lot of gooey affection that he would vehemently deny once he sobered up. 

Renjun and Haechan were locked in a heated argument on the floor, their voices rising in the air over some trivial matter that would probably be forgotten by morning. Surprisingly, though, they seemed to be the least intoxicated among you. 

Meanwhile, Jaemin was frantically rummaging through the kitchen, his frustrated groans and curses echoing throughout the room. It was clear that his search for more alcohol was proving to be a fruitless endeavor.

Beside you, Chenle was on his phone, engrossed in a replay of the Warriors game. At first glance he doesn’t look drunk, but you knew better. If he were truly sober, he'd be shouting and cursing at his phone screen, venting his frustrations as his beloved team struggled to keep up. Instead, he was lazily sipping from his nearly empty cup while his glossed over eyes remained glued to the screen.

Mark Lee was the only one missing from the group. You sent him a few voice messages letting him know that if he didn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes you would eat his portion of the kimchi jiggae you’d ordered earlier. He responded within seconds with a funny GIF that showed a man running and tripping.

Mark stumbled through the door just a few minutes later. He was soaked from head to toe, his hoodie covering most of his head. He was panting and his shoes were muddy and wet, he got rid of them in the entrance and looked up, clearly out of breath.  But you were already stuffing your face with his food anyways. Whoops. 

Though as soon as he pulled down the hood a chunk of food went down the wrong pipe. You coughed uncontrollably, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to regain your breath.

"Dude!! Are you seriously eating my food?" he exclaimed.

But when he noticed your struggling state, his words trailed off, replaced by genuine worry. "Yo, are you good?" he asked, walking closer to you and patting you in the back.

You managed to nod weakly, staring up at him. 

"Why’re you so late? Oh, new haircut?" Haechan chimed in from the floor.

"Yeah... what's the verdict?" Mark asked, turning his head to the side to better show off the lines of his undercut, his gaze lingering on you. 

So many thoughts raced through your mind but you were unable to form a single word. Mark had had long hair for quite some time now, and it was you who had encouraged him to let it grow. You enjoyed styling it, braiding it, and adorning it with charms—Mark gave you the freedom to do whatever you pleased with his hair. You had grown fond of his long hair, especially after helping nurse it back to health from the damage caused by bleaching and dyeing. Yet now he was sporting short hair and an undercut with edgy designs on the side, and you couldn't help but openly ogle at him. 

He looked hot as fuck.

It’s true that you harbored feelings for Mark that went beyond friendship but you were always able to hide it well and it worked out better this way for both of you (or that’s what you liked to believe). Needless to say you liked him a lot and had for a while so the sight of his new look had sent your emotions spiraling. He showed up merely minutes ago and you already felt so weak at the knees and your brain was fuzzy even though you hadn’t drank that much yet.

"Don't like it," you muttered, hoping your words would deflect attention from the clear shift in your expression. Turning around, you sought refuge on the couch next to Chenle, placing the bowl of food aside. Your stomach was turning weirdly, making it impossible to swallow another bite.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being so dramatic. It was just a haircut. But, god, he looked so good.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you chugged your cup with soju and let out a big groan after emptying it. The sound catching Chenle’s attention as he peered curiously from his phone. You offered him a closed-lip smile, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him.

Mark was awkwardly standing on the same spot. He was a bit taken aback by your sudden coldness. He definitely picked up on your strange reaction the moment he walked through the door. But he brushed it off.

"Okaay… Well I was late 'cause I was getting the good stuff," Mark explained, his frown replaced by a grin as he pulled out a beer from the bags he was carrying.

"Let's goooo!" Jaemin yelled, returning from the kitchen right on cue as if he some sort of alcohol detector. He eagerly snatched the bags from Mark and made a kissy face to the boy.

The tension eased a bit with Jaemin's infectious enthusiasm, and you decided to not focus on whatever Mark was making you feel right now. The drinks were here, and the good times were about to roll. You made a mental note to sort out your feelings later.

~

Alcohol definitely did not make your situation better. The more you drank the harder it was to keep your thoughts at bay. Mark was now sitting on the single couch in front of you and every little expression or movement he made had you either biting your lip or pressing your thighs together.

Talking about thighs… the shorts he was wearing displayed his muscular legs in a way that was making it quite impossible for you to not devour them with your eyes. God, your brain had turned into that of a hormonal teenage boy. Were you seriously staring at his thighs and imagining how it would feel to ride them?

Haechan came over to you and filled your glass with more Soju. You downed it as soon as he was done pouring it, earning you a weird look from Chenle who had been eyeing you ever since Mark arrived. 

"Okay, what's with you?" Chenle mumbled, the words escaping his lips just loudly enough to capture everyone's attention. Considering you had the noisiest group of friends, all eyes turned your way, including Mark's.

Mark seemed to be getting tipsy; you could tell by the way his big, expressive eyes shimmered even more than usual and the faint blush that adorned his cheeks and neck.

"Hmm?" you managed to reply, your gaze still fixated somewhere on Mark's face. You were completely unaware of the intense amount of attention you were giving him, but Chenle, who was relatively more sober than both of you, picked up on it.

"You're literally looking at Mark like you want to eat him," Chenle chuckled, teasingly calling you out.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Renjun asked, suddenly intrigued by the topic.

"I am?" you replied, sounding genuinely confused, though your heart raced with thoughts you were about to voice out loud. "Uhm… yeah I kinda do..."

An audible gasp followed, and you knew without looking that it came from Haechan.

Mark's expression remained unreadable, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, revealing no discernible emotions. Was he weirded out? Normally, you might have felt self-conscious about blurting out something like that, but alcohol had significantly lowered your inhibitions.

"That's a wild thing to say," Haechan interjected with a mix of shock and amusement. "Do you actually wanna tap that?" He pointed at Mark, who was still gazing at you.

"Very much so," you replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, even though you were openly talking about hooking up with your best friend in front of all your other best friends.

"Why don't you come here then?" Mark's words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but notice the way he shifted, his legs spread invitingly.

You burst into laughter assuming he was only joking to tease you. However, the lack of a reaction from him made you realize he was dead serious. Your eyes locked on his own, reflecting the same desire you had been giving him just moments ago.

The idea of getting up and walking to him, straddling his lap, and kissing him flashed through your mind.

But the moment was interrupted by a voice that snapped both of you out of your trance. "Gross!" Jisung whined, hiding his face in Jeno's back, the older one lazily laughing and patting Jisung's thigh. "Okay, c'mon, I think we've all had enough to drink," he declared, getting up, with Jisung clinging to him. Chenle follow suit also giving you two a slightly disgusted stare.

"Yeah, one more drink for me, and I'm afraid the kimchi jiggae I had earlier might end up all over the carpet," Haechan chimed in, rubbing his stomach before disappearing upstairs.

Renjun also stood up and playfully messed up Mark's hair while saying, "By the way, happy birthday."

You glanced at the table clock and realized it was already 12:01. You had been so excited about Mark's birthday earlier in the day, but the alcohol and the tension between the two of you made you totally forget about it. Gathering your courage, you approached him. He remained sprawled with his legs out, but now he looked up at you, his lips slightly wet, distracting you momentarily.

"Happy birthday, silly," you smiled and awkwardly patted his head, hoping he didn't notice how you pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache between your legs.

"What did you get me?" he suddenly asked, and you blinked a few times, your brain struggling to register the extremely flirtatious tone he used.

When you didn't respond immediately, he continued, "Because I can think of one thing I want the most right now," lightly grazing your leg with his hand. You didn't flinch or move away.

"R-really? What is it?" you found yourself stuttering, a reaction that would have made you cringe if you were more sober.

"Come here, and I'll show you," he smirked and with little protest from you, he pulled you onto his lap.

a/n: i have a smut scene ready for this (well it’s in my brain but I’ll squeeze it out if u guys want that second part) soooo comment or simply like this so i know the audience wants it

also yes i did change the title of this but pls disregard that lol

© hyuckiefluff

part 2

[bunny-jpeg]

Hello bunny!!!! I love your bakery series, it's so cute! I have zero clue if you even write for it. But is it possible to get a Jason Todd from DC? Can I get cinnamon rolls with a side of martini & energy drink!

Thank you so much <33333

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of items on there along with all the guidelines for submitting an order! as for this anon, thank you for submitting it! i haven't received a dc or marvel request so this is very exciting! so thank you, i hope you enjoy!! (if anyone else wishes to submit anything comic related, please do!!)

cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know.") + martini (mafia au) + energy drink (doggy style) served by jason todd/red hood (dc comics)

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, doggy style, mafia boss!reader, boxer!jason todd

you wouldn't consider yourself a bad girl. you in a lot of ways were servicing the people of gotham. you were doing what you felt was right in a broken system.

but even one of the most dangerous women in the city needed a little assistance. that was when your beloved boxer came into your life. his name was jason, a boy thrown out then became a broken man. but, you liked to fix broken things.

you gave jason purpose again, even going as far as to tend to his injuries he got in the ring. kissing along his side and across his knuckles. the red hood was your pride and joy and he in turn adored you more than weeds on the sidewalk loved the sun.

you had returned from the art gallery that evening, it was open late on wednesdays and jason wished to come with you. you held his hand the entire time and kissed him gently when he gazed at a picasso.

"did you have fun?" you asked as you slipped your shoes off.

jason nodded, "i did, i mean, you were more beautiful than anything in that gallery." he chuckled as he took off his sweatshirt and put it over the side of the couch.

you looked at him and walked over to him. you placed your hands on his chest. in all fairness, he was more beautiful than anything in that gallery. if a true artist could capture him in a piece of work, they could probably make millions.

even with all the scarring, the damage on him. to feel his heartbeat under your palm felt nice. you leaned up to kiss him on the lips. he wrapped his strong arms around you.

when you pulled away, you ran a finger across a scar on his face and said, "thank you for coming with me." you had to get up on your tip-toes to get closer to his face.

he chuckled, "ah well, who else would go with you? isn't my job to protect you?"

you chuckled, "no, your job is to punch very hard for me." you joked before you pulled him in for another kiss. you did very little to hide your relationship with jason, you didn't feel the need to. as head of the family, who you were with was not a concern to those below you.

one time you had heard an insult fall from the lips of a a rival family and you simply upper cut the man. jason may be at your side as your defender, but you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

it was just nice to have a companion.

you both ended up in your shared bedroom. jason got you onto the bed and you started to unbutton the blouse you wore. and he took off the white undershirt he wore. you got a better look at all his scarring and once your shirt was off, you reached for him and grazed your fingers across the scar down the middle of his chest.

he never told you what happened, and you didn't want to pry too much. you believed it would all come out at one point or another. even if it didn't, you'd still love him.

"you're looking at them again." he said softly.

"no one needs to know." you said as you met his gaze, "what happened. you're still my jason, whatever happened to you." you said softly in return.

jason felt his chest tighten as he said, "thank you." before he started to get his jeans off, followed by your skirt. then he was on top of you on the bed, his hands planted on either side of you as he pulled you in for a kiss.

you both took off your undergarments down to your socks and laid in be for a moment, naked in each other's embrace.

jason then got you onto your elbows and knees, his strong hands on your hips as he rubbed his cock up against your slick slit. he groaned through his teeth as he continued to do so. it felt so good against him.

the most dangerous woman in gotham in bed with a boxer. what a sight. you felt the love for him cloud your chest, leaving it tight.

"you have my entire heart." you admitted.

"and you have mine." he replied. he slowly slipped his cock into your pussy and held onto your hips. he sank into you with ease. he knew that he was much bigger than you, so he had to be careful as to not harm you.

he kept his pace steady the more he rutted against you.

jason had never felt more alive then when he was with you. he thought that his life revolved around punching the shit out of people in the boxing ring. the sound of his fists hitting against flesh, that was his purpose. that was what made him feel alive.

but you lit a flame in him. the spitfire woman who handled the family with ease. he wanted you, yearned for you in ways that he never thought he would with another person.

his cock nudged against your cervix and you whimpered against the sheets a little with your back arched. you felt like a dream, the perfect woman for him. he sped up the pace a little bit, keeping a steady rhythm against you.

"you feel so good." he said, "i wish i could nail you up against the wall of the gallery. since you're the most beautiful thing there." he chuckled a little bit.

you arched your back a little but, "you're so fuckin' cheesy, jason."

he chuckled a little, "only for you, babe." the sounds of your love making filled the room, he felt hot all over as he continued to move against you.

"please." you panted, "shit." you gripped onto the bed tightly and moaned a little bit, "you feel so good. no one else does it like you, jason." you whimpered.

he clutched onto his hips tighter and moved faster. he swallowed back the pleasure as he continued to move. he buried his nose into the back of your neck, his broad chest against your back. his arms now wrapped around your middle as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

it all felt so overwhelming, hot all over and he thrusted up into you. you felt protected by your lover, he'd always keep you safe. always love you in ways that neither of you could put into words.

you gripped onto the covers under your body and panted wildly into them. you felt the curl of heat in your gut as you raised your hips further to give your lover a better angle.

the solid mass of a man with that streak of white hair hit against the softest parts of you. it made you whine into the bedding. such a submissive position for such a strong woman. jason would always take care of you. with a few more thrusts, you came around his cock.

"please, jason." you panted.

he continued to rut up into you, feeling the pleasure up and down his spine. he gave a few more hearty thrusts before he finished inside of you with a loud groan. his chest was pressed against your back as he yearned to be close to you.

skin to skin. lover to lover.

he slowed down and laid on top of you when you dropped your hips. he then peppered your shoulders with kisses before he pulled out and laid next to you on the bed. his strong body exposed in the low lamp light of the bedroom.

"jason."

"yeah, hun." he said as he tried to level out his breathing.

you were both panting as you rolled to your side and up against his side. your hand on his chest, fingers grazed the scarring. between heavy breaths you said, "my number one."

he chuckled a little as he pulled you closer. he kissed your sweaty brow and replied, "of course, only the best for my girl." then laid a sweet kiss on your lips.

the mafia boss and her boxer, tangled in the sheets. you guessed that he saved your life as much as you saved his. because you'd always find comfort in the beat of his heart. <3

[dumdogs]

SLEAZE ✶⋆.˚ MIYA OSAMU

CHAPTER THREE: dinner

SOUNDTRACK: freak by feeble little horse

warning: implied/mentioned ed

She leans out of her bathroom window. In one hand, she balances a lit cigarette and a half-eaten granola bar. She takes a drag from her cigarette, then a bite from the granola bar, smoke and chunks of chewy strawberry and oats mixing on her tongue. It’s early in the morning, blue and cold, and it’s drizzling. Tiny drops of rainwater gather on the tips of her fur jacket. If she shook around like a dog, it’d all splatter all over her bathroom, which can’t be good for the fur, if it’s real. If it’s not, it won’t make a difference. 

She decides to risk it for the view. 

Osamu’s across the street, transporting cardboard boxes from the back of a small car in through the front door of Onigiri Miya. She’s been watching him for a couple minutes now, enjoying him and her breakfast at the same time. He hasn’t noticed her, which makes her feel kind of creepy, but not enough to stop. 

Despite the cold and the rain, he makes the journey from the back of his car to the front door of his shop in just a tight, black long sleeved shirt that outlines perfectly which muscles of his are straining as he lifts and carries each box. She gnaws on her food, and exhales the smoke through her nostrils. She’s always had a thing about his arms. 

Osamu is perfect, she thinks. It’s hard to imagine his flaws. Whenever she thinks of him, she always tries. Late at night, lying restless in her bed, she imagines him as a habitual liar, as ill-tempered, as wickedly manipulative. She tries to picture him talking over her or letting a door slam in her face. Even small things: an obnoxious laugh, weird toes, bad breath. And it’s all sort of unfathomable. Her brain won’t let her imagine Osamu as anything other than flawless. 

He’s returning back to the car once more when she calls attention to herself. She swallows, and leans further out the window. “Hey, Miya!” she calls out. 

He stops, head swiveling around for a moment before his eyes land on her. For a second, they widen in surprise, but then his expression eases, and a soft smile tugs and his lips. “Hey,” he calls back, looking up at her second-story window. “What are you doing up so early?” 

She’s always up this early. She had fallen into the habit of late nights and early mornings when she was younger, and never bothered to break the routine. Which, she figures, is kind of unfortunate. It would be a lot easier to let life pass her by if she slept until noon every day. Instead, she has to be awake and bright-eyed for as much of it as possible. 

“Enjoying my breakfast and the view,” she tells him, winking as she does so, and she doesn’t miss the slight, pink blush that blooms across his cheeks. “Are you restocking or something?” 

He nods, looking back over his shoulder towards his car parked on the curb. “Yeah, there was a sale on disposables at the restaurant wholesale, so I figured I’d get there early before they sold out and restock while I could. Though I did have to take an elbow to the gut to get some takeout containers.” 

She leans further out the window, now standing on the tips of her toes. “I’m sure your customers appreciate your bravery,” she tells him with a smile, “I know I do.” 

Osamu blushes again, and it makes her feel smug. He crosses his arms over his chest. She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Well, at least that makes it worth it.” 

The front of her thighs press against the wall just below the window. She kicks one leg up behind her. “Want me to get you a coffee?” she asks. 

He raises an eyebrow at her. “So you can get me a coffee, but I can’t take you out to dinner?” he questions. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Aww, c‘mon, let me just get you a coffee. Just one coffee,” she insists. “You deserve it.” 

Osamu sighs, and looks down at the ground for a moment, as if he is considering some great dilemma. When he looks back up at her, he gives her a soft smile. “Fine,” he relents, “I’ll take whatever you get.” 

She returns his smile, and leans back into her bathroom. She puts the cigarette out on the window sill, and abandons her half-eaten granola bar next to it. Without saying another word, she closes the window. 

✶⋆.˚

Osamu makes a twisted face as the coffee hits his tongue. “Black?” he questions as he holds up the cup away from his face, examining it. 

She shrugs, leaning against the counter of Ongiri Miya. Osamu stands on the other side, leaning over on his forearm. It’s oddly intimate, being in the restaurant before it opens, with the door locked and all the lights off. If she sat up on the edge of her seat and leaned in closer, her forehead would bump his. “You said you wanted whatever I got,” she reminds him. 

“This wasn’t what I was expecting,” he confesses to her, taking another apprehensive sip. “I thought it’d be a lot sweeter. At least cream.” 

At her lowest and most obsessive points, the thought of putting anything in her coffee, cream, syrups, sugar, would’ve been enough to make her break into stress hives. She would force cups of hot, black coffee down her throat no matter how bitter it tasted. It’s not really as if she ever started enjoying the taste of black coffee, since she doesn’t ever really enjoy the taste of anything, it’s more that she had just gotten used to it. Now sugary lattes and shots of flavor seem so sweet they make her feel nauseous. 

So, black coffee it is. 

“Black’s the best way to drink it, y’know” she tells Osamu, not really believing it. “You just gotta develop a taste for it.” 

As if trying to prove a point, Osamu tilts his head back and takes a large gulp of coffee. And she takes this opportunity to let her eyes linger over his exposed throat, and imagines, briefly, what it would look like stained in dark purple bruises and the deep shade of her lipstick. When he drops his head, she lets his gaze linger for a moment before she lifts her eyes to his, and she hopes he knows what she was thinking of. 

“It’s bitter,” he says, “but I could get used to it.” 

She grins at him. Teeth bared, and all. “I’ll get you addicted to it,” she teases lightly. 

Osamu’s eyes shine. “What do I owe you for the coffee?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” she replies. “For now, though. I reserve the right to change my mind. I kind of like the idea of you owing me something.” 

He snickers, and lets his head drop for a second, and he looks back up at her. “Make up your mind about dinner yet?” 

“Hmm,” she hums, and then pushes away from the counter, standing. “No word yet. And y’know what, you should probably get back to work. I think your coffee distracted you from your restocking.” 

“It certainly did,” Osamu says, watching her as she turns on her heel and heads for the door. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Once she reaches the door, she turns her head and gives him a bright smile. “See ya then, Miya.” 

✶⋆.˚

She only has two friends, and has only ever had two friends, which doesn’t leave her with a lot to spare. So she can’t ever really get mad at either one of them without running the risk of being even more alone than she already is. 

Which sucks, because she’s really mad at Kuroo right now. 

Several pink, plump shrimp swim in the broth before her. And she just sits there, staring down at it, repulsed. She hates shrimp. She can’t stand them. The thought of them touching her food makes her stomach turn, and here they are, contaminating her meal. She shudders. 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroos says, now repeating himself several times over, but it falls on deaf ears. “I could’ve sworn you said shrimp!” 

“No,” Kenma says through a mouthful of noodles, “she’s always hated shrimp. You just never listen.”

The three of them are seated around her coffee table in her living room, some foreign volleyball game playing on her television. Kuroo does this sometimes. He brings Kenma and takeout to her door and insists on spending the night splayed out on her couch, watching her television. And she usually allows it, because she likes Kuroo, and is willing to tolerate the uncertainty of whatever restaurant he orders from in exchange for his company. 

But this error might be too much to forgive. 

Kuroo grabs at her takeout container, and slides it away from her, swapping it with his own bowl. “Here, you can have mine. It’s pork.” 

She looks up at Kuroo with a disapproving expression. “We can’t just switch. You already started eating it,” she tells him, picturing in her mind just how much of Kuroo’s saliva has already seeped into the dish. She has to suppress a shudder, and pushes the bowl away from her. “That’s disgusting.” 

Kuroo sighs, and drops his head back. “I cannot keep up with your rules.” 

She groans, and slumps against the couch behind her, her legs sliding under the coffee table, while Kuroo watches on with wide, stressed eyes. Kenma slurps at his own dish, staring flatly at the both of them. “You have to eat something,” Kenma tells her, and there is no room for argument in his words. 

Part of her knows that she’s being ridiculous, and that there’s really nothing stopping her from rifling through her fridge and finding something edible. It would be easy enough, and wouldn’t take long, but lying there with her head flat against the couch cushion, it seems like an impossible task. She can feel them both staring at her, waiting for her to take some action, but she just groans again, the only thing she can think to do to express her dissatisfaction. 

Kuroo leans towards her, and pokes at her arm. “Do you want me to order you something else?” he asks like he’s afraid of upsetting her further. 

“She can find food in her kitchen,” Kenma interjects. He does not have the same fear. 

She groans again, and forces herself to stand. There’s a limit to how much she can sit and groan and whine with Kenma around. The one downside to her forcing Kenma to spend so much time with her is that he’s gotten entirely used to her. Her rules and her habits and her frequent mental breakdowns don’t make him uncomfortable anymore. She can’t weaponize his uneasiness against him the same way she can with Kuroo. 

Her feet drag the whole way to her kitchen, and Kuroo calls out another desperate, “Sorry!” which she entirely ignores. Instead, she throws open her cabinet doors, looking in them for only a second before she moves onto the next one, leaving the cabinet doors wide open. There’s really no point in looking; she knows her kitchen inventory like she’s paid to. Eventually, she’ll settle on the leftover hamburger that’s in her fridge, but she wants to keep throwing her little fit first. 

She’s staring into the mostly empty pantry, containing only a bag of white rice and canned diced tomatoes, when there’s a knock on the door. At once, Kuroo shouts into the kitchen, “There’s someone at your door!"  

A terrible thought crosses through her mind that it’s her mother at the door, and she tenses up at once. “Will you answer it?” she calls back to him, voice wavering, and then calls again, “Wait, no, make Kenma get it,” just in case it is her mother. 

She’s closing her cabinet doors, hands slightly shaking at the image of her mother standing at her doorway, holding some kind of script in her hands. Her limbs move strangely, and her heart thumbs erratically. Kenma pops his head into the kitchen. “It’s for you.” 

She stares at him. “Is it my mom?” she questions. 

“Nope,” Kenma replies easily, and then slides back into her living room. 

Relief floods over her, and she follows Kenma, taking long strides towards her front door. And she doesn’t really question who else could be standing at her doorstep after dark once she accepts that it’s not her mother. Still, she’s surprised when she throws open her front door to see Osamu standing on the other side. 

He’s standing there in his tight black shirt and his Onigiri Miya hat with a small takeout container held delicately in his hands. He looks nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his eyes not staying in one spot for more than a second. He smiles slightly at the sight of her. “Hey,” he greets. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?” 

She tilts her head to the side, and examines him. Her body still feels out of sync, and there’s still a lingering frustration in her muscles. Seeing Osamu adds in this shot of adrenaline, on top of it all, and she just doesn’t know the right way to act. “Nah,” she answers, and then straightens out. “Nothing important. What’s up? Did you miss me?” 

Osamu lets out a short laugh.. “I, erm, had a takeout order cancel. It’s salmon, your favorite. I figured it’s better you take it than it going to waste.” He holds up the takeout box to her. She wonders if it’s one of the new ones he got this morning. “It’s still fresh.” 

She doesn’t have great control over her emotions. Little things feel big to her. The thought of her mother appearing unannounced sends her body into a panic and she reacts to shrimp in her food as if it were poison. So when Osamu appears at her door, comfort food in his hand, his adorable hat pulled over his dark hair and his goddamn arms, she can’t stop herself from launching herself at him. 

Osamu takes a step back to steady himself, and his arms apprehensively circle loosely around her waist. She practically hangs off of him, standing on her toes and tightening her arms around his neck. She can’t help herself. She leans back, and places a kiss on his cheek. “Miya Osamu,” she says, still clinging onto him, “you’re my hero.” 

She knows it’s absurd, and slightly obsessive, but she swears, in that moment, she feels that she could be in love with him.

taglist: @kameyyy @wyrcan @angee444 @lale-txt @akaashislovee @localgaytrainwreck @whorefornoodles @baylz @asrichin @miiyas @ferntv @atzixo @kr1nqu @spicana @weezerbby @chaosakademia @theepitomeofswag @qardasngan @tinnierat @gigiiiiislife @acowboykisser @wordsofelie @asnjinj @miakxn @svquru @arirants111 @nekomasmngr @iluv-ace @therealmsbahng @videlll @yessimo @socoolsocoolsocool @bertqut1 @rosellerinfrost @fishrene @recordsndreams @bae-ashlynn @seroh @evilari111 @nat1221 @laceythespacey @deluluforcarlos55 @bakunis @itsdragonius @esotericsorrow @4crewz (complete this form to be added)

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part six

art by the most talented @piaart -- they are also cooking up something extra hehe

author’s note: 18+! mdni! yeah yeah uhh… things happen between our favs. this is a nice chapter! future chapters may not be so nice… 5k!!! words. part one/two/three/four/five. ao3 linky.

Terzo’s pajama pants drag across the floor, having had trouble finding basically any pair of pants that fit his length since losing out on the ministry’s tailor. He’s grown used to it and has even gone so far as to hardly wear socks anymore due to his pant legs curling beneath his toes. Anxious to get back to you, to see how you’re handling falling headfirst into his trap. As he nears the guest room he is met with silence until he creeps closer to the door. A dim light spills into the hallway and he can hear soft pants and whines coming from inside. His stomach drops, lurching to push the door open. You’re on the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest, cheeks wet and eyes red.

“I-I can’t stay here,” you whimper as shaky hands rub your red eyes. “Something’s n-not right here.” Terzo is immediately in front of you, knees working his way to around your legs and his hands gingerly pushing your fingers away from your face to cup your cheeks. He is practically on top of you, the concern in his eyes nearly sending you into another fit of tears. Your head feels so heavy in his hands.

“What has happened, principessa? You are shaking like the leaf.” You’re surprised by the softness of his voice compared to the grip he currently has on your face, like you’ll disappear if he were to let you go. He brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumbs. You try to catch your breath, almost unable to focus on anything other than how devastatingly handsome he looks. God, you really are *drunk*. Mumbling, you lift your arm that feels impossibly heavy to point at the suspicious telephone on the dresser.

He follows your fingertip and his entire body goes rigid as he sees it, rage boiling up inside of him. Terzo knows he can’t let it blow, not now, not while he has you in his arms. He takes a deep breath and turns back to you, leaning in so close that strands of his hair skim your forehead. “I am here now, topolina, eh? Here to protect you from the monsters.” Your eyes widen as if he’s serious. Is he serious? Was that phone call even real? You find yourself nodding. “I will take you to my room now, yes?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead scooping you up into his arms and hurrying out of the guest room.

Terzo is so *warm*. The fear and tension evaporates from your body, going completely limp against his chest. You are nearly being lulled to sleep just by his heavy steps and the steady beat of your heart. Visions blurs and when you’re able to focus again you’re being lowered onto a plush mattress. A comforter magically drapes across your body and you continue to sink into a cozy haze.

He stands over you unable to tear his eyes away or even move. Bewitched to see you in his bed. Terzo considers taking to the couch so you can have the bed to yourself but… but he’s a selfish, bad man. The mattress dips as he slides into bed beside you though he does allow for some space between you. Sleepy eyes flutter open and you look at each other. You start the little game, inching closer to him every few moments just for him to do the same until the tips of your noses touch. It’s almost juvenile, like having your first sleepover with a boy.

Lips brush against his and you’re kissing, timid and cutesy at first. The taste of alcohol is strong on your tongue and lips that he greedily sucks and laps at as your bodies press closer together. Terzo has his arms curled around your waist, pulling you tight against as your hands roam his coarse chest hair at your fingertips. You’re head is so heavy but your thoughts are light, each little sound from him sending you further into madness.

“Puffetta, you are tipsy,” he murmurs against your lips but there’s an edge of seriousness — you are drunk and no matter how hard you beg for him it would be wrong for him to truly take advantage. Still, his cool fingers slip beneath the hem of your t-shirt and he starts to stroke along your hip bones. Your hot skin only becomes hotter, face flushing as you try to wriggle yourself even closer to him.

“But I *want* you to.” An exasperated whine while your heart beats out of your chest. The whiskey he had you drink is going directly to your clit, throbbing with a primal need. You can’t believe you’re here in his bed, between luxurious purple sheets. Another whine and you hook your leg over Terzo’s hip to pull him in closer. “Touch me. Touch me *please,”* you whisper and chew on your lower lip.

*Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.*

Eve tempting the serpent.

He could take you so easily. Push your underwear to the side while you press into his touch. You’re probably so wet right now, so wanting. Terzo groans and removes one hand from underneath your shirt to gently push your leg off of his hip. The disappointment in your eyes makes him hesitate for just a moment until he gives your thigh and rough squeeze, making you mewl. Oh, what sweet sounds he could get you to make. He sucks in a deep breath, taking a moment to settle himself and ignore his burgeoning hardness in his boxers, and then brushes the tip of his nose against yours with a wicked grin.

“Okay, I’ll touch you. I’ll touch you along your stomach… your hips, your thighs…” His eyes are dark as they bore into yours. “Everywhere that isn’t *private*.” You huff and open your mouth to interject but he cuts you off. “I’ll make you feel good, *prometto.* Let me, gattina.” His husky voice and sharp squeeze of your hip has you nodding in agreement. Terzo knows best, doesn’t he?

He begins to trace slow, tantalizing circles along your inner thighs, making you shiver. You can feel the heat pooling even more intensely between your legs, but his touch remains just shy of where you need it most. For now, you let yourself get lost in the sensation, trusting him to keep his promise. Terzo’s bare fingers dance along your skin, igniting tiny sparks of pleasure with each stroke mixed with how soothing it all feels. To *finally* feel his hands all over you. You arch your back slightly, trying to coax him to where you need him, but he remains just shy.

"Terzo..." you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and drowsiness.

“I knew you wanted me,” he chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. Strong hands drift up your stomach and sides, so close to your breasts but just grazing the sides of them. You let out a shaky sigh, your body trembling with anticipation. “Calm yourself, puffetta. Aren’t you sleepy?” His fingers continue their journey, tracing patterns along your sides.

His touch is maddening, a tease that leaves you both frustrated and yearning. You nod slowly, feeling the weight of the alcohol and desire pulling you into a hazy state. His lips brush your temple as he whispers, "rest now, there will be a time for this.

"Promise?" You murmur, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his gentle touch.

"Prometto," he assures you, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your very core. His hands continue their soothing patterns along your sides, easing you into a sense of calm and comfort.

Your breathing steadies as you sink further into the couch. The fire inside you starts to die down, limbs growing heavy. Terzo’s soft breath on your skin and his deep strokes of your hips soothe you to sleep in his arms. He gives a shuddered gasp as you finally succumb to sleep, burying his face into the crook of your neck to take a deep inhale of your scent.

He can’t let you leave now, can he? Not when you’re finally here, so close and so vulnerable. He tightens his grip on you, a possessive edge creeping into his touch. Lips graze your shoulders and he shudders again, white hot desire coursing through him. Terzo bites the inside of his mouth *hard* to calm himself, to focus on something other than you.

But you’re *here*. In his arms. Snoring quietly. He sighs against you, arms around you giving you a firm squeeze. Sharing his bed with someone almost seemed like something he would never do again. But you’re here. His mind quiets, a sense of peace washing over him. You are here for him. Not because of his position or his family. Eh, perhaps the money and the mystique helped but… Terzo hums quietly and brushes his nose along your shoulder.

You’re here.

***

You wake up with your head in his armpit. Eyes blink open and the scent of him fills your nose, musky and comforting. You wiggle slightly, trying to adjust your position, but his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. If your head didn’t hurt so much you would be swooning. Cheek rests against his chest and you take a deep breath. Terzo stirs beneath you, his hand drifting up your head to lazily pet your hair. A content hum leaves your lips and you feel him stiffen, fingers digging into your scalp. You lift your head so that you can see him.

Terzo’s eyes are already dark. A beat passes between you, holding each other’s gaze until he gives in. He presses a timid kiss to your lips as his other arm wraps around your waist. You blink as his head tips back for a moment, a delicious grin spreading across his face before he rolls you on to your back.

His lips capture yours again, more urgently this time, as his hands roam your body with newfound purpose. Morning light filters through the curtains, bathing you in a comfortable warmth that spreads beneath your skin. Cheeks are already flushed and you mewl into the kiss as you bring one of your hands up to cup the side of his face. The tips of your fingers brush along his hairline, feeling his silky hair for the first time.

"Terzo," you murmur against his lips with a huff, the desire in your voice evident. He responds with a low growl, his fingers tracing the along your collarbone, sending shivers down your body. “Please.”

He feels a pang of deep arousal in his gut as that word falls from your mouth. There’s a brief reprieve, his nearly black eyes gazing into yours, giving a sharp inhale before he grabs you. Fingers dig into the back of your head, his mouth hovering just over yours as his hand snakes down the front of your sweatpants. Palm presses against the heat between your legs and your entire body jolts from him finally touching you where you want him to. Your jaw goes slack, giving a small whine as your eyes flutter shut.

“*O-oh,*” Terzo gasps, shuddering just from the noise you made. He desperately wants to hear more of it so he pushes your already damp underwear to the side and runs his deft fingers over your wet folds. Your hips buck against his touch as his name falls from your lips. Terzo moans and leans down to press his forehead against yours, sharp gaze locked on your every reaction. A finger slips inside you and your whole body tenses, breath caught in your throat. He starts with long, slow strokes in a come hither motion, making your toes curl and your legs tense.

He is absolutely loving this, completely consumed by the way your body reacts to him. This is a moment he has dreamed about, thinking up the perfect things to whisper in your ear that have sadly slipped his mind now that he has you beneath him. You rest your one hand on his arm, squeezing as your other one digs into the sheets. Terzo adds another finger, a hiss leaving his lips before crushing them against your mouth, swallowing up your needy moans and gasps. You’re drowning in him, pumping his fingers into you now at a heated pace with all your muscles clenching around him with each thrust.

You murmur his name again, your hips rolling against him with each movement, eyes half-lidded. Terzo lifts his head, a string of spittle connecting your lips as his grip on the back of your neck tightens. He’s panting heavily, his chest nearly rising and falling at the same rate while your fingers dig into his arm, whining at the loss of his mouth. Tension continues to rise within you, heat spreading beneath your skin. His body is nearly between your legs now, hips grinding along with each of his thrusts until he’s rutting against your inner thigh. You can’t handle it, a thunderous moan spilling from your lips as you clench around his fingers. The orgasm rips through you, pleasure so intense that it makes you see stars.

The snarl that rips from Terzo’s throat brings you back to the present. His hand bunches up your shirt and shoves it up your chest, exposing your breasts. You give a sharp gasp only for the air to be immediately expelled from your lungs as his other hand frees his throbbing cock from his briefs. It is perhaps the most handsome penis you have ever seen. He grasps himself with his large hand and starts to stroke at a frantic pace, his mouth dropping open with a groan. Impossibly dark eyes meet yours, heart thundering in your ears as you watch him pleasure himself. Your name tumbles from his lips, your *actual* name, before he gives a stuttered grunt and comes undone. You can’t help but flinch, arms flying up to shield your face. He moans with each pulse of his cock, his seed spilling on your chest and stomach.

Wide eyes stare into his hazy gaze. Terzo pants heavily, chest rising and falling with force as he takes in the mess he’s made. “You are afraid?” His voice his hoarse but his eyes have softened and his lips twitch into a barely there grin.

“Afraid?” You blink at him, eyebrows shooting up in confusion. It tears your mind away from overanalyzing the fact that your boss’ jizz is currently pooling in your bellybutton.

“Of my sperms,” he trills, unable to hold back his smirk any longer. You roll your eyes as he leans over you to grab a towel conveniently on his nightstand.

“I didn’t want it to get in my hair,” you huff and lean up on your elbows. Terzo gently wipes down each boob and continues down your stomach.

“Ah, si. Makes it, ehhh, clumpy.” He smiles wide, crinkly eyes forcing your frown to dissolve into a giggle. “Need a shower, cara?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Mmm, well I need one.” Terzo presses a kiss to your forehead before slinking off you to his feet. “Don’t snoop. I will know if you do.” He wags a finger at you, squinting his eyes. Drama king. You hold your hands up with an innocent look on your face. His nostrils flare and then he wobbles to the bathroom, his briefs around his ankles. You sink back into the bed, sweatpants around your thighs and your shirt bunched up underneath your armpits. Sitting up, you adjust your clothes so that you’re covered up and finally, you let your mind wander.

The insides of your thighs are still twitching. You feel like you could be drunk again, your head still buzzing from the way he worked you with his fingers. The water starts to run, filling the room with soft white noise.

You dangle your legs at the edge of the bed, eyes wandering the room now that Terzo is in the shower. It’s the nicest room in the whole house — chic, vintage furniture that is beautifully stained a deep purple that stands out against the intricate black wallpaper. Candelabras are scattered throughout with black candles half burned away. The mattress is comfortable, soft with a mass of pillows and several blankets including a sprawling comfortable that’s currently pooled around your waist. You catch your reflection in a floor to ceiling ornate golden mirror.

Hair a mess and swollen lips, complete with an exhausted expression. You run your fingers through your locks in an attempt to smooth it out and untangle some of the knots. Tips of your fingers travel down your cheek so settle on your pink lips with a light touch, thinking about the night before, or at least what you could remember from it. The way he pressed the glass to your lips and made you swallow all that whiskey before stealing your breath away with a bruising kiss. The line has been more than crossed, it’s been pole vaulted over. Eyes continue to drift around the room.

You become focused on the golden framed artwork on the wall in front of you, taking up the space above a low dresser. It’s him; Terzo with his hand raised above him holding up a geometric ball of light that streaks through what looks like the night sky. You’re compelled to your feet to get a closer look at the details. The shower turns off but you’re distracted — he looks almost like a statue, his figure a pale yellow in contrast to the dark sky. Like he carries the light inside of him. You want to reach out and touch the frame but the light is so bright, a worry crosses your mind that it could shock you — like Terzo had shocked you the other day. This doesn’t stop you from leaning in closer to it, admiring the image of him. You realize that he doesn’t have his scar.

It draws you in like the rotary phone did last night, except the art is much more welcoming. As your mind drifts to the phone call you feel a chill. Did that actually happen? The sounds echo in your head, the screams of agony and the squelching. Had you fallen asleep and dreamt it? You hum quietly to yourself. It’s not the best omen for a budding romance. Then again, it is only one of several red flags that have popped up since working for him and none of them have stopped you thus far.

The bathroom door opens and Terzo steps out, a towel draped loosely around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin and his paint still drying. He pauses, admiring you from behind for a moment until his gaze falls to what you’re doing.

*Lightbringer.*

Well, an edited version. He didn’t want to be reminded of the Clergy’s chess game, how he was merely a prop to forward *their* cause. Not the true cause. Lightbringer reminds him that for a time people truly did see him as a guiding light. Terzo’s eyes drift back to you, still in his clothes from the night before. His chest tightens, realizing that you’ve been the one guiding him these days.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is heavy with sleep as he takes a few steps towards you. You’re caught — jumping at the sudden sound of his voice before anxiously laughing it off, turning to look at him. You feel a jolt of arousal. Despite seeing him rather naked, the way water drips down his thick chest hair makes a sound bubble up your throat. Still, your eyes linger on the jagged scar that spans his entire neck.

“Could use some Advil I think,” you manage, rocking on your heels as use one hand to massage your temples. “Do you mind if I freshen up a bit?”

“A-ah, yes of course,” he shuffles out of the way before having a seat on the bed, pointing you in the direction of the bathroom. “There should be Advil in the cabinet.” Terzo props up his head in his hand, eyes lingering on you for a long while. You feel frozen in his gaze, the air catching in your lungs. You’re here in his room. In his clothes. You spent the night with him. He fucked you with his fingers not long ago. Forcing yourself forward, you give him another anxious grin and hurry by him to the bathroom.

He watches you go, drinking in your figure with a hungry look. The minute you’ve disappeared behind the bathroom door he gives a shaky exhale, his hand falling to grip the edge of the mattress. Nails easily tear through the fitted sheet, leaving claw marks. He brings his hand up to his nose to smell what’s left of you on his fingers with a growl. You’re still here and sober. Now, Terzo has to *keep* you. He has unending experience with seduction, luring people who can be easily swayed into the clutches of the ministry but he was only the figurehead. He was the shiny, handsome man who would reach out his hand and have twenty people take it but getting them to stay was never something he never had to worry about.

And his track record with relationships is abysmal. Is this even a relationship, though? He exhales through clenched teeth — he’s getting ahead of himself. You’re here and you *must* stay, no matter what Terzo decides to put you through. You’re his toy, after all. But he *likes* you*.* He chews on the inside of his cheek. An internal struggle ensues between wanting to give you the affection and love you so deserve or to ruin you like how he ruined all his other toys.

Terzo could use advice but the person he usually got it from *could* have been who was on the other side of the phone call you received. Why did it appear to you? It only ever would manifest for him, having been touched by the hells and all, why would the proverbial *they* want to communicate with you? **He can’t help but think he must have cursed you somehow.

His thoughts melt away as you emerge from the bathroom looking fresh and alert. He leans back on his hands unable to hold back the smile that cracks across his face. It may be the first time he’s felt true happiness since coming back.

“There’s a really good breakfast place right down the road from here if you wanna go.” You rock on your heels in front of him. His face goes blank, wide eyes meeting your gaze.

“Ehh… I don’t drive or have a car.”

“I can drive.”

“Your tire is flat.”

“Ah, right. The tire,” you sigh, having completely forgotten. “I could always get us an Uber—“

“*Puffetta*,” he interjects, his voice stern but still an edge of gentleness. You clamp your mouth shut and feel a pang of fear in your chest. Are you being too much already? Thoughts start to spiral until he speaks again. “I, eh… I don’t leave the house much. It’s…” he drifts off, running a hand over his face. “Difficult. It is difficult for me.” You take a moment to process his words, feeling a mixture of understanding and concern.

"That's okay," you say softly, stepping closer to him. There’s a hint of fear and worry in his eyes that makes you feel an ache in your heart. It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? He might be worried about being recognized by leaving his house… or maybe it’s something deeper. You remember that despite spending much of your time with him each week there are "We can stay here. Maybe get delivery?” You scan his face, waiting for the first inkling of relief.

Terzo gives you a small, appreciative smile and you melt. "Mm, yes, let us do that." He reaches out to take your hand, toying with your fingers. You give a quiet exhale as you take a step toward him, closing the distance between you. His lips brush against your knuckles before planting soft kisses on each of your fingertips. It’s surprisingly sweet of him and it takes your breath away. Terzo’s free hand slips to your waist and pulls you into him so he can rest his head against your stomach. You start to run your fingers through his hair with a hum and you can feel him relax from your touch. He wraps his arms around you and the entire world falls away.

You stay like that for a quiet moment. This man just fingered you into oblivion but somehow this is more intimate. He lefts his head to look up at you, his mismatched eyes bright.

“Shall we start the day, baby?” Terzo’s voice is barely there, a low rumble that gives you butterflies. You nod and he’s immediately on his feet, arms still around your waist as he ushers you toward the door. He nearly trips over you with a loud giggle that fades as something catching his eye out the window.

Terzo does a double take, eyebrows furrowing. There’s an *imp* in his driveway. A small creature with claws and wings just wandering around your car. He focuses his eyes and realizes that it’s *changing your tire*.

“What’s up?” You start to turn around but he quickly squeezes you in his arms to keep your facing forward.

“E-eh, nothing. Come on — if I do not have french toast in the next hour I will *perish*.”

***

He spends most of the day watching you over the top of his copy of *The Turn of the Screw*. A book he read in his early days of his studies that he continues to come back to. There’s something… comforting about the story despite it being a horror. Perhaps Terzo could relate to the loneliness that plagues each of the characters— and the madness that follows. He’s not usually this quiet on the weekends, spending some time being… well, loud. Unruly. Not in a destructive way but in an over imaginative sort of way. He marches through the house and sings. One time he decided to roll himself up in his comforter and slink across the floor like a worm. The man needs activity but with you here all he wants to do is relish being in your company.

You are content with being with him, even when sitting in silence scrolling your phone while he reads. Terzo’s presence was felt more than seen during your usual working hours and you’ve never quite felt comfortable when he was around you until… well, *today*. You started with your head on his lap, his fingers massaging your scalp as you drifted in and out of a post-breakfast nap. As the day went on, the both of you shifted from room to room either settling sprawled over each other or snuggled in your own plush chair. It’s like two cats spending quality time together, cohabitating.

It’s not all that different from how you spend your current weekends now that your life is on a better schedule. You get to actually sleep at night now! But most of that extra time is spent in your bedroom alone, spacing out or watching some kind of trash reality tv show. Now you’re with him, breathing his air and taking up space in his home all while *not* working. And he’s been uncharacteristically quiet which at times sends your thoughts spiraling. Does he regret crossing the line with you? Have you overstayed your welcome? Just as you’re about to ask if you should leave he springs up from the couch.

“I have an idea, ‘fetta!” Terzo excitedly snuffles over to you with his hand outstretched. “We must enjoy the yard right this second!” You are *game*. Putting your hand in his you let him tug you up from your chair and out of the den. He slows down once you reach the kitchen, taking a moment to look out the window, remembering that *thing* that was outside earlier. Thankfully, the imp was nowhere to be found.

“You know, this has become one of my favorite pastimes.” Terzo squeezes your hand while he fishes a joint out of his pocket.

“You’ve had that this whole time?!” You reach out for it but he playfully swats your hand away.

“This doesn’t mix well with reading books,” he murmurs as he brings the joint to your lips. You swallow thickly before parting them to let him delicately place it in your mouth. “A joint and a nice lay in the grass on a warm day.” His voice dips, making your cheeks flush. You blink and the joint is suddenly lit — he must have had a match at the ready. “We must enjoy it together, si?”

“Yeah, we should,” you mumble around the joint before giving it a deep drag. Terzo plucks it from your lips just as you start coughing and slings his arms around your waist, pulling you against his hip. You walk in unison out the back door and into the yard, the sunlight bathing the both of you in its warm rays. He immediately flops onto the grass with the joint in his mouth, dragging you down with him. You don’t get outside much aside from the outdoor improvements you’ve cared for.

It’s nice to enjoy the freshly mowed grass and the cool breeze that keeps you from getting too sweaty. This is the first time you’ve seen him in sunlight, the rays kissing the wrinkles around his eyes. Terzo reaches for your hand with a sharp smile and deep dimples, lacing his fingers in yours.

Everything is so… perfect in this moment. So much so that you don’t want it to end.