#oh and please have him break up with that wet piece of cardboard

[twow]

im so frustrated about the whole tim drake: robin situation, it really feels like DC set tim up to fail on purpose. they gave him a solo but gave him a terrible artist (literally the worst comic book art i have ever seen in my life im sorry but it’s hideously ugly) and a terrible writer (i know some people like her but god. fitzmartin really fundamentally misunderstands tim’s character and constantly and blatantly gets major continuity stuff wrong. she is clearly getting 90% of her material from fanon) and then when it doesn’t sell well because of those reasons they can say “well it didn’t sell well so people clearly aren’t interested in a tim solo” which is definitely not the case! it’s this specific artist and writer! so now tim is probably gonna have a repeat of the last 10 years and have minimal roles and basically be in limbo 🙃 it really feels like purposeful sabotage. i am begging dc to give tim drake to a competent writer and not sideline him.

[marvelous-harry]

Harry floss reader blurb for tonight , Harry been doing some shows away from where they all live, finally due home floss having reader tied up ready for him as a welcome home? Smut smut smut 🥵🥵xx

Homecoming Harry/Florence/Reader Words: 3.2k Warnings: Dom!Harry, Dom!Florence, Sub!Fem!Reader Summary: Harry's been away on tour but manages to schedule in a stop at home. He and Florence surprise you with his homecoming. A/N: Thank you so much for over 500 followers!! This blog has grown so much I somehow missed hitting 400, it's insane!! Thank you!! And keep sending in blurb and other requests, I've been having so much fun writing lately and it's all thanks to your ideas! It took me so a few days to write this and now we're almost at 600. You guys are insane. Thank you! x

"Darling, I want to play," Florence said as she came in from the kitchen carrying a cardboard box.

I quickly looked at her and nodded eagerly. "I want to play too!" I replied as I scrambled off the sofa, shut the TV off, and hurried over to her.

Florence grinned at my eagerness. "Let's head upstairs then," she said and took my hand.

Grabbing it, I squeezed her hand excitedly. "What are we going to do? Will you fuck me? Can I eat you out? Or can we try that new vibrator thingy cause that looked a lot of fun," I rambled as we walked up and into the bedroom.

"I've got a plan," she said and put the box on the bed.

"Oh?" I asked and looked at the box. "What's the plan?"

"You'll find out," Flossie grinned before pulling me in for a kiss.

Closing my eyes, I put my hands on her waist as we made out excruciatingly soft and slow. Lifting my hands as she took off my hoodie, I tried to kiss her again but she shook her head no.

Florence grabbed the hem off the tank top and took that off as well. "So beautiful," she said as she stroked her hands over my boobs and flicked her fingers over my nipples.

"Flossie," I moaned and squirmed, trying very hard to be good.

"So responsive," she grinned as she moved her hand down and started pushing down my sweatpants and my panties in one go. Flo got down on her knees and took off my socks as well when she helped me step out of my clothes.

Getting back up again she took my hand and let me over to the bed. "On your back, please," Florence rubbed my bum, teasing a finger over my crack before pulling away. "Go on," she urged when I didn't move right away.

Crawling on the bed, I laid down on my back and put my hands on my stomach as I wondered what she was going to do.

Florence picked up the box and opened it and grabbed a hot pink roll of bondage tape. "I ordered this a while back and it finally came! I thought we could try it," she smiled as she found the edge of the tape and opened it. "It's made for bondage so it won't pull on your skin, hair, or anything like that," she explained as she ripped off a small piece and stuck it down on my leg. She patted it down before ripping it off again. "See? You want to try?"

"Yes please Flossie," I replied with a few nods.

Florence got up on the bed and straddled me. "Wrists together," she ordered as she opened the tape again.

Holding my wrist up to her, I loved the sound the tape would make when she pulled it out.

Flo wrapped the tape around my wrists several times before ripping it. "Try and break free," she said.

Pulling at my hands, I tried twisting and yanking but the tape wasn't moving.

"Oh, I like watching you trying to escape. Make such pretty little noises too," she smirked as she put the tape down so she could grab my hands and put them over my head.

"Should tie you up super tight one night. Maybe tape the clit vibrator to you and let you have a vibrator in you, then just sit back and watch you squirm away as I control the speeds of them both," she whispered before pulling on my bottom lip with her teeth.

I moaned at the image. "Please," I told her.

"Yeah? You like that idea?" she asked with a chuckle as she got off me.

"Yes Flossie," I answered and kept my hands over my head. "Maybe if Harry isn't here you can take some pictures and send them to him?" I asked as she started wrapping the tape around my thigh.

"You want Harry to see you all tied up, darling?" Flo asked with a special glint in her eye as she bent my leg so my ankle was by my thigh and she taped the ankle to my thigh.

"Yeah. I think he'd like it," I nodded and bent my other leg so she could tape it up the same way.

"I'm sure something can be arranged," she replied as she finished taping up the other leg. Florence got off the bed and looked down at me. "You look so sexy right now. All spread out. Can see your pussy glistening from here," she teased as she put the tape back in the box and moved it down to the floor.

"Can you take a picture now and send it?" I asked while blushing. "Please?"

"Alright," she smirked and grabbed her phone out of her pocket. Standing up on the bed, she opened her camera app. "Put your hands over your face,"

Quickly complying, I spread my legs a little more and listened to her taking a few photos. We all had the 'secret photo' app to hide away any 18+ rated photos of each other plus we tried to remember to cover our faces just in case, and we'd only send them over our secret Snapchat accounts that we didn't share with anyone but us three.

"What are you typing?" I asked as she jumped off the bed and typed away.

"Just how very much you miss him and that you can't wait to be filled with his cock again," Florence smirked as she sent off the message. Putting the phone down on the bed she started undressing.

"Mmmm, I do miss his cock," I sighed as I watched her strip down.

"Going to sit on your face, darling," Flossie announced as she walked up on the bed.

"Fuck, please! Want to taste you," I licked my lips as she got on the bed. I shuffled down a bit and stared as she swung her leg over me, and moved so she was right above my face. I could smell her but I couldn't reach her. "Please," I whimpered as I looked up at her.

Florence grabbed onto the headboard with one hand and put a hand on my head before lowering herself down.

Eagerly licking at her lips, I pulled on the tape when I tried to grab her and pull her down further with my arms. She understood what I wanted it though and moved down just a bit more. Sucking at her clit, I closed my eyes as I reveled at her taste and listened to her little breaths and moans.

"Good girl, eating my pussy so good, baby," Flossie moaned rolling her hips gently against my tongue. Holding it steady, I opened my eyes so I could see what she looked like as she fucked herself on my tongue, and fuck. She looked hot.

When she took a little break I quickly flicked my tongue over her clit and sucked on it. "Going to cum if you keep doing that," she warned, only making me suck harder.

"Oh god, fuck!" She groaned loudly as she sat down fully on my face and climaxed. Lapping at her pussy quickly to try and taste her as much as I could, I moaned happily.

Florence moved off to the side and kissed me deeply. Her hand stroked down my chest and to my pussy. She eased two fingers into me slowly.

Gasping against her mouth, I looked at her as she teased her thumb over my clit. "Please," I whispered as she pulled her fingers out and moved them to my clit.

"You've been such a good girl for me this last week," Florence said as she brushed my hair back and looked me in the eyes; all while teasing her fingers around my clit.

"Yeah? I've been trying really hard," I managed to get out as I would occasionally thrust up against her fingers with little moans escaping me.

"I've noticed, baby. I know it's difficult to be a good girl all the time, especially when you can be quite a little brat sometimes," Florence chuckled and gave me a little slap against my pussy.

"Ahh!" I screamed out and brought my legs together. Whimpering, I closed my eyes as I squirmed. I let go of the headboard and tried putting my hands down but Flo pushed them back down. "No smacking, please! I need to cum, can I cum? Flossie, I've been good," I begged.

Florence pushed my legs open and gave me another smack before dipping her fingers into my pussy again.

Whining, I arched my back. "More, need more," I whispered. The sound of Florence's ringtone filled the room and she let go of my hands and pulled her fingers out. "No, no. Please! Leave it! Please! Just a little more!" I pleaded as she reached for her phone.

"Shhh," she said as she picked up the phone and put her fingers into my mouth to silence me.

Sucking on her fingers as she eased them in and out gently, I tried to figure out who she was on the phone with.

"Yeah? Yeah, alright. Sure. Yes, very. I'm sure. Alright. Yeah, bye," Florence said as she spoke with the other person and hung up the phone. Smirking she pulled her fingers out of my mouth and moved them back to my clit. "Since you've been such a good girl, I've got a surprise for you and it's about to be here,"

"A present? For me? What is it?" I moaned as she rubbed her wet fingers over my throbbing clit, moving them quickly. My breath hitched as I was about to cum. But then she stopped and pulled her hand away.

"You'll see what it is in a second," she smirked, and right on cue; the doorbell echoed through the house.

I let out a little cry as I watched her get off the bed. "Flossie, I was so close," I whined and looked at her sadly.

"I know, baby. I promise the surprise will make up for it. I'll be right back, don't move okay?" she said as she gave me the safety scissors to hold just in case.

"Okay," I whimpered and brought my taped-up hands to my chest, holding onto the scissors tightly.

Florence gave me a quick kiss before grabbing her robe and running downstairs.

Glaring at her phone that she'd left on the nightstand, I huffed when I couldn't even hear anything that was happening downstairs. I wondered what the surprise could be. I had been begging her and Harry to let me buy a pretty dress I'd seen so maybe it was that. That would be nice.

"Okay, close your eyes! No peeking!" Florence said as she poked her head around the door.

"It's nothing scary right?" I asked as I glanced at her while dropping the scissors down onto the bed.

"Nothing scary," She chuckled. "Close your eyes!"

Putting my hands over my face, I closed my eyes while squirming a bit. "Okay, I'm ready," I said, feeling nervous all of the sudden.

Florence looked over at you and made sure your eyes were covered before glancing back at Harry, giving him a big excited smile. "Remember, no peeking!"

"I remember!" I replied as I squirmed.

"Alright, I'm going to put your surprise down here on the bed, don't touch or look yet," Florence said as she gestured for Harry to take a seat on the bed. "and I'll just come around and sit next to you here," Flo got on the bed and sat down, putting her hand over my eyes.

"You ready?" she asked with a big grin.

"Yeah!" I replied slightly excited now. The bed had dipped a bit when she put it down so it had to be a big present.

"Do you know what it is?" she asked.

"No, but it has to be big and heavy cause the bed dipped down!" I told her.

Florence chuckled. "I'm going to take my hand away, then you can open and look okay?"

I nodded and bit my lip. When she took her hand away, I waited a bit before opening my eyes and looking around. Spotting Harry, I whimpered before I started crying. "Harry," I cried out as I reached out for him, wanting to confirm he was actually there.

"Awww, don't cry, baby," Harry said as he pulled me into a tight hug.

Tugging at the tape, I continued crying as I pressed myself as close to him as I could.

"Let me cut you out, darling," Florence said as she reached over and grabbed the scissors.

"I missed you," I sniffled as I looked at him. "I missed you so much and now you're here," I cried, wrapping my arms and legs around him as soon as Florence and cut open the tape on my arms and legs.

"I missed you too, and I am here. Going to be here till tomorrow evening. Does that sound nice?" Harry asked as he kissed my cheek and hugged me.

"Mhmm," I whined and clung to him.

"I heard that you've been such a good girl while I've been away," Harry said as he stroked my back.

I nodded before smelling his neck and rubbing my nose against his skin.

Florence smiled. "She has been. Missed you though, we both did," she said as she grasped Harry's face and kissed him.

Harry closed his eyes and moaned, tightening his hold on me as he kissed her back eagerly. "Fuck, I've missed you so much," he whispered as he looked up at her, they shared a look, a few more kisses and some whispered words before Harry grasped my chin and tilted my head up.

"I loved the picture you sent. Looked so beautiful all tied up for me," He said in between kisses. "and I've very much missed your cunt too,"

I moaned into his kiss and rolled my hips against his crotch, moaning even louder when I felt his hard cock.

"Got so hard in the car over here when Flo sent that photo," Harry said as he laid me down on the bed. "Actually asked the driver to drive faster so I could come home to you two quicker," he kissed my stomach before standing up.

Florence got up as well and grabbed the bottom of his jumper and helped him take it off. She pulled him in for a kiss while she opened his trousers and pushed them down with his pants. "Got her all ready for you, baby. She's been missing your cock so badly. Caught her one night fucking herself with a dildo, moaning your name. Got a good spanking for that," Flossie chuckled as she stroked his hard, leaking cock.

Harry moaned as he dropped his head down on her shoulder. "Fuck,"

"Flossie," I whined as she told him about that incident. "Don't tell him about that," I pouted as I squirmed on the bed, getting very turned on by watching them.

"So I shouldn't tell him about how you were also watching a video of him while being very very naughty?" Florence said with a smirk.

I blushed and put my hands over my face, my cheeks stinging with how warm they got. "No!"

Florence chuckled and pulled her hand off Harry and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing.

Harry kissed Florence deeply as he took off her robe. "Want to fuck you too," he whispered, his hands running over her skin.

She leaned in close to his ear. "Oh don't worry, darling. I have plans for you," she whispered back before nipping at his earlobe with her teeth. "But first, you're going to fuck our very patient girl,"

Harry nodded and gave another kiss before pulling away.

I bit my lip as I watched him get on the bed and crawl up the mattress till he was right between my legs, his hands on either side of me. "You miss me so much you had to be naughty, baby?" he asked as he rubbed his cock over my clit.

"Yeah," I muttered quietly as I looked up at him.

Harry moaned as he turned to look at Flossie who had joined us on the bed. "Should film her next time, want to see that,"

"I would but she's promised to never be naughty again when I turned her bum all red," Florence grinned.

Harry grinned too. "And how many times has she promised that?" he asked teasingly.

"I've lost count at this point," Flo mused and pinched my cheek.

"Heyy," I whined and batted her hand away. "Stop teasing me, not nice!" I protested.

"Alright, we'll be nice for now," Florence smiled as she pulled my head to the side so she could kiss me.

Harry grasped his cock and lined it up with my hole, pushing in slowly with a loud, long moan. "Oh my god!"

Closing my eyes, I gasped as he finally was inside me.

"That nice, darling? Finally having Harry's cock inside you?" Florence asked, playing with one of my nipples.

I nodded quickly as he started thrusting in and out of me.

"Always forget how fucking wet she can get, not going to last long," Harry panted as he slammed his hips against mine before quickly drawing back and slamming in again.

Clutching Florence's hand, I looked up at her and mewled as I moved it down my stomach towards my aching clit.

"You want to cum?" she asked, stopping her hand so her fingertips were just millimeters away from where I wanted them.

"Please," I whimpered as I clenched around Harry, wrapping my legs tightly around him.

She moved her fingers over my clit, rubbing them around in a circle slowly. "Can you see how close he is?" she asked while looking at Harry.

"Yes," I replied with a breathy moan as I arched up, trying to get more pressure from her fingers.

"That's what your cunt does to him. Make him feel so good, baby," Flo said, rubbing her fingers faster.

"Florence," Harry moaned, thrusting into me so fast and hard now.

Flo rubbed her fingers over my clit faster.

"Fuck," I gasped. "Gonna cum," I said, looking up at them. "Please," I added quickly when none of them said anything.

"Flossie, please! Can't! I need to cum, please!" I begged louder as she only moved her fingers faster while Harry fucked me hard and deep.

"Go on," Florence finally said just as I was about to cum anyway.

Throwing my head back, I grasped onto her hand and the bedsheets as I let out a little shout and cummed.

"Fucking hell," Harry grunted as he pressed all the way into me as he came too. He panted as he did a few slower thrusts before pulling out and laid down on the bed next to me and Flossie.

I rolled over and put my head on his chest as I held on to him tightly. "Just going to rest a bit, don't leave," I whispered, exhausted physically and mentally.

"Not going anywhere just yet," Harry replied as he pulled Florence close to him, smiling as she brushed his sweaty hair off his forehead. "My favourite place in the world is right here with you two,"

[bktaro]

seven-three (part 3)

pairing: nanami x f!reader

themes/rating: explicit, 18+, clubs, bars, masquerade parties, rough sex

tw: daddy kink, spitting, sex toys, dirty talk, creampie, cockwarming, anal, voyerism(ish), squirting

wc: 9.5k

ao3 | part 1 | part 2​ | part 3

Nanami Kento had a hardened shell surrounding his personal life. Clocking out at five ‘o’clock on the dot every day, he left little to no room for others to get to know him better— leaving him as an unsolvable mystery amongst the office.

Likewise, you too aimed to clock out at five ‘o’ clock. You preferred routine during the workday, finding comfort in maintaining equilibrium and peace and wanting to do nothing more or nothing less than what was required of you.

Little did you know the two of you shared an interesting weekend hobby.

a/n : hi all! thank you for waiting so patiently. this chapter is a personal favourite of mine (of all time), and i'm so excited to finally share it with you all. i originally wanted to make this a one shot smut, but i’ve been wanting to expand it into a mini fic. not sure if tumblr is the place for uploading that type of content, but please let me know if it’s something you would be interested in reading!!

anyways, enjoy this nastyyy chapter!! 

An absolute masterpiece— that’s what Nanami thinks you are. A magnificent work of art, somehow misplaced and laid out on the bed in front of him instead of an exhibit in some renowned museum.

Every inch of you is enticing to him. From the strands of hair sprayed across the pillow case caressing the back of your head, your chest that rises up and down in anticipation, the glistening sheen of sweat of your body illuminated under the peaking moonlight from the windows, and his favourite, your legs that are propped open just enough for him to see droplets of your juice threatening to leak on to the bedsheets below— he’s mesmerized by it all . By no means was he an intensely religious man, but in the moment he couldn’t be more thankful for God’s utmost greatest and most beautiful creation— women .

He considers himself to be a good and honest man, yet nowhere close to a saint to be deserving of what God had offered and placed right in front of him. Nanami thinks it has to be a dream— and just maybe the best damn dream he’s ever had. You just look too good to be real, splayed across the bed naked with nothing but desire in your eyes, waiting only for him.

But when his hands roam to explore the soft flesh of your bare skin, feeling you shudder slightly under his touch alongside the tiny whimpers leaving your lips, Nanami knows— and silently thanks God— it’s real. You were real.

His gaze on your body is intense with hunger, so much so you could practically feel his eyes digging into the depths of your skin, and you begin to think it’s deep enough to reach even into the surface of your soul. Mixed with the grazes of his fingers, it’s an alluring sensation despite the minimal touch on the areas most needy, causing you to let out a louder whine and roll your hips just the slightest into the mattress in the search of any sort of physical relief.

“Please…” Your voice comes out shaky, pupils directly looking into his above yours. “...I need you.”

Unable to hold back, a low, nearly inaudible grumble vibrates in his throat at your actions and words. Perhaps he’s the one who saved a nation in his past life, something remarkable of that sort to be lucky enough to be alive and present in this very moment. Or he truly really was just one lucky ass bastard, somehow having a Goddess of a woman practically begging him to fuck her right underneath him.

True, you were the one granting him a wish, but by no means did that mean he couldn’t help grant a few of your own wishes at the same time. Alongside the original, he now had an additional goal that was simple: give you the experience like none other so no other partner could ever compare to him. And of course, Nanami is nothing but confident he’ll be able to achieve just that. Failure was never an option in his books— especially not now.

“Patience, pretty girl.” Nanami whispers, fingers softly caressing the side of your jawline. “First, open your mouth again for me.”

You oblige without hesitation, mind still partially woozy from your second orgasm minutes ago. Nanami grins at the view of your semi dazed expression, tongue hanging out before his instructions to even do so. Gently, he allows a string of saliva to fall from his mouth and into yours, watching the glob of foreign liquid pool onto the pad of your tongue.

“Stay just like that, and don’t move an inch until I say so.”

You do just as he commands, remaining still the best you can for the few seconds you can feel him shuffling on the bed to reach into the bedside drawers. Despite being clouded in the aftermath of your orgasmic high, when you hear the cluttering of his hands rummaging through the contents of the drawer your mind wanders to the possibilities of what Nanami was searching for. Lube? Condoms?

It then instantly dawns on you what else it could be. The rustling of a cardboard box being opened is enough of a signal to confirm your thoughts even seconds before Nanami returns with the suspected item in hand. A sex toy, replicating the shape of a generous sized penis and colored in a translucent purple hue dangles above your eyes, causing them to widen once more.

“It’s nowhere as good as my cock, of course...” Nanami begins, leaving another soft, comforting kiss in the crook of your neck. “...but we need to get that sweet little hole of yours ready for me, don’t we?”

He doesn’t wait for your reply, a trend of his throughout the night thus far, placing the tip of the dildo on the surface of your tongue. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat when he watches your lips wrap around the rest of the toy, taking it deeper into your mouth while keeping your eyes locked onto his.

You work your tongue up and down the rubber surface, tracing the ridges and coating the surface with as much saliva as you could. Nanami can’t help but to silently watch in awe your head bob up and down the toy, a part of him almost becoming jealous that it isn’t his dick back in your mouth instead.

After a few more rounds of making sure the toy was properly lubed and ready, Nanami pulls the toy away from your puckered lips. He smirks at your disappointed whine at the sudden retraction, bringing a hand to caress the top of your head in reassurance.

“No more, you’re making me start to get jealous of a fucking piece of rubber.” Nanami whispers, continuing to stroke your hair and soon after leaving a gentle kiss on the edge of your forehead. His hands halt their movements moments later, moving to tilt your chin up towards him forcing you to see the coy grin now spread across his lips.

“Tell me, are you ready to get fucked stupid, doll? To have that pretty little mind of yours be filled with nothing but my cock?”

Watching the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to the tip of the now glistening rubber tip of the toy break off, you nod your head frantically. You were more than ready, desperate in desire for more. Even without saying a single word, it was written all over you— in that moment there was nothing more you wanted in the world than him .

Lucky for you, Nanami was fluent in reading the writing of the unwritten plea of a girl searching for the remedy for her lustful trance. He was an intelligent man, after all. Yet, no matter how incredibly alluring you were to him, somehow at the same time you were just as cute, eyes wide blinking up towards him just like an actual doll. He thinks only an insane, evil man would be crazy enough to leave someone as cute as you in the distress you were in.

Thankfully, Nanami considered himself a good man— once again, not a saint of any sorts, but simply a good man. And as a good man, he wouldn’t let you suffer any longer.

Nanami shifts his body, moving to crouch in between your spread legs. You’re so wet, pussy glistening with a layer of the sweet sheen he just couldn’t get enough of, holding himself back from licking it all up then and there. Perhaps he didn’t even need you to prep the toy with your joint saliva— you had more than enough lube naturally already, and you could feel it too.

So you’re shocked when you feel him spit on your cunt— and you're even more surprised when you feel his fingers spread the mixture of liquids from your cunt down to your ass, and slip a finger teasingly into your hole. You can’t help but let out a loud moan at the sudden unexpected intrusion, feeling a bit shy at the position yet already immensely satisfied with the bare minimum of a touch.

“Oh, darling,” Nanami grins, watching your sudden jerk in movements at his actions, pussy clenching at nothing in front of his eyes. “You like that, don’t you?”

You did, you really did— and there was no reason to lie and say you didn’t.

“Yes… please give me more.”

“Where do you want it, doll? In here?” Nanami asks, removing his finger and hovering the tip of the dildo by the entrance of your cunt, before slowly bringing it down to graze over your ass instead. “Or maybe here?”

It’s almost like a game to him, perhaps his new favourite game, seeing just how far he could tease you and watch you whine and wriggle in desire.

“Anywhere…”

Yet, it’s a game Nanami was running out of will for him to continue to play.

His body adjusts once more to hover above yours again, cupping the side of your cheek to bring your lips upwards into a kiss. It’s another gentle kiss, calming and reassuring in nature, feeling the warmth of his body on yours that makes you wonder if time could be kind enough to stop right then and there forever.

But your wonder shifts back into reality, reverting to what you really were desiring at the moment when you feel the tip of the dildo finally sink inside you, breaking the kiss and replacing it with a moan into his mouth. Your hands come up to grip the blades of his broad shoulders, head tilting back in pure relief.

“Oh god …”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you can do is whimper out a wordless response, nodding your head instead. It’s good— so fucking good, to finally get your aching hole tended too, yet you still feel as though something is missing. You know all too well what it is, and Nanami chuckles because of course, even though your face twinges in pleasure and soft moans escape your lips the deeper he pushes the dildo in, he too already knows.

He thinks maybe in a previous life he had already explored you, well aware of every single area you were most sensitive in and how to make you feel good because it’s almost scary how he knows you all too well already. Despite never having laid a single finger on you before tonight, he’s already fluent in reading the language of your body and what you’re truly wanting long before you even muster the strength to say it.

So he could give you what you want right then and there. But he also could keep his favourite game going— just a little bit longer than he planned too.

“Yes… so fucking good… but… I-I want… you.”

“You want me?” Nanami asks, almost too nonchalantly compared to the twitching of his hard cock at your plea. “The toy in your ass isn’t enough for my slutty girl?”

“No…I want your cock… inside me.”

A dildo now deep in your ass was more than pleasurable and nice, but the both of you knew feeling his pulsating cock in your aching cunt is what you desired even more . To feel him, all eleven inches throbbing inside of you, fucking your tight hole senseless.

And he’ll give up his favourite game and give you just that. Nanami is a good man, after all.

“I’ll share your mouth and ass with this toy— but from here on out your pussy is mine and only mine.”

Nanami moves in an instant, roughly spreading your legs just a bit further with his own, pushing your knees apart in order to fixate himself properly in between. A shudder travels up your spine once more feeling the hot flesh of his cock against your bare skin, the length caressed and rubbing in between your cunt up and down while the tip grazes just teasingly against your swollen clit.

“You’ve been so good for me, sweet girl.” Nanami leans forward on his forearms beside each side of your head and murmurs into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel so fucking good.”

It’s the last bit of words you could properly understand and digest before your mind melts into mush, turning into nothing but putty right into the palm of his hands. The room fills with nothing but the sound of two harmonious moans when the head of his cock finally dips inside your cunt, the nails of your fingers digging deeper into his shoulders in desperate search of something to grab onto.

“Breathe baby.” Nanami whispers. “You can take it all.”

He’s big — so big it’s a mystery to both you and him on how he’s able to continue to push into you inch by inch, your cunt squeezing him tighter the deeper and deeper he goes. Alongside the dildo deep inside your hole, it’s already too intense— and when the last inch of his cock finds its way inside you it breaks the last sheer remainder of strength you have left. Your mind becomes woozy once more, back arching off the bed while your hands roam to grip the back of his hair as your body twitches on his cock, releasing a loud moan that overpowers his simultaneous one and echoes throughout the room.

Nanami’s eyes widen in realization in the aftermath, watching your body loosen and relax onto the bed, fingers loosely locked behind his neck.

“Already?”

You feel your face turn warm, and once again you're thankful for the mask that partially covers the redness of your embarrassed cheeks. Yet, you think it’s still not enough to hide behind, releasing your fingers from behind him and raising up both your hands to conceal your face instead.

“Shut up…”

“No, don’t be embarrassed.” Nanami chuckles, reaching for one of your hands to pry them away from your face and bringing it to his lips to leave a kiss on the inside of your wrist instead. “I’m glad I can make you feel that good… not to mention it’s was also extremely fucking sexy watching you cum on my cock.”

You begin to think it’s truly a hidden talent of his you were lucky to see. He seemed to just have the right words everytime to put you in such a lust filled trance again and again— and you just couldn’t get enough.

“You have to make me do that again at least five more times, daddy .”

A cheeky grin creeps up on Nanami’s face. You wonder if it’s because of the flirtatious manner of your words, or if it's the soft moan you let out instantly when you feel his cock twitch inside of you that serves as a silent response to your words itself.

“It’ll be my pleasure to watch you cum, darling.” Nanami pins your wrist in his hand down above your head and into the mattress, kissing your lips with his in between his words. “Over and over , again and again until you can’t take it anymore.”

There’s a part of you that wonders if his lips had some sort of transparent chemicals difficult for the human eye to see. You were beginning to find yourself already addicted to the feeling of them, especially against your own. Soft like previously or hot and passionate like now, his kisses were nothing but hypnotic, drawing you effortlessly faster and deeper into the abyss of Nanami Kento.

You’re only snapped out of the trance of his kiss when it’s broken once again with a moan escaping your lips, feeling the length of his cock slowly slip out of you. The sudden emptiness leaves you aching for something more, clenching against nothing in the hopes of hugging even just an inch of him from escaping you.

“No…” You whisper, your free hand coming up to grip the back of his shoulder in an effort to push his body closer to you. “Put it back in…”

Your efforts show no successful action, his frame much too broad and built to be waived by the strength of just one of your arms. But your plea yields different results, a low, rumbling groan vibrating in his throat and the head of his cock sinking back inside your pulsating walls.

His movements are slow and gentle at first, allowing you to feel and grip every inch of his cock enter and leave your cunt. Rhythmic in pattern, Nanami’s hips work in what feels like matches the beat of your heart, filling you up and emptying you again and again, his soft grunts of pleasure quiet and low, but loud enough to sound like a subtle melody to your ears.

Gradually, the pace of his hips thrusting into you increases the more he feels your cunt adjust and mould into the shape of him, alongside the sound of your moans filling the room increasing in volume. The tips of your fingers can’t help but curl against his back with the rising pleasure, digging into his skin and scratching the surface, surely bound to leave marks to serve as a momento for the night later on.

You think maybe Nanami is angry momentarily at your markings on his skin, his hand that pinned yours down into the mattress above your head releasing for only a second to roughly grab yours behind his shoulder. Bringing that hand to join your other, Nanami now held both your hands down by the wrist, restricting you from freely moving.

“Bad girl. That’s gonna hurt later.”

The now familiar smirk reappearing on his face hovered over yours was more than enough to tell you he wasn’t angry at all. It was the opposite in actuality— the stinging pain would just remind him later on how he fucked you just that good, and his cock throbs just merely at the thought already.

“Punish me then.” You spit out. “Don’t be gentle like you do with good girls— fuck me like bad girls deserve.”

Nanami lets out another groan, and you can feel his cock twitch mid thrust inside of you. Somehow, he was more turned on than he already was— his vision shifting you from the complying, good girl you were in his eyes to the slutty, needy fuck doll you wanted to be.

He readjusts to sit partially upright, releasing his weight holding him up by his forearm and instead using that arm to grip onto the meat of the back of your thigh. Pushing your leg upwards his arm wraps around your thigh, spreading you open more and tossing your leg above his shoulder.

“I’ll fuck you just like a bad girl then.” Nanami mumbles, the grip on your wrists becoming stronger. “I’ll fuck you like you’re a little slut that knows nothing but getting stuffed with cock.”

You can’t help but clench your cunt at his words, feeling yourself get wetter in response. Nanami feels it too, your excitement squeezing his cock even tighter, and he flashes you a quick tiny, knowing grin that lasts only for a few seconds, before roughly snapping his hips back into you.

His pace is fast, still rhythmic but now much faster— pounding your cunt at a speed that makes it difficult for you to even catch your breath. Your leg held up and on his shoulder spread your cunt even further than before, allowing him to reach deeper inside of your cunt and just barely hitting your most sensitive area, causing you to cry out every time his cock mercilessly pounded deep into you.

Seeing your eyes roll back, Nanami moans at the feeling of your pussy clench around his cock even tighter. It’s a sign he’s familiar with— you were close, and he thinks it's the perfect moment to release his grip from your wrists. Your hands instantly curl into fists, gripping at nothing in pleasure while with his now free hand, he brings it to tend to your swollen clit, rubbing the bud with the pads of his fingers.

“Fuck… if you do that I’ll… I’m…”

“You’re what?” Nanami groans, his fingers pressing harder circles onto your clit. “Say it clearly.”

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine, arching your back off the mattress and grinding on his cock the best you could. “I’m gonna fucking cum…”

It’s overwhelming. You’re sensitive to the touch, already overstimulated with his cock pounding your pussy, fingers rubbing your clit, and dildo still shoved in your ass. But it feels so damn good that the familiar knot in your stomach releases once more, curling your toes and sending you into bliss.

Nanami curses under his breath, slowing the movements of his hips before pulling completely out to watch your body relax on the bed once more. Your breaths come out in haggered pants, struggling to catch your breath, and you feel the Nanami’s weight sink into the bed beside you, the callousness of his hands soon after rubbing up and down the skin of your legs in an attempt to soothe the shaking of them down.

“You’re so gorgeous when you cum.” Nanami murmurs, breath warm against the shell of your ear with his body now laying beside you on his side. “So. Fucking. Gorgeous.”

His hands find their way to inch upwards from your legs to your hips, gently turning you around to face your body towards his. Fingers instantly find themselves in their habitual spot, just underneath the surface of your chin, lifting up your lips and trapping them into another fiery kiss with him.

The kiss breaks when Nanami pulls away with a smirk, releasing his hands from your body to lean backwards onto the mattress on his backside. A hand holds the back of his head propped upon a pillow behind him that leans against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and open in a way that almost serves to proudly display his fully erected cock, his other hand pumping the shaft covered with a sheen of your liquid.

A lump forms in your throat at the sight, a reaction formed as a result of a mix of nervousness, embarrassment and excitement. You still had no idea just how he was able to pound into you with something of that caliber, and how now he was suggesting now you were supposed to fuck yourself on it. Yet, the glistening liquid belonging to you coating his cock— a tad embarrassing in retrospect—  was a clear indication that he was in fact able to fit it all inside you, and the pleasure was that you’ve never experienced before.

Despite growing increasingly exhausted and tired, you still wanted him again. Again and again, you wanted nothing more than him .

You feel your cunt throb at the thought, biting your bottom lip down in the hopes of holding back the drool you might just let escape, hungry for more of him. And you would be a complete fool to think Nanami doesn’t notice your entranced expression, the tiny smirk on his face transforming into a larger, smug grin instead.

“Doll.” Nanami calls, a single finger rising into the air gesturing to you to come closer towards him. “Why don’t you come here and ride my cock?”

It’s a request you're more than willing to fulfill, finding your body moving on its own accord onto your hands and knees, slowly crawling forward towards him. Your palms rest flat on top of his chiseled abdomen when you finally reach close enough to touch him, utilizing the surface to balance yourself on to your knees to straddle both sides of his body.

Nanami’s hand pumping his cock retracts, joining his other supporting his head against the headboard when your hands travel to wrap around his length. Gathering another pool of saliva in your mouth, you let the trail spit drop down to the head, using your hands to twist and jerk his cock, coating the surface with the liquid.

“Oh fuck .” Nanami hisses, face suddenly wincing when one of your hands roam just a touch lower, squeezing on his balls. “You’re a little minx.”

A staggered groan escapes his lips watching you drop your body lower, beginning to grind your wet cunt onto the shaft of his cock. You feel one particular vein, perhaps the same protruding one from earlier throb at the warmth of your cunt rubbing back and forth on his, causing the corner of your lip to hitch upwards.

“What are you going to do after tonight?” You ask with a small grin, continuing to grind yourself on him. “You won’t be able to stop thinking about me.”

Nanami chuckles, instantly shooting you a confident smile back.

“Darling, what a ridiculous question. I thought you knew your pussy was going to be mine and only mine after tonight.”

In an instant, his body swiftly sits upright, giving you little time to react and forcing you to abruptly halt your movement. Your eyes widen, letting out a startled gasp when you feel an arm snake around your waist from behind, pulling your body close enough towards him so his chest was now pressed up against yours.

“I’m greedy, you know. I want to keep you to myself, and I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” He begins, voice low and fingers coming to grip your chin to lock your gaze onto him. “And I also know you won’t be able to stop thinking about me either, so this works for us well, doesn’t it?”

Nanami leans forward, trapping your lips with his into a sensual kiss, serving as almost a metaphorical action in sealing the deal to his words that were nothing but truthful in nature.

A part of you completely agreed that in hindsight it was a rather ridiculous claim to be so hooked onto the other so quickly. You could more than understand the foolishness in agreeing to only reserve your bodies for one another after merely a single sexual encounter.

Yet you already could imagine how lackluster any other partner would be in comparison to the sex you experienced with Nanami thus far, only becoming better and better with each passing second. And as much as part of you screams internally of how uncharacteristically weak you were to him, falling right into the palm of his hand exactly how he wanted you, you just couldn’t help it. If it wasn’t already so painfully crystal clear before, Nanami Kento was definitely not your ordinary hook up at all— he was much more enticing, luring you every bit through whatever spell he had casted onto you.

Gojo would have to wait for his threesome longer than anticipated— you had signed the dotted lines on the metaphoric contract, returning the kiss with just as much passion and lust.

“There’s some truth to that, I suppose.” You give him a tiny grin against his lips and a wink when you pull away, and Nanami answers in a hearty chuckle.

“That’s a good enough response for me.”

“Is it really? Somehow I don’t buy that.”

“Words don’t hold the entire amount of truth— I’m a firm believer that actions speak louder instead.”

You let out a startled gasp, feeling Nanami’s large hands suddenly snake down your body, roughly grasping onto the curves of your ass.

“And what I’m saying is I’d rather see you start bouncing on my cock— only if you really agree, gorgeous.”

Nanami releases his hands from your body, falling back onto the mattress with his hands returning against the headboard. Holding the back of his head, he’s arguably waiting almost too calmly for your next move. He had given all the power in your court, allowing you to choose the next course of action.

And when he watches your body readjust, steadily gripping onto his cock and angling it to sit yourself on top of it, he can’t help but let out a wide grin, silently celebrating his victory.

“Hold on baby. I want you to turn around and ride it— show me how you can bounce that ass.”

You do just that with no hesitation, turning yourself swiftly around, straddling him with your backside faced towards him. The new position itself makes your cheeks grow warm in both excitement and embarrassment, all your most intimate places now on full display for him to see.

It takes every ounce of strength in Nanami’s entire body to hold back from letting his cock bust right then and there as soon as he watches you slowly lower yourself and take him in, your soft moans once more breaking the silence in the room. The sight is so lewd and erotic to him, focused on nothing but how his cock continues to disappear inch by inch inside you, tightly gripping him as if you were holding on to dear life and the purple dildo still sticking out of your ass.

“Oh my god, baby .” You moan when the final inch slides in, now balls deep on top of him. “You’re so fucking big, baby… filling me up so good.”

Nanami’s mind begins to teeter violently at the combination of it all, your words, the lewd sight and sounds, and he’s no longer confident in how much longer he can hold back from reaching his peak. And when you begin to move, allowing yourself to bounce up and down his cock, he knows he's a goner sooner than later.

His hands reach forward to grip onto either side of your hips, simultaneously grinding his upwards in sync with yours helping you reach the deepest parts of your cunt with every bounce increasing in both intensity and speed. The head of his cock brushes past your most sensitive area, feeling him just right in the pit of your stomach that makes you cry out a moan that echoes the entire room and clench onto him even tighter.

The purple toy glides teasing in and out of your ass with every assisted bounce on his cock, and the view is almost taunting to Nanami, becoming embarrassingly jealous once more at the inanimate object. But it also leaves him curious just how much more you could take, so much so his hands move quicker than his brain, wrapping his fingers around the toy and beginning to pump it in and out inside of you.

Curses drop from underneath your tongue, falling partially forward on the palms of your hands, fingers gripping onto Nanami’s legs in overwhelming pleasure coming from both your holes now getting fucked. Yet you find it impossible to stop yourself from moving your hips up and down, not wanting the pleasure to end even for a second, continuing to take now both his cock and dildo inside of you.

“Fuck… I can’t…it’s so much… filling me up.”

“Yes you can, baby. You’re doing so good, taking it all in... I can feel you getting so much wetter and tighter just for me.”

You’ve grown even wetter now, becoming even more drunk on lust the moment your second hole became another slutty little hole, with the temporary only purpose to be used for pleasure purposes. Nanami also grows more and more drunk on lust seeing your body react, watching the way you squeeze on both his cock and the dildo, your own slick now dripping out of your cunt and down your thighs. The movement of his hips become increasingly sporadic and less rhythmic, mind clouded with nothing but the need to continue to fuck you senseless.

“Say it, you like getting both of your holes fucked by me, don’t you?”

“I love getting both my holes fucked by your big cock.”

“You want to be filled with my cum, don’t you, dirty girl?”

“Yes...please fill my slutty hole with your cum...”

You’re a moaning mess, the air around you filled with nothing but the lewd squelching noises, Nanami’s grunts pounding into you, and your cries of pleasure. With one final thrust of his throbbing cock, you feel the hot load of Nanami’s cum shoot inside your cunt, a shiver traveling up your spine as you simultaneously reach your own orgasm at the sensation.

A moment of serenity envelops the room; you have collapsed fully now onto his legs, Nanami unmoving, cock still deep buried inside you with his cum now trickling out of your cunt and onto his cock. Only the sounds of panting can be heard from the both of you, blissfully recovering from your post orgasm high.

But of course, it lasts for just a moment. Nanami wasn’t one to let things last longer than necessary, after all.

“I didn’t get to see you cum.” Nanami states, shattering the silence in the air. “Do it again.”

You can’t help but blink a few times, turning your head slightly back to look at the man behind you.

“ What ?” Surely you heard wrong, right?

You didn’t. It was exactly as you heard, confirmed when Nanami flashes you another half grin, just a peek of the whites of his teeth showing through.

“You heard me. I missed seeing you cum, so sit on my cock facing me and do it again.”

“You’re crazy.” You let out a small scoff in disbelief, only to transition into the corner of your lips tugged upwards in an excited smirk you fail to hold yourself back from hiding.

“Am I?” Nanami questions, reaching forward to teasingly squeeze the meaty flesh of your ass that triggers you to release a whimper at the touch. “Your little pussy that just throbbed on my cock is telling me differently— you like this idea too.”

His hands move once more, slowly pulling the dildo out of your ass that in return brings about another soft groan to rumble from your throat. Nanami is already a sucker to the sound, growing incredibly weak to it mixed with the sight in front of him of both your cunt and asshole clenching at the sudden loss, instinctively gripping whatever you could to remain filled up. His dick hardens once more at the sensation and sight, twitching against your walls again.

“Guess actions really do speak louder than words, huh?” You grin, your words come out in between breathy moans, eyeing him from just over your shoulder.

“Exactly, you’re one to catch on quickly.”

Nanami’s hands roam again, tossing the purple dildo to the side of the bed and placing his hands to grip either side of your hips. When you feel them gently squeeze your skin, you take it as a sign to readjust your position, briefly lifting yourself off of him, only to sit back down on his cock when you turn back around to now face him.

You lean forward, both your hands softly grasping either side of his neck to pull him in for another kiss, both sloppy and needy in nature. It only breaks when Nanami lets out a low moan, feeling you teasingly clench your cunt around his cock.

“Fuck, stop doing that.”

“Why should I?” You ask, grinning once more. “Maybe I want to see you cum too.”

“If you keep doing that, you definitely will.”

You let out a gentle laugh against his lips, bringing your lips back onto his. Nanami’s hands find refuge on the sides of your hip once more, sitting back upright to deepen the kiss, further exploring your mouth with his tongue.

One hand slowly begins to dip from the side of your hip, on to your thighs, his fingertips trickling skillfully back and forth in the inner part of your upper legs. It’s only when his fingers suddenly move upwards to caress the swollen bud of your clit in steady circles you interrupt the kiss once more, tilting your head back and letting a breathy moan escape.

“Feels good…”

Nanami catches sight of the skin of your neck, the smooth and soft surface now fully inviting him the more you tilt your head back. Similar to a magnetic pull, his body is drawn instantly, lips finding themselves attacking the sensitive skin.

“It does, doesn’t it?” His words come out muffled, in between the kisses against your neck. “Especially when your clit is extra sensitive from getting fucked so hard.”

Your fingers curl once more against the blades of his shoulders, feeling the hand remaining on your hip beginning to guide you in moving back and forth.

“You make me feel so good too darling, knowing you’re just filled with my cum, and warming my cock so good just like this.”

You’re immensely spoiled. At least, that’s the thought that races throughout your mind feeling Nanami work carefully on all the most sensitive areas of your body. As rough as he could be, Nanami concurrently treated your body as if it was a sacred possession tending attentively to all the areas that could give you the most pleasure, in return making you feel as if you were on cloud nine with every kiss, nip and touch. And when the pressure of his fingers against your clit grows harder, and the large, firm hand on your hip directs your hips to grind on his cock faster, the all too familiar pressure in your stomach builds once more.

It arrives faster than Nanami thinks— he too is already fully aware of your little whimpers and increased movements that indicate your upcoming release.  But he really isn’t surprised, you were only growing more and more sensitive and overstimulated with every second passing that now perhaps even the tiniest bits of effort from him were enough to make you clench your cunt around him just the way he liked it.

This time, Nanami makes sure to watch your face thoroughly, drinking in every twinge in your face, bite to your lower lip, and moan that drops from your mouth. It’s a shame to him the mask of yours, as pretty as it is, covers him from seeing the entirety of your face just on the edge of cumming, but Nanami prefers to think you make it up in other ways. The shaking of your legs growing weaker despite hips moving faster, the bouncing of your breasts with every movement, and his personal favourite in contrary to his slight teasing for it earlier— your nails that scratch up and down his back, desperately clawing away in the hopes of reaching for something— he’s enthralled by it all, how the gorgeous, well put together woman he saw hours before at the bar was the same as the one in his arms on the verge of her sixth orgasam of the night.

So when you finally do cum once again, letting the more than familiar build up knot in your stomach loose once more, Nanami is of course, mesmerized by it all, filling the air with his own moans at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him tighter than ever before. Yet, not a single ounce of how turned on you made him dwindle, somehow only intensifying— especially amplified at the hint of the sunrise beginning to seep into the room past the sheer curtains of the window beside the bed, reminding him of a little promise he had made to you earlier in the night.

He doesn’t give you much time to think about it, a few mere seconds at most if you were truly to keep record. Although a fan of foreplay and buildup, he was already far too lost in lust and desire to wait any longer. Your body slumped against his chest, head on his shoulder, breaths heavy and arms wrapped around his neck is the perfect position for him to lift you from the back of your thighs up almost too effortlessly, a startled yelp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement.

“Hush, it’s okay baby.” Nanami soothes, a tiny chuckle following, feeling your arms strength and your legs wrap instictintly around him. “You did so good, and now I just wanted to show you what I promised you earlier.”

A sudden jolt of coldness attacks your backside, sending a shiver to run down your spine. You let out another gasp at the abruptness of it all, only to be responded with the tiny grin on Nanami’s lips, ushering you to turn around and look behind you.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

His grip behind your legs loosening and steady hands resting on yours hips once more gently assisting your weak legs in standing up. There were zero lies in his words, confirmed when you turn around and see the view for yourself peeking through the partially opened curtains of the floor to ceiling windows.

The familiar city before you was now blanketed with an orange hue matching the color of the sun rising from a distance away. The current time remains a mystery to you, but what you could gather was that it was the hour of the day where the city just began to stir awake, the sounds of traffic and humans minimal, and only the true early birds of the world awake and roaming the streets. It was tranquility at its finest, rare to see in the normally bustling city you called home, and a spectacular view that makes you stop and stare in awe.

“It is.” You whisper. “I forgot this city can look this gorg—”

You’re unable to finish the sentence, abruptly cut off midway through. A loud moan replaces it instead, your body falling forward and both your hands flat against the glass in front of you for support when you suddenly feel the head of Nanami’s cock slide back in from behind you unexpectedly, cursing under your breath at the sensation.

“I wasn’t talking about the city.” Nanami smirks, fully aware you’re eyeing his every move through the subtle reflection of the glass. “I was talking about you . This sexy body, this pretty face, this ass, and this pussy… this fucking pussy … words couldn’t describe how it makes me go crazy… my god .”

You let out a louder moan, fingers curling against the window feeling Nanami’s thick and long cock quickly filling you up balls deep. Contrary to before, this time he spent little time teasing you, going slow and making sure you felt every single inch. You had already become accustomed to his body, and Nanami had been accustomed to yours— Nanami no longer had the patience to wait to fuck you senseless once more.

His hands briefly leave your sides, reaching up towards the curtains instead. Grabbing each one on either side of your bodies, Nanami pulls the fabric away, allowing more light to enter the room, and more of the window exposed from the protection of the curtains to the outside. Your eyes widen at the realization, but when Nanami’s hands grip at your waist once more, pulling his cock out and then slamming back in, words of argument become difficult to formulate.  

“Wait… there could be people outside…” You manage to mumble in between the mewls releasing at the sensation of his cock slowly sliding in and out of you. “What if they see… that’s embarrassing…”

“I said I’d fuck you so everyone could see, didn’t I?” Nanami hisses, thrusts beginning to increase in speed. “And even though you say that your pussy throbbing on me is telling me you like the idea of people seeing you get fucked up against this window, don’t you?”

He knows you too well. And as scary as it should be for someone whom you practically just met to know you this well, to you the rush of it all is more overpowering— all you can do is let out a tiny grin because he was right. Something about him railing you against the window of a penthouse hotel room, in full view during the sunrise of a beautiful morning for anyone at the right place and time to see was enthralling.  

“You’re right, baby, it turns me on so much that someone might be able to watch me get fucked hard by your big cock.” You moan, feeling the tip of his cock brushing against your womb. “Everyone watching me get used as your little slutty fuck doll makes me so wet.”

Nanami does nothing but groan loudly at your words, serving more than enough as a response. His hands ghosts upwards to reach to tangle into the back of your hair, fingers gripping the strands and pulling them back rough enough your entire body follows suit. With your back against his chest, Nanami takes a step forward, pushing your breasts and the side of your face against the window, and all your hands can do is still support his rough movements by clawing away at the window.

“Whose pussy is this? Tell me if you want me to fuck you harder.”

“Yours, It belongs to you!”

“That’s my girl.” Nanami coos, grip on your hair becoming stronger. “My slutty girl.”

The sound of skin slapping and moans echoes throughout the room, Nanami’s hips snapping into you harder with every passing second, pushing you back and forth against the window. Your knees buckle instantly when Nanami’s cock brushes past your most sensitive spot, releasing a moan that comes straight from the depths of your lungs.

“Right there,” You gasp, eyes fluttering shut, too overwhelmed with pleasure. “Oh my god, right fucking there—!”

Nanami grins, knowing he’s found the spot that makes your toes curl in pleasure, eyes roll to the back of your head, and legs shake, threatening to give out at any moment. And when his thrusts pinpoint that specific spot, rhythmically hitting on beat to a silent song that makes your head spin once more, both you and him know all too well what’s to come next.

“It feels so fucking good,” You cry out, endless strings of moans and curses dropping from your lips. “I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“Don’t hold back. Cum baby, cum all over my cock.”

You don’t— not even in the slightest bit. You let your mind grow numb, the high of the orgasm riding your entire body, allowing Nanami to give his last few thrusts, only an unworldly noise leaving your throat. Your body jolts in a way you’ve never experienced before, so much so Nanami has to snake an arm around your waist, holding you steady upright from collapsing from your now completely weakened knees.

“Baby, look at me.” Nanami calls, voice soft with a twinge of startled concern. “Are you tired? We can stop now if you want.”

His movements cease, slowly pulling his length from you emitting a groan from both of you. You muster up the strength you have remaining once more to stand upright, looking behind your shoulder and give him a small, reassuring smile, shaking your head side to side.

“No… I’m still okay, thank you for asking.” A hand reaches backwards, latching on to the side of his neck to bring him down for a brief and comforting kiss. “You’re actually such a sweetie, you know?”

Nanami shrugs his shoulders when you let him go, clearing his throat and reaching to scratch at the back of his neck. His actions were uncharacteristically bashful compared to what he had shown you throughout the night thus far, and it was both intimate and refreshing to you to see another side of him you haven’t seen before.

You wanted to know more about him, effortlessly encapsulated by the growing enigma that was him — Nanami Kento. The more you learnt about him, the more you wondered what other side of him he could possibly surprise you further with.

However, for now, there was another issue present to solve in the current moment. The feeling of Nanami’s rock hard cock, long and stiff looming over your backside, reminded you that he had pleased you so well up until now, and it was now his turn to be absolutely spoiled by you.

You lean forward once more, bending fully over to display your ass towards him. Looking over your shoulder once more, a small grin forms upon your face watching Nanami’s stunned expression, eyes fixated right on your assets showcased in front of him.

“I can’t let you just stay this hard, baby.” You whisper, your hands reaching behind you to spread both of your cheeks open.  “I want you to let it all out inside here.”

“Fuck,” Nanami curses, watching you wriggle your ass back and forth against his cock. “How did I get so fucking lucky with you?”

“Because you’re a good man… with a blessed cock to follow. Now hurry up and fuck my ass.”

The once cold glass of the window had now turned warm, condensation coating the surface of the glass with droplets of water— except for where the silhouette of your body that was pressed up against the window was not too long ago. The sight is erotic and incredibly lewd, and a part of Nanami wonders if he even had the strength to make it inside you.

But he does nonetheless, moving slowly to allow the tighter hole to adjust to his impressive length and girth. You weren’t a stranger to anal at all, but you definitely weren’t accustomed to someone of Nanami’s size, slightly wincing in the initial discomfort. Nanami takes notice of this, gently soothing the sides of your body in encouragement.

“Baby… you’re taking me so good. Let me know when you’re ready for me to move.”

A few more moments is all it takes, the discomfort quickly dwindling and pleasure replacing its spot. When a breathless moan parts from your lips, fingers scratching the surface of the window in front of you once more in search of more pleasure, you start to move your hips slightly, taking in the rest of his length.

Nanami’s hands grip the sides of your waist once more, beginning to guide your hips up and down his cock. You squeeze him tighter than ever before, Nanami watching the inches of his cock disappear, stretching the tiny hole more than you could take.

“ Fuck. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, darling.”

A new pool of wetness forms from your cunt, and mixed with creaminess of Nanami’s cum inside from earlier you feel the liquids begin to drip in between your legs, running down the insides of your thighs. Removing one hand from the window, you dip your hand in between your legs, examining the slick in between the folds of your cunt. Bringing the fingers back up to your mouth, you make sure to look at Nanami over your shoulder before sticking your tongue out, humming in satisfaction while licking the liquids off your fingers.

“You and I taste so good together.” You grin as best as you can, eyes partially closed and brain fucked out to the core, bringing your hand out behind you towards him in offering. “Don’t we?”

Nanami groans loudly, rejecting your offering. Instead, you feel the palm of his hand pushing the small of your back down once more, forcing you to look forward once more and to hold back onto the window. His hips pick up, increasing its speed entering in and out of you, but this time you feel his chest against your back, a hand snaking forward and fingers rubbing your clit back and forth.

“You’re gonna fucking be the death of me princess.” Nanami whispers, breath heavy against your ear. “But I can play against you and your little minx ways.”

His body moves faster, an outburst of the last bit of his remaining stamina bursting in both his hips thrusting into you, and his fingers moving against your clit frantically back and forth. Numbness clouds your mind once more, eyes shutting close and rolling to the back of your head.

“That’s fucking right baby doll, you tease me like that and I’ll make that pretty little brain of yours turn stupid with nothing but cock on your mind.”

It was too much. In your overstimulated, over sensitive current state, the combination of everything was just too much. The tension in the pit of your stomach grows, this time differently than previous— more intense, striking you in a way you’ve only felt just a few times in your life.

“Oh my god—” You cry out, eyes shut closed so tight you can feel the formation of a few tears in the corners of your eyes. “No— I’m gonna—”

The synchronization is almost artistic. The way your body convulses underneath his, liquid squirting from your cunt across the lower part of the window and onto the floor below, joined merely seconds later by the drips of Nanami’s cum painting your insides that overflow outwards onto the floor below. Your knees finally give in, falling onto the ground in exhaustion and Nanami finds himself accompanying you in an instance, the last of his stamina escaping him and fatigue overwhelming him.

It’s arguably messy. Definitely to most not the most desired situation, laying on the cold, marble floor surrounded by the physical fragments of both your orgasms. But when you turn around to face Nanami, softly panting in an attempt to recollect his breath from his high, the back of his hand resting on his forehead in exhaustion, you can’t help but let out a small, weak laugh. And when Nanami’s eyes flicker towards you at the sound of your laughter, he can’t help but join in as well, fully understanding the beauty of the moment.

Something about it was almost ironic. You were in the most luxurious penthouse suite, experiencing the most sexy, alluring nearly dream-like night with a man almost too good to be true. This part now was most likely the most realistic portion of the dream-like night, yet, it was your favourite.

It was perfect. Imperfectly perfect. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“I’m going to wash up. Care to join me?”

“You know that’s not gonna work.” You reply, pointing up at your mask. “We can’t keep these on in the shower.”

“I don’t care anymore, you’re more than just a quick fuck to me now.” Nanami smiles, a hand reaching forward to tangle with yours.“I already know you’re gorgeous, but I want to see your entire face for myself.”

You wanted to. You really did. But the reality looming over you was too strong to ignore. Despite being your prince for the night, in reality, he still remained your colleague in the office. You knew mixing pleasure with work was never a good idea, and you knew the responsible choice was to remain keeping the two separate.

“Not yet.” Your hand squeezes his back. “Let’s keep up the mystery a little longer.”

—

“Marlboro’s? These are impossible to find here, how’d you get your hands on this?”

You climb back onto the bed, shaking a towel into your damp hair with one hand in an attempt to dry your hair, nudging at the red cardboard box that laid on top of Nanami’s lap. Nanami shrugs, taking two cigarettes out of the box, placing one in his mouth and offering the other in your direction.

“Connections.”

Taking the cigarette, you toss the damp towel onto the armrest of the nearby chair. You join Nanami under the covers of the duvet, and when you situate yourself to mimic him in leaning against the headboard, he reaches over his bedside table for the metallic lighter.

“What, did I just fuck some wanted gangster or something?”

“Not at all,” Nanami chuckles, finding humour in your accusation. “I’m just a regular salaryman… with an interesting part time job.”

He lights the tip of your cigarette first, lighting his own shortly after. A short silence fills the air when the both of you simultaneously take the first drag, seeping in the bitter flavor.

“I won’t ask.” You wink at him, and Nanami rolls his eyes in response. “Keeps you more sexy, like a mystery, you know?”

“What do you smoke then?”

“Blackstones.”

“Awful.” Nanami scrunches his nose in a cringe, instantly tossing the red cardboard box onto your lap covered with the duvet. “Take this pack on me, and treat yourself to something not garbage once in a while.”

“Cigarettes are garbage in general. Literally poison killing you slowly— but for some reason I can’t stop.

Nanami nods in agreement, taking another drag.

“I could never give up — especially cigarettes after sex. Something about ending the night with a good cigarette is the cherry on top.”

“Blackstones taste like cherry, so that could be literal if you wanted it to be.”

“Huh, makes sense.” Nanami pauses, turning to you with a cheeky smile. “You kind of tasted like cherries and tobacco when I first kissed you.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows raise, reciprocating his coy smile back “What about now?”

Nanami leans forward, his free hand reaching to cup the side of your neck, lifting your face upwards towards him. Your eyes flutter closed when your lips meet his, gently caressing with yours and delicately exploring you, drinking in every single flavour he could.

“A mix of tobacco,” Nanami grins against your lips. “And a little bit of me.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Onions Among the Roses

“What in the world do two completely different plants have to do with this?”

“... ‘Onions’ can only make you stronger--so do not be ashamed to cut them.”

Yes, that is apparently a real thing that people do.

***Spoilers for Riddle’s childhood, Ghost Marriage Riddle’s home screen lines, and chapter 1 of the main story!***

***CONTENT WARNING: this piece mentions a dysfunctional family and emotional abuse!***

Imagine this...

The stillness of the kitchen was near stifling. Quiet, save for the sounds of ingredients being prepared for plating--the soft gurgle of simmering water, the methodical cut of knives against a wooden board or vegetable flesh.

Riddle sucked in a breath through his teeth, careful to not breathe in the noxious fumes of his half-cut onion. Instead, the oppressive atmosphere slipped in, and he almost gagged.

Small talk, he suggested to himself, make some small talk to drive this horridness away.

“So,” the Heartslabyul dorm leader began, trying to sound casual, “how are you finding the Master Chef course to be so far, Silver?”

“It has been a fascinating experience. I am pleased with the progress that I am making.” He spoke seriously as he whittled away at a potato, forming one continuous ribbon of skin. His iridescent eyes beheld a subtle glow to them--thoughtful. “Father has been pleased as well. He praised the Chicken with Tomato Sauce that I prepared last night.”

Riddle’s knife froze midair. “Your father has visited Night Raven College?”

“Well, more or less,” Silver confessed with a shrug. “He’s always around, always keeping an eye on me, some way or another.”

“I... I see.” Riddle’s eyes turned slightly downcast. “I have not yet had the honor of presenting my cooking to anyone, let alone my father.”

“I’m sure that he would love your food.” Silver reassured him. He set down his neatly peeled potato and started on a new one, the blade of his knife pressed firmly against the grain.

“I’m not so certain,” the redhead replied, a hint of bitterness in his tone. He brought his knife down, cleaving slices from his onion’s bulbous body. “I am not particularly close to either one of my parents. They are not intimate with one another, either.”

Riddle remembered them well: long afternoons and evenings, stretching into bouts of silence, punctured only by the clinking of silverware. His mother and father staring into their own dishes, refusing to address one another. A ‘dessert’ placed before him, tasting of limp cardboard and sadness.

No smiles or joy to be had.

“A Rosehearts family meal is not one you would wish to be invited to,” he declared with the shake of his head.

“Oh.” Silver’s hands came to a stop, his potato peel dangling precariously by his hip. “I’m sorry to hear that, Riddle.”

“Don’t be,” he insisted--a bit too quickly, perhaps. “I may not enjoy it, but I have come to accept it for what it is: my reality. I must hold my head high and continue to advance, regardless of that.”

“Your dedication is admirable,” Silver nodded stiffly, “but even if it is your reality, that does it does not make the blows you’ve been dealt any less painful. Wounds of the body and wounds of the heart can hurt equally.”

“... I suppose so.” Again and again, Riddle’s knife came down mercilessly upon the onion. His motions had gotten smoother with time and repetition, but his dices were still not even in size.

They settled back into silence, each boy tending to their own mise en place. Simmering. Chopping. Discomfort seeped in and filled the space between them.

Silver cleared his throat. “... How are you finding the Master Chef course?”

“Ah... The instruction has been very informative, but I fear I still have a long way to go when it comes to putting lecture material to practice.” Riddle eyed Silver’s knife. “You seem to be quite skilled in some regards already.”

“Swordplay is my specialty,” he replied. “I have been training since I was young. The same goes for Sebek.”

“Practical skills will serve you well.” Riddle flinched as the odor of onions tickled his nostrils. He sucked in another breath through his teeth.

He had once thought of wielding a whisk or a spatula, of whipping cream and flipping patties. He had wanted to make mud pies and set up a lemonade stand. Dreamt of colors and textures and shapes and flavors. To mold them with his own hands, to taste them with his own tongue.

“The only things you need to worry about are your grades--your grades, and following the rules,” his mother had told him, plucking the butter knife out of his hands. Over and over and over. “Go back to your books.”

His dreams laid in shards upon the floor.

“I’ve had a very privileged, but sheltered, upbringing,” Riddle said with a weak laugh, “so I am afraid that when it comes to hands-on exercises such as this... I may very well underperform.”

“It’s fine. No one is perfect at everything.”

“I must be.”

Silver cast his classmate a puzzled look. 

“I must,” Riddle repeated, tightening his grip on the handle of his knife, “if I wish to live independently. I cannot always rely on Trey to prepare tea, or Che’nya to yank me outdoors.”

“Riddle...”

How mad his mother had been when she had discovered him missing, when she had discovered the sugar dusting his lips. The strawberry tart had tasted sweet, yet fleeting. She had screeched like a banshee, forbidden him from playing with the other children ever again.

And how livid she had been when he had confronted her over winter break.

“You are my son. You are a Rosehearts. You will not defy me--you will not defy the rules!” she had roared. “Who has been planting these poisonous thoughts in your mind? I want to speak to them!!”

He inhaled shakily and shoved the memories of her shouting out of his mind.

“I need to start making strides on my own--and this is the first step towards that. I cannot allow myself to fail, no matter what.” The redhead pressed the tip of his blade into the onion--the hand curled atop the vegetable, trembling. His expression, solemn.

Silver set down his knife and potato, briskly walked over to Riddle’s workspace, and grasped his wrists. “Stop. You’re shaking all over. It’s not safe to cut it like that.”

“But the onion--”

“Forget the onion. Take a bre--” Silver came to a full pause when he saw Riddle’s face. “... You’re crying.”

And so he was.

Fat tears rolled down his face, his cheeks bloated and rosy. The Heartslabyul dorm leader shook, furiously rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands. He sniffled loudly, but managed to choke something semi-comprehendible out.

“Th-The onions must be making my eyes water.”

“Of course. Let me get you a towel.”

It took only a few moments for Silver to retrieve a warm, wet cloth. He offered it to Riddle, who immediately pressed the cloth to his eyes.

“I’m... I’m sorry. You shouldn’t see me in such a pathetic state.”

“As I have said before, you are fine,” Silver said patiently. “No man is able to take down a beast by himself. It takes the backing of an entire village to ensure that he is prepared for his quest.”

“But crying at my age... It is unfitting, especially for a dorm leader.”

“Falling and losing your footing are all normal in the learning process. I stumbled a lot as well when I was training with the sword. What matters is that you are able to pick yourself up afterwards. Never losing sight of your goal.”

Silver folded his arms. “To be both the best student, and the best chef. To gain independence for yourself. That is why you fight, and why you shed your tears.”

Riddle slowly lowered the towel from his eyes. His wet gaze met Silver’s. “Are tears truly something to be proud of?”

"... There are many roses in the Valley of Thorns. And, sometimes, onions are planted alongside them. It is said that when they are grouped together, onions can enhance the fragrant aroma of roses." 

“What in the world do two completely different plants have to do with this?”

"... 'Onions' can only make you stronger--so do not be ashamed to cut them.” Silver plucked a fresh bulb from a basket and handed it to his peer. “Rest, and reflect on it. When you are ready, you can return to your ingredients.”

He turned and started to walk back to his own work station, but paused midstride.

“Riddle.”

“Yes?”

“You should come over sometime, and join us for a meal. Fath...” Silver caught himself and rushed to correct his phrasing. “Ah, I mean... you should come over to Diasomnia. Malleus-sama and Lilia-sama would be happy to host you.”

Riddle gave the smallest of smiles. “I would like that very much.”

[gureishi]

Aha, a fic absolutely nobody asked for! I wrote this purely to appease myself, but perhaps somebody else will get some pleasure out of it, too?

Saeyoung X Reader, Rating: E (BDSM: dom Saeyoung, sub f!reader; discipline; protocols; honorifics; subspace); Words: 5236

set me on fire

A crucial disclaimer: This fic is a depiction of a consensual dom/sub dynamic. Please know that I am absolutely not an expert on BDSM or kink in general! I write, as always, from a combination of experience and research; you should never read anything I write and think, “Ah! It must always be this way!” Please do your own research~ And, of course, skip this one if these aren’t topics you wanna read about! <3

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The slip of paper feels unsettlingly solid as you draw it out of the box, hold it with trembling fingers. The curvy scrawl on it is your own—though right now, you hardly recognize it.

“Show me,” he says; his voice is lower than usual, eyes hard as he watches you. You aren’t supposed to talk, so you hold it up to him wordlessly—you don’t miss the way he swallows (hard, almost audible) or the way his breath hitches in his throat. He rips the piece of paper from your hand; a thrill runs up your spine.

He chuckles as he reads the paper, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Is this even a punishment?” he asks, his tone teasing. You can feel his intense gaze on the back of your neck. “I feel like you’ll enjoy this too much.”

You’re on the ground at his feet, naked except for the cuffs around your ankles. You shake your head, which is all you’re supposed to do, in this scene; he kneels, using one finger to tilt your face roughly upward.

“Will you enjoy it?” he purrs; oh, and he’s really asking, that familiar sparkle of Saeyoung in his eyes beneath the pretense. You bite your lip, nodding; feeling yourself floating away again, the ground disappearing beneath you at the feeling of his fingers—now sliding down to grip your throat, stinging where you’re already bruised.

You gesture with one hand, the signal to ask permission to talk; he cocks his head to the side, considering it. Even now, you notice the way his hair falls messily to the side—he’s tried to tame it, but it springs free so easily, curls falling across his forehead. He’s cute, you think—wondering, with a little thrill of desire, what sort of punishment you’d get if you told him that.

“Fine,” he says dismissively, letting go of you. Oh, but you want his fingers around your neck; you shift toward him and he smirks, knowing this.

“Can I…?” You reach for him, a little unsteady with your ankles bound like this. Your fingers skim over his erection, through his pants, and he hisses.

“You already broke one rule,” he mutters, low and throaty (and he sounds nothing like himself, and everything like himself; his eyes are like fire). “Do you really want to break another one?” “No,” you murmur, letting your fingers fall. The cardboard box on the floor beside you, full of the punishment slips you’d started writing out months ago (and there are still so many in there: things you’ve already forgotten, ideas that absolutely terrify and delight you) seems to stare at you too: full of promise and intimidation.

“Now, kitten.” He’s kneeling again, on your level, fingers—yes!—gripping your throat, his other hand dancing tantalizingly over your thigh. “You came before I said you could once. Are you gonna be good for me this time?”

“Y-yes,” you pant, your thighs trembling as his coarse fingertips part them.

“Good kitty,” he whispers hoarsely; his fingers tighten around your throat—just the right amount, making stars burst before your eyes. “You’d better.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Later, he holds you in the bathtub, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on your sore shoulders. You’re wrapped up in smells: his familiar spicy-sweet fragrance, and the lavender bubbles, the rose-scented candle—you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“You with me, babe?” He dips his head, pressing his lips to your shoulder. You twist to smile sleepily into his face.

“I feel…soft,” you say, which is true; so often, after you play like this, you feel like your brain has melted—it feels sloshy inside your head, like everything’s not quite where it’s supposed to be. You love this feeling—and sometimes it takes hours for it to fade, for you to settle comfortably back into your body. Baths help; his firm back behind your head, and his gentle hands on your tight muscles, help too.

“You wanna go to bed?” he murmurs; his fingers part your hair, working through it—it’s damp but not wet, and you’ll have to wash it tomorrow, but you don’t mind—the way he brushes through it calms your racing heart. “Or do you wanna stay here a little longer?”

“Stay here,” you murmur, letting your head fall back onto his chest. He wraps both arms around you, pressing his lips to your temple. His hand, hazy and indistinct under the water, reminds you of the slip of paper; a memory swims to the forefront of your mind as though through honey. “Oh!” you say—louder than you meant to, startling him a little. “The punishment! When are we gonna do it?”

He laughs, and it makes your whole body tingle.

“Well,” he says, drawing out the single syllable—there’s a touch of the version of him you saw in the scene earlier, as he considers it. Then he settles—your regular, sweet boy, soft lips moving against your cheek: “We have Zen’s play tomorrow,” he says. 

“At the play?” you squeak. Your friends will be there—you’ll be exposed. Vulnerable.

“It’s one of those outdoor Shakespeare things,” he says, brushing your your back, kissing your earlobe. “So it’ll feel pretty, uh…relaxed. If you wanted to, you know. Try it then.”

Ah, what a difference between the man who’d loomed over you earlier—hard eyes, cold face—and your sweet, blushing boyfriend, stumbling over his words. But they are the same—god, you adore him more than words can describe.

“Yes,” you say—feeling the way he squirms beneath you, thrilled by your enthusiasm. “Okay. Yes. I want to.”

He’s got your earlobe between his lips; for a moment, you feel his teeth, excitingly sharp. Your eyes flutter shut; he’s pulled back in an instant, tucking your head under his chin again, feathering soft kisses over your brow.

“Good,” he whispers. “I can’t wait.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

As soon as you see your friends rushing chaotically toward you—Jaehee and Yoosung in the front, Jumin lingering behind—you realize that this will be much more difficult than you’d anticipated.

Yoosung throws his arms around you, and you hug him back—mentally, you run through the protocols, pretty sure there’s nothing in there about hugs. He’s chattering excitedly and you don’t quite hear, peeking at Saeyoung through Yoosung’s hair. He raises his eyebrows—daring you to.

No speaking without permission—you know.

Yoosung’s hand, on your back, brushes against the edge of the harness you’ve got on��hidden by a t-shirt and a sweater; still, the leather straps are firm and stiff enough to be noticeable. You flinch, shifting away from him.

“Oh!” he says, big eyes taking in your strange posture. “You okay?”

Frantically, you give Saeyoung the signal, a casual little flick of your fingers. He pauses, thinking; it feels, for a moment, that everyone’s eyes are on you (though you know they aren’t). Your cheeks flush.

Finally, he nods.

“Yes!” you gasp, realizing you haven’t spoken since leaving the house earlier. “Sorry, just got the shivers for a second.”

Yoosung, thankfully, doesn’t question this—and you greet the others with smiles. Saeyoung lays a hand at the small of your back—a gentle reminder of the rules (as if you needed one). You bite your bottom lip, grateful that your friends are loud—grateful that Saeyoung can answer for you (nice, general questions, like “how have you been?” and “how was the drive here?”—easy, not requiring any particular response from you).

Jaehee ushers you over to a blanket she’s already set out on the grass—close to the stage, of course; she’s explaining that she’s seen the play once already, that she’s picked the best angle to catch all of Zen’s entrances. Someone has brought lawn chairs, though you’re relieved to see Jaehee and Yoosung sink directly onto the blanket, on either side of the picnic basket. Sitting below him is part of the game, and you’re not sure how it would look to the others if you were the only one on the ground. You feel your cheeks flushing again and you take a deep breath, nervously lifting your hair off your neck—which feels hot and a little sticky. The harness is tight underneath your clothes—the perfect size, bruising your skin as you shift.

Jumin is saying something about the quality of the set that makes the others laugh; you don’t quite hear him because Saeyoung comes up behind you, chest against your back—one hand slides into the front pocket of your jeans and his breath is hot on your ear.

“You gonna make it?” he murmurs; he’s got that rough voice on, just for you—so different from the sweet way he speaks to the others. You grit your teeth as a little spark of desires flares within you; he doesn’t miss the way you subtly try to rub your legs together, the small, silent moan that escapes your lips.

You give him the tiniest nod, showing him you’re good, you’re here, you’re in it—you don’t want him to stop. He grins, fingers wiggling inside your jeans pocket, making your breath stutter.

“You’re doing good, little kitten,” he whispers. For a moment, he presses against your back, and rainbows swim in front of your vision; for one wild second, you want to throw all the rules out the window, spin around and tackle him to the ground right here. The thought alone is thrilling.

Your vision clears and he’s pulled away; you don’t miss the wicked glint in his eyes, but it’s gone an in instant. And then he’s skipping ahead, unfolding one of the lawn chairs—seemingly berating Yoosung about something, a big grin on his face.

As unobtrusively as you can, you take a seat on the blanket, between Jaehee and Yoosung—right at the foot of Saeyoung’s chair, of course, where you’re supposed to be. You feel eyes on your back and spin; Saeran’s watching, a curious expression on his face. He never asked why you were so quiet in the car (of course he didn’t)—he would never ask what you’re playing at, what sort of strange scheme you’ve concocted. He looks away, shaking his head the tiniest bit; he lives with you, after all. He doesn’t not know.

You bite your lip, feeling embarrassed again. The harness feels impossibly bulky under your clothes, all of a sudden—obvious, like everyone can see it. You tug at your sweater, trying to focus on your friends’ conversation. The sun is setting, casting an otherworldly glow over the stage. The harder you try to listen to your friends’ voices—or the scenery, or the soft blanket beneath you—the more distracted you feel by the heat that’s building between your legs. As discretely as you can, you try to adjust, the friction of your jeans and underwear giving you the tiniest hint of relief.

Oh, but there’s a hand on your shoulder; you turn, gazing up at him—and he’s not looking at you at all—he’s saying something to the group at large, smiling—but his grip is firm and definitive. He’s telling you no.

So you try to sit still. He taps your shoulder twice with his index finger before pulling it away—good job. These signals are thrilling at home—a delightful way to communicate without words, a secret code that makes your mind feels sparkly—but in public, it’s something else entirely. Your heart is pounding so hard you’re certain your friends can hear it; your legs twitch, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re wet already, you can tell—embarrassingly so, just from the harness under your clothes; just from staying quiet for him. You wish he knew—you’d love to see the look on his face.

You take a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. You’re not sure how you’re going to make it through a whole play, in this state.

Jaehee’s voice drifts through the glittery haze you feel and you shake your head, trying to clear your clouded mind. You raise your eyebrows and she repeats herself (and thank god for Jaehee, you think—she doesn’t ask any questions like why aren’t you talking? or why are you making that kind of face? If she knows what’s going on, she doesn’t say so).

“The first scene is the best one,” she says, eyes shining; there’s a woman sitting on the edge of the stage now, bare feet hanging over the edge, strumming an acoustic guitar. “Just wait until you see what he’s wearing.”

You open your mouth to speak—forgetting, for a moment, the situation you’re in—and immediately feel Saeyoung’s hand on your shoulder again, squeezing. You look up at him and he tilts his head to the side: a warning. The heat is building inside you again—for a split second, there’s that hard look in his eyes, the one that’s normally reserved for private moments at home. You can’t resist: you squeeze your legs together, biting your lip. You know he sees; he exhales shakily, conscious of how turned on you already are.

You realize you haven’t answered Jaehee—and you can’t, of course. His warning signal was clear; the confusion makes your head spin deliciously. You squeeze your thighs tighter, unable to stop them from trembling; you wiggle your shoulders, trying to focus your attention on the way the straps of the harness burn as you rub against them.

Jaehee (bless her) has started attempting to explain the plot of the play to Saeran, who looks only mildly interested. Saeyoung asks her a question and the sound of his voice (even this version of him—bright and friendly) makes your toes curl. Perhaps his enthusiastic demeanor—so distinct from the persona he’s put on for the game you’re playing—actually escalates your excitement; it’s the thrill of the pretense, the almost unbearable delight of keeping a secret.

Then Jaehee is shushing everybody; the woman with the guitar stands; the lighting on the stage shifts (and it’s so well-timed, you think: the sun is just sinking behind the trees, the first stars coming out). She leans over, whispers that you should watch the stage right door for Zen’s first entrance; her shoulder brushes yours, and again you flinch—terrified she’ll feel the harness (delighted by your fear).

Your phone buzzes. All your senses heightened, you jump, grabbing it. Your heart does a little flip when you see his name—oh, but he’s so calm, sitting behind you, leaning forward a little to peer at the stage (for all the world attentive to the play). But you know better.

“Little blue building to the right of the entrance. Go,” says his text. You peek at him, but he isn’t looking at you. Just as you’re getting to your feet, his hand shoots out—and his fingers dip into your back pocket, and he’s placing something there, a tiny smile dancing over his lips.

You’re sure your whole body is flushed. You feel a little light-headed as you stand, edging backwards so nobody notices the obvious lump in your pocket—and you’re pretty sure you know what it is; you’re embarrassingly on edge, obviously aroused. You don’t want to know what your face looks like right now, but you can imagine. 

Only Yoosung sees you slipping away, and he turns, raising his eyebrows quizzically. You see Saeyoung lean forward and mutter something to him; then you’ve turned and you’re jogging, then running, making your way through the crowd of spectators on lawn chairs and picnic blankets, vision blurring as you make your way to the little blue building.

It’s not hard to find, positioned conveniently near the entrance to the park. There are five doors along the front: single occupancy bathrooms (you wonder hazily, as you pick the one on the far right and tug the door open with shaky hands, if he looked this up beforehand, or if he just noticed the building on the way in. Both are plausible).

Locking the door behind you, you breathe a huge sigh of relief. Your legs feel like jelly; you can feel your clit, swollen and hot, practically throbbing through your jeans. Your phone buzzes—and again you jump, your entire body on high alert.

“Tell me when you’re there,” he says. 

“Here,” you text back with shaky fingers.

Instantly, you feel something vibrating in your back pocket, and you almost yell aloud; you pull out the little silicone vibrator, unable to stifle a small moan. 

He’s typing again; urgently, you unbutton your jeans, sliding a finger down over your underwear. Your mind feels thick; thoughts languid, drunken.

“You know what to do with it,” he texts.

You exhale shakily, full of relief. He’s controlling the toy with his phone—you can picture him easily, eyes trained on the stage, fiddling with his phone (held discretely in one hand). Your friends are used to him doing this: always typing, checking something, his attention a million places at once. 

Oh, but if they only knew what he was doing with his phone at this very moment; the thoughts makes your knees almost give out, and you steady yourself with a hand on the wall of the dark little bathroom stall.

He’s got the vibrator on a low setting—it’s an unbelievable relief, to finally get the stimulation you’ve been craving since the game began: since you got in the car, lips shut tight, harness rubbing deliciously against your bare skin beneath your shirt.

You hiss as the pressure changes: he’s turned it up, and your hips twitch forward against your will; you’re panting—your head feels like it’s floating about a foot above your body, glittery white clouds closing in around the edges of your vision.

He texts again and you have to try three times to read it: your eyes won’t quite focus, and the heat inside has almost overwhelmed you entirely.

“Tell me if you get close,” he says. God, and you picture his face: the little half-smile as he (ah!) increases the pressure again, making the little toy buzz harder against you. Your hands shake as you try to hold it to yourself, clenching your legs together. Oh, but the clouds are edging closer: you can’t feel your feet and you know you’re gasping out loud, a painful sort of pleasure threatening to tear you apart.

He’s texting again and you grit your teeth, trying your best to read: “I bet everyone knows what you’re doing in there,” he says; and you’re sure he’s smiling now, that slow, lazy grin that’s only for you.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh—

“Almost,” you text him frantically, legs shaking hopelessly, stars dancing before your eyes; and you pray that he’ll let you come: you’re desperate to dive over that edge, feel the relief, that blissful, magical—

The buzzing stops.

“Good girl,” he texts. “Come back now.”

And you knew, of course—knew this was part of the punishment all along, expected it—but still, you feel hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes, desperation coiling within you as you obediently tug your jeans back up. You hiss as you button them—you’re so sensitive, wet and swollen, on the very cusp of orgasm. You slip the vibrator back into your pocket, groaning at the friction of your underwear against your raw clit as you shift the tiniest bit; the smallest thing, you think, could push you over the edge right now—you’re afraid you’ll come instantly if you try to walk.

But you can’t: that’s the whole point.

You feel that everyone’s eyes are on you as you stumble out of the bathroom: back through the crowds of people, using his bright hair to guide you toward your group. You make your way slowly, breath shallow, legs wobbly as you try to push back the desire bubbling inside you. And you were right, walking makes it worse: the harness chafes against your chest and your underwear rubs in all the right places; you have to pause twice to catch your breath, stilling your racing heart, pushing back the burning feeling inside as firmly as you can.

Your friends are watching the stage when you get back; Jaehee was right, you think vaguely, Zen’s costume is excellent—and it’s only once you’ve awkwardly curled yourself onto the blanket that Saeyoung leans forward, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

“You did as I asked, right, kitten?”

His whisper makes your blood sizzle in your veins. Carefully, and as discretely as you can, you nod; you feel his intense eyes taking in your obvious arousal: the way your thighs are still shaking a little, the uncomfortable way you’re sitting, thighs pressed tight together. He makes a soft little sound: almost a groan, low in his throat.

“God,” he purrs in your ear, “Don’t look so desperate for me, or I won’t be able to hold back.”

Please, you want to moan—please don’t hold back.

You nod, eyes lowered; you feel like you’re floating in a thick liquid, every cell in your body full of electricity, limbs almost numb with desperation. He pulls back—once again, his attention seems to be elsewhere (though you know it’s all on you—it always is).

You bite your lip, peeking at the paper program that’s open on the ground before you. Five acts: oh no.

The little flame at your core blazes. You hiss, quietly as you can, squeezing your legs together. Five acts—maybe two hours. You can do this.

He leans forward again, one finger pressing into your back, between your collar bones—right onto the strap of the harness. Another warning: stay still.

You can do this—you think you can.

God, you hope so.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By the end of the play, you’re a complete wreck. You feel almost drunk: mind cloudy, legs unsteady as you scramble to your feet. Someone suggests waiting for Zen, going out for drinks together; Saeyoung takes one look at you (and you know how you must look: unfocused eyes and flushed cheeks) and tells the group that you’ll have to do it another time.

Luckily, your friends’ general enthusiasm overshadows the state you’re in. You sway as you walk and Saeyoung catches you, sliding one strong arm around your waist.

“You good?” he whispers in your ear; and the fingers that brush your hair off your sweaty forehead are gentle; the act is gone for a moment, his expression concerned as he presses a hand to your cheek—rough fingers on burning skin.

You nod vaguely, leaning on him for support as you trail behind your friends. Again, you feel Saeran’s eyes on you—observing, curious. Still, he doesn’t say anything, and you silently thank him for that.

“You sure? Gimme a color, please.” He steers you toward the exit, hand steady on your waist.

“G-green,” you mutter, startled by how hoarse your voice sounds. He grins; there’s that look in his eyes again, hard and commanding.

“You’ve done so well, sweetheart,” he whispers; his breath in your ear just worsens the situation: it’s like there’s a burning coal in you now, sitting hot and heavy in your stomach. You tremble and he laughs softly. 

He handles the farewells; you hear him explaining away your silence, telling the others that you’ve been sick (you haven’t), that you’re getting over it—that you need to rest. You offer cursory hugs to your friends, cheeks hot, body stiff. Saeyoung helps you into the back seat, fingers lingering a little too long on your thigh. Your head swims—his touch feels like an electric shock.

He plays music on the way home; Saeran sits in the passenger seat, and nobody minds the silence. It’s not so strange for the three of you to ride quietly, the stereo loud, the windows rolled down. The breeze cools your burning cheeks.

Time unfurls strangely: you’re on the highway; no, now you’re in the garage; and he’s helping you out of the car, a steady hand at the small of your back; the bunker swims in and out of focus as he leads you inside—Saeran is saying something, disappearing into the living room—Saeyoung is speaking to his brother, his voice soft—and you’re in your bedroom, the door shutting with a definitive click behind you.

“So,” he says. He’s let go of you know, looking you up and down. You try to stand straight for him; your mind feels like it’s full of cotton balls (wonderful) and the hot coals inside you have dissolved into molten lava. “You did amazing, baby,” he murmurs. He comes closer, slipping a hand around your waist—his touch is gentler now, his eyes melting. 

You nod weakly and he grins.

“You can talk now,” he says; he moves closer, closer—oh, and you feel a distinct and familiar pressure against your thigh. You wonder how long he’s been hard, aroused as he’s watched you—hiding it expertly, masking his desperation with the bright persona he’s curated so carefully.

“Thank you,” you pant.

“Was there something you wanted to do, kitten?” His fingers dance over your waist; he’s unhooking the button of your jeans, laughing as you pant, keening, hips rocking desperately forward.

“Can I—please—please—will you let me come now?” you gasp, hardly knowing what you’re saying. You picture glitter raining down from the ceiling, silver and shiny and cool on your skin.

“Is that what you want?” he purrs. He walks you back, pushing you gently onto the bed. You give in entirely, letting your body melt as he adjusts you: sliding you up so you’re on your back, head comfortably cushioned by the pile of pillows.

“God, I…Saeyoung…please.”

“Say no more.”

He tugs at your jeans, pulling them down your legs in one swift motion. Then he’s crawling onto the bed beside you, sliding one hand under your shirt to feel the smooth leather straps of the harness. Through hazy eyes you see the way he’s panting, pupils dilating; he slips your underwear off, tossing it aside. Then he’s tugging up your shirt, pressing his lips to your stomach—nibbling, sucking, marking you where you’re already bruised.

As you cry out, he slips one finger between your legs, pressing gently against your impossibly overstimulated clit. He groans as he feels how wet you are; he moves his finger against you, slowly at first, and you feel that the glitter is pouring harder, faster, pooling around you—overwhelming you, carrying you away.

“Already right on the edge, aren’t you, little one?” 

You moan, fingers scrabbling hopelessly against the sheets, hips shaking uncontrollably as he flits his finger over you—finally, finally giving you what you need, fanning the flames, letting the fire burn rampant through your muscles.

He shoves the harness aside roughly, bites down where your skin is red and raw; and his finger moves faster, faster—

—and the fire rages, the glitter falls—

—stars burst, the world ends—

And, at last—god, thank god—you’re pushed over the edge, gasping out his name as your whole body shakes; he restrains you with a hand on your hip; and all you can see is the burning look in his eyes as you tremble through it, panting and gasping; falling to pieces.

You’re still shuddering as he presses his lips to your jaw, mutters in a low voice: “You are amazing, my love.”

“Saeyoung,” you say in a voice that’s reedy and thin. “Fuck me.”

He grins—and there’s pure delight on his face now. His eyes flow as he bounces off the bed, tearing off his pants with remarkable speed.

“If you insist.”

You gasp as he flips you over; you lay face-first on the bed, legs straight out behind you, and he slides a pillow under your hips. His hands are in your hair then, tugging it, lifting it off your back—then you feel his weight on your thighs, as he presses against your entrance.

“Please,” you murmur again; and he slides into you, roughly, both hands on your waist—your face is shoved hard into the mattress and it’s difficult to breathe; he groans as he rocks into you, tugging at your hair, nails on your scalp.

You can feel from the way his hips shake that he’s been pushed to the edge too—unravelled by the danger, the expectation, the delight of watching you fall apart. And he’s praising you, murmuring your name, whispering his adoration as he rocks into you—faster, faster.

He pulls out of you, flipping you around so you’re facing him; his fingers curl under the harness, eyes widening as he takes you in: you feel dizzy, swollen, sparkly; little; safe.

Then he’s inside you again and you weakly lift your legs, wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. His countenance is softening now, the scene melting away as he meets your eyes. Often he needs this: the eye contact, the tenderness, as the character he’s been inhabiting fades away.

“I love you,” he murmurs, rocking into you slowly now, a hand on your cheek, sweet gold eyes on your face.

“Love you,” you gasp, pulling him in for a kiss. His hips stutter; his shoulders shake—he comes, shivering in your arms as you move your lips against his, tongue darting out to taste him, fingers curling in his hair.

And for a moment, you stay like this: he collapses against you, your arms tight around him, his breathing unsteady.

Finally, he pulls away. He grabs a towel, gently cleans you off, a little smile playing across his lips.

“Uh, wow,” he says—and this is Saeyoung again: voice soft, eyes adoring—“that was something.”

You laugh, shaking your head. He moves closer, unhooking the harness with nimble fingers. You wince as he slips it off; your skin feels raw.

“I saw glitter fall from the ceiling,” you tell him. He’s still moving, grabbing the cream you use for bruises from the windowsill, dipping a finger into it.

“Is that a good thing?” he asks you.

“Very much yes.”

His fingers are soft as he rubs the cream onto your chest, tracing the red lines the harness has left behind. He presses his lips to your shoulder: warm and tender.

“I feel a little bad for our friends,” you say, and he grins, hair falling messily into his eyes.

“I honestly don’t think they noticed a thing.”

“I know that was technically a punishment,” you say thoughtfully, brushing his hair back off his forehead, “but, uh…”

“You wanna do that again sometime?” he asks, perking up. “Cause I definitely wanna do that again. I have another idea, where we can…”

“Later, baby.” You pull him to you and he sighs, settling in your arms, head on your chest. “But yes. Yes, I absolutely want to do that again.”

He kisses the your shoulder, where a small purple bruise is already forming.

“I adore every version of you, and every single thing you say and do,” he whispers, voice like melted chocolate. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. You kiss his lips, gentle as a summer wind. “Same goes for you.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

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[evilblot]

Ey fam, how about Silent Hill for the ask meme if you're still doing it?

Oh damn you really wanna bring the big guns to the playground uh? Let's goooooooo 🔥🔥

*Only one disclaimer though: I am not familiar with the SH community, so if I pick a character who according to the fandom doesn't fall into the category I decided to put them into... Sorry but I literally don't care, I do what I want jdbhd

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

In my restless dreams, I see that man. James Sunderland. I promised I'd stop thinking about him someday... But I never did. Well, he became my poor little meow meow now... We hang out in our 'special place'... We're waiting for you...

I also think about Valtiel and Pyramid Head. An awful lot if I might but not for the reasons y'all might think of. I love them twitchy bastards so much, I wish they would take me by the hand and show me the secret to be so fucking amazing and with a flawless lore and a character design so on spot people still talk about it to this day <3c

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

The One Truth! Nobody talks about him and it makes me sad... I mean look at him? He's so cool, his symbolism is slaying the absolute penis and ngl I'd kill to get a hug from him. I want him to pick me up and hold me gentle like the hamburger pwease <3c

Oh! Also Raw Shocks (Abstract version), they look like wet kittens in a cardboard box, so ofc I want to take them all home with me jddhd

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

Heather, or rather Cheryl Mason. I honestly don't know nor care about her being underrated or not but I really love her and how's her character is handled. She gets a lot of shit for being "annoying" but she's a angry confused teenager dropped in an unforgiving cruel world so cut her some slack please?

Also shout out to my girl Lisa Garland, I'm gonna pick you up at 7 and take you somewhere nice, you deserve a break and a proper meal bestie.

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

Douglas Cartland! He's a sad old man who lost the light in his eyes and who can be seen walking around in boxers with the help of a cheat code.... What's not to love here? <3c

Very worthy of mention is also Fukuro Lady. I still have so many questions about her... Who is she? What's her story? Is she single? 👀 You get the idea jdbdb

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

James Sunderland voted once again as wettest most pathetic littlest meow meow of them all but I'd still make out with him if left unsupervised, more at 8.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

Vincent. I'm gonna act stupid on purpose while challenging his religious theories, cackling like a mad man as he slowly goes insane trying to keep up with me.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

You know, I was about to say Claudia but fuck that, the only one who deserves to be yeeted to eeby deeby is Eddie and that's on that, no i don't accept criticism, only cash.

And we're done, sorry for the delay but this has been a real challenge ngl... Anyway, tènkius so much for the ask and sorry (<- not sorry) I desecrated this astounding piece of gaming history too with my poor life choices jdhfhdh

[goodmorninglou]

Red Thing

this is from a request by @cheesy2mac and it’s kinda trashy but i also kinda love it !! :)) anyway hope you enjoy and stuff idk have fun

pairing: larry stylinson

warnings: oblivious!lou, pining!haz, pizza, mentions of a red thing ;)

word count: 1,791

rating: let’s say PG-13

~~~~~

When Harry steps into his flat, grocery bags weighing down his arms, keys in one hand and mask in the other, one of the last things he expects to see is his roommate sitting on the floor whispering to a box of pizza.

Quarantine has been long, okay. Harry understands that. He was getting nauseatingly tired of his same four walls, honestly, and even today’s excursion to the grocer’s felt like a cross-country adventure, something new and exciting. But he’s also got a whole myriad of books, and he bought a new pack of journals to scribble lyrics and entries into, and even took up knitting for fun. He’s halfway through his first quilt. The point is that he’s got stuff to do. And, at the end of the day, Harry’s a homebody. He loves his home.

Louis, on the other hand.

Not to say that Louis didn’t love their flat, he did, and Harry knew that. But after a roughly a thousand FIFA matches, four full run-throughs of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, and a toaster fire that burnt down his house in the Sims 4, he’s. Well. He’s losing it a little.

Hence the pizza, apparently.

Louis’ eyes are bright and focused and ringed with bruise-colored bags as he lifts a piece out of the cardboard box. He’s wearing Harry’s shirt, swallowing his thin shoulders, and his legs are crossed beneath him. “Om nom nom,” he whispers, almost fanatically, messy hair forming a spiky halo around his skull. “Delicious.”

For a moment, Harry stares.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Louis barely starts, azure eyes flashing up to glance into Harry’s stunned face for half a moment before returning to his pizza, folding it in half and biting into the end. “I ordered pizza.” He says, with a full mouth that Harry shouldn’t find endearing.

That’s the real problem with quarantine. Being around Louis. No escape.

Harry snorted softly and nudged Louis’ foot as he passed. “Come help me put these away, will you?” He asks fondly, tossing his keys on the counter and setting the groceries on the floor. Their kitchen is small, commonplace for a flat in London, but it’s nice. Homey, even. Harry doesn’t know if that’s because of his mom-like wall hangings and punny dish towels, or Louis’ dishes in the sink and the crude drawing he scribbled on the fridge whiteboard. Maybe a bit of both.

Louis abandons the rest of the pizza on the floor of the front room but keeps the half-eaten one with him, pinned precariously between his teeth as he shuffles into the kitchen and heaves himself onto the counter beside where Harry is washing his hands.

“How’s the outside world?” Louis asks, reaching over to wrap one of Harry’s curls around his finger. Harry tries not to jerk away from him.

“Quiet.” Harry answered honestly. And then, “But crazy, too. No hand sanitizer again.”

Louis pouted exaggeratedly, then hopped off the counter. Harry’s shirt flies up around his waist, and Harry looks away before he can glimpse the black of Louis’ boxers, the curve of his soft thighs. “Sad. Did you get chips?”

“Yes, Louis, you told me eight times.” Harry sighs, only half-seriously, shaking his head a little.

Louis bounds over to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “You’re fantastic.”

Harry doesn’t answer. Just turns to the bags and starts unloading.

That’s the problem with quarantine. He’s falling in love with his roommate.

=====

The next day, he comes home to Louis singing songs with Harry’s knitting needles speared through his hair and a massive notepad balanced on his knees. The paper is defaced with thick Sharpie drawing of exed smiley faces and penises.

Harry doesn’t ask.

He doesn’t ask, but his heart stutters, and he shuts himself in his bedroom until the next morning.

=====

“Let’s get a cat.”

“We’re not getting a cat.”

“Please!”

“No, Louis,” Harry mutters, shaking his head a little and tapping his pen against his knee. “Haven’t you seen all those stories about people getting pets in quarantine because they’re lonely, only to realize they have no idea how to care for pets? The poor things end up in pounds, and then...” Harry’s eyes go a little misty against his own will. “Well, you know what happens then.”

Louis pokes Harry’s thigh with his toes. “Being stuck inside has made you morbid.”

“Being stuck inside has made you crazy.”

Louis leaps on him, his journal falls to the floor, and the cat conversation is forgotten until they’re far too tired and giggly to bring it up again.

=====

Screw falling. Harry’s in love with his roommate. Full, tacky, gross, fantastic love. The kind that makes his tummy knot and his cheeks flush.

And Louis’ oblivious.

=====

It all comes to a head one day, when Harry awakes to find Louis standing on the countertop in only his pants, reaching precariously for the chips on top of the cabinet and nearly tumbling to the floor in the process. His back is slim and gold and stretched and the curve of his delicate thighs are right there and when he stretches again, the bottom of his pants rides up and the pale curve of his arse is on display and.

And.

Fucking hell.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry mutters sharply, too sharply, startling Louis. Harry darts across the kitchen to grab onto his calf when he starts to slip, steadying him, and Louis makes a sound like “oh.” It’s pretty.

“Good morning, Haz.” Louis greets cheerfully, one hand splayed across the top of the cabinet, chips within reach. “How’d you sleep?”

“Why the fuck are you on the counter? What are you doing?”

Louis frowns. “Not well, I see.” He mutters. And then, holding out a hand, “Help me down.”

Harry slaps his hand away, grabs him by the hips, and lifts him down.

It’s a mistake. That much Harry knows the second he’s got Louis’ skin under his palms, warm and smooth and rolling with delicate muscle, body so small between his hands. So moveable. Louis’ hands fist in the front of his shirt, tight and unstable, and when he looks up, his cerulean eyes are wide. Shocked.

His mouth parts. Harry wants to kiss him.

“Thanks.” Louis whispers. His tongue darts between his teeth, wetting his pinkish lower lip, quick and nervous. His lashes cast shadows over his sharp cheekbones. Kiss him. Kiss him. He says again, “Thanks.”

“Crush.” Harry blurts.

The whole world goes quiet.

Louis blinks. “What?”

Harry’s going to have to start looking for flat listings.

“Crush.” He says again, flushing rose, and then crimson. “I have a crush on you. A big one. And, somehow, you going absolutely bananas during this quarantine has only made it worse.” Harry pauses. “You really have gone crazy, by the way.”

“I have not.”

“You told me you were going to start writing poems about the effectiveness of capitalism vs. communism on Wednesday.”

“Because someone has to do it!”

“No one has to do it—”

“Harry.”

He likes the way Louis says his name. It’s so soft.

“I just like you.” Harry murmured. “It was driving me crazy keeping it to myself. I tell you everything, anyway, so. Yeah. I have a crush.”

He’s still holding Louis’ hips. His hands are cold when he lets go, colder than they’ve ever felt before, and they hang uselessly at his sides like he’s forgotten how to work them. Maybe he has. Maybe his hands were made for holding onto Louis.

Louis watches him blankly, lips parted, pale eyes wide and thick with confusion. He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but nothing comes. Then, he does it again.

Harry takes a step back as his heart crumples inside his chest, like old paper. A step back is all he can take.

Louis steps forward.

“I never...” he starts, ever-so-quietly, as his gaze rakes up and down Harry’s body like he’s seeing something he never thought to look for before. He crosses his arms over his bare stomach, and then drops them. “I never thought about you like that.” He says. And then, “Before.”

“Before when?”

“Right now.”

And suddenly, his gaze sharpens, sliding with unabashed intrigue over Harry’s body, his shocked face, a smug confidence curling the edges of his mouth. His eyes glitter. Assessing. Like... like he’s deciding if Harry is good enough. If he’s interested.

This Louis, Harry knows.

It feels like years of silence before Louis laughs, gently, just a delicate sound from the base of his throat, and crosses his arms. His biceps bulge. “I’d say you have to take me on a date, but restaurants aren’t open.” He murmured.

Somewhere in Harry’s frozen chest, a heart starts beating again. “So...” he began, veins sharp and vibrating.

The smirk widens. “So, it might be in your best interest to replicate one in this kitchen. Tonight. At seven. Wear the tie I like.”

“Wear the red thing I like.” Harry shoots back, a grin breaking so far across his face that his cheeks begin to ache.

A pause. Then, “Only if you’re lucky.”

Harry grins and turns towards his room, fully prepared to sift through all of his nicest clothes and refuse to decide until he inevitably rings Niall and gets no help from him, when Louis’ hand wraps around his wrist.

They’re kissing before Harry can register the fact that he’s stopped moving.

Harry’s thought a lot about kissing Louis, clearly, considering he’s half in love and Louis is the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. But his fantasies did nothing to compare to this. This is rapture. This is Elysium. This is, over and over and over, the greatest moment of his life to date. This.

Louis’ mouth is hot and soft and wet and his hand is tight around Harry’s wrist, spasming like he isn’t entirely sure Harry isn’t going to run away. As if he could. He smells like lemon and baby powder. The whole expanse of his torso presses against Harry’s chest when Harry threads an arm around his waist, yanking him ever closer, shuddering and shivering, heart beating out of his chest. The whole world is on fire and Louis is right there and Harry’s brain is silent. His tongue brushes Harry’s lips. Parts them. Harry grabs onto his hip and squeezes. This is definitely what his hands were made for.

Louis is panting when he pulls away, one hand lying flat over Harry’s heart, like he likes the way it pounds, the other still clasped around his wrist.

Harry’s in love with him. One hundred percent.

Louis reaches up to pat his flushed cheek and grins.

“I’ll wear the red thing.”

Harry drags him in again.

[thegreatestofheck]

Do Not Stand { Outer Banks }

word count - 4.8k warnings - death (cancer related), characters dealing with the aftermaths of death, swearing synopsis - One of the Pogues passes away and leaves a message for her friends. Each of them take it a different way.  a/n - Here’s another story I have that is similar to one I’ve read. The work Bury A Friend by pogue-writings is amazing and you should check it out! This one was actually inspired by my favorite poem “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” by Mary Elizabeth Frye. I may or may not have cried a few times while writing this. Stay safe, healthy, and groovy, but don’t forget to give the people you love a tight hug. Love you guys. 

Do not stand at my grave and weep 

Kenna knew she was dying. She had known she was dying for a long time. Diagnosed with cancer in her freshman year of high school, she knew that she was living on borrowed time. And there was no way she was going to waste a single second of it. 

Partying, fishing, boating, and hanging out with her best friends, Kenna never let a day pass that she wasn’t bound to remember. John B, Pope, JJ, Sarah, and Kie lived it up right along with her, never questioning, never slowing her down. 

So, when they saw her lifeless body in the hospital room, it felt so wrong. She was always dancing, always smiling, always cracking jokes, even when she was hooked up to a machine. They had seen her in the hospital bed before, but not like this, never like this. 

Kie was already gasping through sobs, tears running down her cheeks. Pope was going to throw up, his face paling and stomach twisting. Sarah clung to the wall for support, her legs unable to keep her standing. John B couldn’t even step inside the room. He had lost too many people to lose her too. JJ, for once in his life, was dead silent. He didn’t know what words to say to make anything better. 

Kenna’s parents held tight to her younger sister, trying to stifle tears as their only remaining daughter sobbed uncontrollably. 

I am not there, I do not sleep

Kie remembered the last time she saw her friend before the cancer took a turn for the worse. Kenna had been so alive, so fierce, dancing on the HMS Pogue without a single care in the world. Knowing that her best friend was dying was different than living in a world without her in it. 

Seeing her body, pale, blue, cold, made Kie shiver. The coffin wasn’t black like one you would expect to see. It was hand carved out of red wood. Kie’s mom and dad helped pay for it. The inside was lined with a jade green, Kenna’s favorite color. She wore her favorite white dress, her nails painted a pretty pink. Hair curled perfectly, cheeks a rosy red, she looked nothing like the girl that Kie knew. 

Pope was the first to lay down a flower. He had picked them out. Holding the light purple daisy in his hand, he couldn’t help his trembling body. The preacher had gone silent, the congregation no longer singing. Setting the flower inside his friend’s casket, Pope fought back tears as he remembered the day she made him a daisy chain flower crown, claiming it made him look majestic. 

He brushed his hand over hers one last time as he stepped away, shocked by how cold she felt. 

JJ walked up with Kie, a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. They had tried to make Kenna smile, but it looked so fake, so forced. He had seen a thousand fake smiles on her face before as she smiled through the pain, but she somehow always managed to make them look real. He remembered how she used to give him a soft, kind smile whenever he went over to her house after a fight with his dad. How, even though her body was actively trying to kill her, she worked her hardest to make everyone else around her happy. 

A tear rolled off of his eyelashes, landing on her cheek. 

Sarah hadn’t known Kenna as long as the others and she would regret those lost years for the rest of her life. She hadn’t stopped crying since stepping out of the car that morning. The girl in the coffin had this ability to make Sarah laugh even when she felt like dying on the inside. Sarah wondered if she was ever going to be able to smile again.

Without Kenna, the world was so much darker. 

John B was the last to walk away. His flower was crumbling in his tight fist as he watched friend after friend place a purple daisy in the coffin. But John B couldn’t do it. He had lost his mom and then he lost his dad, he couldn’t handle losing his best friend too. He couldn’t walk up and look at her, couldn’t see the lifelessness in her eyes. He just couldn’t do it. 

A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders. He jumped, startled to find JJ’s arms around him. Pope was next, and then Sarah, and then Kie, until they were all standing there, staring at the still open coffin. Everyone else had gone, even her parents and sister. Not a single eye was dry. 

When John B finally lay his flower in Kenna’s coffin, she was nearly covered in her favorite flower. The smile on her face looked suddenly real. 

I am a thousand winds that blow 

“This is for you,” Kenna’s mother said, offering the Pogues a letter as they sat in a small circle back at her house. Tears ran down the woman’s face, dragging her make up along with it. Kie lifted a trembling hand to take the letter. She opened it slowly, all eyes now on her. She coughed, trying to clear the thickness out of her throat. 

“My friends,” she read and then coughed again. Sarah put a hand on Kie’s knee, trying to pass on what little strength she had. “My friends, we knew this time was coming. We knew our time was short. Thank you for every memory, every joyous moment. The last few years have been hard, but they would have been impossible without you. Promise me two things; first, look out for each other. Don’t neglect each other. Stick by one another as you have always done. Second, don’t cry for me. My time here was short, but it was sweet and epic and so full of love like a never ending song. Find me in the things you love and I will never leave you. Find me in the simple, mundane things and my memory will live on. I love each one of you. Kiara, Sarah, Pope, JJ, John. I carry your names with me where I’m going, so please, carry mine.” 

She didn’t sign her name. 

Kie let the paper fall from her hands, dropping to the coffee table like the last leaf fall of autumn. None of them said a single thing, silent tears running from their eyes. 

This time, it was Sarah who stood first. She couldn’t take it any more, the heavy weight that pressed against her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. She wanted to scream, to pound her fists into the dirt, to march back to Kenna’s coffin and demand that she wake up. 

Stepping out into the cool summer air, Sarah felt a breeze brush against her skin. At first, she wrapped her arms around her stomach to protect herself from the cold. But then the wind blew again, rustling her hair, pulling at the edge of her dress. A quiet wind chime sung from the neighboring house. It sounded like Kenna’s laugh. 

The first time Sarah had met Kenna, there was a tropical storm coming on fast. Sarah and her dad were running around trying to board things up so no windows would break when she spotted Kenna riding her bike out in the wind. 

“Hey!” She called, running over. Kenna stopped the bike and turned to face Sarah. 

“Hi!” 

“What are you doing? A storm’s coming in!” Even standing a few feet away from her, Sarah had to shout for her voice to be heard of the gusts. 

“Just wanted to go on a bike ride,” Kenna said, a smile on her face. 

“Come inside! You’ll get stuck out here.” Sarah gestured for the girl to follow her. 

“You sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Seriously! I doubt you’ll make it anywhere with how fast this wind is coming in.” 

“Well, alrighty then.” Kenna rolled her bike after Sarah. By the time they made it back to the house, the rain had started to pour and they were both soaked to the bone. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Kenna said as Sarah led her toward the fireplace. 

“I couldn’t leave you out there in that storm.” Sarah picked a blanket off the couch and draped it over Kenna’s shoulders. “What were you doing out there anyway?”

“Oh, you know, we only get so many of these kinds of storms in our life,” Kenna told her with a smile. “Don’t want to miss a single one.” 

Astounded, Sarah excused herself to go get a fresh set of clothes for the both of them, plus a few blankets off her bed. They spent the rest of the storm in front of the fire, talking, getting to know one another, drinking hot cocoa. By the time the rain stopped and the wind died down, both girls knew they had just found a new friend. 

Now, the wind grazed against Sarah skin and it no longer felt like a cold chill, but a gentle hug from her friend. Wrapping her arms even tighter around herself, Sarah closed her eyes, trying to stifle her sobs. Between the wind rustling the leaves and making the wind chimes sing, Sarah could almost hear Kenna’s voice once again. 

I am the diamond glints on snow 

Kie had gone to the Mainland only a few times in her life aside from day trips to Chapel Hill. Her parents took her to Minnesota once in the winter for her grandpa’s funeral. Kie didn’t want to go alone, so she took Kenna with her. 

It was the only time Kenna ever went to the Mainland. It was the only time Kenna had ever seen the snow. 

Kie and Kenna ran throughout the backyard, laughing in their layers and layers of clothes as they threw clumps of wet snow at each other. They made drooping snow men and snow angels. They slid down snow covered hills on pieces of cardboard and went ice skating on the frozen over pond without skates. In a span of only a few days, they must have taken at least a thousand pictures. 

Sitting on her bed late that night, Kie was scrolling through those same pictures on her phone, tears rolling down her cheeks. Stuffing her blanket into her mouth was the only way to keep her sobs from carrying. 

She tried to remember what Kenna said. Don’t cry for me. That was impossible. She must have known that while writing her letter. How was Kie not supposed to cry for her best friend, her ride or die? How was she supposed to not cry when the ache her chest was burning her alive? 

Swiping through the pictures, Kie tried to recall what it was like to see Kenna smile. The smile was there on her phone, but it wasn’t anything like the real thing. 

The snow glistened beneath Kenna in one picture as the girl rolled over from laughing so hard. Kie promised this picture of Kenna that she would never take advantage of the snow again. Every new experience that Kie had, she would live for Kenna. No more lounging around doing nothing. Kie was going to take every risk and she was going to take it with a smile on her face. She was going to fight for what she believed in, fight for what she wanted, harder than she ever had before. 

And no one was going to stop her. 

But despite her new determination, her sobs would not stop. There was a quiet knock at her door and she didn’t have the strength to pretend that she was okay. Her mom peeked the door open. As soon as Mrs. Carrera saw the distress her daughter was in, she walked inside the room and sat beside Kie, pulling her into a hug. 

Kie held her phone limply in her hand, the picture of Kenna still smiling up at her as she fell into her mom’s arms. At the sound of her cries, her dad came running in, pulling both Kie and her mom into a solid hug, hoping that he could squeeze the pain right out of his daughter’s heart. 

I am the sun on ripened grain 

They were supposed to be working, but the music was playing over the speaker and they couldn’t control themselves as they danced to the beat. 

JJ had Kenna by her hands, the two of them hopping back and forth, spinning, waving their arms around, whatever they felt the music pulling them to do. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Kenna and JJ to find themselves doing odd jobs together. It was kind of their thing. Kenna was usually able to keep JJ on task, but on a warm, sunny day like this, with the fresh, green, Kook grass beneath her feet, even Kenna couldn’t resist taking a break to dance along to the party music. 

It was some Kook kid’s 7th birthday. They were all out in the pool, their music blasting for what seemed like miles around. Because the parents were busy doing party things, they left JJ and Kenna to tend to the outside garden. 

The sun was beaming down on them from above, the wind just strong enough to keep them cool. Flowers bloomed brighter in the light of the sun, making the garden look more like an oasis. 

Once Kenna finally convinced JJ to get back to work, he picked up a hose claiming to go water a tree. Little did she know, as she picked up her watering can, that his intended target wasn’t the tree, but her. 

The water was cool against her skin. Welcome, but surprising. With a gasp and a smile, she called out for JJ and their play began again. She chased him around the garden, threatening to shove the hose down his throat or up his ass. He simply laughed as he ran away from her. 

By the time their work was finally done, all the flowers were in full bloom. The sunlight glistened off the water droplets, making the entire garden look like a light show. Dropping into the grass, Kenna let her laughter roll through her until it died down. JJ plopped himself onto the ground beside her, laying back to soak up the sun. 

JJ couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing at a mile a minute, wondering how he could have let this happen. There must have been something that he could have done to stop this, something that would have saved her life. If he could, he would have taken her place. She didn’t deserve to die, not when so many people cared about her so much. 

But he still heard her words in his head like his own thoughts. 

“You matter, JJ,” she whispered to him as he paced through the darkness outside. “And you have people who care about you, too. Don’t undermine yourself. Don’t regret something you couldn’t fix.” 

JJ slammed a closed fist into a tree before he could stop himself. Once the dam was broken, the flood came rushing out. Again and again he pounded his fists into the same tree, blood running down from his knuckles. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” JJ cried into the night. Pain splintered through his hands, but that didn’t stop him. It wasn’t until his cries of rage dissolved into desperate gasps for air the he actually dropped his hands back to his side. He still didn’t feel the pain. 

Dropping to the ground, he brought his knees up to his chest, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Ken, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” If she was there, that’s what she would have told him. “I’m right here.” 

I am the gentle autumn rain

Pope swept the floor of his dad’s shop, his eyes blurry with tears. He could barely see what he was doing, but doing something was better than doing nothing. He gave up on sweeping and started to pack the deliveries he would have to run tomorrow. 

The island didn’t care if his best friend had died. People still needed their damn groceries. 

Kenna danced through his mind; her smile, her laugh, her silly faces, the way she pouted her lips when she fished. 

He swallowed a strangled cry as he remembered the day they went on a hike through the woods last fall. The skies were clear when they had started their journey, packs filled with sandwiches and chips and water bottles. They were half way through their hike when the first cloud rolled over them. 

“Think we should head back?” Pope asked, watching the cloud above him warily. Kenna laughed, glancing back at him. 

“Absolutely not,” she said. 

“What if it rains?”

“I didn’t realize you were the Wicked Witch of the East, Heyward,” Kenna said in her teasing tone. Pope rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. “A little water never hurt anyone.” 

It started to rain not a few minutes later. It wasn’t heavy, large drops like the rains they got in the winter and spring. It was soft, like a thousand petals falling all at once. Kenna didn’t even flinch. She lifted her face to the sky, smile growing wider as the tiny droplets landed against her cheeks. Pope simply watched her. 

She started to turn, raising her hands ever so slightly. Pope’s cynical side couldn’t help but think about whether or not this was the last time she would feel rain against her skin and that’s why she relished in it so much. As if sensing his bad vibes, Kenna turned to look at him. 

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “We’ve got a hike to finish.” 

They never had a chance to go on another hike. Her health declined steadily after that day in the autumn rain. Pope couldn’t bring himself to wonder now if that really had been the last time she felt the rain. Thinking about it was too much to bear. 

“Son, what are you doing?” 

Pope looked up, the sudden sound of his dad’s voice startling him out of his memory. Heyward stood with his keys in his hands. Behind him, the barest hint of dawn peaked over the horizon. Pope had been here all night. 

“Just wanted to get ahead on deliveries,” Pope said, conscious of the fact that his voice was breaking. He could feel the tickle of a tear on his cheek, but he fought to keep the others swarming in his eyes at bay. 

Heyward let out a heavy sigh and set down his things, walking toward his son. With every step, Pope felt his walls start to crumble a little bit more. Until his dad reached him and enveloped him into a strong hug. Only then did Pope broke completely. 

“She’s gone.” His cries were muffled as he buried his face in his dad’s shirt. “She’s actually gone.” 

“I know, son,” Heyward said, looking up at the ceiling to keep his own tears in his eyes. “I know.” 

When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight

John B didn’t even try to sleep. He sat on the dock the entire night, doing nothing other than watch the horizon and drink a beer. At least, he held the open bottle in his hand and pretended like he was drinking it. 

He couldn’t bare to go inside his house, not when she was everywhere he looked. The kitchen still smelled like her turkey sandwiches. The bathroom was still stained from her hair dye that she used to dye her eyebrows. 

“I don’t have any hair left, so my eyebrows can be any color I want, right?” she said with a laugh. John B watched her from the bathtub, an amused smile on his face. 

The pictures of her still hung on his wall. She was in every crack, every crevice, every squeaky floorboard, every rusted nail. 

Kenna had stayed over when Big John went missing. She sat up with John B until he fell asleep, which usually wasn’t until early in the morning. She made him breakfast, no matter how many times he told her he was perfectly capable. She helped him look for his dad, hand made flyers, talked to the police when John B couldn’t stomach it. She was there by his side through it all. 

And the morning that Ms. Lana came by the house to tell him what had really happened, Kenna was there too. She stayed up with him, holding him as he cried and emptied his guts. He had always held out hope that Big John was alive. Without him, John B wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do. But every anxiety, every fear, every worry, Kenna quelled just by being there. 

When the sun rose in the morning, the rooster crowing and the birds flying between the trees, Kenna was still there, asleep by his side. 

John B couldn’t go back inside and sleep because when he woke up, he would expect to see her there and he knew she wouldn’t be. He remembered that morning feeling all too well when he could almost forget that his dad was gone for good. He couldn’t go through that again, not without Kenna there to help him. 

So, instead, he stared at the horizon, watching the sun rise higher and higher, flooding the marsh and the Chateau with light. The rooster crowed. The birds flew back and forth between the branches. But Kenna wasn’t there to enjoy it with him. 

The dock creaked as someone walked toward him. For half a moment, John B let himself hope that it was her. 

But it wasn’t. 

JJ sat beside him with a sigh. John B looked down and saw the bruises and cut skin of his knuckles. He didn’t need to ask what happened. He knew well enough. Finally taking a drink of the beer, he looked back out to the marsh. 

“I had an idea,” JJ said, his voice gravelly. 

“Yeah?”

“We should give her a proper Pogue send off,” JJ said, slipping the beer bottle out of John B’s hand to take a drink from it himself. “Go out on our boards, lay her to rest in the ocean.” 

John B’s eyes had been dry the entire night, refusing to accept that she was gone. But hearing JJ’s words made it seem so real. The tears came fast and they came hard. He nearly doubled over as sobs shook his body, pressing the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his mouth. 

“Come on,” JJ whispered, putting his arm around his friend and pulling him closer. John B put his arms around his friend. Both of them were grateful for the comfort of another. 

The birds started to sing. 

I am the soft stars that shine at night 

They all met at the beach that night. There was a bonfire, s’mores, music. Kie brought her ukulele. Sarah sang a song, the others mumbling along with her. 

“Did you bring it?” JJ asked Kie when the singing died down. She nodded and reached for her backpack. With shaking hands, she pulled out a small, metal box.

“It’s safe for the ocean environments,” she murmured, her lower lip trembling as she looked at it. 

“It’s perfect,” Sarah said, reaching out and putting an arm around Kie. 

“Everyone bring their thing?” John B asked, poking at the fire with a stick. Each of his friends answered in turn, reaching for pockets and bags to pull out what they had brought for Kenna. 

JJ pulled one of his woven bracelets off of his wrist, rolling it between his fingers like a blunt. For half a second, it looked like he was going to toss it into the fire. Instead, he looked up at Kie. 

“She made this for me when we were kids,” he said, his voice thick with feeling. “Never took it off.” 

“Shouldn’t you keep it? To remember her by?” Kie asked. JJ looked at the bracelet and shook his head with a heavy sigh. 

“No. I think she needs it more than I do now.” Without another word, he leaned forward and placed the blue and black bracelet into the metal box. 

Sarah held a little ceramic bird in her hand. 

“We went thrifting this one time,” she said and gave a small shake of her head. “Kenna and I got these matching birds, but mine broke so she gave me hers.”

Placing the small bird into the metal box, Sarah blinked back a heavy downpour of tears. Kie plucked a guitar pick out of her pocket. She looked at it with a small smile on her face.

“We were gonna make a double album together,” Kie said, her voice breaking as she fought off tears. “We got some stuff recorded but, I guess the rest will just have to come with her spirit.” 

She dropped the pick into the metal box and it hit the bottom with clunk. 

Pope stood, clearing his throat. He walked over to Kie, who held the box in her hands. He fiddled with something, looking down at it as if he wasn’t ready to part with it quiet yet. 

“Ken...she used to held me study. She and I had a bet that I wouldn’t be able to one single pencil until I couldn’t sharpen it anymore and, well-” Pope lifted up the small pencil, barely more than a nub. He looked up the stars above. “Guess I won.” 

He put the pencil nub into the box and returned to his seat. John B was next, he knew as much. Kie and Pope watched him carefully, expectant. But JJ and Sarah looked away. 

“Kenna told me once that she wanted to be an astronaut,” John B said after a long silence. JJ looked over at him. “She wanted to fly among the stars.”

John B felt tears start to gather in his eyes and so he looked up, met with the beautiful expanse of the universe above. Kie leaned over and put a hand on his knee as it bounced up and down. John B let out a teary gasp as he dropped his head back down, eyes closing. 

“We found this once when we were out here,” he said after a while, holding up a small, shiny rock. “She said it looked like a fallen star. Said there was a wish locked inside of it. When my dad went missing, she gave it to me and told me to use it whenever I hit my lowest. So, Kenna?”

He looked up again, closing the rock into his fist. 

“I want to wish for you to come back. I want to wish for you to beside us again, beside me again. But I won’t.” He brought the rock to his lips. “I wish that you’re at peace. I wish that you know how much you meant to us. I wish that you know we’re going to be okay. Yeah, we’re gonna be okay.” 

John B dropped the rock into the box and Kie closed it shut. JJ stood, plucking his surfboard out of the sand. One by one, the others did the same. Kie held the box close to her chest as they rode out to the water beyond the swells. It was a calm night, the moon watching over them as they floating in the water. 

No one said anything as they sat. Kie planted a kiss onto the top of the box and then handed it to Pope, who did the same. Around the circle it went, receiving a small kiss from each of Kenna’s friends. Once it was back in Kie’s hands, she held it over the water, hands still shaking. She was supposed to drop it, to let it sink beneath the water and into the depths below, but she couldn’t do it. Not alone. 

John B reached out and took some of the weight. JJ was next, then Sarah, and then Pope, until all of them held onto their last bit of Kenna. They gave no signal, but when Kie let out one, steady breath, they all let go together. 

Kenna’s box sunk, disappearing into the dark in moments. Sarah tried to choke back a sob. 

Now, every time they surfed these waves, a piece of Kenna would still be there, watching over them. 

Do not stay at my grave and cry 

They made it back to shore, tears drying on their faces. And they spent the rest of the night reminiscing, laughing, drinking Kenna’s favorite lemonade, eating s’mores in the way she liked best. 

Not a single tear more was shed. 

The stars twinkled above them, the night owls calling in the distance. Wind blew gentle through the trees, the sand below their feet glinting in the moonlight like snow. Sounds of rain pattered somewhere in the distance, the plants around them rustling. 

I am not there; I did not die

[sugar-kisser]

Here I come with my requests. I’m in a really angsty mood lately, but fluff at the same time(?) So I was thinking about an wooyoung angst scenario, like him not appreciating y/n and cheating on her, with a Yunho fluff ending, being the puppy he is. Cuz let’s be real, Yunho is pure boyfriend material

( I’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve had so many other things going on, but I hope you enjoy! I’m trying to stay as active as I can!! )

PANCAKES & SUNFLOWERS

warnings: cussingfeaturing: Jongho

Nothing hurt more than to see him holding her hand, laughing at something she said, and lightly kissing her lips. You can almost feel his lips ghosting over yours as you watch them from the other side of the road. You weren’t suppose to run into them; that was never the goal. You simply had errands to run while Wooyoung was at his ‘practice’, but you quickly realize his lie. 

You stand on the edge of the sidewalk and when Wooyoung turns his head after catching something familiar in the corner of his eye, his smile drops. But it doesn’t drop to shock or to a face of a child being caught with candy they aren’t suppose to have. But it’s a rather cold-look. The look alone freezes your heart and it weighs down in your chest. A cold winter breeze brushes your face and you can feel the warm tears on your cheeks suddenly cool.

You watch as the two continue walking down the other side of the road and you turn to continue about your day if you can. Your eyes glue to the ground and you find yourself walking the two miles back to your apartment, but you don’t really pay much attention. A car horn breaks you out of deep thought and you look up at the annoyed driver, who honks again. You quickly finishing crossing the street so the impatient driver can make their turn. You look up and stare through your wet and clumped eyelashes at your apartment, and someone running towards you.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice calls out to you. You watch the tall boy rush up to you, grabbing you by your biceps before quickly looking over you.

“Are you okay? You almost got hit,” the boy asks. You stare blankly ahead of you, at his shirt, but you don’t focus on it.

“Y/N?” He calls out to you. He bends down to reach eye level with you and that’s when he see’s your red puffy eyes. He mumbles a ‘come on’ before lightly tugging your arm, pulling you towards the apartment complex. He pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocks the door to his apartment before pulling you in. The warm air fights against your cold skin in order to warm you up. He guides you to his couch and pulls you down to sit next to him. He turns away from you to grab his large fuzzy blanket from the back of his couch and wraps it around you to warm you up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks while also knowing that if you’re really upset about something you might want alone time before talking to anyone. You very subtly shake your head no and the boy pulls his lips to a thin line, understanding and respecting your decision.

“Stay as long as you want. I’ll be at the dinning room table finishing my project,” he tells you, lightly laying his hand on your upper back. He stands up before removing his hand and walking towards his cluttered table. Colored paper, glue, cardboard, pencils, markers, and scissors litter his table but he manages with the space to work.

You stay on his couch, slowly beginning to feel warm under the blanket that’s trapping all the heat it can. You stare ahead at a spot on the white wall next to the flat screen television. In the corner of your eyes you can see your miserable state through the dark screen on the TV screen, but at this point you don’t care how you look. You never really did most days anyway, so why would you now? 

In your mind events play over in your head. Starting from some of your happiest memories that you and Wooyoung created together all the way till you noticed him starting to get busier and busier with his work. The past month he would stay late at his dance studio, or at least that’s what he would tell you. You began to notice the smell of someone else’s perfume on his but you brushed it off considering that he work with female dancers and they are always working for different entertainers which means different types of routines to learn. So you brushed off any thought of him not being loyal, but now you wish you had talked about it with him. You begin to wonder what Wooyoung was really doing all those times he came home late or when he missed your dates. Was he with her? Was he with another girl? 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when a warm mug is placed into your hands. You mumble a barely audible ‘thank you’ and the boy walks back towards his table.

“Don’t think about it too much,” he tells your from his table, “I know whatever happened isn’t good. But I’m sure it’s not your fault.” But what if it was? Had you said something? Had you done something wrong? Did you not give him enough of your attention or time?

“Y/N. You’re doing it again,” he calls to you. You look over to him and see him softly smiling at you before looking back to whatever he was doing before and continuing. You look down at your mug and notice your favorite drink, hot chocolate, and you bring the cup to your lips before taking a sip. You take a deep breath and finally looking around the room, to distract yourself from your thoughts. Your eyes lay back on the boy at the table and you find it in yourself to stand up and walk over to him. You take a seat quietly next to him.

“Hi,” he whispers as he brightly smiles at you before looking back to the paper he’s writing on with a marker.

“What is the project for?” You ask him quietly.

“It’s for my history class. We could pick anything to present. So I chose Greek mythology,” he explains to you. You almost perk up at the mention of Greek Mythology because you love it so much. It’s your favorite thing to learn about. You even teach the young kids in your class about Greek Mythology.

“I was actually going to ask you to help me with some parts. But you don’t have to,” he awkwardly chuckles.

“I wouldn’t mind helping you if you want it. You know I love this topic,” you tell him.

“I know you do,” he agrees and hands over a couple pieces of paper, “can you go over all of these and make sure they’re all correct?” You nod your head and take the sheets of paper and begin reading over the Greek Gods. You grab a pencil and make the necessary changes to the paper.

“You did some pretty good research. Only a couple things I’ve added,” you tell him handing back the paper. His eye’s widen when he sees the scribbled paper.

“A couple?” He asks looking over at you causing you to slightly laugh.

“Use whatever you want of it. Just wanted to add as much as I could. Your project is going to look so cool,” you tell him. He laughs and sets the papers to the side before handing you blank sheets of copy paper and markers.

“Can you draw symbols that represent the gods and goddesses?” He asks.

“Yeah!” You answer quietly but happily and look at the list of names and begin to sketch out all the different little symbols.

The two of you sit work for the rest of the night in a nice silence, occasionally talking to one another about the project. At some point you fall asleep, your head resting on the table. The boy next to you smiles softly at your sleeping figure. He slightly shakes you and when you half wake up he helps you over to the couch and you fall back asleep as soon at your head hits a pillow, causing him to silently laugh. He drapes a soft blanket over you and returns back to his almost finished project.

The next day you wake up and leave a goodbye note before returning to your apartment next door. Your mood instantly drops smelling Wooyoung. You take a deep breath and walk into your kitchen and flip on the light. You set your bags on the counter from the previous day and you turn to face towards the living room. You quickly walk off into your bedroom and when you walk into your closet you heart drops even further and all the horrible things you were feeling flood in again. All his clothes are gone. You quickly walk into your bathroom and it was half empty. He must of cleared out last night, you thought. You were happy you weren’t home then and next door for the evening. What if he had brought her over, and you not only had to face him but her as well?

You take in another deep breath and head back into your closet and pull out one of the old moving boxes. You open it and bring it out into the living room. You quickly begin taking all the picture frames from the room and putting them into the box. You also take all the small little knick-knacks you bought for each other and place them into the box as well. You hear a knock at the door and you call for whoever to come in recognizing the knock.

“Hey do you wan- what are you doing?” your neighbor asks.

“I’m trying to suppress memories,” you tell him as you continue to place items into the box.

“Y/N, what happened yesterday? Did he-“ he asks only causing you to turn around and your tear stained cheeks is a good enough answer for him.

“Oh Y/N,” he quickly walks up to you, wrapping you into a bear hug and you begin to actually cry. Your body shakes and you grip his arms to hold yourself up.

“I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this,” he tells you and he runs his hand down the back of your head.

“But what if I did?” You ask him.

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, “you don’t deserve anything horrible. You work your ass off and care so much for the people you love. You deserve nothing but happiness and good things to come your way.”

“You think?” you ask gripping his arm just slightly tighter as if you’re holding on to your last string of hope.

“I know that,” he answers, “it’ll hurt right now…. but it’ll get better over time. So please don’t give up. It will get better, I promise you.” You slow your crying and just stand in his arms hoping that it could get better from there. You can only hope he’s right.

————

Wednesday morning you walk back into your small classroom, a group of kindergarteners following you.

“Miss Y/N! Look! You have flowers!” One of your students squeals pointing to your desk as you stand at the door, holding it open for all of your students. Once they all take their respective seats, you close the door, and walk over to your desk almost baffled.

“Who are they from!?” Another student calls.

“Is it Wooyoung?” another student calls out and you feel a knife plunge in your heart slightly.

“I don’t think it’s Wooyoung, honey. We are not together anymore,” you tell your students with a soft smile, blinking back the oncoming tears. You takes the little enveloped card and open the card. ‘Thank you so much for the help. Everyone loved my project. I owe you. Midnight breakfast Friday? -Yunho’

“Yunho,” you whisper smiling.

“It was a boy!” Another student screams causing the rest of the class to get restless.

“Okay, okay!” You call to your students who instantly calm down, “it was from a friend. It’s a thank you letter. Which is what we are going to practice for the rest of the day. Christmas is coming up so we need to practice our thank you letters for the people who give you gifts.” You set the little letter on top of your laptop and grab the stack of cute christmas themes lined paper and begin handing them out to your students as they pull out their pencils. You then write a template out on the white board of a letter the kids can write and sit at your desk after letting them know if they have any questions they can come to you. You take a seat at your desk and look over the flowers and smile. 

Yunho had even managed to get your favorite flowers, sunflowers. How did Yunho know your favorite flowers are sunflowers? Had he asked you before? The thought makes you think about how Wooyoung could never remember that you liked sunflowers. He’d always mistake them for yellow daisies…. which you are allergic to daisies, how fortunate. You wonder how he could never remember that daisies are the one thing you happen to be allergic too.

“Miss Y/N?” A student quietly calls to you as he stands at the end of your desk. You snap out of your thoughts and smile to the young boy awaiting for his question.

————

You walk down the hallway to your apartment, the vase of flowers in one of your hands and keys in your other.

“I’ll take it as you got my flowers?” Yunho asks popping his head out his apartment door.

“I did. Thank you,” you smile turning your head to look back at him as you unlock your apartment door. You push open your door and walk in, Yunho quickly following behind you.

“So are you agreeing to go out for midnight breakfast?” Yunho asks as he leans again your kitchen bar counter as you place the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Sure. I’ll go to midnight breakfast with you,” you answer as you look at the flowers, which prompts a question, “how did you know that I love sunflowers?”

“Oh,” Yunho’s cheeks slightly blush and he scratches the back of your head, “I’ve noticed that whenever he brought home flowers you would get sick, and you own a lot of sunflower-like items. Your school folder, your favorite summer dress, that painting.” Wow, you had no idea Yunho paid attention to all the little details, it makes you wonder if Wooyoung ever did.

“Well I know you have papers to grade, and your show is on in an hour. I’ll let you be. But for Friday, wear pjs!” Yunho smiles before seeing his way out of your apartment. You slightly smile to yourself and look back at the sunflowers sitting in the vase. You twirl a petal lightly between your fingers, carefully to not pluck it.

————

You check the clock and watch as the time slowly ticks on. You’ve been ready for an hour, but you still have 45 minutes to go. You would prefer 45 seconds with how slim your patience is running. You pat down your candy apple red pj bottoms. You wonder if your pjs are too childish to wear. I mean your pj bottoms has a crown pattern on them while your long sleeved top is fuzzy, both inside and out, and has ‘princess of everything’ with a crown on it. But they’re the only real pj set you have; usually you just wear a giant hoodie to bed… but you can’t exactly wear that out to a midnight breakfast, or really anywhere outside your apartment. 

A knock interrupts your thoughts and you stand up and quickly head to the door.

“Hey,” Yunho greets, “I didn’t really want to wait 45 minutes. So I thought I’d see if you’re ready?”

“Yeah,” you nod your head, “let me just grab my coat and shoes.” You leave the door open and Yunho steps inside from the cold hallway. You quickly slip on your shoes and grab a winter coat. You grab your keys and the two of you leave after locking your door. Yunho guides the two of you to his car, and he opens the car door for you to get in. You thank him and he quickly closes the door and gets in on the drivers side. He quickly turns everything to do with heat on in his vehicle before pulling out onto the thin covered snow ground and drives towards the small pancake house a few miles away.

“How was you class today? Today was the last day before winter holiday, right?” Yunho asks.

“Yeah, the kids were really hyper,” you laugh recalling on how the kids ran around screaming almost the entire day, “but I guess that’s what you get when you plan a Christmas party.”

“You held a Christmas party and didn’t invite me?” Yunho asks, dramatically offended causing you to laugh.

“I’ll invite you to our next party,” you promise through your small laughing fit.

“You better,” Yunho continues, “Which movie did you show to them.”

“That new Grinch movie. It’s so cute,” you tell him.

“I still haven’t seen it. I think my brother is going to make me watch it when I go home for Christmas,” Yunho explains.

“It’s really good,” you tell him, “I’m no film critic but it’s one of the best Christmas movies I’ve ever seen.” Yunho smiles listening to you talk about the movie. He turns into a small lot and parking in one of the few parking spots.

“The diner doesn’t even look open,” you lean forward to look around through the windshield.

“Technically it’s not. But I know the owner and he owe’s me a favor,” Yunho brightly smiles as he turns off the car, “let’s go.” He steps out of the car and waits for you to get out as well before locking his car and he opens the door for you. The warm air hits you quickly from the cold rush of hurrying from the car to the door.

“Oh, Jongho!” Yunho calls as soon as the door closes behind him.

“You are early,” Jongho comes out of the back room and smiles when he see’s you, “Y/N! You didn’t tell me you were bringing Y/N!”

“Hi Jongho. I didn’t know you owned a pancake house,” you greet the boy.

“My parent’s do. I just work here,” he explains.

“How do you two know each other?” Yunho asks completely baffled.

“Y/N and I grew up down the street together and we went to school together for a little while too. Now she’s teaching my niece,” Jongho explains. Yunho’s mouth shapes to an ‘o’ and nods his head.

“Well this will be less awkward introducing people,” Yunho laughs.

“Sit where ever. I’ll be out in a moment. I’m still turning on a couple things,” Jongho shoo’s you two towards the seated area. Yunho takes off his coat and takes yours as well and rest them over the backs of bar chairs near the door and you decide on a booth by the window to watch the light snow fall outside.

“Okay. You don’t get to pick your drinks. I already brought you hot chocolate,” Jongho sets two rather large mugs on the table, “what do you guys want to eat?”

“Can I get some waffles?” Yunho asks mischievously.

“You’re in a damn pancake house and you ask for waffles,” Jongho takes a deep breath, “move tall boy I’ll go on a date with Y/N instead if you want to act like this.” You burst out laughing when Jongho tries to push Yunho over and the two push up against each other with their shoulders. Jongho gives up and look over to you as he brushes himself off.

“Y/N what would you like?” Jongho asks smiling as if nothing just happened.

“I’ll take blueberry pancakes,” you answer, “three please.”

“Anything for you,” Jongho smiles sweetly before turning to Yunho again, “better think wisely or I’ll spit in your food.” You almost choke on you hot chocolate causing you and the boys to laugh.

“Surprise me,” Yunho tells him. Jongho pats Yunho’s back before heading back into the kitchen.

“He’s really something else,” Yunho states.

“He’s still the same old Jongho,” you tell him before a short silence falls over the two of you.

“How was your day? I didn’t even ask you earlier,” you ask.

“I didn’t do much. I finishing up my last assignment for a class. Then I watched a lot of Netflix,” Yunho explains, “so today was slightly boring because I was waiting for midnight to come but time wanted to drag on.”

“Poor Yunho,” you tease as you lightly laugh.

“Well glad to see you’re at least feeling better,” Yunho smiles.

“I still do think about him. It hasn’t been long at all. But I’m not as upset as I should be. We were together almost a year,” you could feel your mood drop just thinking about him.

“Hey,” Yunho lightly places his hand on top of yours, “you don’t need a crusty bitch like him.” You burst out laughing at how serious Yunho sounded saying such a ridiculous phrase. Yunho smiles in content with his little action of making you laugh. He only ever wants to see your smile and hear your laugh. You deserve to be happy and maybe if Yunho tries a little harder he can finally be the reason for your happiness.

“Here are your pancakes,” Jongho places two plates down in front of you and then brings over different flavors of syrups for you to use, “I’ll be in the back. Yell if you need anything.” You both thank the boy before he disappears behind the kitchen doors. The two of you quickly dive into the warm milky pancakes and finish in no time.

———

“Alright kids!” You call over your class, “are we all ready to pass out Valentine’s?” The twenty kindergarteners cheer and hurry to their backpacks that are hanging up on the back wall and pull out their bags of valentines and candy. You walk over to your desk and pick up the large box of little goodie bags you, with the help of Yunho, made the night before. Once the kids were all back in their seats and you made sure the room was cleared so no kids would trip, and then you send them off to fill up everyone’s valentines box. 

In the middle of the madness your classroom door opens and a tall boy walks in, startling the kids at first but they all cheer when they see him.

“Miss Y/N! Yunho’s here!” The kids cheer.

“Hi Yunho,” you smile walking up to the tall giant and giving a small hug.

“Yunho what are you hiding?” One of the kids calls as she looks at his hand which is behind his back. Yunho slightly blushes and pulls out a bouquet of sunflowers and presents them to you.

“For me?” Your cheeks lightly turning pink, “thank you.” You accept the flowers and the two of you move towards your desk and out of the kids way so they can continue to passing out valentines.

“How has your morning been?” Yunho asks as he takes a seat in one of the small chairs by your desk.

“Hectic. They are so hyper,” you laugh, “how is your morning?” 

“I barely slept last night so I’m running on one of those five hour energy drink-shot-things,” he answers.

“I’m sorry to hear. Why couldn’t you sleep?” You ask.

“Just nerves,” Yunho smiles, “its’ nothing big.” He laughs and when the two of you notice that it’s slightly gotten quieter you look over to see your students back at their seats talking to each other, eating candy, and showing off their valentines.

“Alright, who is ready for my Valentines?” You ask the students who instantly cheer. You go to pick up the box but Yunho beats you to it and he follows you around as you hand out all the little goodie bags to your students. When you return to your seat you plug your computer into the overhead projector and pull up the movie Tangled and begin it. You and Yunho return to your desk and quietly chat.

“Hey what are you doing tonight?” Yunho asks.

“Probably watching tv and cooking dinner for myself, why? What’s up?” You answer.

“I was wondering if you would like to go on a date?” Yunho looks down and then back up at you, his cheeks and ear slightly pink. The question completely catches you off guard and you blush a mad red, but break into a big smile.

“I would actually really like that,” you tell him, and when you answer you feel an erupting feeling of butterflies in your stomach. As if they all broke out of the cage you were keeping them in

“Oh, good,” Yunho awkwardly laughs with a biggest smile, “I know the perfect little pancake house we can go to.”

“With the same little strong sassy baby at?” You tease on causing you both to laugh. You slow you laugh down and watch as Yunho does the same. He’s quickly distracted by the movie but you can’t help but to stare at your neighbor who picked up your broken heart that Wooyoung left. The same heart you didn’t want to touch, or anyone to touch, but Yunho insisted anyway. In the train of your thoughts, Yunho subconsciously intertwines one of his hands with your across the desk as he keeps his focus on the movie. Your lips pull into one of those smiles where you don’t want to smile like an idiot but you still manage to have a sweet smile plastered to your face. You take a silent deep breath in and exhale with the content feeling that everything id right where it needs to be in this very moment, and you wouldn’t ever want to change it for the world.

PART 2

[asdfghjilysm]

Take care of yourself, please

After a full week of irritation about your fever and runny nose, you suddenly wish you'd stay ill forever.

pairing: crush!eunsang x reader

genre: fluff? I guess

word count: 1,148

Autumn has just started and you already got sick. Sudden drop of temperature outside, rain and your still summer clothes didn't go well together making you stay covered with blankets and tons of used tissues for a solid week. Rewriting your friend's notes from school took you just an hour or two every day, studying - next two or three hours and the rest of the time you were spending watching new films and series on Netflix, with cup of hot tea with lemon and honey, or a bowl of chicken soup made by your mom.

You were right in the middle of watching this random drama and even though the plot was extremely predictable, your eyes started getting wet and before you could even control your body, a river of tears poured over your cheeks. And runny nose really wasn't helping. Quickly you realised you were running out of tissues.

And just when you got up, with snot growing under your red nose, eyes swollen and all teary you heard the doorbell. You knew your mom's home so you didn't really care thinking it must be her friend, a neighbour or a postman. You walked out of your room and went straight to the bathroom to get a roll of toilet paper - a substitute for tissues.

"Y/n! Someone came to visit you!" your mom shouted making you let out a heavy sigh.

"What the fuck" you mumbled to yourself. You looked into the mirror - face looking like you were at least stung by dozen of bees, hair completely dishevelled, old stretched t-shirt and tracksuit pants. Perfect outfit to expel a guest.

"I'm so sorry but I don't feel like meeting anyone today" you said walking out of the bathroom and heading to your room, not even looking at the door's direction.

"I just came across to check if you're alright" a familiar voice rang making you freeze "and to give you notes from school because your/friend's/name was absent today".

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" was repeating endlessly in your head. "Why him, out of every single person in my class" you thought not daring to give him a single look.

"Excuse me for a second" you almost shouted and quickly entered your room. Your mom just laughed, and he also did so, a little nervously.

You tore off a sheet of toilet paper and wiped the disaster under your eyes and nose. Then you grabbed a hair brusher trying to make you look a little bit less tragic. In the last second you made your bed in case the worst idea would be born in his or your mother's head. You sighed as you walked out of your room.

"Hi once again" he said and that's when you finally dared to look at him.

You felt like a literal piece of shit when you saw your crush! Eunsang, standing in the front door, with bangs prettily covering his forehead, perfectly ironed school uniform shirt paired with a tie peeking from under unzipped jacket, sweet smile on his ethereal as usual face and two cups of some hot drink placed in a cardboard holder in his hand.

Wait. Two cups?

A whole dictionary of swear words started playing repeatedly in your head as you smiled sheepishly and responded: "Hi Eunsang, that's so nice of you, but I really don't feel well today."

The smile on his face disappeared but quickly it came back. "I understand" he said, his voice as soft as a marshmallow. "Then I'll just leave you my notebooks so you can rewrite the notes. Call me when you're done and I'll come to take them back" he added giving you a heart-melting smile and warm gaze that made your heart flutter.

"I'm really thankful" you responded, still staying next to your room, not making a single step forward the front door but also not breaking the eye contact with him even for a millisecond.

Your mom closed the door behind him, let him go into the living room and went back to the kitchen where she was making you another bowl of soup.

"Oh! And I grabbed you some hot tea so you can get warm. It's really cold and windy outside" he said taking a few steps towards you. You slightly backed in your room's direction but he was faster and now he was standing definitely less than one meter away from you. From this distance, it was impossible not to notice the redness of your nose and dark circles under your eyes, contrasting with your unusually pale skin, caused by the illness.

He looked at you with concern and you could swear your heart was about to jump out of your chest any second.

"Shall we go to your room?" he asked after giving you one of the cups, making your eyes wide open and mind completely blank. To your room? With him? What?

"Or should I just leave my notebooks here?" he continued, noticing your confusion.

You clenched your teeth and formed your mouth in a rectangular shape. Even though you made your bed, the mountain of tissues and pile of dirty dishes were still there and you definitely didn't want anyone to see it, especially Eunsang. Fortunately, he quickly understood your expression and turned back, making his way to the coffee table in the middle of the living room. He put down the cup holder and took off his backpack.

He started stacking his notebooks, explaining which notes are more or less important etc. but honestly you didn't care even a little bit, admiring his prince worthy side profile, slightly covered with his hair now as he was bending but it only made him look more handsome. You wondered how does it feel to caress his soft cheek, to run your hand through his fluffy hair, to kiss his plump lip-

"Alright?" his question quickly brought you down to earth. You just nodded and took a sip of your tea, having completely no clue what he was asking about.

"Okay, so I'm not taking more of your time then. You must be dreaming about going back to your bed" he laughed quietly. "If you need help with anything, just text or call me."

"Sure. Thank you so much" you answered with a smile, looking again into his beautiful sparkly eyes.

"Then... Bye, y/n" he wore his backpack again and waved his right hand, picking up the cup holder with the left one. "And goodbye Mrs!" he added subtly bowing towards the kitchen, where your mom was cooking.

You walked him to the door and as he pressed the doorknob, he turned back to you and looked straight into your eyes with something you would definitely describe as affection.

"Take care of yourself, please" he whispered and went out, leaving you with fluttering heart and butterflies in your stomach.

[bubblyani]

Birthday Girl (Eddie x Reader)

Eddie Brock One Shot

Genre: Smut, covered with the right amount of Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Content

Author’s Note: It’s my birthday today and thought of giving you all a gift instead. I imagine Eddie must be pretty great with birthdays. So here’s a gift worthy Eddie One Shot for anyone’s birthday. Happy Birthday to whoever reads this on their birthday. And if not, who cares? Eddie all day everyday am i right?

P.S: Eddie’s Grey T-shirt was quite inspirational.

“This week is fucking terrible!"

You finally decided to let out what was really on your mind, and you did it with the same intensity you spitted out the toothpaste foam out your mouth. As he watched you with concern, Eddie resumed brushing his teeth.

"It's that bad huh?" he asked, to which you nodded to his reflection in the mirror, sighing.

"I just..." you began, gulping in some water, rinsing out the remaining toothpaste, then spitting out the rest, "...I guess there are too many things, which are falling on top of one another I...I feel so overwhelmed" you continued, picking up the hairbrush. "Look! Look at me!" you pointed at your own sulking face, "I can’t undo this expression...I think…I think I have a resting unhappy face" you joined Eddie, sniggering at your own line, yet still not breaking your expression. 

"Come on Y/N!” Eddie made an attempt of comfort, “ It's gonna be alright..." He wiped his mouth with a towel, watching you fall on the bed with a muffled frustrated noise. 

"You know what tomorrow is right?" He sat on the bed, taking the brush off your hand. Your eyes widened seconds after looking at him.

"SHIT! I have that meeting in the morning...fuuuuuckk", you groaned in total frustration, slowly moving towards Eddie. Shaking his head, Eddie watched you lay your head on his lap, as he gently stroked your hair, making you fall asleep in an instant.

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

Stirring, you slowly opened your eyes to find Eddie smiling as he lay next to you. It was quite obvious that he had tucked you in last night, when you dozed off with no warning. And if that was the case, then you were not surprised to see Eddie up early this morning.

"Mornin' beautiful" he whispered. You stretched sleepily, 

"Mornin' Mr-I'm-a-catch" you whispered back, in a throaty voice. Eddie chuckled at your lame joke. You enjoyed what you saw, while you cleared your throat and slowly sat up.

"Why are you up this early?" you asked, stretching your arms lazily. Eddie sat up alongside you. 

"You know what today is right?" he repeated the question with much excitement. "Yeah...I have a meeting..." you answered sulkily, still unaware "...but why-" 

"It's your Birthday, silly!" Eddie cut you off, his eyes shining. Your jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Oh my god, it is...I totally forgot" you covered your mouth, both ending up in laughter. "But seriously though..." recovering from the laughter, you continued, "What's the point? I'm just getting old anyways...It’s not a big deal" you looked at Eddie, who moved closer to you.

"I don't care...it's my girl's special day...Happy Birthday babe" he purred, his lips connecting yours in a peck. You felt your cheeks turn red, "Thank you..." you replied shyly, getting greedy for another kiss. Hands finally rested on his face as Eddie pulled you over to straddle him. Noses gently brushed against each other, each of Eddie’s kisses ending with a soft “Happy Birthday”.  Thanking each one, you ran your fingers through his soft and messy bed hair you loved. Those fingers impatiently moved to his soft grey t-shirt as Eddie gently rubbed your back. You were in bliss; with all this sweetness, it was just perfect.

 "This is just wonderful Eddie, Thank you", your tone was gentle, as you cupped his face, unwillingly making up your mind to crawl out the bed. But, suddenly you felt his hold get tighter, “No…babe, don't go…please,” Eddie pleaded, kissing you again, to which silently thanked chance. Especially when those short and sweet kisses, turned into ones that felt hot and long. Mouths were opened, and tongues made sweet contact, and you felt a rush of excitement, that fully woke you from that previous sleepy state. 

"God...you're so beautiful", Eddie breathed, marveling at the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips. Latching his lips on your jawline, you caught your breath as he proceeded to kiss you down the neck. Those words had a bigger effect on you, as you gasped, when Eddie’s hand crawled under your oversized t-shirt. Stroking your abdomen along the way, he finally rested his palm on top of your right breast. "Oh Eddie...” you moaned, body reacting in sensitivity when his thumb generously ran over the nipple, till it was erect. With his face pressed against the cotton of your shirt, Eddie desperately attempted to lift the clothing up with his free hand. Sensing his need, you didn’t hesitate to give him a helping hand, making the t-shirt disappear. As you threw it off to the side, Eddie's mouth replaced his thumb, kissing, sucking and savoring your hardened buds and the softness that surrounded them. His stubble kept brushing against your skin, making you react. This Intense pleasure lead to intense frustration, which also resulted in an intense heat down below. You pulled his face over to yours, attacking him with rough kisses as your hands gripped his hair once more. The rocking of your hips, as you grinded on his thigh, caused your breath to be in sync with your movement.

When you least expected, Eddie flipped you over, getting on top of you as your head pressed against the pillow. Feeling the softness of the cotton sheets against your naked back, your lips parted as Eddie’s hands moved to your waist, slowly pulling your panties down, spreading your legs open as soon as the last piece of clothing left your body. The morning chills made you feel extra sensitive when the wetness between your thighs was fully visible. Groaning in pleasure, Eddie Brock took advantage, moving down to taste you. As his tongue teased and licked, he could not help but greedily press his face against your heat, feasting on you with great hunger.

“Oh god …oh my god” your eyes fluttered furiously, “…fuck! that’s good” you were completely intoxicated as you held on to his hair as support. You were stuck on to a moment of indescribable rapture as Eddie finished his feasting by sending you over to the stars.

“Eddie oh my god...” you panted, looking down at him, whose eyes grew dark with another hunger.

“Come on...” motioning him impatiently, you begged to have your lover’s weight on top of you. When you saw Eddie quickly pull down his pants, you suddenly remembered, and rummaged through the bedside drawer, grabbing a condom. Crawling on top of you, Eddie tore out of the condom packet, expertly putting it on his shaft while he kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself in his mouth.

Breaking off the kiss, you licked your lips slowly. Eyes peeled on Eddie, you gasped softly when he inserted himself in you. With one of his hands enveloped on yours, and while the other remained locked in your loose hair, Eddie moved inside of you with a steady pace. Hungry kisses were exchanged, so were glances of pure desire throughout the entire time.

 “Cum for me baby…come on Eddie!” you whispered to his ear, as your fingernails dug deeper into his traps, waiting for his sweet moment of release.

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

Contrary to your worries , you felt refreshed enough to take on the meeting without any hesitation. To be frank, you seemed more energetic and positive.

As you came out of the conference room, you were summoned to your booth by the shrill of the telephone.

“Yes, Hello!” you answered cheerfully.

“Y/N, It’s Eddie, he’s here to see you,” the voice of the receptionist echoed in your ear.

“What? Really??” You suddenly shot right up.

Looking over from your booth to find Eddie waiting outside the glass panel. 

“I’ll be right out” you hung up, smiling and wondering what he was up-to now.

 Walking back and forth impatiently, Eddie suddenly turned to find you looking at him. Your smile grew bigger. Dressed in his leather jacket, Eddie always knew how to press your buttons in the right places. In fact, you finally admitted.

His leather jacket wasn’t your fetish, he was.

 “Eddie...” you spoke, walking over to him “...babe, is everything okay? What’s going on?” You were pulled over by the waist as he tilted his head, kissing you firmly on the lips.  With one hand settling on the back of your head, he deepened the kiss, causing you to moan involuntarily.

 Slowly pulling away, your lips had a small recollection of the wonderful morning you longed to get back.

“What was that for?” You asked softly, casually wiping the lipstick off his lips, as you were suddenly aware of the surroundings, and how the entire office possibly witnessed you almost making out with your boyfriend.

Eddie smiled, “Just another birthday wish baby” you shyly grinned in response. “But I’m also here to give you this” he went over to the empty chairs at the lobby, returning to you with a small white cardboard box. “Happy Birthday Y/N” he said, as you accepted it. You closed your eyes in pleasure when he kissed you on the forehead. As if he couldn't make your day any better.

When he left, you returned to your booth, sitting down to open the box. A soft“aww” escaped your lips when it turned out to be a beautiful and delectable little cupcake inside.

“Oh honey, is it your birthday today?” Your coworker asked, seeing your cupcake.

You nodded “uh huh” 

“And was that your guy?” 

You smiled, nodding again. Folding her hands your coworker smiled.

“Oh wow! Well...aren’t you a lucky birthday girl!”

You looked over to your adorable cupcake. Biting your lip, you replied,

“Yeah, I’m a very very lucky birthday girl indeed!”

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

Want more Eddie?  The Best Medicine, Sing to me, Hospitality

Check my MASTERLIST for more

[heonyhobi]

Gorgeous

Shownu x Reader

Fluff, Light Smut

Sohn Hyunwoo. What a jerk. He seemed to get under my skin every time I saw that stupid sparkling smile. It made me huff in frustration and caused my hands to shake from nervousness. It was terrible; he was terrible. But it had nothing to do with how terrible he was; it instead had everything to do with how frustratingly perfect he was. From his honeyed skin that glowed with every simple smile, to his ridiculously built body that looked as if it was chiseled from marble, and his beautifully charming personality, he seemed perfect from the inside out. He was the type of guy that held the door for me every morning, helped me with heavy boxes whenever stock arrived, brought me my favorite coffee and snacks when we were particularly busy, and even drove me home when my car was in the shop. He was an amazingly generous friend, and I have no right to desire more, but how much more of a generous lover would he be? I laid my forehead on the breakroom desk and groaned loudly. Of course, I had to be head over heels for a coworker.

Hyunwoo and I had been working in together in the same shopping mall for the last 4 months. He worked at a Nike outlet, and I at the American Eagle outlet directly across. We first met when on break in the cafeteria, and in those short 30 minutes, I simultaneously gained a best friend and the biggest crush I’ve had since high school. He could never know though, I wouldn’t want to mess up the relaxing relationship we have now. And besides, he has customers and coworkers alike fawning over his masculine features all day, who he gently lets down, on more than one occasion. I’m not overly excited  to join that (long) list of names. Even though he was so-

My alarm went off, signaling for me to clock back in. I headed back and prepped myself for the onslaught of frazzled, angry customers this evening. It was the holiday season, and that meant lots of people in my store. Too many. I wish they would just go home. Hyunwoo and I frequently ranted after these frustrating shifts. Hurling the insults and comments we couldn’t say to customer’s faces towards each other a little too loudly in the deserted parking lot. White puffs of air and phone flashlights illuminating the dark throughout our destressing.

I glanced up in between customers, eyes skimming through the huddles of bodies walking down the halls, until I met Hyunwoo’s. His customer was pointing and waving her arms frantically, she was angry about something. He reached up and ruffled his short hair before tapping the shell of his ear twice. I smiled at the sign of our secret language. One we devised after too many training hours on register. I could expect a fun vent session with my friend later. 

After my next customer left, with what must have been 15 bags on her arms, our eyes met again, and I scratched my head before applying chaptstick. Oh yeah, the heavens could expect an earful tonight.

About 20 minutes before the end of my shift, after the store closed, I entered the back to double check before I closed shop. My eyes lit up with excitement as I noticed the overabundance of cardboard boxes with WINTER 2 printed across the side. The January clothes were in, and I would be damned if I didn’t test any of the new styles out. Shutting the lights could wait 15 more minutes. 

Giggling, I rooted through the folded articles, finding the fits I wanted to try on the most, and headed to the changing rooms. I locked the door behind me out of habit and slipped on the first piece: a super soft oversized sweater.

I went through a few more shirts, about 6 pairs of pants, and 3 sets of the Aerie lingerie before I was satisfied. The last thing I had slipped on was a short, silky soft pink nightdress. It was lowcut v, with white lace brimming the top and covering the cutouts on the sides. Starting from the bottom and running all the way to the seam, snowy lace left little to the imagination. It was the cutest thing ever; I had to have it. I rummaged around the clothes strewn across the seat, searching for my phone to ask my manager about preordering, but my fingers grazed nothing but cloth. I remembered I had left it in the breakroom and turned to scamper through the empty store to retrieve it, but the stall door wouldn’t budge.

No, no, no. This was not happening. I jiggled the handle around a little, as if that would help, but the stupid door wasn’t moving. And it just so happened that this outlet had been fitted with decent doors that were flush against the floor, only space provided was at the top. I contemplated the thought of climbing over the top when a familiar voice echoed outside.

“(Y/N)? Where are you? I’ve been waiting for 20 minutes. You better not be working late again.”

It was Hyunwoo. Thank God. “Hey! I’m over here!” I yelled through the door.

His footsteps padded dully across the floor, until they stopped right next to my dressing room. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I, uh,” I started, embarrassment rising up my cheeks and ears, “I’m stuck.”

Hyunwoo chuckled. “Are you really?”

“Yes! Can you please get me out?” I huffed, growing impatient.

“Yeah, just uh, do me a favor and step away from the door.”

I did as he asked. “Ok, I’m out of the way.”

He wasted no time, the door whipped open violently as the now broken lock bounced against the full-length mirror on the wall and onto the floor.

“Well that’s one way to do it.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a thank-you hug. I nearly squealed as his warm hands held my back against him, his big arms made me feel so safe. I had been held by them countless times now, but they never failed to send my heart racing. “Thank you so much Hyunwoo.”

“You’re welcome.” He let go and gazed at me quizzically, and I thought I noticed a light dusting of pink on his round cheeks. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, well I saw the WINTER 2 stock and wanted to try some pieces on. What do you think?” I asked, a sing-song quality lifting my voice subtly. I spun for him, feeling his eyes roam across the pastel, lacy silk, it raised up slightly, showing more of my thighs, if that was possible from how short the dress was on its own.

He gulped almost nervously, the dusting across his face deepening into a thick blanket of red. “You’re beautiful.”

I looked up at him, confusion pulling my eyebrows together, surprise widening my eyes.

It was his turn then for his eyes to grow at the realization of what he just commented. Whites doubling in size for a split second. “It is. It’s beautiful.”

I studied him intently. Did I hear him right? He just called me beautiful, didn’t he? The space between us grew awkwardly heavy, soft huffs of shallow breaths the only sound decorating the empty store. Should I address the elephant in the room?

“Y-you think I’m beautiful?” I stutter out, hope igniting in my chest.

Hyunwoo shifted his eyes from their spot on the floor to mine. He was reading my concerned expression, his features twisting into its own bewilderment, like he was wondering how I didn’t get it yet. His fingers rubbed the outside of my exposed arm. Starting at the edge of my shoulder, running all the way down to the jut of my elbow and back up again in comforting ovals. “Baby, you’re gorgeous.”

Bright warmth swept over me, spreading across my cheeks, ears, neck and shoulders. Oh shit.

His hand returns it upward ascent, this time going past my shoulder, floating across my collarbone, until his deft fingertips tilted my jaw upwards. He brought his face closer, lips ghosting teasingly over mine, short, anticipating breaths fanning my face softly. I waited for him to close the space between us, before I realized that he was waiting for me to do the same, waiting for my permission.

I lifted myself onto my tip toes, and kissed him sweetly, gently, softly, almost like I was afraid to do so. But as soon as I began to pull away, he entangled his fingers in my hair, gripping it with suppressed desperation. His kiss was rougher, needier, like he had been wanting to do this for a long time now. His opposite hand tugged my waist firmly, pulling me entirely into himself as he deepened the kiss, tongue dipping gently into the warmth of my mouth. A light moan escaped my throat as he pulled away slowly, and his rosy, wet lips formed into a smirk at my reaction.

“Wow.” Was all I could say. No other thoughts came up clear amidst the dizziness in my head, the tingling on my lips, and the fluttering of my heartbeat.

His smirk grew into a prideful smile, bottom lip catching between teeth. “You liked that?”

I simply nodded, too dazed to focus.

“I’ve actually been wanting to do that for a while now.” He admitted, arms keeping me held tight against his toned body. His wandering eyes drifted downwards, followed by a plump pair of lips attached to my neck. “And this.” 

 He gently sucked my sensitive skin, teeth grazing lightly, causing me to whimper into his ear. He growled lowly in response.

“Me too.” I managed to breathe out.

“Then do you want to continue this at my place?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be wearing this?” He questioned, tugging playfully at the lowest part of the v, exposing my chest to his leisure.

“I have to buy it first, Hyunwoo.” I reminded him, wiggling out of his embrace. I reached for my clothes underneath the messy pile on the seat.

“So, you’ll be wearing nothing then?” He asked with a cocky tone.

“I suppose so.” I smiled, changing out of the night dress teasingly.

He bit his lip again, burning gaze following my every movement. “Then let’s hurry.”

“So impatient.” I teased.

I put my uniform back on and returned the new stock to their respectful boxes. 

Hitting the lights on my way out we walked, or rather ran, back to his car, giggling throughout the mall halls like foolish teenagers. We could hardly keep our hands and mouths off of each other the entire way back, stumbling carelessly into his apartment, I don’t even think we made it to the bedroom before items of clothing dropped to the floor, one by one.

[onthewingsofpoesy]

Here Beside Me 5

“Hi, sweetheart,” Viktor crooned softly to the shivering animal before him. The chocolate brown eyes were clouded over with drowsiness, as if the Russian skater had woken it from a long nap. Except there was pain slowly filling the depths, probably brought on by Viktor’s abrupt awakening.

“Will you let me get you out of there, little one?” He murmured, reaching down to pull the box closer to him. He needed to get it out from behind the dumpster. This alleyway was no place for the poor creature.

The lethargy was slowly leaking from the brown eyes with every second, leaving them alert and sharp. Suspicion filled the orbs, sharpening the cloudy sleepiness to clarity. Viktor leaned down to pull the box the remaining distance out from behind the dumpster when the little animal let out a quiet warning growl.

“Hey, hey,” Viktor frowned, watching as the animal struggled to move out of the box and away from him. “I’m trying to help you, little one. Let me get you out of there.”

He crouched down against the wall, leaning up against the bricks so he could pull the cardboard box the remaining distance. Another louder growl sounded and the little animal bared its teeth at Viktor, brown eyes filled with fear and pain. Lips were curled slightly over milk white teeth.

A warning.

The poor thing was showing him the sharpness of its canines as if to warn him that they were ready to use if Viktor misstepped.

“Oh, you poor darling,” Viktor sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Who hurt you?”

The fear was still there in the pretty brown eyes. The sight was enough to break the Russian skater’s heart. Animals didn’t fear people like this for no reason. Something had to have happened to the shivering ball of fur to make it distrust Viktor so quickly.

He couldn’t leave it here though. If starvation didn’t kill the little animal, then the cold, wet Russian winter certainly would. It probably wouldn’t even survive the night in that little soaked box.

The thought was enough to spur Viktor into action. He couldn’t just leave it to die, not when he could do something to save it.

He inched his hand slowly forward, wary of the growls growing increasingly louder from the black mass of fur. The animal finally snapped at him warningly. The teeth came nowhere near his hand, but Viktor still jerked it back as if he’d been zapped with a bolt of electricity.

Clearly this wasn’t working. The little animal was too afraid of him no matter how soft his voice was. He needed a new strategy.

If the little creature was hungry, perhaps Viktor could coax it out with something it couldn’t resist.

The skater reluctantly stepped away from the dumpster and turned to his skating bag, searching through the front pockets for snacks he’d packed to eat throughout the day at the rink.

There was only a half eaten peanut butter protein bar wrapped up in a little bag.

It would do.

Viktor split the bar into 3 bite-sized pieces and returned to the dumpster.

The little animal was still regarding the spot the skater had just left with suspicion. Its gaze seemed to grow sharper when Viktor crouched into view again.

“Alright, you’re going to have to work with me, krasavets. Please let me get you out of here.”

He shoved one of the protein pieces into the open space without thinking.

The little animal skittered away with a quiet yelp and struggled against the walls of its little cardboard box, scrabbling up and over the edge to limp to the other end of the dumpster still pressed up against the wall.

If it crawled under the dumpster, Viktor would never get it out.

“Shit. No, no, no, don’t do that!” Viktor cried and reached for the battered creature. It let out a pained whine and shrank away from his hand. Huddled against the corner where the dumpster was pressed against the brick wall, the little creature searched desperately for a way to escape.

The movements were enough to point out to Viktor that it was favoring one of its legs. The left shoulder blade looked a bit disfigured, as if the bone beneath had been dislocated...or shattered.

“Poor darling,” Viktor whispered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “It’s ok, malen’kiy. You’re safe with me. I won’t harm you.”

The little creature shuddered in its corner, looking beyond terrified cornered up against the dumpster with no way to escape. There was so much pain and sorrow in its eyes, a physical agony and probably an emotional one. Viktor couldn’t imagine the strife it must’ve been through.

He laid the protein piece on the ground and pushed it toward the shivering animal, being careful to make his movements careful and slow. He couldn’t reach very far into the open space, but the protein piece was only about a foot away from the quaking ball of black fur.

Tired chocolate eyes locked on the protein bar lying temptingly on the dirt-crusted pavement. It must’ve been so long since the poor animal had eaten, because the little thing couldn’t help but stare at the ball of peanut butter with hunger. A small black paw carefully stepped away from its corner and closer to the piece of food. The poor creature glanced between the peanut butter bite to Viktor and back again, on guard in case the skater tried to ambush it while it was unawares.

When it was about half a foot away, the little animal stretched the rest of the way and snatched the piece up before racing back to the corner of the dumpster, licking its chops as if savoring the bit of food.

Viktor smiled reassuringly and reached for the second piece. This time, he placed it closer to himself to coax the animal further away from its corner.

The black ball of fur stared mournfully down at the protein bite so far away before sidling up to it, a little faster than before. More comfortable. Still a bit hesitant.

This time it snatched the piece up and turned hesitantly to Viktor as if asking for more. The skater could see its mangled leg shaking slightly. All the movement back and forth between the dumpster corner and the protein bites was probably causing the animal absolute agony.

“You’re going to have to come to me, sweetheart. I can’t leave you out here or you’ll die. Sweet lapochka. Let me take care of you. Come here, beautiful.” Viktor continued crooning to the shaking ball of fur, holding out the last of the protein bar.

Luminous brown eyes searched his face hesitantly before darkening with something like determination. It took slow, painful steps to Viktor’s hand, shaking violently as it drew nearer. Its nose was only inches away from the skater’s palm when it seemed to freeze, terror filling its eyes with indecision.

Viktor moved his hand closer, and as the animal snatched the last bit of the protein bar, the Russian skater reached out and sank his fingers into the soft fur on the top of its head. He rubbed the pricked ears, smoothing the pointed triangular shapes with warm, soothing fingers.

A soft grumble escape the little animal’s mouth as it chewed. It paid no heed to Viktor running his fingers through its fur.

The Russian skater chuckled and smoothed the ears down, marvelling at the velvety softness of the hair in his fingers. He ran his hands down the animal’s neck to his back, blinking away tears as his fingers skipped over too many ribs, a bony spine, the mangled protrusion of its left shoulder blade.

The little creature froze when the fingers circled over its injured shoulder, but it relaxed under Viktor’s fingers when the Russian man scritched under its chin with his other hand and then stroked its ears back.

“Hi, little one. Thank you for trusting me.”

He caressed the animal’s sides and under his belly, trying to find the best place to scoop up the little ball of fur.

The chocolate brown eyes watched him with something like awe, as if it hadn’t expected to be treated so gently under the skater’s hands.

Viktor continued speaking soft and low as he tugged the little animal closer. Finally, he pulled the tiny ball of fur up and into his arms.

A soft whine sounded in his ear and immediately the Russian skater softened his grip, tucking the little black paws against his chest, exceedingly mindful of the injured shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m sorry about everything you’ve been through. But you’re safe now. Safe,” Viktor repeated, crooning quietly to the blinking ball of fur in his arms. The little animal’s heartbeat was as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, but it was starting to slow in the circle of the skater’s arms.

With a cute grunt, it shifted, fitting its little body into the warmth of Viktor’s chest. The Russian skater smiled and pulled the ends of his coat closed so he could zip the little animal up against his body.

A quiet sigh sounded beneath him as the little ball of fur tucked its head under the skater’s chin and went limp in his arms.

Viktor’s heart melted.

“Dorogoy. I’m taking you home with me.”

[ohnojustimagine]

Nothing Sweet About Me

Corey Graves/Reader 2380 words; Smut/Explicit

This is set back when Corey was still wrestling in NXT and was requested by @southerndreamz, thank you!

***

There are cupcakes in catering at the taping tonight, and you don’t know where they came from, but they sure don’t look like the usual blandly adequate backstage fare. And you probably don’t need the sugar rush, but you try one anyway, taking a tentative bite and oh god, because yeah, these are definitely not your typical catering dessert. They’re white chocolate with vanilla frosting, so rich and buttery that it melts on your tongue. You glance around, and no one’s looking, so you take the one you’ve just tasted and then another, just because, and head off.

Filming doesn’t start for another few hours, and so you wander around out back behind the scenes until you find an empty office. You close the door behind you, sitting with a sigh as you set your cupcakes down, ready to go over the schedule for the show. You’ve been interning with the lighting design team for a few months now, and though you love it, the sheer amount of planning that goes into a show is still at times overwhelmingly complicated, and you want to be prepared for tonight.

You page through your notes, taking another bite of the cupcake, letting out a quiet moan, because damn it’s good, and for a second you don’t hear the door open, but then you look up, quickly silencing yourself, hoping no one important caught you making bizarrely sexual noises about a fucking cupcake.

And it’s Corey Graves, of all people. The self-proclaimed bad boy of NXT, and you’ve never really spoken to him, but then Corey doesn’t seem to be much into casual small talk generally, let alone with someone as insignificant as you. He’s already dressed for the ring, bare chested under a denim vest, suspenders dangling loose from his pants, hair slicked back into high crest over his forehead.

“Hey,” you say through a mouthful of cupcake, trying to swallow. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry,” he says, looking down at the floor for a second, and on anyone else you’d read that as shyness, perhaps embarrassment, but from what you’ve seen, it’s typical of Corey. He’s always hunching his shoulders, hands in his pockets as he lowers his eyes like he’s some kind of surly James Dean-wannabe. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“You want a cupcake?” you offer, because you can’t think of anything else to say, though as soon as the words leave your lips, you inwardly curse, because these really are far too delicious to share.

“Yeah,” he replies, “I don’t do cupcakes.”

“You don’t do cupcakes,” you say. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t like them.”

“Everyone likes cupcakes.”

“I don’t.”

“Do you hate fun, too?” you ask, trying not to laugh.

“Mostly,” he says, shrugging.

You look at him, because you genuinely can’t decide whether this whole too-cool-for-school thing is just an affectation or if he truly is that big of a dick. And while you’re considering, you unthinkingly lick a smear of vanilla frosting off your knuckle, and you see his gaze fix on your lips, watching as you suck the tip of your finger. You blush, because that’s not really an appropriate way for a crew member to behave in front of a performer, and try to surreptitiously wipe your hand off on your jeans.

But he’s still staring at your mouth, and as you take another bite, he says, “Are they good?”

“So good,” you reply. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”

“Do I look like I eat cupcakes?” he says, holding out his arms, vest riding up and opening enough that you can see the tattoo that circles around and below his navel. His pants are almost shockingly low-cut, and yes, you already knew that, but seeing it from a respectable distance is one thing, being this close is entirely another. The top of them must be only just above his cock, like barely, and there’s obviously some pretty extensive hair removal going on down there. You find yourself wondering exactly how extensive, musing on the question for minute and oh god, you suddenly realize, because yes, you really have been eyeballing the guy’s crotch for what is probably an unseemly amount of time.

And, not surprisingly, there’s a decidedly smug expression on his face by the time you finally say, “No, you do not look like a man who eats cupcakes.”

“That’s all I’m saying,” he replies, seemingly satisfied, and this is the oddest conversation you’ve had in a while.

“Anyway,” you say, gesturing at your notes, “I better get on with this.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure, sorry to interrupt.”

He doesn’t sound even remotely sincere, but then he’s already gone.

***

Next taping, you find the same office, because last time it turned out to actually be kind of helpful, taking a moment to get your head together before the craziness of the evening.

And once again, you hear the door open, and once again, it’s Corey. “Hi,” you say, puzzled.

“No cupcakes tonight?” he asks.

You shake you head. “None in catering.”

“Shame,” he says.

“Why?” It wasn’t as if he ate any.

He shrugs. “It seemed like you were enjoying them.”

“I was.” You look at him. “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?”

“Nah.” He leans up against the wall, and you’d almost say he’s striking a pose, maybe flexing his bicep. Which is… strange. “You’re one of the lighting interns, right?” he says.

“I am,” you reply.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.”

You nod, not sure what else you’re supposed to say, because you get the very distinct impression he’s expecting something from you, but you have no idea what.

After a minute he coughs slightly, and there’s the vaguest hint of awkwardness about his demeanour as he says, “Anyway.”

“Yeah,” you reply.

He raises his hand, and then he’s gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

Weird, you think.

***

And maybe by the next NXT taping you have enough experience that you don’t really need to look over the schedule or your notes, but somehow you still find yourself in the same empty office, sitting behind the desk, telling yourself you’re just finding some calm, just gathering your thoughts. You’re not waiting for anyone, scoffing at the very idea, because why would you be doing that? And it’s not as if he’ll show. Not after last time. No way.

But just when you’ve given up hope and are about to leave, the door swings open, and it’s him. It’s Corey, and he’s carrying a small white cardboard box. He walks around the desk, placing it down on the surface, seeming as pleased with himself as it’s possible to be.

“What’s this?” you say, noting there’s the name of a bakery printed in pink lettering on the box.

“Open it,” he says, and when you do, there’s three cupcakes inside.

You gasp, and ask, hopeful, “Are the same ones they had in catering?”

“Yeah,” he answers.

You look up at him. “You know you didn’t have to do that, right?”

“I know,” he says, all studied nonchalance, but you’re aware he must have gone to no small amount of trouble to track these down.

“Well,” you say, “thank you.” You pick up a cupcake, taking a huge bite, not bothering to hold back your groan of delight. You see something flit over his face at the sound you make, and yeah, you’re not fooling anyone. Least of all yourself.

“Come on,” you coax, holding your hand over your mouth as you chew, “you’ve got to try some.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

You peel back the paper at the base of the cake, breaking off a piece free of frosting and hold it out towards him. “Just a taste?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he bends a little, opening his mouth, eating the cake straight from your fingers, teeth almost snapping as he bites down.

“Damn,” he says, chewing thoughtfully. “That really is good.”

“Told you,” you say, smiling at him, and you break off another piece, holding it out. And this time he grabs your wrist, hand wrapped around it. You can see the tattoo across his knuckles, S-T-A-Y, as his lips close around the cake. And when he’s done, he doesn’t back off, his mouth suddenly wet and warm over your fingers, sucking on them briefly before pulling back to bite gently at your fingertips. You feel yourself shiver, and he’s looking at you, his eyes dark and steady.

He takes a step closer, standing between you and the desk, and then leans over you, hands resting on the arms of the chair, either side of you. You swallow nervously, staring up at him wide-eyed as he moves in slowly, lips pressing up against yours, and you open up without hesitation, letting his tongue slide thick into your mouth, licking away the taste of the cake. There’s no build-up, no tease, the kiss so deep your whole body feels alight with it.

You’re panting by the time he pulls away, watching as he falls to his knees, positioned between your legs. “Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod quickly, but then remember where you are, and say, “Did you lock the door?”

“That door doesn’t lock.”

You glare at him, suspicious. “So you checked?”

He smirks, not looking even the slightest bit guilty as he says, “Maybe.”

You shake your head, because of course this was what he was planning all along, but you’re not going to complain. “You better not waste any time, then,” you tell him.

“Yeah,” he says, perfectly assured, “I never waste any time.”

You laugh at his hubris, hoping it’s true, and slide your ass forward to the edge of the chair, raising your skirt and pulling down your panties, letting them fall aside, immediately forgotten.

He takes hold of one of your ankles, bending your leg up so your foot is resting on the edge of the desk and you’re spread wide for him. You can smell yourself, and you hear him breathe in, inhaling the scent as his hands caress up your inner thighs, and then his mouth is on you. He kisses you, licking up your slit, tongue dragging through your wetness, lapping at you, tasting you.

You lean back as his attention focuses exactly where you need it, his tongue working your clit with firm, practised strokes, and oh yes, because this is a guy who knows what he’s doing.

You grind up against his face, and just as you start to come he pushes two fingers inside you, sending you right over the edge, and you know you need to be quiet, but it’s so hard, biting down on your bottom lip until you can taste blood, trying to muffle your cries as you ride out the wave of it, body shaking as it passes over you.

When you open your eyes he’s still kneeling in front of you, rubbing himself through his pants, full lips slightly parted as he breathes through his mouth, your wetness smeared across his face, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him look even slightly dishevelled, less than completely in control, and it only makes him hotter.

“Stand up,” you say, “Let me.”

He rises to his feet, leaning back against the desk, and you slip out of the chair, down onto your knees. You fumble a little as you unfasten his pants, freeing his cock, which springs out, long and hard, and you stare, because wow, that answers your previous musings about the extent of his hair removal.

He’s totally bald, everywhere, not even the slightest hint of hair, and it should maybe be weird, but instead it’s just really, really fucking hot. You trace your tongue over the tattoo on his stomach, licking a wet path downwards, over the unfamiliar smoothness at the base of his cock, tasting his skin. His hips jerk forward, and he gasps in a breath. “I can’t…” he grits out, and you understand, hand curling around his shaft as you close your mouth over him.

“Shit,” he mutters as you suck on him, cheeks hollowing out, going all the way down, and his hands stroke over your face, fingers sliding into your hair. You move back and forth on him, letting him guide your rhythm, faster and faster and so deep you can feel him in your throat, each thrust going further.

His body tenses, and you hear him moan as he starts to come. You swallow it down, every hot pulse, licking him gently clean when he’s done, letting his cock fall from your mouth.

There’s a long silence between you, but then you hear voices in the hall outside, and reality comes crashing back in, breaking the moment.

You both straighten yourselves up; Corey zipping his pants and you fishing around on the floor for your panties, pulling them back on. You hate to think what your hair looks like, but Corey’s is, somewhat annoyingly, as immaculate as ever.

“Okay,” you say, and it should be awkward, but somehow, it’s not.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding, as if he gets what you mean.

“I guess we both have somewhere to be.”

“I guess so,” Corey says. He pauses then adds, almost but not quite casually, “But maybe I’ll see you around again?”

“Maybe.” You pick up the box of cupcakes, and offer them to him. “You want me to leave these?”

He shakes his head. “They’re for you.”

“Well,” you tell him, “thank you.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing, but then gives you a curious, searching look. “You know,” he says, “I don’t even know your name.”

You smile at him, letting your eyes shine. “You’re a smart guy, you can find out.”

You turn without giving him a chance to answer, and head out the door, leaving it open behind you. And you know you shouldn’t look back, that it would be way cooler and more mysterious to just stride away, but you can’t help yourself, glancing sideways over your shoulder.

He’s still standing there, watching you.

Yeah, you think, and as you walk, you open the box, taking out another cupcake, biting into it and humming to yourself with pleasure.

[mlleecrivaine]

Who’s the Hot Blond? Part III

Word Count:  1,987

Warnings:  Splinting a broken limb, being in a small(ish) dark place

Author’s Note:  It took me forever to find an applicable gif for this post -.- Couldn’t find that I actually wanted. Oh well. Anyway, here’s part 3! It’s been a long time coming, but thank you for your patience; I’ve been a little distracted by writing my Scotty series The Part That Counts over on my Star Trek blog. Please enjoy, let me know what you think!

Other parts can be found here

Groaning, you opened your eyes to the darkness. You held your breath and listened. One other set of lungs breathed next to you. Every two or three breaths a soft whine rode on the air.

 “Benji?” You rasped into the room. As you blinked, shapes came together in the dimness. You sat in a tiny room with a grab bar around the perimeter. A pair of handcuffs looped through the bar, holding you in place.

 “Are you awake now?” he wheezed.

 “Yeah, I’m up, what’s going on? How’s your ankle? Are you okay?” You shook your head and took a pair of deep breaths to pull yourself into the moment.

 “Been better,” Benji responded. “Ankle’s murder. I thought I heard Ethan’s voice outside a little while ago, but he sounded calm so I was probably hearing things - ah…” he groaned. “My shoe’s feeling really tight…”

 “We need to get it off,” you grumbled, contorting your body to get your hands on your scalp.

“What are you doing?”

 “Have they been by?”

 “‘Bout twenty minutes ago? Might’ve been five, honestly, I can hardly think…”

 “Just try to relax,” you urged, feeling around on your scalp. You stubbed your fingertip and drew it back a fraction of an inch before returning and pulling the object from your hair. Rearranging, you arched your back and bore down on your shins to bring your mouth to the pin. Taking the ends between your teeth, you bit off the rubber covers before lowering yourself to the floor again.

 The end of the pin slid into the lock before you started picking it around.

 “You’ve got to get yourself out of here before they come back,” Benji wheezed, sighing in pain. “I’ll slow you down.”

 “Probably,” you agreed, heart soaring as the lock popped. You pulled your hands down, holding the loose cuff in your still trapped hand to keep it from impacting the bar. “But I already told you, that’s not an option.”

 Poking your pin into the lock on your other wrist, you opened it cleanly and discarded the cuffs on the floor before shimmying through the dust to Benji’s side.

 “I’m gonna get your hands here first, alright?” you murmured, pressing your palm to his forehead and then his cheek. Your hand came away wet with sweat.

 “Works better if-”

 “I know, I know,” you retorted, squinting to see his cuffs in the dark before starting to work at the first lock.

 Benji moaned in pain. His breath cascading over your face clued you into just how close you actually were to him. Tearing your eyes from his hands you looked down just as he looked up from where he ducked his head. You were maybe two inches apart at the nose.

 “I know this is an inappropriate time, but thank you for not leaving me,” Benji breathed.

 “Yeah,” you nodded, pressing the pin to the side. The lock popped and you simultaneously breathed a sour-breathed sigh, grinning at each other.

 You passed the cuff around the bar and pulled his other hand to your chest to get to work. Benji dropped his other arm to his hip and hissed a breath.

 “We’re gonna stabilize that next, alright?” you promised.

 “How are we going to get out of here?” Benji whined. His head tipped onto your shoulder for a split second before he lifted it again, leaning it on the wall. “Sorry, it just really hurts.”

 “I know.”

 “I keep tensing it up’s what it is.”

 “I know,” you heard the lock click and you pulled the lock from his hand, discarding it and giving his hand a squeeze before moving down his body to his ankle. “I’m going to remove your shoe. I need to you try to stay quiet.”

 Benji nodded and you looked around the room. A stack of rectangular boxes stood in the far corner.

 “What’s in those?” Benji wondered, following your gaze.

 “Let’s find out,” you muttered, scooting across the floor and taking the box off the top of the tower. It weighed next to nothing. You opened the flap and looked down into the cardboard. “It’s empty,” you confirmed, wishing you had your knife on you. “Alright.”

 You crouched back by Benji who sat panting while he watched you.

 “Relax,”. You urged as you curled your body around the box, trying to muffle the ripping sounds as you tore it into its twelve pieces.

 “I’m trying,” Benji panted, holding a breath and licking his lips.

 “You said you heard Ethan outside, right?” you asked as you stacked the pieces by size.

 “I’m pretty sure I was hearing things,” Benji said, balling his hands into fists as you positioned yourself by his foot.

 “Just breath, alright?” you soothed. “I gotta work fast.”

 “I know,” he said, sucking in a breath and holding it.

 You pulled the bow out of the laces and eased them as loose as they’d go to expose the tongue.

 “Okay, here we go,” you breathed, cupping one hand under his warm calf and lifting the leg.

 Benji made a strangled sound in his throat before cutting it off and screwing up his face.

 With your free hand, you pried the shoe off his foot, applying as little pressure as you could.

 “I’m just going to feel it, okay? See what we’re dealing with.”

 Benji nodded, exhaling in a rush as you placed his foot back on the ground.

 You ghosted your fingers down the sides of his limb, peeling his 8-bit-life-bar-patterned sock off as you went. The pale white flesh bore dark blooms of bruising from the arch of his foot to the soft hair just above the ankle and there was a sizeable lump on the outside of the joint.

 “Shit,” you hissed. “You did a real number on it.”

 “You can still -”

 “I’m not bloody leaving you here; would you stop suggesting that?” you snapped, pulling your blouse off and lifting your tank top over your head.

 “Uh…” Benji’s eyes widened.

 “Sorry,” you grumbled, pulling your blouse back on and doing up the middle three buttons. You took your tank top in your hands and ripped it apart, separating the front from the back. You tore it again from the neck down once and twice, leaving you with six long shreds of shirt. “Can you help me?”

 “How?” Benji lifted his hands aloft, ready to go.

 “Hold these,” you said, placing two long box flaps double stacked on either side of Benji’s ankle so they ran from his heel to the bulge of his calf.

 Benji held the board in his hands as you looped a strip of shirt through the space under his knee, gently tugging it between his calf and the floor.

 “I’m gonna pull it tight,” you warned.

 “Not too tight,” he begged.

 “Not too tight,” you promised, twining the ends together and pulling them to close snugly around Benji’s leg and the boards. Benji winced hard and whined.

 “I know it hurts, but don’t move these,” you ordered, readjusting the panels. “You can let go.”

 Benji relaxed back into the wall.

 “Just another minute alright?” you said as you strung another cloth under his leg, shimmying it up to a point just above the break. “I don’t suppose you know where we are?”

 “Not a clue - ah!” he cried out softly as you pulled the knot tight.

 “Shh,” you gingerly laid a hand on his knee. “I need you to help me again.”

 Benji nodded and leaned forward.

 Doubling up the short flaps, you tucked them under the ends of the long ones so they guarded the sides of his feet. Benji whinged at the pressure.

 “Hold these,” you murmured as Benji took the planks in his hands. You whipped a shred around his foot and secured the boards there. “One more,” you muttered, easing the widest shred under the round of his heel, tying it so it would hold the planks still against each other.  Benji made another noise as you tightened it.

 “Alright, we gotta get you standing,” you murmured, shifting to crouch next to the man, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “I’m gonna tip you up onto your good leg, okay?”

 Benji nodded, hiking his good leg up as high as he could get it so he didn’t have far to go.

 “On three,” you braced yourself. “One, two…”

 You pressed up, bringing Benji to stand heavily next to you with a deep groan.

 “Grab this,” you guided his hand to the hip-high bar. He gripped it for dear life as you slipped from under him and moved to the door.

 Taking the knob in your hand, you held your breath as you twisted it. The bolt slid back and you pulled the door open a fraction, peeking through the crack.

 “It’s clear. Think you can throw a punch if it comes to it?” You stepped back to Benji and got under his arm again, easing him away from the bar.

 “I’ll have to make it work,” he panted. “Fuck this hurts.”

 “I know,” you squeezed his side where you rested your hand. “Let’s get out of here in one piece and we can get it fixed up good as new.”

 Benji made an amenable noise and hopped along next to you. You pulled the door open and poked your head into the hall, looking up and down the dimly-lit corridor. You were in one of a row of rooms, all with the doors shut. At the far left end was a set of stairs leading down, on the right, a set that went up.

 “Up or down?” you asked.

 “I think we’re already in a basement,” Benji panted, looking between your options. “But going down the stairs would certainly be easier.”

 “Can I leave you up here while I scout it out?” you asked, already ducking out from under his arm.

 “Please don’t get shot,” he mumbled.

 “Give me some credit,” you quipped, sneaking to the stairs and descending as silently as you could.

 The stairs doubled back on themselves halfway down to the next floor. You stuck your head around the corner and saw an even dimmer hallway full of broken things. Two old bikes, one missing a wheel, the other with a broken frame, leaned against the wall on one side and a pile of scrap metal lined the opposite wall. You crept down two stairs to see more, but it looked like more of the same. There was a single door at the end of the hallway. You glanced back up the stairs and hoped that no one would go for Benji while you checked this out.

 Tiptoeing down the hall, you reached for the doorknob. Before you turned it you listened. There were voices coming from within. You looked around at the trash on the floor, hoping to find something akin to a cup. Finding nothing, you pressed your ear to the wood and listened.

 “Atlas will be expecting payment,” one voice said. You recognized the language immediately to be Spanish.

 “I’m sure he will be, but we need to see the product first,” the second voice was, unmistakably, Ethan’s.

 “When Atlas expects payment, he expects payment up front.”

 “No product, no payment.”

 You backtracked and flew up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

 “What’s going on down there?” Benji asked as he saw you take the last steps in a leap.

 “Ethan’s downstairs,” you said, crouching under Benji’s arm and supporting him to start moving. “Downstairs is a dead end, he’s at the end of it. What do you want to do?”

 “Did it sound like he was in trouble?”

 “It sounded like he was sticking to the mission -”

 A harsh clanking noise came from three rooms down. You exchanged a look with Benji.

 “You didn’t happen to hear Jane down there, did you?” Benji asked.

 You crunched up your face.

“I didn’t.”

Tags:  @vintagevalentinexx @texasblues

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

[ecotone99]

[HR] Here is a draft of my first short story called "Bed, Bath, and Beyond Human Comprehension". It's a dumb idea for a cosmic horror my classmates suggested, but I thought "Why not?". I welcome any feedback, but please know that this is NOT finished whatsoever (especially the ending). Thank you!

It was the dead of night. Time lazily lolled about, seeming to drag itself through the motions in a most sleazy and dreary manner. Christine stood at the register, eyelids barely open as she half-slurred her words into the microphone.

“Cleanup on aisle 6, please.”

Johnathan muttered as the swapped the mop for the broom and pan. He had not wanted to take this shift. He hated the night shift more than anything. Johnathan fidgeted with the broom in his hand. What was once an ornate soap bottle now lay in pieces, its lemon-scented plasma unceremoniously oozed across the tile.

It had been that old man again who had done it. Johnathan could not help but feel a twinge of guilt for his frustration as the sexagenarian slowly shambled out of the store.

The old man was unremarkable from a physical standpoint. He had a thin frame, coke bottle glasses, and wispy white strands clinging to his head, covering up where his liver spots did not. His eyes were tired and unfocused, but they were a dazzling green. They were eyes that pierced, eyes that branded the brain, eyes one could never forget.

Johnathan had heard stories from the other employees, mainly Christine, about the old man. He had worked at the store for almost 40 years, and was well loved by his coworkers. Despite working at the store from his college days, the old man never seemed to change mentally. Even from his youth, he was everyone’s grandfather. In one hand, he held a candy, in the other, a parable for anyone who would listen.

But over the past few months, something started to seemed off about the old man. He started slipping up, forgetting people’s names, losing his sense of time, and would stumble around the store for hours on end, looking for something, but never seeming to find anything, leaving hundreds of dollars in product strewn about, usually for Johnathan to clean up. Complaints started coming in about the old man, and the manager decided to step in. First, it was reduced hours, which was a pitiful attempt, as the old man seemed to always be in the store at all times of the day, regardless of the time, the weather, or if he was even working. The manager decided to put his foot down further, forcing the old man to take paid time off for concerns of health. Again, a fruitless attempt. The manager sorrowfully suspended the old man and tried to reach out to the nearby senior care facility to arrange a caretaker for the old man, but no one responded. The old man had little but his job, including family. The old man gradually slowed his “visits” and for a while, was absent.

The store sat silent. Johnathan worked day shifts, but everything seemed less bright and cheerful without the old man’s smiles and stories. Christine and the other cashiers gossiped the days away, but still maintained a professional attitude in regards to the customers.

Johnathan thought for a moment. Surely there was a better way to clean up the glass and lotion than getting the broom sticky? He reached for the window wiper and a pair of gloves, cleanliness and safety were the top priority at the store, after all. As Johnathan pulled the wiper off of the cart, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something moved? He looked around, expecting to see one of the cashiers going to use the restroom, but trying not to disturb him. There was nothing, so his eyes then settled on the mess that had yet to be cleaned up. The scented slime sat there, reflecting the lights above him. He shrugged and tore a few paper towels off of a roll on his cleaning cart.

He carefully slid the slime into the dustpan with the wiper, taking great care to not break the larger pieces of the bottle. The slime came up easily, but left a slippery spot behind. Johnathan grabbed the mop and finished cleaning the aisle. He pulled the cart to the next aisle, hoping to finish his work before the shift ended. Talking to Christine was better than shambling through the aisles, rhythmically moving the mop as the floor began to gleam as the cleaner to seep into its pores. Johnathan continued pulling the cart to the final aisle, meeting little resistance as the floor seemed to already have been cleaned.

“Wait, what?” Johnathan said. “We only have this mop, no one else here has cleaned anything!” Confused, he stopped in the middle of the last aisle for the night, the as seen on TV products. Each box seemed like the last: Bright colors, the tacky red logo, either plastic or aluminum. They all seemed to share a face, or at least, the idea of one. On every box, an overweight Caucasian man in a buttoned shirt grinned as he proudly displayed his various products. A boiled egg holder, a portable pull up bar, even a heated neck pillow made of silicon.

“Guaranteed to recreate those precious moments of intimacy!” It promised in flashy white letters.

Johnathan skimmed over the boxes, in disbelief that multiple people bought these impractical and flat out ridiculous products daily right in front of him.

Johnathan began mopping the aisle, passing through the cardboard crowd, putting up the obligatory Wet Floor sign as he went. He slipped on his headphones and began mopping. After a few minutes, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Taking off his muffs, he turned to face a rotund man with glasses. The man would not have felt out of place on one of the boxes surrounding the two of them.

“Can I help you, sir?” Johnathan asked the portly customer.

“I think so,” the man said in a tired voice. “ I haven’t been here in a while, and I’m looking for a product that I always get from this store, but you don’t seem to have it today.”

“What is it?”

“A face scrub, it’s in this round bottle, citrus-y scent, and it’s a bright green.”

“Well sir, I don’t think I can help you, the only thing we have like that is what’s left in this bag, and it’s not the right color. I wouldn’t recommend washing yourself with it, either.”

“Oh, I could have sworn you had it a few months ago.” The man said, frowning.

“Not that I am aware sir.”

“Alright, thank you.”

The man walked away, and Johnathan resumed his cleaning. He thought that maybe the man had been the one to walk by him earlier, looking for his scrub, but not wanting to bother Johnathan.

Johnathan swayed to the slow beat of his music, moving with the broom in a waltz.

Then he smelled it.

Lemon.

It was faint, but definitely there.

Johnathan looked at the last aisle, could there have been another spill? No, that was unlikely. As far as he could tell, the jagged slime residing in the trash bag on the trolley was the only lemon soap they had in stock, and the bag was tied to seal up the glass inside! Sure enough, the last aisle was barren, only showing the distorted reflection of the overhead lights.

The smell was a little stronger, and it began to make Johnathan feel queasy. Such an unyielding odor, he could taste it. His head began to hurt. He tried breathing through his mouth to give some relief to his nostrils, which were exhausted from zesty scent, but to no avail. His mouth tasted like lemon. He held back vomit as the smell seemed to enter every orifice in his head. It was getting stronger, and nothing he was doing was stopping it. His head felt heavy, his eyelids slowly closing. He fought the urge to pass out, and began stumbling away from the aisle in an attempt to escape the chemical hell tormenting him. He slipped on the cleaned floor, and crashed to the ground, barely staying conscious.

He felt exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. His breathing slowed, and he slipped away.

He woke up.

Groggily, Johnathan opened his eyes and looked around the aisle. The boxes were still there, the pale portly men still smiling at him. Johnathan pulled himself up, and noticed that the smell was gone. Breathing deeply, he welcomed the sharp smell of the cleaner sitting in the cleaning cart. Johnathan calmed himself, shaking himself awake, and deciding to call it a night. He could nap in his car for a while, so that he wouldn’t drive home completely drained, Christine wouldn’t mind.

As he pulled his cart back to the cleaning closet near the register, he felt revived walking under the large fans constantly blowing cold air into the store. “Hey Christine!” Johnathan yelled, “I’m done back here! Can you start flipping the switches?”

No response. Strange, she would have been in earshot, and the bespectacled man seemed to be the only customer in the store, so she likely wasn’t preoccupied, or gossiping. Johnathan called again, “Christine! I’m finished! I’m coming to the front now so we can go home!”

Silence.

Johnathan grimaced slightly, and continued. He reached the register, where he saw that Christine had locked the till, but was nowhere to be seen. “Probably in the bathroom.” Johnathan said. He made his way to the cleaning closet adjacent to the bathroom, scanning for any leftover refuse from the day.

>CRUNCH<

Johnathan stopped. He looked down and saw that he had stepped on something. He tenderly lifted his foot, and found an old rusted pair of glasses. They had clearly seen some wear and tear. The frame was bent, and the glasses were missing a lens, while the other was cracked.

“Where did these come from? It looks like nobody’s worn these in years.”

Bending down, Johnathan cleaned up the glasses, bagging them up and setting them next to the lemon soap. He took the bags out of the cart as he stored it away in the closet, and headed outside to the dumpster.

A constant barrage of wind in a fierce duet with the raging thunder shook the sky and threatened an incoming storm. It only made sense after all, August tended to harbor ugly weather from the humidity. Johnathan quickly strode to the dumpster, the wind screaming in his ears as he lifted the cover to the dumpster and quickly threw the bags in. As he moved to slam the dumpster doors, he noticed something under the bags. Brushing the bags aside, Johnathan gasped in shock.

“Dad?”

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