#she is a pretty pastel soft woman

[theherdofturtles]

@hwsasiaweek

behold Taiwan

[somenteniki]

⏝᭨ི ྀ⏝᭨ི ྀ⏝᭨ི ྀ⏝᭨ི ྀ⏝᭨ི ྀ⏝᭨ི ྀﾞ  ⁾⁾

♡ 。　　♡。　　♡

♡。　＼　　｜　　／。　♡

    🧁A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR BUT LOTS OF POISON TOO🍸

♡。　／　　｜　　＼。　♡

　 　 　♡

。　♡。 　　。　　♡。

[bunnys-kisses]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ leave my brother alone, mister wolff - toto. w ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

maybe you were a saint in disguise. if toto wolff wanted a piece of a verstappen, then you'd happily give yourself over. seduce the older man into not pestering your brother anymore. the age gap would be an jaw drop, but you hoped that mister wolff liked the taste of such sweet flesh. give up your virginity as a form of currency. and while you thought that the task would be hard. toto wolff was more than happy to sink his cock into your pretty folds. your pussy took him so well, and what started as an agreement soon became a frequent affair.

toto liked when you dressed more innocent, soft pastels looked nice against your skin tone. softer shades of make up made you look almost doe-like. he liked when you struggled to take him both in your pussy and your throat, made him get an ego boost when something so small and fragile tried to take him to the root. he had watched your sputter and cough when trying to deep throat him, your pussy grow tender for days after he laid waste to your cunt. letting his pearly cum ooze out of you as a reminder that you were verstappen in last name, but you had enough of wolff dna in you as well. toto liked you in delicate things, to rely on him. maybe it was the possessive old man in him talking, but he liked when you needed help. those large hands on your thighs as he rolled up your stockings, knowing full well that he'd be ripping them off at the end of the day. he liked how you fit in his arms, his words hung in your mind like stars. he liked that he kept you dumb at times, fucking you to the point where words meant nothing and all hat mattered was the wash of pleasure. he knew what he was doing, fucking you next to unconsciousness. hard for verstappen's little sister to get out from under his thumb if she couldn't stand on her own two legs. but this was all in the name of diverting toto's attention, you didn't realize that being the focus of a man like him could be almost terrifying.

it didn't help that you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. the flickering heat and the danger of being ensnared by him left a throb between your legs. by the time monaco came around, you couldn't even get yourself off anymore. you were left overstimulated but with no relief. no toy was like toto, and you sulked all the way to the monaco grand prix to let toto fuck you after hours in red bull's garage. letting him claim you over top of your brother's car. his dirty words in your ear, how dare you let yourself get into this situation. what would you family think? you were supposed to be a proper woman, not a dirty slut. and you could only respond with pathetic little moans. even if it was true, you were at least toto's slut. his big hands on your back as you knee facing the wall, you should've known better then to get too friendly. you wouldn't want your dear max to find out what you've been up to. toto told you that your brother spoke highly of you, little did he know. little did he know that the expensive things you now owned were paid for by a much older man.

he promised you everything. he'd leave your brother alone, let the driver make his own decisions. toto groped at your breasts, bruising the tender skin. his promises got more depraved as your time together grew, he was gonna fill that sweet belly of yours. telling you that he's getting older and it was high time the head principal of mercedes had a few kids. and you'd take such good care of them, right? those promises made you a little afraid, you hadn't finished your program in school. but there was little to be done when you were pressed under his large frame. your hands held behind your back while his bare cock got very familiar with your cunt. you kept meaning to go to the nearest store to get emergency contraception, but before you could sneak out of his bedroom, you were often greeted with another round which shoved all the cum into the farthest part of your pussy. it was a worrying anxiety you tried to ignore, but it would catch up eventually.

it took an entire season but toto wolff was sated, the beast in him could rest. while it wasn't a contract with the three time world champion, he had something a little better. winning was great, but having something sweet to indulge in after every race was something different. while in recent months you hadn't bee accompanying him, he had many photos and videos to keep himself busy in the days apart. because in his home in monaco, there was a cute little verstappen with a slight roundness to her middle. he knew you'd be rubbing your back in irritation over how your son thought it was okay to kick at your ribs. he couldn't tell you the exact date that he got you pregnant, but he had an idea. regardless he was proud of how you carried his child. toto once loudly made a joke within ear shot of max that you were most likely more austrian than dutch by that point, which made the driver's ears burn. he didn't need to hear about his sister like that. but if toto had his way, your brother would be well aware about how the older man takes care of you.

while your little seduction trick failed as toto was coming up with a new contract to propose to max. you found comfort in being toto's sweet little wife now that you were going to have a son over the off-season. <3

a/n: *looks with disrespect*

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 10)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

Everything was white. Pristine white. 

You couldn’t be blind, but no one would blame you for entertaining the idea as nothing but white stretched beyond your gaze.

Unending white. 

Uncanny. White. 

“Hello?” You asked the white abyss. Your call echoed out and back in, the way you imagined sound would echo in a canyon. 

“Hello!” 

You screamed, jumping up at the new voice coming from somewhere high above you. You tried to pinpoint where it came from, staring up at what you hoped was the sky before things slowly materialized. 

Pastel pinks, oranges and soft blues bled into the white, adding definition to what had once been literally nothing. The whiteness remained in the shape of buoyant, fluffy clouds pillowing all around you. 

“Over here!” The voice chimed. “Oh no, here! You’re getting warmer! Almost there!”

After circling around like a dog after your own tail, you finally found the source. Behind you rose a ginormous golden gate, gleaming beneath an electric-looking, all-seeing eye.

 And at its entrance towered a gold and platinum podium. 

A very… well, there was no other way to say it — a very white man with swooping blond hair eyed you from the top of the podium, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hiya! Welcome!” The man said. “You’re right on time!” 

“Uh, okay…?” You replied. 

Without a hitch, the blond lifted up a large tome and began flicking through the pages. In the meantime, you stood there awkwardly, a question on the very tip of your tongue. 

“Wh-um, where am I, exactly?” You finally asked. 

“Why, you’re in Heaven of course!” He stated jovially before turning the book around and tapping on a name. “This is you, correct?”

Your name stared back at you in a glowing golden font, all pretty and shiny — 

And underlined? 

“Yeah.” You blinked. “Wait, did you just say Heaven?”

“Mm-hm, yep! And if I could just get you to stand right here at the center of the platform, that’d be great.” 

An elevated slab of pure gold rose from the clouds beneath your feet a little ways ahead of you. Timidly, you made your way over and onto the platform as instructed. You were pleasantly surprised at the instant warmth that met the bottoms of your bare feet. 

“Pe-rr-fect!” With a flap of suddenly conjured wings, the gatekeeper floated down to hover right beside you. “Now, we just wait for Emily. She should be here in 3, 2, 1… .5 — ”

A loud clang startled you out of your skin for the second time, and you whipped around to face the woman that had spontaneously appeared in front of you.

She panted. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to be late!” 

The golden gates pulled back to reveal the white-haired newcomer in all her splendor. This other angel was bedecked in a floor-length white gown to match her downy-white hair and periwinkle-grey skin dotted with white freckles. A halo hung over her head, casting an eternal light over her large, bluish eyes that sparkled with mirth. 

Like the gatekeeping angel, her wings flapped behind her, but you noted how they seemed to flutter nervously. Or perhaps excitedly? 

“Welcome to Heaven!” She opened her arms toward you. “We’re so glad you’re here! I’m Emily, but you can call me Emmy, or E, or Millie. Whatever you want!” 

You waved dazedly. “Hi.” 

Emily stopped short of touching you, despite looking like she was about to wrap her arms around you in a hug. Instead, the angel bit her lower lip as she stared at you. 

“I really am sorry I was late. I got caught up talking with Sera, making sure everything was all ready for your arrival.” She gushed. “Thank you for greeting her, Peter!” 

Peter brightened. “Of course.” 

Emily turned back to you, buzzing with anticipation like a bumblebee. “Anyway, I’m sure you have tons of questions! No worries at all! I’m here to give you a tour and show you around your new home!”

You cautiously took the hand offered to you, and let yourself be led through the golden gate. 

— 

Heaven was very beautiful, and very clean. The polished golden floors and beautifully-crafted architecture, complete with smiling people of all races, sexes and species didn’t unwrench you from a nagging sense of confusion however. 

“Um. Emily?” You asked your companion — well, one of your companions. Peter had elected to join the two of you on your tour, commenting that he’d gotten someone to cover his eternal shift at the gate for the next few hours. 

“Yes! Yes?” She smiled at you encouragingly. No doubt, your silence, while it had not stopped her constant chatter, had been a downer in as far as engagement. 

“I’m… dead. Right?” You asked. “I mean that’s how one gets to Heaven, so obviously I am… right?”

The mood turned down at that, with Emily turning morose. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

“Okay, good. I mean — I’m dead, but I’m having a hard time remembering h-how it… happened.” You admitted, embarrassed. And a little afraid, if you were honest with yourself. “Is that… normal?”

Emily and Peter stopped on either side of you, twin looks of confusion on their poreless faces. 

Peter was quicker to recover. “Oh that can happen sometimes! Dying can be a very traumatic thing for the soul.” 

Emily seemed hesitant for the first time since you’d met her, but with a look from Peter, she seemed to gain resolve. “Yes, yeah. Lots of people forget… but you’ll remember in time, I’m sure!”

“But wait!” Emily gasped. “We could ask Sera about it!” 

She clapped her hands together joyfully, while Peter’s expression teetered on uncertainty. 

“Uh, Em? I don’t think —” 

“We were headed her way anyway.” Emily nodded as if affirming her own plan. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us figure this out!”

The angel yanked you forward in her quest to get to Sera (whoever that was) and had you stumbling on pure fluff to catch up with her. 

Many angels raced to get out of the way as Peter called out in alarm, but apart from shouldering a particularly tall angel clad in a chasuble, you were unable to stop or slow down. 

—

“Hello child.”

The Seraphim (“Sera.” Emily had urged) was so large that you had to crane your neck up to see her face. 

She was beautiful in the most ethereal way. To look upon her was to look at a celestial body and feel your own insignificance dragging you down and swallowing you whole. 

Your surroundings — a gold and white antechamber with delicately carved archways and a grand war table in its center — did not help. 

Emily laid a hand on your shoulder with concern before you realized that you’d been paralyzed by the scene before you and had yet to say a word.

You stuttered a hello, and Sera’s stoney face softened into an understanding smile. “Be not afraid, my friend. I mean no harm.” 

You returned the smile, albeit shakily. 

Emily squeezed your shoulder. “Sera? We have a question.”

The Seraphim gestured with open palms. 

“Well, we were going around Heaven, and just kind of talking before um… well…”

“Emily, dear. Please speak up.” Sera’s command was gentle but firm.

Emily bounced in her spot, unable to keep herself from floating up from the ground. 

“Shesaysshedoesn’trememberhowshegothere!” She blurted out.

You and Sera both stared at Emily for a long moment, trying to process what exactly she had said. Sera had opened her mouth once more before the grand entrance into the committee room was slammed open and all heads turned to the unwelcome sound. 

The angel with the chasuble came barrelling in, and the omnipresent sunlight that touched everything around you glinted off the sharp black horns winding down from his skull. Or was it a skull? The face of this particular angel looked odd to you, with its smooth, glassy surface and flickering pixelated expression that replaced natural features like lips, cheeks and a nose. 

Their appearance looked at odds with everything else you’d seen in Heaven, regardless of the holy garbs they wore. Everything, while somewhat fantastical on the basis of it actually existing, resembled the organic and natural, and this figure stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison. 

“What the actual fuck? She’s actually here?!” The abrasive, aggressive voice that came out his digitized face shook you from your musings. 

You shrunk back toward Emily and Sera, instinctively trying to get away from the rapidly approaching figure that also towered over you. He glared in your direction, as if you were an insect he wanted to squash, and only when you lost the nerve to meet his gaze did you realize there was another angel behind him. This one wore a similar face, though they were smaller, slimmer and straight-backed. They wore darker vestments and jet-black horns as well, with wings nearly as jagged and hardlined. 

“Adam,” Sera greeted hesitantly. “I don’t believe you were summoned.” 

“Why is she here?” ‘Adam’ demanded, as if the Seraphim had never spoken. His companion stood firmly just a pace behind him, arms behind their back. 

Their combined presence was so off-putting, and your brow furrowed with mounting confusion. Sera’s shoulders slowly rose and fell as she sighed, disapproval in the hard line of her mouth. 

“That was part of the agreement.” 

“Uh, yeah — with the Devil!” His demeanor completely threw you off, so much so that you didn’t catch the full extent of what he’d said. “Who the fuck keeps their end of the deal with that asshole?”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff of disbelief, even as your confusion deepened. ‘The devil?’ 

A hand wrapped around your forearm, making you turn to look at Emily, who’d once more moved beside you. Her ire was clear, though much less contained than Sera’s. “Who are you to question Divine Judgement?” 

Adam laughed condescendingly. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the fucking CEO of Divine Judgement, kid!” 

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.” The other angel chimed in, flat and resolute. The smirk that curved her stitched lips gave away some covert sense of satisfaction in that statement. 

“Executioners?” Emily’s voice rose a few octaves. “What’re you talking about?” 

She was legitimately bewildered. 

“Enough.” Sera stepped in. “Adam, this has never been, nor was it ever, a debate. If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the counsel at a later date.” 

“My ‘grievance’ isn’t gonna fucking wait for this bitch to fuck shit up!” Adam pointed at you with a poisonous claw. 

“Excuse me?” You demanded in sheer disbelief. “Who do you think you are?!” 

The grin Adam shot you was more a bearing of one’s teeth, which further threw you for a loop as, again, his face was completely digital. “I’m fuckin’ Adam. The First Man. The Original Dick. I’ve been here since the fucking beginning. I earned this shit.” 

“Who do you think you are?” He asked, advancing on you. “You think you can whore yourself out to the worst being in all of Creation and still take up space in Heaven? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your gaze narrowed, a stark contrast to the whirlpool of thoughts swirling in your mind at his accusation. 

“HA! Seriously?” His face was mere inches from yours. “What? D’you open your legs for fuckin’ everyone? Have a hard time keeping track of all the brats you pop outta that used vag? Guess so, if even dying for one doesn’t ring your fuckin’ bell.” 

“ADAM!” 

Adam’s sharp grin dropped, expression dawning from stunned to petulant as Sera’s thunderous exclamation reverberated through the vast space between your unusual group. You swore the clouds trembled beneath your feet, but it was hard to care too much with the insinuations that had been thrown at you rattling within your being. 

Dying for… 

“Charlotte.” Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. Air escaped your lungs - which shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already dealing with one crisis upon the epiphany of what you’d been missing this whole time. 

A blitz of images and sordid emotions saw you struggling, legs falling out from under you as the weight of how exactly you’d died forced you down. Emily’s distressed cry sounded from above you, melding with Lucifer’s frantic pleas for you not to go as life drained from your body. 

The Seraphim’s shadow engulfed your broken form while you panicked on Heaven’s floor. 

—

Lucifer sat hunched in his chair, your cold, lifeless hand hanging in his. 

Charlotte had stopped crying and presumably gone to sleep. He hadn’t put up any fight when Cass took her to a crib set up beside your… your bed.

That was who knows how long ago. And apart from Cass coming over the check on his daughter, the elderly worshippers had left him to grieve in peace. 

The King had tried to convince himself to get up. He needed to take Charlotte and leave. Go home. The sight of you in death was unbearable — but he could not move. 

He couldn’t leave you, even if you were no longer there in spirit. The You he loved the most, your soul, was gone and had been gone for some time now. 

You had gone to the one place he could not follow. 

Lucifer’s hanged head slowly rose. His thoughts were starting to become more coherent — what if you hadn’t gone where you were meant to? 

Heaven was a paradise bound by rules, but it was also a cold bureaucracy where things could fall through the cracks. 

And any dealings with him — Heaven’s sworn nemesis — were likely to be one of those things. 

Slow-building anger replaced the gold in his veins as Lucifer considered that his own Deal was not met. If it wasn’t, that meant you were down Below, alone and afraid and suffering. 

The Devil’s claws cricked, fist clenching as he glared at the wall opposite him. 

He would not let you Suffer. Not you. Never you.

And you weren’t here anymore. He needed to know where you’d gone. Now. 

Rising from his seat, Lucifer laid your hand at your side and ignored the tears that stung his eyes at the sight of your ashen face. 

He touched your brow, lingering only to memorize the way your lashes rested against your sinking cheeks before turning to Charlotte’s cradle. 

She was sleeping peacefully, unaware of his anguish, of the great loss that not only he had endured but she as well. It made Lucifer’s heart ache. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, Lucifer conjured the presents he’d made especially for her. 

The twin goats appeared, suspended in the air behind him. Lucifer didn’t bother to turn until their bodies were triple their original size, fur changing from felt to coarse fiber, eyes glowing as they were transformed from button to bonafide, and their bat-like wings began to beat at the air, blowing back the gossamer of Charlotte’s bassinet. 

Lucifer looked between the two magicked goats after kissing his daughter’s fragile head. 

“Stay here and protect the baby.” He ordered. “Charlotte is your top priority, do you understand?” 

The two creatures nodded simultaneously, determination set in their naturally adorable maws. 

“If anything happens, just bleat, and I’ll be back in the wink of an eye.” Lucifer’s wings extended and propelled him upward with a great stroke. 

The King of Hell disappeared through an enormous portal, sparking and swirling reddish-gold before vanishing behind him. 

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems,

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wearing pink [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x bimbo!reader

word count: 2.7k

request: Hear me out... Spencer introducing bimbo f!reader to the squad! 😭🩷

A/N: Honestly, I had never written anything like this and I hope it is the correct idea of a bimbo. I based her on some TV characters, so (if you're a fan of this type of reader) I hope you like it!

“Baby, you're so nervous,” Spencer giggled, listening to the click of your heels from one side of the apartment to the other to check that everything was in order.

“I'm not nervous, I just want everything to look nice” you complained. Your gaze went to your boyfriend, who was wearing an elegant suit that you had bought for him last month, and you noticed that his tie was a little crooked. You immediately went in front of him and your hands acted on their own to accommodate it, as they had done so many times.

It was the first time Spencer's unit mates would see you and you wanted to make the best impression of all. You kept asking if the dishes looked good, if your skirt was smooth, if your hair was combed, if your makeup looked good. And each time he just smiled and nodded, recording how precious you were.

Honestly, the fact that the team found out about your existence was mere coincidence, the result of an unfortunate event that ended up unmasking Spencer. He had spent the night with you, since the cases had kept him too busy the last few weeks, and when he left the room, he only gave you a kiss on the forehead so as not to disturb your sleep. Although he wasn't very hungry, his body was in desperate need of coffee, so he opened your cupboard for something to take back to the office. Everything in your kitchen, which you hardly ever used, was pink, lilac, or any pastel variation of a few others, so it was a relief for him to find a single black thermos. Without paying much attention, he took it, poured the hot liquid, and then walked out.

There was no case, yet, so he sat down at his desk after waving to Morgan and Emily. He felt his phone vibrate and he thought it was a message from JJ, but he found that it was you who was contacting him.

Hey, are you leaving without saying goodbye? 

He smiled inadvertently and apologized saying that you looked so pretty that he hadn't wanted to disturb your calm. I could almost imagine you blushing from your soft bed.

Okay then. Good luck today, handsome. 

Love u xx

"No way! Are you a plastic girl?" Garcia yelled, from his partner's side. Spencer jumped a little when he heard her and it seemed she had caught everyone's attention.

“A what?”

"Your cup" the woman stretched out her hand to pick up said object and showed it to the rest: it had a bright pink print, with some images of a blonde girl and various objects, including a text written with something like newspaper clippings. which enunciated Burn Book.

"Where did you get that, Reid?"

"Who is she?"

“It's Regina George, from the movie Mean Girls. You don’t know her?" Prentiss muttered and at first, he immediately denied it.

“On Wednesdays we wear pink,” Garcia quoted, hoping he would have a clue, and again he showed he didn't know what they were talking about. But after taking a closer look at it, he suddenly remembered that he had looked at a poster with her somewhere in your room and it all made sense.

“When I took it, it was black”

"It's probably one of those magical cups that reveal the image with heat"

“Thermochromism?”

"I guess that's the scientific term"

"So where did you get it from? Did it just show up at your house by chance?"

"No, it was at my girlfriend's house"

At that, Emily's eyes widened, Garcia gasped loudly, and Morgan, who inconveniently just took a gulp of his coffee, almost choked on the hot liquid.

Penelope almost took the doctor by the neck to ask him why he had omitted such important information and he only shrugged his shoulders and replied that he had never commented on it because they had never asked.

It didn't take long for Garcia to yell at the missing team members what they had just found out and pretty soon JJ and Rossi were also gathered around the man to find out what was going on. To everyone's dismay, Hotch interrupted almost immediately, and they didn't manage to ask Spencer any questions. And he said it would be better if they were that curious to ask her themselves.

“Reid, I swear you don't even introduce us to that girl I'll never talk to you again” Garcia had threatened him, clearly exaggerating just to convince him.

When Spencer saw you again, he filled you in on the whole situation and asked if you were okay with hosting a unit dinner, to which you happily agreed.

"Everything looks immaculate, you don't have to worry," he assured you, taking both of your hands and leaning in to kiss you.

"But what if they don't like me?"

"What reason would they have for that, huh?" he insisted, holding your face in his hands. He really liked your lip gloss, it always tasted delicious and made your lips look flawless. 

"Because they're like mega-cool detectives and I... well, I won't even know what to tell them."

"Let them ask the questions, I assure you they will be dying to know everything about you" he smiled at you, quite confident that the evening would go perfectly. It was the first time Spencer had introduced the team to a couple, so they would behave prudently. Or at least so he hoped.

The sound of the doorbell caught your attention and you practically jumped towards the door to open it for whoever was there, but not before asking your boyfriend for the thousandth time to make sure you looked good. When you opened it, you saw a blonde woman and a bald man who, from Spencer's stories, you assumed were Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan. They asked your name and you agreed, finishing verifying that it was the place with the presence of your friend behind you.

"Hello! We thought we had the wrong house” she sighed, completely nervous, and Morgan didn't even say hello because he had been stunned to see you.

You were very pretty, generally speaking, you were wearing a white skirt, a tight top, and a light baby pink sweater, plus huge heels that made you almost level with your boyfriend. You were like a model and it's not that he didn't trust his friend's flirting skills, but that you had simply exceeded his expectations of him.

You received them with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while they secretly observed the place. Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, and JJ soon arrived, in exactly that order, and when they were all assembled, they took seats at the table. Spencer helped you serve dinner, which you had ordered from your favorite restaurant, and pretty soon all of you were eating and drinking the wine that David Rossi had brought as a gift.

Although the conversation had been pleasant during the first few minutes, it was obvious that everyone wanted to ask you questions, quite surprised to see the type of girl you were and how they never imagined that their friend would fit in with someone like that.

"So since when are you guys dating?" Emily murmured, trying to be nice, but also dying of curiosity.

"What will they be now, love? About six months?” you said, reaching out to hold his hand on the table.

“Six months, fourteen days, and seventeen hours”

"He's the mathematician here, so you can listen to him" you joked and the others laughed. The courtship time somewhat dismayed the team, because, although they didn’t blame him, they wished they had known sooner.

"And how did you two meet?"

“Oh, for my dad. Spencer went to give a conference to his police officers in New York a while ago and he asked him for a private consultation on a case that had been giving everyone a headache. When he helped him figure it out, Dad was so grateful that he invited him to dinner so he could meet our family. My parents loved him so I thought of it as a sign and we kept in touch after that."

"Now I understand why he kept looking at his phone and smiling in his spare time," Morgan muttered to embarrass him, like an older brother would, and the team laughed at the memory.

"And who is your father?" Rossi asked. Reid had never mentioned what had happened, but still you seemed familiar to the man, as if he had seen you somewhere before.

“He worked for a few years as a police chief here in Virginia, but now last year he got promoted to the commissioner or something; his name is Joseph Sanders”

You probably had no idea how important that position was to police officers, but they all exchanged glances as if you had just told them that you were the daughter of the President of the United States himself. Rossi immediately snapped his fingers as he winced, telling you that of course he knew your father and that he had seen you when you were a girl of maybe ten years old. The others only weighed in on the fact that Reid was now the commissioner's son-in-law.

“Hey and, no offense, but how did you fall in love with our boy wonder? He's always been a bit shy”

Now it was your boyfriend who was worried that they might make him uncomfortable or point out the clear difference between the two of you, but your carefree giggles put him at ease every time.

"It is enough to see that face to do it, don't you think?" you responded affectionately and the girls smiled at your response.

"Actually, she called me to invite me to have coffee after dinner with her father and although at first I thought it was hopeless I realized that she liked spending time with me and that's why I kept asking her out”

“He was so sweet. Flowers, chocolates, dinners. The whole package"

“Yes, well, it's that I did a little research on the best courtship methods and found common factors like that in most of them. It was only necessary to combine it with the right environment and make some modifications to them so that they were pleasant in front of you. Did you know that in the 19th century it was well seen that men…?”

"Reid," Derek interrupted, as a signal for him to stop rambling, and his friends smiled at the doctor's soft apology.

“Half the time I don't understand what he's saying, but I love hearing him talk,” you said sincerely. He had never taken that as an offense, because, although many people didn't understand his talks about him either, at least you always paid attention to him "I honestly don't know how a person can have a brain of that size"

“In fact, brains don’t vary in size but rather in areas of development, so it is incorrect to say that one person has a bigger brain than another. In such a case, one person has a more developed brain than the other”

The group looked at him accusingly again and he was about to feel guilty, but your lips crashing a kiss on his cheek considerably improved his mood.

After many more questions, everyone was able to realize that you and Spencer couldn't be more than complete opposites. You loved everything that Reid didn't know and he knew a lot of things that didn't matter to you. There were no books in your house, if glossy magazines counted for anything, and Spencer didn't even have a modern cell phone. Your house vibrated with pink and expensive things, while he only cared that there would be a bed to sleep in when he got home. But even with everything you looked really in love and the team wondered how that was possible.

Although you tremendously admired the man's capabilities that wasn’t the most important thing to you, but his wonderful beauty of him. He was someone who drew attention with his eccentricity, that every time he walked into a room he left a mark and someone many women wished they had, which he didn't even notice. And by becoming your boyfriend, without any explicit sense of ownership or anything, he had become all yours.

You liked holding his hand in the streets, you liked that he came to work and the clients were surprised when he kissed you, that everyone said how lucky you were to have found a man like that. Besides, he had passed one of the most important tests: he had your parents' approval, which was usually not an easy thing to come by.

And right now, it seemed that you were winning the sympathy of your boyfriend's family too, because the fact of seeing him so happy by your side was reason enough for them to like you and, therefore, also approve of you.

When it was time to eat dessert, the girls invited you to go shopping with them one day and all the compliments from the men were related to your last name, even astonished that Spencer now belonged to the spheres of high police society. They told you many things about themselves and you, with some effort, tried to take it all in.

"It was a great pleasure meeting you, you can come back here any day you like," you said to say goodbye, once the night was already quite advanced and they decided that the best thing (for the comfort of both the hosts and the guests) would be to leave. 

“The pleasure was ours, Y/N”

Just like at the beginning, they kissed your cheek, and one by one they left, giving you kind words of thanks, until only you and Spencer were left.

"How was I?" you immediately asked your boyfriend, who was already looking at you out of the corner of his eye with a smile.

“Perfect”

"You think so?"

"I know it" he assured you, moving closer to you to hold you by the waist and causing your skirt to ride a little higher to the height of your butt "They loved you"

“But can you believe your friend Emily was wearing flats with that dress? It's not right and I didn't mean to be rude by mentioning it, but I died when I saw it” you started to babble, still under Spencer's grasp “And your friend Penelope has such a…quirky style. She wears colors that shouldn't mix, but somehow it looks good on her. And your boss, Aaron, shouldn't wear a suit jacket with a casual shirt. The others were relatively good, but the next time I see Jennifer I'll be sure to treat her to a moisturizer for her skin”

"And leaving that aside, did they at least make a good impression on you?" he laughed. He wasn't upset with you, it was inevitable that you would notice that kind of 'signs of bad taste' as you called them.

“Oh, they are adorable. You can tell that they love you very much, everyone speaks with admiration of you. Even your friend Derek, even though he tried to annoy you every so often."

“Yeah, I'll make him pay” he muttered under his breath, making you smile.

Carefully you reached up to reach his lips with a kiss and he sighed pathetically into your mouth as you clung to his body. Your skin was so smooth wherever he touched, as if you were a delicate piece of porcelain in his big hands.

“I hope you had a good time”

“Of course I did, sweetie. I already told you, you were perfect"

Perfect. You loved that he described you that way.

"Do you have to go home?"

"Probably. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just thought maybe we could go to my room. I bought something new that I think you'll like” you said innocently, while you held him by the tie that you had arranged so carefully at the beginning of the evening. Upon hearing this, he wasted no time and carried you in a bridal pose, taking you there while you laughed out loud.

No one questioned Spencer when he arrived later than usual the next morning, smelling of cherry shampoo and with a suspicious purplish mark, knowing that the only one to blame for that would have to be you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

[reallyromealone]

bonten with a really feminine male reader? like the first time bonten and him met they thought he was a girl

Reader gets she/her pronouns till they learn because they don't know and ooooo surprise

Male reader, Bonten x male reader

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

They had to admit.

She was quite beautiful, the woman before then dressed in soft pastels and a cute skirt, delicate makeup applied to their face. They looked to be a university student, currently crouched before a gatcha machine and happy when she got the cute keychain.

This wasn't their first time seeing this Beauty, having seen her a few times before in equally cute outfits and seeing as she was always seen in Roppongi she clearly could afford a good lifestyle.

One bonten was willing to facilitate with.

Issue was... They never spoke to her.

That was until (name) found mikey bleeding out by her apartment.

"Dont get up so fast!" (Name) said worried as a bandaged mikey woke "Don't worry, I didnt call the cops or anything... I saw the tattoo and I know thats the last thing you need" (name) mumbled and Mikey looked entranced "heres your phone! I charged it since it was dead" (name) said handing Mikey his phone and the blond took it silently, looking at the others nightwear, an oversized hoodie and shorts "cute..."

(Name) looked confused as Mikey made a call and twenty minutes later the door was knocked on "its the pretty girl!" Ran said excitedly and (name) tilted his head "girl...?"

Wait.

Oh god they recognized him when he cross dressed.

"Actually...." (Name) said as Ran cupped his face and gently smooshed his cheeks "im a guy... Those are the clothes i model"

The room went quiet and the men looked at him incredulously "prove it" Sanzu said and (name) shrugged before lowering his pants.

"Holy shit" Takeomi said simply and the others nodded as (name) pulled the shorts back up "sorry for any inconveniences" (name) said simply as the others looked at him silently.

"Would still smash" koko said and the others made sounds of agreement.

[angelwhisp3rs]

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 obsession

Pairing: ID!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Training the rookies was a pain until he met her. His sweetest new obsession, he wouln't stop till he was buried deep inside her.

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap (not too much! i imagined leon being 37 and the reader being 23-25, so everyone is legal and consenting! Its not his age in ID but i use it only bc of the character background), p in v, eating out, riding, breeding kink, leon is obsessed!, a small housewife kink.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ on repeat: exo - obsession

Notes: Got too excited and posted without proofreading it! If i missed anything, please let me know so i can correct it! Also, when will tumblr make a pastel pink theme for the dashboard? I hate that everything we have is either a sad/gloomy hipster or raging gothic theme.

From all his years working at the D.S.O, Leon was stressed pretty much all the time, never catching a break, too exhausted. That showed on the increasing wrinkles forming from his frowns, and the occasional white hair that appeared on top of his head. In his non-existent breaks, he had another thing on his belt: training the new agents.

At first, it was a pain in the ass, watching those morons do the same mistake over and over, it really made Leon think it was getting too easy to be a D.S.O agent. Some repeated the same mistakes over and over again, and because of it, Leon frequently lost his patience, soon getting known as a hardass. 

As time went by, he began losing hope for the future of the department, until she came through. Pretty body, voice as soothing as a canary and delicious lips that called for him. And the best thing was that she was better than all of these morons, throwing down even the experienced rookies.

Since Ada, Leon didn’t know what it was like to be this obsessed with a woman. He wanted to know her next step, have her by his side all the time, know how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips. He dreamed of her, and caught himself checking her out more than he should. Chris always teased him in private, telling him “his star student is making him turn back to his twenties”. God, they had a small age gap, but thinking about it only made his cock throb. Maybe dealing with rookies made his mind turn him back to his twenties.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

As their “graduation” got closer in time, all the new agents began training more, but none were like her. She came in first and left after all of them, always using the training gym by herself the most she could. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Leon offered private training, becoming a private tutor to her.

Instead of making things easy, it just caused him to become even more addicted to her - he now knew her thoughts, her quirks and her perspectives. As they spent more and more time together, it was clear that she found him attractive too - he knew he was still successful with women, after all (even if he was more dumped than anything). Leon had cemented in his mind that he needed her, and now he just needed to find a way to approach her.

She will be all his.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One of the nights, he had to spend in his office reading and filing boring documents, Leon heard a gentle knock on his door. “Come  in” he simply answered, and to his surprise - and excitement, it was his little star. She entered his office, and her usual sparkly eyes were dull, the poor thing was too tired, working herself too much.

“What happened, rookie? You look exhausted. Working too much to bring me down?” Leon said with a smirk

“Ha, you wish, sir.” Oh, how that term made his pants tighten. “I just came for help, I don’t know. I’ve been focusing on sharpening my skills for the admission test, but I don’t know…” she said unsure

“Hey, don’t tell the rest, but you’re the only one that I would bet on getting in” he reassured her, standing up and taking a seat beside her in his couch “You’re too much in your head, agent”

“I know, I just can’t turn it off…” she whined, making Leon think how she would sound if he made her cum around his cock 

That 's it. That was Leon’s chance to get his favorite student. He put a hand on her thigh, not too close to her precious cunt and said quietly to her “It’s alright, sweetheart… I can help you, if you want”

She knew where this was going, and it turned her on more than she thought. Feigning innocence, she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding “But… How, sir?” and looked at his lips

Leon smiled, caressing her jaw “let me fill your mind, rookie. Why don’t you sit at my desk, hm?” 

She stood up and slowly went to his desk, sitting on it and letting her head fall to the side, as if to question him “what’s next?” with her body language. Leon follows her, standing between her legs and letting his hands caress the outer side of her thighs. His face lowers to her neck, his kisses and his stubble causing a warm sensation to run through her skin. A soft gasp left her lips, her hands caressing the back of his head.

Feeling him smirk against her skin, he kept placing slow and gentle kisses, adding some nibbles on the mix “That’s what my best student needs, right? A real man to touch her”

He lays her on his desk, pushing his papers aside, pulling her hips into his - his cock adding a nice weight to her sensitive wetness. He slowly pushed her shirt up, watching her beauty for a moment “You’re perfect, baby”. As he whispered the praise, her cheeks blushed more, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He finally kissed her lips and both were hungry for each other, to quench the thirst they had been accumulating after months. 

Leon swiftly undoes her bra, not wasting any time and circling his tongue around her nipples, sucking and lightly nibbling it. Underneath him, her breath quickens, as she whines freely as he teased her. Trying to ease their ache, Leon grinds their centers together, his cock so hard that his zipper presses against his member.

Soon, he removed her pants, kissing as her skin showed - inch by inch. Again, his stubble creates goosebumps in her legs, as he worshiped her body - she deserved it, after all, he wanted to make her addicted to him and his taste. Watching her panties so drenched as they were glued to her pussy, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her bundle of nerves, causing a gentle jump on her. He kissed and licked the wet spot, as if trying to eat her up. 

“F-fuck, please take them off, sir” she whined, not even realizing that she kept the term. Leon, deciding that he wasn’t in a teasing mood, guided the clothing down, letting his pretty star all spread on his desk - his to take, to tease, to fuck, to breed. 

“Shit, baby girl, you are so wet for your teacher… you wanted me to take you, right? You wanted me to go crazy and drench my face with you. huh?” He teased her as he got on his knees, aligning his face against her cunt. She was so red, puffy and wet, not even the most delicious candy could compare to her.

His tongue tasted her at first with kitten licks, causing a loud moan to rip from her mouth. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone coming here and seeing you spread out like a needy slut, right?” at his comment, and as if teasing her, he finally sucked and rolled his tongue around her clit, letting his index finger circle her wet entrance. Almost as if she was distressed, she cupped her mouth with her hand, rolling her eyes back at the pleasure. 

Pushing his finger forward, slowly, until he's entirely inside her, he kept eating her out with gusto, as if he was a starved man. Soon, what was one finger turned into two, her juices were flowing through his palm as he began to be more desperate for her - but he wouldn’t stop till she let him taste her entirely. “It feels good, doesn’t it, my doll? I’m the only man and only one for you, gonna make sure to keep this pussy satisfied till I die”.

His fingers and mouth worked more ferociously, pussy drunk wasn’t even close to describe how he was feeling.On the other end, she had tears in her eyes as one hand didn’t leave her mouth as the other one tugged his hair hard, making him moan against her drenched cunt. “S-sir, o-oh g-god…need to c-cum!” she pleased, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

“Do it, baby girl, give it to me” he ushered her, maintaining the pace till she finally coated his fingers, tongue and mouth with her essence. As her ‘little death’ came, she felt as if fireworks erupted inside her mind - none of her exams daring to creep up on her mind.

He praised and marked her thighs as she came down from her high. The girl pulled Leon into a passionate kiss, smiling in contentment, reaching cloud 9000. Pulling away, she whispered against his lips “Let me repay you, Leon. Wanna make you feel just as good”

“Not today, doll.” He whispered, sitting back in his chair and pulling his pants and underwear down, patting his lap “I know how to help you even further”, he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Like an excited bunny, she hopped off his desk and jumped into his lap, resuming her kisses on his mouth - casually descending into his jaw and neck, enjoying the pleased hums that he lets out. He palmed her ass and firmly grabbed it, giving some gentle smacks as she had his fun with him. To Leon, in all of his life, that was his happiest moment: having his pretty princess on his lap, all naked, hypnotized in kissing and feeling him up. 

“Go ahead, baby, let me finally empty your mind and use you” he calmly ordered her, caressing her cheeks adoringly. Soon, she positioned herself and slowly sat down on his cock, rolling her eyes back and holding into his chair behind him. 

“S-so b-big…” she moaned, her head falling into his shoulders as the girl swallowed all of him. She was so tight, wet and perfect, Leon almost came deep in her cunt just by her inserting him. His head got dizzy for a moment, his hold on her ass tightening, as he grunted and pressed his eyes closed. 

Dedicatedly, she began jumping up and down on his cock, their skin slapping as the woman looked directly into his eyes. If anyone saw them at that moment, they would attest that both had heart in their eyes. her tits jumped up and down in front of him, making his tongue and fingers play with them as the couple lost their minds in pleasure.

“Good job, doll… jumping on my cock like the good girl you are… it’s all for you, always for you” he said rambling in pleasure,  busying his mouth to tell her praises and roll her sensitive nipples on his tongue, as her cunt drenched his cock, causing a white ring at the base.

Holding tightly into the back of his chair, her hips worked even faster on him, making Leon moan more frequently in pleasure, slapping her ass, leaving behind his handprints on her pretty skin. His head falls back as he watches the goddess in front of him taking what's hers and milking his cock into her hungry pussy. He would make sure that she passed her admission check, so every end of shift he would breed her cunt, till she is finally all of his - the mother of his children, his pretty wife. But that’s a talk for later.

After some minutes pass, Leon takes over and thrusts from below, making her body turn into his own ragdoll, her moans flowing freely into his mouth. Some minutes passed, and both were on the brink of their orgasm, so close to reaching their true paradise “Will you let me fill you, doll? Make your womb so full of me, gonna make you get home with me drenching on your legs” he taunted her.

Not handling much more teasing, and his words serving as a catalyst to her peak, she nods and coats his cock with her sweet arousal, biting down on his shoulder to drown out her sounds. Her roughness and the new tight hold on his cock makes him spill into her gummy walls, emptying himself. Finally, he marked her as his. His doll, his love, his property.

Both were coming down from their highs, trying to control their breathing, letting their heartbeat slow down. He caressed her hair, kissing her cheeks and nuzzling their noses together, all smiles. “So, did I help?” he asked jokingly.

“Didn’t even know why I came here” she answers teasingly.

From now on, Leon would never be exhausted for the wrong reasons ever again.

[feyhunter78]

Can you please do part two of Pink Pastels? Thank you 🩷

I definitely can!!! I'm honestly such a sucker for dual povs I swear it's like my calling card, so this chapter is in Miguel's pov! Fun fact: the bf in this story is based off my best friend's college boyfriend who showed up high out of his mind to her place of work SEVERAL times (I obvi changed his name though bc I'm a nice person)

Pt 3

Pink Pastels Pt 2

Miguel searches through every database, has Lyla run your face, your name, every detail he can find about you, and yet you only seem to appear here, in this universe where he swoops in right as your universe’s Miguel dies.

No one notices the switch. Not even his coworkers at Alchemax. In fact, they seem to welcome his “new attitude,” and he finds himself with a raise within the first two months.

This universe is quiet, the other him died from a fluke, embarrassingly enough. But it was so random, so unpredictable, that no one questioned “his” survival. So, life goes on as it had before, how he had watched it go on before.

The old woman who lives next door and watches Gabi when he’s “called into work late,” smiles at him, praises him for working so hard for his daughter. Gabi wakes up in the morning to him, her father, like always, eats breakfast, strawberries, blueberries, and honey on her toast, scrambled eggs with cheese, tomatoes, peppers, and a glass of milk. Then he drops her off at school on his way to work.

The monitors beep at him, and he turns back towards them. Finally, it’s found you in his universe, the victim of a plane crash, years before Gabi would even be born. It’s a painless death. You were among those killed on impact. Gone in a moment, but as he watches you here, in this new universe where his daughter is happy and thriving, he realizes just how desperately he wished he would have found you before you ever set foot in that airport.

“She’s pretty.” Lyla says, leaning forward, a teasing smile on her face. “Looks like someone’s got the hots for teacher?”

“No.” He deadpans, though he can’t tear his eyes from you. You’re sitting in a Mexican restaurant giggling into your margarita, another woman—Janey—sits across from you shoveling chips and queso into her mouth, making you laugh even harder.

You’re in that pink dress from earlier. It brightens your skin, hugs your curves but in a modest way, it’s more than appropriate for a teacher to wear, but he’s salivating at the thought of his talons tearing through it and exposing the soft flesh beneath.

Would you cry out for him? Cling to him as he fucks you? You look so pretty in pink, and he wants to go slow, keep you in that color for as long as possible, but he knows himself better than that. The moment he’s able to, he’ll shred the garment, leaving ribbons of fabric in his wake as he bends you over the nearest piece of furniture and slams into you. He wants to feel your warmth around him, hear you begging for him, his name falling from your perfect lips as he gropes your breasts, fangs scraping down your throat, marking you as his.

You laugh again at something the waiter said, and it’s musical, and perfect, you are perfect.

A twinge of jealousy, a foolish thing he knows, but the thought passes through his mind. It should be him making you laugh. He’s studied you now, he knows exactly what makes you laugh, what songs you hum as you prepare your classroom for the day, how you keep colorful Band-Aids in your purse because you just can’t turn off being a teacher, Janey.

And you’re Gabi’s favorite teacher, he wasn’t lying when he told you she talked about you, though he may have added the pretty part. She goes on and on about you, to the point where he almost doesn’t need the cams, he can get every bit of information from his daughter.

“And then, Ms. Y/N told us about her trip to Disney World! She went with her boyfriend, but I don’t know why.” Gabi says, collecting the animal shaped macaroni on her fork. He let her pick dinner, feeling guilty that he didn’t know she’d cried over her lost tooth.

He feels guilty about snapping at you too. He was already worked up, his job, the multiverse, traffic. And last night he forgot all about the Tooth Fairy, so in the morning Gabi was afraid the Tooth Fairy didn’t like her. But you don’t get rewards for losing things once you’ve grown up, and the idea of Gabi going into that pain blindly, having to watch as those she loves disappears around her makes him want to rip his heart from his chest.

“What do you mean Mija?” He asks, his own forkful of mac and cheese halfway to his mouth.

How had he missed you having a boyfriend? Was it serious? Did he treat you well? How easy would it be to make him disappear?

“Well, Ms. Y/N was really happy when she was talking about her trip, but then when she mentioned her boyfriend, she got sad.” Gabi explains, a frown tugging at her lips. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah?” He prompts her, fighting the urge, to call up Lyla and have her run a search for your boyfriend.

“He came in one time on her birthday, but he was all weird and smelled bad.” Then she got up from the table and mimed stumbling and swaying. “And he walked like this. Ms. Y/N was really mad. Plus, he didn’t even bring her a present.”

Your boyfriend showed up to an elementary school—your place of work on your birthday, drunk, with no gift.

“That’s not nice, when was Ms. Y/N’s birthday?” If he was speaking to anyone but his daughter, he was sure they’d see right through them, but his sweet girl thought nothing of it.

“Last week, I wanted to tell you about it, but you were on your trip, so I told Tia Margo.”

Tia Margo, the old woman next door. He needs to speak with her about letting him know there was a drunk at his daughter’s school. Maybe next time he sees her in the hall, he’ll mention it to her.

“I wish you had told me, then maybe we could’ve gotten her a gift to make up for it.” He says, smiling at her, so she knows he’s not upset.

“I don’t think one gift would make it all better, she’s sad about her boyfriend a lot.” She emphasizes the last word, making the ending sound sharp as she stabs at her food.

“It sounds like he’s a bad boyfriend. Make sure you stay away from boys like him, Mija.” He can’t help but feel protective, even though she’s only six.

He watches as she eats, her hair in a simple braid, a sparkly pink hairband tying it off. “Who did your hair?”

She stops and proudly holds the braid up. “Ms. Y/N, well Emma did it first, but then it fell out when I did a cartwheel, so Ms. Y/N fixed it, and she said I could keep the hairband.”

If he focuses, he can smell the scent of you, mingled with the scent of his home, as if you’re already beside them in your rightful place.

“Maybe we should get her a thank-you gift?” He suggests, his heart warming at the excitement on Gabi’s face.

She is so good, so pure, and sweet. She is nothing like him, and yet she is everything he wished for her to be. He doesn’t know her mother, not in his original universe, but he knows her in this one, watched the other him break down over her leaving. Agony is a cannon event, no interference allowed. He hopes she never returns, that she stays away from his daughter. Doesn’t ruin her with her selfishness.

Just as your boyfriend is ruining you.

He waits until Gabi’s asleep to call out for Lyla. She appears and raises an eyebrow at the way he clutches your hairband.

“She has a boyfriend, find me everything you can on him.”

“I knew you had the hots for her.” Lyla laughs, disappearing before he can dismiss her.

He waits, packs Gabi’s lunch, slips two dollars under her pillow because he’ll be damned if his daughter believes some magical creature doesn’t like her, then cleans the kitchen and his bedroom three times over until finally Lyla returns.

“Okay, boss, you’re gonna want to sit down for this.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @aeryns--playground

[byeomtori]

the only exception | beomgyu x reader

pairing: beomgyu x female reader

content: love at first sight au, summer love thingy, lots of reference to paramore's the only exception and txt's our summer, pda

tw: mentions of fight and blood

words count: 12k

notes: reposting because of high demand (lol)

preview:

you were not the type to believe in the existence of love. to you, there was no such a thing as true love; no such a thing as unwavering, unbreakable, and unparalleled fondness and devotion for someone. to you, people love to get something they desire in return — money, power, status, pride. your parents were a living prove of that

the day you were old enough to understand the lack of love and affection between your parents to each other, and to you; you swore to never grow that feeling to anyone — family, friends, partner. anyone. because to you, love did not exist.

you were content living that way for years, not happy, but content.

the absence of love in your life protected you from attachment, heartbreak, sorrow — those negative emotions that you deemed unnecessary and unworthy to be sitting inside of you.

life was okay without love, you thought.

until you had to spend the rest of your summer with a distant relative whom you've never met in your entire life, in a small town with an ocean view, where fate had brought you a boy whose eyes shine brighter than any stars in the night sky.

and maybe, just maybe, love does exist.

a comforting smell of freshly brewed chamomile tea wafting in the air as you make your way inside the unfamiliar home — the one you will be spending three months in because your parents are way too busy flying around across the globe to be taking care of you.

"come on in, y/n." the woman in front of you speaks, her voice soft, the type of voice a kindergarten teacher would have.

maybe she was one, you have no idea. in fact, you know nothing about the woman standing in a yellow dress in front of you. she is pretty, even though it is evident her aging is slowly creeping up to her from the way her skin wrinkles on the corner of her eyes when she smiles. but to you, she is pretty- the mother-like kind of pretty. the kind of pretty that makes you feel warm inside.

but again, you know nothing about her. have never seen her in your entire life. never even heard her name from any of your parents until today.

aunty sue.

that was the name your mom had told you in the car this morning when she was dropping you off at the train station, she couldn't even make some time to drive you straight here, and telling you the woman is a distant cousin of hers whom she hasn't met in a long time. and that was also the name the said woman had introduced herself to you.

"do you want some tea, honey? or anything else?" she asks, making her way into the kitchen as you trail behind her like a little lost puppy.

"tea is fine," you reply.

leaning against the kitchen counter, you roam your eyes around the room. some parts of the walls are painted in pastel green while another part is decorated with a plaid wallpaper with the same color — just a shade darker. the counter tops are full of kitchen appliances, cookbooks, sunflower patterned dishes, and freshly washed vegetables along with some other things. there are random little trinkets on the windowsill — a wooden carved statue of a cat, a line of herbs in old tomato cans, and a sun catcher being hung at the corner of the window making tiny little rainbows refracting inside the kitchen.

the furniture of the dining area does not match with each other — one wooden chair with a striking blue cushion, a yellow wicker chair and another two plastic chairs in white. though everything is mismatch, it doesn't look weird. it feels right, even.

it feels like home.

very different from your house where nothing is ever out of place. the countertops made of slick white marble, picked personally by your mother, are always shiny as if no one has ever touched it. truthfully speaking, they kind of are. no one is ever cooking in that kitchen. you bet the only stains that has dirtied that counter was that one time you spilled your morning coffee on it. the stove, it looks brand new compared to the one in front of you right now which looks like it has been in service for more than a decade with how rusty it looks.

everything in your house is perfect to the tee. a façade that is what you like to think — to mask the family's imperfections.

a house that never felt like a home.

"i'm going to keep my stuff in my room first, i'll be right back," you say as you pull your luggage with you.

"sure, honey. your room is the second door on the right."

honey.

not even your own mother has ever called you that.

you haul your bag with much difficulty up the stairs, cursing yourself mentally for overpacking, before making your way to the said door. the room is spacious, not as big as your own room back in the city, but still enough to fit a queen-sized bed in the middle, a study desk by the window and a two doors wardrobe in the corner.

the glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony are being left slightly open, the warm summer breeze blowing the white sheer curtain. leaving your luggage by the bed, you make your way over to the balcony — pushing open the sliding door wider as you step out into the outdoor.

to say you are astonished is an understatement. the view in front of you is breath-taking — the house is located on top of the hill, overlooking the neighborhood and the ocean, the season's bright sunlight is making the scenery even more spectacular.

you breath in the air, inhaling the smell of the blue sea with your eyes closed.

there is someone, other than aunty sue, downstairs — you can clearly hear the sound of a male voice which is a little bit too loud to be ignored, talking to the woman in the kitchen about how his mom had forced him to deliver cake to all the houses up the hill in the middle of the day.

"y/n, honey! are you done? come downstairs, please." opening your eyes, you let out a soft sigh as you walk back inside, keeping your eyes on the ocean outside as you close the glass doors.

it's okay, you have the whole three months here. you tell yourself as you make your way back into the kitchen, the guest is still going on about how his little rant.

"i mean, don't get me wrong. i love summer, but to deliver all of them under the sun? god i felt like-.." and as he turns to face you who is standing at the entrance of the kitchen, your breath hitch in your throat.

you're not sure is it the iridescent illumination from the sun catcher beaming on him, or the glow of his skin that is glistening with sweats from biking under the summer rays, or the sparks in his eyes as he stares at you;

but oh god, he is beautiful.

not pretty, but beautiful. the angel-like kind of beautiful. the kind of beautiful that would make people turn their heads. the kind of beautiful that would make you steal glances at him if you were to sit in front of him in a train. the kind of beautiful that makes the ocean view you saw earlier lose its' price.

the once in a lifetime kind of beautiful.

"y/n, this is beomgyu, his mom owns a bakery down the hill."

"oh, this is the girl that you've been telling me about!" he says excitedly as he makes his way over to you, "she's pretty."

and you almost choked on your saliva. how can he be saying things like that so casually?!

"hi, i'm choi beomgyu," he says, extending out his hand for a handshake. "aunty sue told me a lot about you so i'm kind of excited to be your friend, that is if you want, of course."

you look down to his hand, lifting your own as you slowly put it in his. "im y/n,"

though it feels rough, his hand still holds a certain kind of warmth that makes you feel secured. you can feel calluses on his fingertips, too. does he play the guitar?

you're not even sure why you feel bashful under his gaze. you don't understand the warm fuzzy feeling you're getting when he keeps his hand in yours. you don't get why your heart is beating so fast when he says your name, the syllabus rolling perfectly on his tongue like it was made for him and only him to say.

"well then, i look forward to hanging out with you, y/n."

the conscious side of your brain is already blaring an alarm, telling you to turn him down, telling you that no, you don't want to hang out with him. that no, you don't look forward to spending your summer with him.

but despite that, you find yourself nodding to his words. "me too, choi beomgyu."

it has been three days since you have first arrived, and you have concluded that choi beomgyu is a man of his words.

you didn't think much when he told you that he looks forward to hanging out with you, thinking that he was just being nice to a newcomer and to act friendly to you.

because that's all you have ever known — people acting nicely to you.

you remember when you used to associate in a group of girls back in middle school; it was one of the worst times of your life. eleven years old you were so naïve (read: stupid) to realize that those girls were just using you for your unlimited amount of cash — always inviting you to go shopping, forcing you to throw fancy sleepovers — until one day one of them literally had to scream in your face that they were only hanging out with you for your daddy's money.

and since then, you have never tried to befriend anyone and those around you never approached or asked you to hang out, either.

so, it is a surprise to you that choi beomgyu stays true to his words.

yesterday, he had come over early in the morning looking as beautiful as you had remembered the first time you saw him; asking you if you want a little tour of the small town. you had declined, telling him you still had a few things left to unpack, leaving the boy pouting. you had felt slightly bad, just slightly.

you are in the backyard with aunty sue, picking up some ripe tomatoes from the small garden. she told you she has been tending this small part of her backyard for almost seven years now, planting

various kinds of vegetables, using the excuse of she doesn’t like the ones sold in the market, when in reality she just really loves gardening and watching her plants come to live day by day.

“is the tomato that interesting to you?”

you jump in surprise as you hear a low voice speaking next to your ear. turning around, you find a grinning beomgyu looking down at you. he peeks under your straw hat, trying to have a better look at

your face. “you look like a tomato yourself.”

you frown, “what do you mean by that?!”

he bends, hands resting on his knees, now being eye to eye level with you. humming, he continues to study your face.

there is always something about him that never fails to make blood rush to your face. yesterday it was the way he dressed — white sleeveless top tucked messily inside his black jeans. it was simple, nothing outstanding about it but to you, he was breath-taking. and today; it’s the way he’s looking deep into your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks with every blink.

the rational part of you is telling you to push him aside or to move away, to break the eye contact. but the other part that you have no idea existed inside of you until you met him few days ago, is telling you to keep staring into his sparkling eyes, to play along to whatever little game he has put on.

the rational part of you won as you take a step back, creating a safe distance between your figure and his. you can feel your cheeks flushed, fully blaming it on the warm temperature as you had been

standing under the sun for quite a while now.

“your cheeks are so red, like a tomato.” he giggles, “are you hot?”

you look away from him, hiding your face under your hat as you whisper, “k-kinda…”

he was about to move closer to you again, hand reaching over to your hat, but it stops mid-air when aunty sue is calling over for the both of you. thanking the lord and savior, you quickly make an escape

from him as you walk over to where your aunty is standing with a plate full of freshly cut watermelon in hand.

you sit beside her on the porch, while beomgyu is standing right in front of you. “tell your mom i say thank you for the watermelon,” aunty sue says and the boy just hums, hand reaching down to pick up two pieces of the sliced fruit, handing one over to you.

you thank him quietly and he smiles down at you, “you will never find a watermelon as sweet and juicy as the ones that my grandfather planted.” he boasts, and aunty sue make a sound as what sounds

like she is agreeing with him. “that’s right, mr.choi planted the best watermelon in the country.”

the scorching heat of the sun calls for you to take a bite of the fruit – it is sweet, just like what beomgyu had said. “it’s so good,” you speak under your breath. you’re not sure how he manages to hear what

you said but he did, as the smile on his face grow wider. “right? i told you!”

he waits for you to finish the slice in your hand before handing you another one, all the while still towering in front of you.

“sit down, beomgyu.” your aunty says to him to which the boy just shakes his head. “i’m protecting y/n from the sun,” he replies casually, taking a bite of the watermelon “she looks like a real tomato

right now.”

both you and aunty sue look up to him in sync. he is, indeed, covering you away from the sun — being tall makes it easier for him to shield you away from the direct sunlight of the summer rays but his back

is taking up all the consequences of his action as you can see droplets of sweat forming on of his neck, sliding down to his back.

you glance to aunty sue, a coy smile on her lips. “j-just sit down!” you scold him, pulling him down by his wrist to sit beside you on the wooden veranda.

aunty sue giggles, “talking about tomato, do you want to bring some home, beomgyu?”

he shakes his head, “thanks, aunty sue but no one in that house enjoys eating tomato.”

“but i do want to ask for your permission to steal this cute tomato away from you for the night,” he says as he pokes your cheek with his index finger to which you move slightly away. “my friends are doing a bonfire by the cliff later, i was thinking to bring y/n along.”

you hesitate, gaze moving from his face to your aunty’s. “you can go, y/n. it’s much more fun to hang out with people your age rather than spending time with me,” she ensures you.

you look back to beomgyu, his eyes hopeful as he waits for your answer.

“okay, then.” you finally give in, a wide smile making its’ way across his face.

he stands up, one hand in the pocket of his pants as he bends down to look at your face, again.

“see you tonight then, tomato.”

one conclusion you can come up after spending a good half an hour with choi beomgyu is that he does not have a sense of personal space — not that you mind, at least for now when you are surrounded by unfamiliar teenagers laughing and chattering around the bonfire.

you’ve been stuck to his side since the moment you reached the cliff. it’s not like you are that comfortable with him but out of everyone here, he is the only person you know. despite that, choi beomgyu looks like he is that comfortable with you — hand on the small of your back while walking, wrapping his flannel around your waist so that you won’t get your shorts dirty (when in reality he just doesn’t like the way the other boys are looking at the exposed skin of your legs), sitting too close you can feel his shoulder brushing against yours as he moves.

truthfully, you would have been so annoyed. but this is choi beomgyu. he is choi beomgyu and you have no idea what’s about him that makes you feel so protected. even now when he has his hand on top of your right knee while he’s talking to his friends, you don’t feel irritated.

it feels right. he feels right.

“beomgyu!” someone calls him over from behind. he sighs, “i’m gonna go talk to him for a while, you’ll be alright here, right?” he asks to which you just nod your head.

what is he expecting you to say answer? no, don’t leave me, beomgyu. as if you would ever say that out loud.

the warmth of his palm leaves your skin as he gets up, making his way over to the blue-haired boy that was calling for him. your let your eyes linger on him, watching as he gives the guy a fist bump before

both of their gaze move to you and you quickly look away.

“you’re y/n, right?” a guy who is sitting in front of you speaks.

you nod, “hueningkai, right?” you ask, remembering his name after beomgyu had introduced you to him earlier. and you glad you did from the way his eyes lit up when you get his name right. years of

attending charity events and parties where you were forced to talk to random people by your parents has thought you to imprint people’s names on your mind easily.

“heard you’re from the city. how is the life there? i really want to live there someday, it’s really boring here,” he pouts. “the nearest mall is like, miles away.”

“i think it’s fun here,”

“yeah? and why is that?”

you go quiet for a moment. why is that? — there are various reasons why you think the town is not as boring as hueningkai believes. for an example, the ocean. there is no beach in the city, the nearest one being a whole hour drive away. the air here is cleaner too, not as polluted with vehicles smokes as the city. the weather here is nice too; though it’s summer, the heat here isn’t as bad as it is back

home.

and as your mind try to come up with another reason why you think the town is fun, your eyes move over to the brown-haired boy laughing along to whatever joke the blue-haired one has said to him.

even in the darkness of the night — the only source of light coming from the fire in front of you, he is still beautiful. the way he throws his head back as he laughs, the way his eyes are sparkling under the

night sky, the dimple that appears on his cheek as he smiles.

“it’s fun because there’s beomgyu, right?”

you turn your attention to the boy sitting across from you, his eyes on the same person you were staring few seconds ago.

“do you like him?” hueningkai asks, out of sudden.

“w-what?” you look at him, bewildered. “i don’t know what context of like you are talking about, but he is a good fr-…”

friend.

you so badly wanted to call beomgyu your friend, but you don’t even have the slightest idea of what a friend is — you never had one, at least not a real one. all through your school years, you have never

really had someone you can call as friend. sure, you talked to your classmates, but they felt more like acquaintances than friends. and you never bothered to get close to anyone because you know there

are always something they want in return — money, gifts, invitations to fancy parties, rich kids from your family’s circle to date, the list goes on.

so, you stop yourself from labelling beomgyu in that way. he is not your friend, not after only three days of knowing each other.

“he is a good guy, of course i like him. what kind of person doesn’t like good people?” you say, shifting in your seat to which hueningkai just shrugs his shoulders, “i think he likes yo-…” he stops talking midsentence when someone throws their arm around his neck, holding him in a chokehold.

“taehyun is calling for you,” beomgyu says as he smiles down wickedly at the younger. hueningkai knows his friend is lying but he just rolls his eyes and walks away to where taehyun is sitting.

“let’s go somewhere,” he extends his hand over to you.

“where?”

beomgyu grumbles, “just come.” taking your hand, he pulls you up to your feet.

following him from behind, you have no idea where he is taking you as you both walk further and further away from the group, until you’re climbing down the cliff.

he offers his hand to you, and you gladly accept, “be careful.”

holding your hand in his, he wraps his arm around your waist as he pulls you down to the ground with an ease. the night is pretty chilly compared to the sunlit afternoon earlier, but beomgyu’s hand still

hold a certain kind of warmth. and even though the temperature is low, you still can feel heat rushing up to your face when he keeps his arm around your waist even after you’ve set your feet safely on the

sandy beach — you’re glad it is dark, you don’t think you want him coming up with another vegetable related nickname for you.

“i wanted to bring you here yesterday, but you were busy unpacking. and i wanted to do it today too, but you looked so tired from helping aunty sue,” he says. “i know this is not the best time to be coming

here since it’s so dark but i just thought maybe you would want to see the ocean at night too.”

you move your gaze from his face to the moana in front of you. the water is calm, small waves crashing along the shores. no one else is around, only you and him.

you were about to walk over to the water’s edge when you feel beomgyu tugs on your hand gently. “take off your shoes first, pretty girl.” bending down, he wraps his hand around your ankle before

slowly pulling the white alexander mcqueen off of your foot. beomgyu is surprised, to be honest, to the fact that you casually wear a very expensive pair of sneakers to a lame bonfire party. then again,

these shoes probably didn’t cost that much for you.

“all done, you can go now.” he stands up straight again and he can’t help but notice the pink shade decorating your cheeks even in the inky night, “tomato.” he chuckles, pinching your left cheek.

you gently swat his hand away, blushing deeper, before walking to the water again. you smile as you feel the sand seeps through your toes as the waves crash on the shore. turning around to beomgyu, you see him with a soft smile in his face as he watches you from a distance.

“join me,”

and he can’t seem to decline your offer when you’re looking so ethereal underneath the moonlight, a gentle smile on your lips as you move your feet around to play with the wet sand.

abandoning his cheap pair of sneakers beside your expensive ones, he runs over to where you’re standing back facing him. he pretends to push you further to the ocean to which you react faster, shoving him — making him fall into the water with a big splash.

“hey!” he shrieks, quickly getting up on his feet. you take that as a sign for you to run — in which you didn’t manage to escape far enough when you feel his arms circling around your waist before he pulls you down along with him into the water.

“beomgyu!” you whine while splashing more of the salty water towards him while giggling.

and that night, while you both are walking home, soaked from head to toes with your wet clothes sticking disgustingly on your skin, laughing and giggling, you thought; maybe this is what friendship feels like.

“aunty sue, i’m going out for a while!” you call out your aunt in the kitchen as you’re running down the stairs toward the front door.

she peeks her head from the kitchen’s entrance, “where are you going, honey?”

“beomgyu’s mom’s bakery!” you reply, already stepping outside and you failed to catch the tender smile your aunt is throwing your way as you are busy putting on your shoes. “i’ll be back before dinner.”

when you push open the gate of the house, beomgyu is already waiting for you on his bicycle, a hat in his hand as he offers it over to you. “put it on, it’s too sunny.”

you accept with no question, putting the white hat on. it smells like him — like a mixture of frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, and bergamot waters. it smells like summer.

he smells like summer.

beomgyu watches as you put his hat on, holding back his smile to how adorable you look trying to tighten the hat’s straps to fit your head’s size. his hand reaches over to your face, tucking a few strands

of your hair that have come loose from your braids behind your ear. “pretty,” he whispers under his breath.

you look away from his eyes, quickly moving to sit on the backseat of his bicycle, wincing as the exposed skin of your thighs come in contact with the burning metal of the seat.

“sorry, chieko has been out in the sun for a while,” he says, referring to his bike. “you good?”

“yeah,” you shift on the seat, trying to find a comfortable position. “you name your bicycle with a dog’s name?”

he hums as he starts paddling, “my grandfather got this bicycle from a japanese owned shop. the owner used to have this really cute golden retriever by the name chieko, i loved him, hence the name.”

he explains, “is it weird?”

“kinda,” you reply to which he just laugh it off.

it has only been a week of summer break and beomgyu had come up with so many plans for the both of you. he has promised to make this, as quoted from the man himself, the best summer of your life

— to which you just responded with a raised eyebrow. you don’t mind spending the whole three months of break with him, you don’t mind at all. in fact, you would really like the idea — but he doesn’t

have to know that.

one of the plans he had come up with is; baking. and that is how you find yourself in the back of his mom’s bakery, with a baby pink apron tied around your waist and beomgyu going around in the

kitchen looking for the ingredients for the fruit strudels he had promise to make with you.

“oh, you must be y/n.”

you turn to the source of the voice, and you quickly bow your head, “ah, yeah. nice to meet you.” the woman in front of you have the same dimple as the one on beomgyu’s, and the way she smiles warmly remind you of her son too.

“you’re really pretty, just like what beomgyu had told me.”

“mom, where’s the peach?” he asks, stopping his mom from exposing him further, as he is rummaging inside the fruit basket on the counter.

the woman giggles, “is our beomgyu shy? is he embarrassed if his mom is going to tell the pretty girl all about the things he had talked about her?” she continues, emphasizing on the pretty girl.

you look over to him and notice how his ears has turned slightly red from his mom’s teasing. you’re not sure why he is acting that way when he has called you with that specific nickname so many times

already.

“mom~” he whines, all the while avoiding your eyes that are fixated on him.

his mom lets out a loud laugh — now you know where beomgyu got that from — as she walks over to the fridge behind you. “i keep them in the here, baby.”

“oh,” he says, taking the peaches from his mom’s hand. “thank you, my lady.” he leans down and kiss his mom’s temple to which his mom playfully pushes him away. the gesture tugs a string in your heart

— a feeling of longing. you can’t remember when was the last time you hugged your mom, or your dad. heck, you can’t even remember when was the last time they asked you about your day.

“have fun baking, y/n. i’m only a shout away if you need something, okay? in case beomgyu burns the kitchen down,” she jokes again before walking out to store again.

beomgyu sighs, “sorry about her. she can be a bit… overbearing sometimes.”

“no, she’s fun.” you says, stepping closer to help him with the fresh fruits.

and that’s how you spent your thursday morning; baking various fruits strudels — peach, strawberry, mango, blueberry. well, it was beomgyu who did most of the work but nevertheless, you had fun

cutting up the fresh fruits.

the oven digs, indicating the pastries have been baked. beomgyu pulls the tray out, before setting it on the flour-covered counter. “oh, it smells amazing!” you exclaim excitedly.

“wait until you taste them, they are,” he looks down at you, making a chef’s kiss gesture to which you just giggle. “well, we have to let them cool down first before putting the cream and the fruits. wanna

go up to my room while we wait?”

you hesitate, never ever in your life have you ever stepped a foot in a boy’s room. despite that, you find yourself nodding to him, “sure.”

he nods, taking off his apron and waits for you to take yours off before snatching it from your hands, hanging them on the hook by the fridge.

following him up to his room which is located at the second floor just right above the bakery, you notice the picture frames decorating the wall going up the stairs. family portraits, baby pictures of

whom you assume are beomgyu and his brother, wedding pictures of his parents, a picture of beomgyu’s kindergarten graduation. it’s like the family’s own little hall of fame.

imagining your house in your mind, you don’t think you have any other picture being hung on the wall aside from that one huge family portrait in the living room — the one where you were looking so rigid

sitting in between your parents. you hated that picture, and you still do. family portraits are supposed to be a symbol of happiness, a symbol of affection, a symbol of a healthy family relationship but your family does not have any of that. the picture that was taken in the fancy film studio in france was just another attempt to cover the family’s despair. it’s pathetic, really. how hard your parents are trying

to come off as a happy married couple with a perfect daughter. throwing the money away for material things that can cover up the lack of happiness in the household. it’s pitiful, the only thing they need to be raising a happy family is the one thing that they lack in life.

a loud chirping at your right as you step onto the landing of the second-floor surprises you. you turn your head to look at the green-colored parrot in the cage. it has its’ head tilted as it stares up at your

unfamiliar face.

“this is toto, my pet.”

“your pet?”

he nods.

“out of all the animals you can have as a pet, you chose a parrot?”

he shrugs, “toto is everyone’s best friend in this house.”

you blink, and he does too.

“oh, okay.” you say and he nods. “come, my room is this way.” he leads you over to the door that has a messy scribble of ‘choi beomgyu’ in colorful crayons, opening it for you and urging you to take step inside. “after you.”

his room is surprisingly neat. well, it’s not like you have seen a guy’s room before but you did assume beomgyu to be a little messy kind of person — the usual clothes on the floor, comic books scattered

on the bed, snacks wrappers on the desk. but his room is clean, no used clothes on the floor, only a round foldable table in the middle of the room.

“how long are we supposed to wait for the pastries to cool down?” you ask, taking a seat on the floor by the desk. “around half an hour,” he replies. “you know what other baked goods i’m really good at?”

you shake your head, “tell me.”

“pumpkin spice cupcake, but we don’t have any in the store now. it’s not autumn yet so finding for pumpkin is quite hard this time of the year.” he explains.

“how am i supposed to have a taste then?”

“that means you have to come here again during autumn,” he says. “i’ll bake every autumn desserts for you. beside, don’t you want to see my pretty face in a different season too?”

you grimace, “what difference does your face make in autumn?”

he laughs before reaching over to his guitar that was leaning against the wall beside the door.

so, he does play the guitar.

“do you want to hear a snippet of the song i wrote?” he asks while tuning his guitar.

“you wrote songs?”

“yeah, for fun though. i’ve never really let anyone listen to it, aside from the guys.”

“sure,” you say, holding in your excitement.

“i wrote this a few days ago, it’s not finished yet but i’ll try to give my best.” he gives you a smile before he starts strumming his guitar strings softly.

and when you thought choi beomgyu is already beautiful from the way he smiles, from the way his eyes twinkle under the summer sunshine, from the way his whisker dimples form on his cheeks when

he laughs — here he is giving you another reason to think that he is the most heavenly person you have ever came across when he opens his mouth to sing.

your fresh fragrance, your sparkling eyes

makes me feel better

reality loses its power, even the earth dies

the moment is eternal

you’re not sure is it the way the sunlight shining through the open window or the way his eyes are fixated on you while he sings, but you can feel the blood rushing to your face, leaving your cheeks feeling so warm.

no matter where you are, no matter what season

if we’re together, feel like summer

“this is getting boring.” says hueningkai as he throws the uno cards on to the floor before plopping on his back on the ground.

“agree, we should be doing something else.” taehyun, who has been scrolling on his phone since half an hour ago finally spoke.

beomgyu, with his four other friends along with a few others are sprawled out in choi yeonjun’s basement. they’ve been doing everything that they deem fun to do in the last four hours — the video games, board games, card games, truth or dare (in which beomgyu had successfully dodged every single question and dare related to you).

“let’s hit the diner, i’m kind of starving,” one of yeonjun’s friends, minho, suggest to which the other boys agree without any objections.

“nah man, i’ll pass for tonight.” beomgyu says, already standing up from his seat, “think i’m going to go home and sleep.”

“really, sleep?” minho asks, smirking up to beomgyu. “or are you going to see that girl, what’s her name again? y/n?”

beomgyu raises his eyebrow, “what does y/n got to do with this?”

sensing the shift in the air, soobin quickly nudges minho in the rib. “hey, shut your mouth.” says the older.

“i don’t know, beomgyu?” the blondie continues, “i barely see you hang out with your friends lately. every time i ask them where’s beomgyu, their answers were always the same; hanging out with y/n.” he pushes his tongue against his cheeks, clearly enjoying how extremely annoyed beomgyu looks.

“you don’t even have time for your friends anymore now? why? too busy fucking that little rich bit-…” and the next thing beomgyu knows is he is on top of the guy, throwing punches across the blondie’s

face as both soobin and yeonjun try to pull him away.

“don’t you fucking dare say that word.” he yells out loudly, throwing another blow on minho’s cheek.

minho forcefully pushes beomgyu, making the latter falls on his back as the blonde-haired boy climbs on top of him, punching him on the corner of his lips before yeonjun had to (literally) throw hands

towards minho to make him stop punching his younger friend.

there’s a loud ringing in beomgyu’s ears, his head spinning.

he was never one to resort to violence when it comes to anything. aside from that one time he accidentally kicked a girl in elementary school while trying to show off his hapkido skills, beomgyu has never hurt anyone physically. but there is something about the way your name rolls on minho’s tongue that make him sick to the core.

he gets on his feet after regaining his vision again, blood trickling down from his lips. he gives his friends one last glance before running up the stairs of the basement, slamming the door loudly as he walks out.

wiping his bloody lips with the sleeve of his hoodie, he curses under his breath, thinking he can’t go home with bruised lips and blood stains on his hoodie — his mom would make a big deal about it.

so, he continues walking — passes the front of the bakery, up the hill. feet moving according to where his heart wants him to go. to find comfort.

and it wasn’t a surprise to him as he stops in front of your aunty’s house, looking up to the second floor where your room is. the lights are out, total darkness surrounding your room. of course, it’s half

passed midnight, of course you will be sleeping by now.

beomgyu is not sure why did he came here. it’s not like he wants you to see him in this state — bruised lips, fresh blood still oozing from the cut, tousled hair, red stains on the sleeve of his yellow hoodie.

no, he doesn’t want you to see him looking this miserable. he was just trying to look for comfort, and to him, his comfort comes in the shape of a girl in an oversized blue t-shirt standing across from him.

“you scare me!” he says as he finds your figure standing in front of the gate of the house.

“what are you doing out here?” you ask.

“what are you doing out here?”

you cross your arms on your chest, “i saw you from the window.” though the only source of light shining on him comes from the dingy lamppost above him, you’re still able to make out his busted lips.

stepping over to him, you gently take his face in your hands. at that moment, beomgyu knows coming here to actually see you wasn’t a bad idea when he can feel the heat from your palms engulfing his cheeks.

he wanted solace and apparently you are his.

“what happened to you?” you ask softly, afraid that if you raise your voice any higher it might hurt him.'

“i fell…” he says, “for you.”

you take your hands off his cheek, slapping his arm to which he jokingly winces in pain. “how could you slap me when i’m already this wounded?” he pouts, “i did fell, okay? i tripped while coming up

here. the hill can be pretty steep sometimes.”

“you’ve been going up and down this hill your whole life, how can you suddenly fell today out of nowhere?”

“i don’t know? people make mistakes, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, “come on, i’ll clean it up for you.”

beomgyu didn’t hesitate to follow you into the house, up the stairs and into your bedroom. you lead him over to the bathroom, trying not to make too much noise and waking up your aunt in the room

right across from yours— you don’t think she would appreciate you bringing a boy into the house in the middle of the night, and the last thing you want is her thinking there’s something passionate going

around between you and the baker’s son.

taking his face in one hand gently, you blow onto his cut. “it’s going to sting a little, okay?” he hums, enjoying the cool breeze from you on his open wound.

he watches you tentatively as you dab the antiseptic on his skin. “does it hurt?” you ask to which he just shakes his head no. “okay. phew, this is kinda scary.” you giggle as you lean closer to his face again, your nose a few inches away from his.

beomgyu roams his eyes all over your face — your eyes, your nose, and your lips. he observes the way your long eyelashes flutters against your soft cheeks with every blink you make. the way your pupils dilate as you are so focused on attending his busted lips. the way your nose scrunches up occasionally when he lets out a low groan of pain. the way your lips are pull into a pout while you’re busy nagging to him.

even under the ugly fluorescent light of the bathroom, with you wearing the most basic clothes — no fancy summer dresses, or blouses, or expensive sneakers – with your hair messily being put up into a bun, face free from any kind of make-up, to choi beomgyu; you are the most beautiful.

and in the daze of post-punched and being in your presence, he lets the words slip out of his mouth.

“you are so fucking beautiful, y/n.”

the saying of time flies when you’re having fun is actually true. days have turned into weeks, and weeks have turned into months — it’s already been two months since you first arrived in this small

town with the ocean view.

the past months have been filled with many new things you’ve never experienced in your life — going hiking to see the sunrise with beomgyu, harvesting vegetables and herbs with aunty sue, helping

beomgyu’s mom in the bakery, binge eating snacks at the convenience store past midnight with beomgyu and his friends, barbecue party with the townspeople.

and the most precious thing you’ve encountered during this summer break is friendship — not only with beomgyu, but his friends too. you’ve come to get comfortable with yeonjun, soobin, taehyun and

hueningkai along the way after spending time with them. beomgyu had brought you along to hang out with them a few times, and you had grown to enjoy the boys’ company, too.

and beomgyu has stay true to his words about making this summer the best three months break of your life.

“you look pretty already,” aunty sue says behind you as you’re busy fixing the strands of your hair framing your face.

turning to look at her, you pout. “i’m not.”

“beomgyu thinks you are.”

you blush, looking into the mirror to avoid your aunt’s teasing eyes. “i’m done, let’s go.”

“you’re not going with beomgyu?” she asks as the both of you are walking down the hill, a rattan basket in your hand.

“he said he’ll meet me there,” you explain. “he has to help his mom with the bakery booth.”

“ah, right. i forgot about that.”

another new thing you get to experience in this small town is their annual summer festival. aunty sue had told you that the town’s mayor came up with the idea of making the festival around a decade ago

in an attempt to give some sort of entertainment for the kids and teenagers, and also the adults, in the town during the season. it was a great success the first year it was being held — with more than

thirty booths of various foods and games. hence, why the summer festival has become the town’s annual event now.

as you reach the festival’s venue which is being held by the beach, you see soobin and yeonjun chattering at a booth near the entrance. you hand aunty sue the basket before excusing yourself to talk to the boys.

“yeonjun! soobin!” you call out, running up towards them. “oooh, y/n! you look so cute!” soobin exclaims excitedly as you stop in front of him. “but not as cute as choi odi, though.”

“choi odi?” you question and the boy nods “my pet.”

“a cat?”

“no, a hedgehog.”

you grimace — what’s with this group of friends and their weird animals as pet?

“what? you don’t think hedgehogs are cute?” he asks.

no, they look like rat — is what you wanted to say but you don’t have the heart to voice those words out from the look soobin is giving you. “yeah, they are… not bad.” you say before moving your gaze

away from him.

yeonjun notices the way your eyes are scanning around for the familiar mob of brown hair in the sea of visitors, and he chuckles. “his booth is on the other side,” he says. “want us to show you the way?”

your cheeks flushed from being caught but you thank him, anyways. “it’s okay, i’ll go by myself. i’ll see you guys later, then!” you say, walking away from them while waving.

you were about to walk around, trying to find his mom’s bakery booth when you hear your phone’s notification inside your bag. pulling it out, you smile as you read the name of the sender.

beomgyu: where u at, pretty girl? i saw your aunt but not you.

you quickly type in your reply.

you: i’m at a cotton candy stall near the entrance, omw to find u

beomgyu: stay there. i’ll go to u.

after waiting for a while, you spot him walking over to you — dressed in a white button up shirt, tucked inside his black jeans. hair slightly dishevelled from the ocean breeze. he has a smile across his face as

he keeps coming closer to where you’re waiting for him.

even in the sea of people, choi beomgyu is the only one that caught your eyes. you could be in a big ballroom of a masquerade party and the only one that has your attention is still choi beomgyu — there’s

just something about him that you can’t seem to explain that make you only look at him and him only.

you look up to him when he stops in front of you, the smile from earlier getting wider. “hi, pretty.” he says before his hand reaches up to your face, tugging the strands of hair behind your ear neatly. this

has been a little habit of his that he really loves doing whenever he sees your hair getting on your face — never once have you told him that you purposely let those strands untied.

“the firework show will be at 8pm, so we will have around,” he checks his phone, “hour and half to walk around. what do you want to do?”

“you’re not helping your mom’s booth?”

“my brother is here, so he’ll be helping mom for today.” he says, peeking to the stall behind you. “wanna try the cotton candy?”

there is already a line of children waiting for their turns to get the sweet treats in various shapes —heart, bunny, flower, and even a unicorn. when it reaches your turn, beomgyu asks you what shape

you would like for your candy, and you eagerly point at the bear on the menu sheet.

“here’s your order, mr. lover boy.” the man says, handing the stick of the bear-shaped cotton candy to beomgyu. “enjoy your time here, lovebirds.”

“we’re not-…”

“thank you, we will.” taking the candy from the man, beomgyu put his hand on the small of your back, leading you away from the line.

you look up at him, blush evident on your cheeks. why didn’t he deny the man earlier? lovebirds? love, really? “beomgyu, why didn’t you-..” you pause mid-sentence when he hands you the cotton candy.

looking up at him, then down to the cotton candy that is still in his hand, then up to him again and down to the candy again, you let out a laugh.

he furrows his eyebrow questioningly, “what so funny?”

taking out your phone, you open the camera app. “stand still.”

he complies, standing still with the cotton candy in hand all the while you’re giggling and snapping multiple pictures of him. “are you done?” he whines.

you show him the photo on your phone screen, swiping right to let him see the rest of his pictures you’ve taken. “the bear looks just like you!”

“is it funny to you?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your waist as he tickles your side. you squirm in his hold, laughing harder. “it is, because it looks exactly like you- ah! beomgyu, stop tickling me!”

he holds onto the stick of the cotton candy tighter as his other arm is still wrapped around your waist. beomgyu has always known of how beautiful you look when you smile and laugh, but, oh god. right

now, where you’re laughing to your heart’s content, in his arm, dressed in the loveliest white summer dress he has ever seen, with the warm glow of the sun slowly setting, he swears nothing else is as

beautiful as you. not even close.

“beomgyu, please stop. i’m going to pee.” you beg, tears from laughing pooling in your eyes. he lets you go slowly before handing the cotton candy to you which you gladly take.

“let’s go,” he says as he takes your free hand in his, pulling you into the gleeful summer festival.

you spent a good hour touring around the festival — eating tanghulu and few other famous street foods. playing random games at the game booths even though you knew they were all rigged, it was

still fun — beomgyu did won you a small teddy bear keychain from the dart game.

you visited your aunt’s stall too, where she’s selling little handcrafted trinkets. you couldn’t ignore the cheeky smile she sent you when she saw the way beomgyu was holding onto your hand.

then, you went to his mom’s booth where you met his brother for the first time. you were kind of expecting the teasing from him, but you didn’t know it would be so bad to the point you had to ask beomgyu for a glass of water, afraid you might suddenly pass out from the excessive blood rush.

it was fun. you don’t think you have experienced this much fun in your life. the last time you felt happy was when you had visited disneyland back when you were ten. with your maid, not with your parents. you don’t think you would have enjoyed it as much if you did go with them.

“we have 10 more minutes before the fireworks show.” beomgyu says as he leans his side against the railing. he had suggested to go up the cliff to have a better view of the firework. you thought it’s going

to be a packed spot but surprisingly there are only three other people there, sitting distance away from where you and beomgyu are standing.

you can feel his stare from the corner of your eyes, making your cheeks flushed. god, is it possible to lose one’s life from immense blushing? if it is, then you’re in a terrible danger.

“have you ever been in love?” he asks suddenly.

at that moment, the only thing you can hear is the loud ringing in your ears. gone the sound of the festive happening down by the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the sound

of the people behind you chattering. the sound of beomgyu’s voice.

have you ever been in love?

have you? you want to say no. you want to tell him that you don’t believe in love — that you would rather believe in the existence of a flying elephant rather than believing in love. you want to tell him

there is no such a thing as love in this world. there is no such a thing as sincere love. people love to get what they desire in return — money, power, status, pride. your parents are a living prove of that.

you want to tell him if there is one thing you are so fucking afraid of in this world, it is to love.

you want to tell him that you don’t think love is worth taking the risk, you don’t think it’s worth fighting for. love is not a real thing. you’ve seen so many people from school getting heartbroken over a

breakup with their lover, only to jump into a new relationship a week after that. if love is a real existing thing then, how could you move on so easily like that?

you so badly want to tell him, but no words come out from your mouth as you stare into his sparkling eyes.

“you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he says after sensing the discomfort on your face.

“have you?”

“yeah,” he says, now facing the sea. “i’m in love with a lot of things — my family, my friends, toto, my bicycle.” he says, shifting on his feet, “i love helping my mom in the bakery, i love writing songs even

when no one listens to it. i love this town, no matter how boring it gets sometimes, i still love it.”

“i love summer,” he says as he turns to face you again. “i love summer because it brought you to me.”

you were about to say something to him when you hear the announcement from the speakers that the fireworks will be going off in the count of three.

ignoring the proclamation, you keep your eyes fixated on his. he is staring at you endearingly, a soft smile on his lips as he takes a step closer towards you.

three

he takes another step forward, until the tips of his shoes are meeting yours.

two

he tugs the strands of your hair behind your ear like he usually does, only this time he didn’t put his hand down, keeping it on the soft skin of your cheek. he rests his other hand on your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him.

one

he tilts his head, leaning down towards your face before stopping, leaving a small gap as he waits for you to make the next move, an unspoken sign of asking for your permission.

and as the fireworks start shooting in the sky, you stand on your tiptoes. hands resting against his chest as you lean forward, closing the gap in between your lips and his soft ones.

it started off with you gently resting your lips on his, until he starts to pull you closer by your waist — where he deepens the kiss.

it feels magical.

the way his lips are massaging softly against your own, the way his thumb is caressing your cheek in the gentlest manner, the way he tightens his hold on your waist — not hard enough to hurt you but

strong enough to keep you in place, the way his heart is beating so fast under your palm. the way the sky is glowing and shimmering brightly with the non-stop fireworks.

he is magical.

it’s not like you have ever kissed a boy before but the way beomgyu is kissing you with so much care, with so much affection, so endearingly, with so much love — you know the kiss is perfect. you just know it is.

because you don’t need a flawless kiss for it to feel complete, all you need is choi beomgyu to be the one kissing you.

to you, choi beomgyu is the epitome of perfection.

the ringing of your phone wakes you up from your deep sleep. reaching over to the vibrating device on the nightstand, you pick up the call without checking the caller id.

“hello?” you say, voice hoarse.

“y/n?” shoot, it’s your mom. “are you still sleeping?”

“uh, yeah. i just… woke up.” you sit up on your bed, eyeing the clock on the wall – 12:04pm. if there is one thing your mom hates, it would be tardiness — in anything, including the time you wake up from

sleep.

“i slept really late last night,” in which you did. after the summer festival, and the whole kissing thing, beomgyu had walked you home. not forgetting to give you another kiss, which felt more like a peck,

before he left. and you had stayed up until almost four in the morning replaying that particular scene on the cliff over and over again in your head.

you hear your mom sighs from the other end, “how you been doing there?”

oh, that’s new.

“it’s been okay,” you twirl the end of your blanket. “aunty sue is a very war-…”

“listen, y/n. i’m kind of busy right now. i just called to remind you about your leave after the summer break.”

and that is when reality hits you.

“your dad thought it would be a good idea if you come home this weekend. to make early preparations.”

shit. how could you forget?

“i’ll send a driver to pick you up this sunday,” she says, and you can hear rustling from her end, “i gotta go.”

when the line goes off, you remain holding your phone against your ear.

how can you get forget? did you forget because you’re too busy having fun here? did you forget because you finally found something, or rather, someone to share your happiness with? did you forget

that you’re only here temporarily, to take a breather from the crowded city? did you forget that you’re not supposed to be attached to anyone?

you’re leaving. you’re leaving the country in september. you’re leaving for a university on the other side of the world. you’re leaving your home. you’re leaving this town.

you’re leaving beomgyu.

beomgyu.

these past months, you have been engulfing yourself too much into whatever temporary fantasy he had created for you. you were so into it that you started to brush away all of your beliefs that have

been your pillar your whole life. you were so blinded by the happiness he had brought you that you started making an exception for him.

and for the first time in two months, for the first time since you have arrived in this small town with an ocean view, for the first time since you met the boy whose eyes shine brighter than any stars in the night sky — you want to be anywhere but here.

you know you’re being a jerk to beomgyu — ignoring his calls and text messages, lying to him about coming down with a fever, forcing aunty sue to make up whatever excuses she could think of

whenever the boy stopped by to catch a glimpse of you, pretending to be sleeping whenever you saw him standing under the lamppost outside of the house at night.

you’re being irrelevant and you know that better than anyone else. but you can’t find any other way to explain to him about everything — you’re not ready and you don’t know how to. you know he’s in

love with you, and maybe, just maybe, you do harbour the same feeling for him as well — but you're in denial.

love does not exist.

that’s what you’ve been telling yourself every day.

you’re going back home tomorrow, and you have successfully avoided beomgyu up until this point. until aunty sue had to (almost) beg on her knees asking you to deliver an official government letter to

the choi’s place. she had come down with a summer fever herself, making you feel bad if you refuse to help.

and that’s how you find yourself inside the the bakery’s kitchen that saturday afternoon, a brown envelope in hand. you are glad it is saturday — meaning beomgyu is not around as he always spends

the day at taehyun’s place.

you peek around the kitchen, no one in sight. there’s no one behind the register in the bakery too. is the shop closed?

you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, turning around with the envelope still in hand, “mrs. choi, aunty sue asked me to-…”

you blink, hands coming down to your sides.

leaving the brown paper on top of the counter, you were about to make an escape before you feel his hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back to him.

“y/n,”

“let me go,” you say under your breath.

he pushes you against the wall, trapping your body. “are you okay?”

out of all the things he could be saying to you right now, he’s asking you if you’re okay? out of all the mean things he could be spitting to you right now for ignoring him without explanation, the words

that came out from his mouth are those of endearment.

you avoid his eyes, afraid that you might break if you catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. “i’m fine.”

“then why have you been ignoring me?”

“i wasn’t feeling well.”

“then, that means you’re not okay.” he says softly, “look at me, y/n.”

you look up at him, tears pooling your eyes. “why are you being so difficult?!” you didn’t mean to scream in his face, but at this point, your brain has lose control — your body moving according to your

heart.

beomgyu is taken aback by your sudden outburst, “what?”

“why are you making it a big deal that i’m not talking or hanging out with you anymore?”

“how am i supposed to not make it a big deal when the person i’m in love with is pushing me away?” there, he said it.

“love?” you say, while trying your hardest to keep your tears from falling. “there is no such a thing as love in this world, beomgyu.”

“are you saying my feelings for you are invalid? of course, there is. there’s love everywhere in this world.”

“no, there’s none!” you scream again, “how can you fall in love with someone within, what? two months? that’s unrealistic, beomgyu.”

“you don’t need years to fall in love with someone, y/n. you can be by someone’s side for decades, shares one roof, sits at the same dinner table and sleeps on the same bed for years and years onwards

but if there is no love then there will be no love until the end.” he raises his voice slightly.

you finally let your tears fall as images of your parents cross your mind — of how unhappy they are with each other, of how their eyes never hold any kind of affection for one another. they have been

married for almost two decades now — live under the same roof, eat at the same dinner table, sleep on the same bed, wear the same silver bands around their ring fingers – but the love was never there. it’s never going to be there.

if there is no love then there will be no love until the end.

they are the reason why you’re acting the way you are now.

"i don’t need years to fall in love with you, y/n.” he wipes the tears on your cheek gently, “the moment i saw you that one summer afternoon, i knew i was falling head over heels for you.” he pauses,

searching for your eyes. “i knew that i’m in love with you.”

“tell me, y/n… did i do anything wrong? is it the kiss?” he asks, “i’m sorry i stepped over my boundaries.”

“it’s not the kiss,” you whisper.

“then? what’s bothering you, baby?”

more tears come out of your eyes at the nickname, “this whole thing,” you gesture to him and you, “you know it’s not going to last, right?”

he shakes his head, “no, i know you’re going to back to the city after the break, but we’ll make it work. it’s not even that far. you know people do anything for their loved ones, right?”

you take a deep breath, before wailing loudly, not caring about anything anymore. “you’re not gonna love me anymore after i leave, beomgyu. and i’m not talking about going back to the city. i’m leaving the country soon, to the other side of the world, for four fucking years, choi beomgyu!”

“i’ll wait for you, i promise.”

“no one is that stupid enough to wait for someone for that long. why take the risk of waiting years for someone? what if i suddenly came back with a boyfriend, or a fiancé?”

“you worth all the risk in the world, y/n.”

“why are you making things difficult for me?” you push him off of you before you make a run for the door. you continue running up the hill, tears still spilling out your eyes.

you stop, looking back to where you came running from. he doesn’t come chasing after you.

and a part of you wish that he did.

“is this the last one?” your driver asks as he loads the last of your luggage into the car’s boot.

you nod, thanking him to which he replies with a nod of his head. turning to face your aunt, you take her hand in yours. “thank you for taking care of me in the past two months.”

she smiles, rubbing on the back of your hand with her thumb. “are you sure you don’t want to see him first?”

you shake your head and the woman just nods hers before pulling you into a hug. it’s warm. she has always been warm, ever since the first time she picked you up at the train station. she has treated you

like nothing less than a family member, though you and her are very distant relatives.

“i’ll miss you.”

“i’ll miss you too, honey.” she caresses your hair. “come back soon, hm?”

you nod, moving away from her warm hold. “bye, aunty sue.”

as the car drives past the familiar bakery, you look down to your lap, droplets of tears wetting the thin fabric of your skirt.

and just like that, your temporary happiness ends.

the leaves start to wilt, slowly turning brown as the season transition from summer to autumn. the temperature getting colder and colder as each day passed by. no more scorching sun, no more clear

blue sky, no more children running around by the beach.

he stands on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. nothing much has changed since three years ago — except some parts of the railing has awfully broken down. honestly, he prefers it that way — the town not

changing. the way the town looks boring to an outsider, but actually holds a lot of hidden wonders.

the town holds a lot of dear memories to him. this is the town he has grown up in, the town that taught him all the life lessons that made him the person he is today, the town that brought him a girl

that he could never forget, even in his next life.

he looks over to the sea. if he swims far enough, would he reach the other side of the world? to where you are right now?

three years.

it has been three years since he last heard anything from you. it’s not like he didn’t try reaching out to you, he did, multiple times. he tried calling your phone, only to be greeted with the same bot telling

him that the number is no longer in service. he tried looking up for your social media — facebook, instagram, anything. but nothing ever came up with your name aside from a profile website of your

family, a picture of fifteen years old you under the words ‘daughter of a successful businessman and the uprising fashion designer’. he thought you look adorable in the picture, despite the lack of life in

your eyes.

three years went by and you still haven’t come back.

three years and all he could think about every day is you.

you, you, you.

his friends have been telling him to just let it go, telling him it was just a summer fling, telling him it’s time for him to move on, to go meet new people in college.

but he didn’t. he knows what is worth it in his life — you are worth the wait, the risk, everything.

he tugs his hands inside the pocket of his coat, the air is getting so chilly despite it being only september.

“thought i would find you here,”

he turns his head so fast as he hears the familiar voice, he thought he might get a whiplash from it. but as he stares at the figure standing across from him, he thinks he is experiencing more than a whiplash right now.

there you are, standing five feet apart from him. he roams his eyes over your smiling face, and he wonders how is it possible for someone to be this beautiful. you look different from the last time he

saw you, in a good way.

your hair is slightly shorter compared to three years ago, you have lost the baby fats on your cheeks too, making your cheekbones stand out when you smile, and your eyes, they no longer look like the one he saw on the last day he saw you, or in the picture from the internet. your eyes are filled with life now, sparkling under the grey sky of the autumn morning.

“i went to your mom’s bakery but you weren’t around. figured you would be-…” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as the man takes a long stride towards you before pulling you into his arms.

he holds the back of your head with one hand, pressing your nose against the base of his neck while his other hand is wrapped around your waist.

he still smells the same — a mixture of frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, and bergamot waters.

even in a different season, he still smells like summer.

you wrap your arms around him, “sorry i took too long.”

shaking his head, he wraps his arm tighter around you figure — afraid that you might suddenly evaporate into thin air, and this is just another night dream of his. “no, thank you for coming back.”

“thank you, too. for waiting for me.”

he pulls you away from his neck, staring deep into your eyes. “i promised i would wait for you, didn’t i?”

you nod, smiling up at him happily. you notice how he had grown few inches since the last time you saw him that one afternoon in the back of his mom’s bakery, from the way your neck is straining so

much looking up at him. his hair is no longer the deep shade of brown anymore, it's ash grey now.

he leans down, tilting his head as he nudges your nose with his — waiting for you to close the distance between his lips and yours, just like what he did that one summer night, in this exact same spot.

and as you finally rest your lips upon his — you think about how choi beomgyu is worth all the risk that you’ve took. the arguments with your parents because they kept opposing the idea of you dating a

nameless boy from a small town, the cramped semesters because you wanted to cut one semester off so you can come back to him a year sooner, the longing and aching feeling for him you got whenever

your friends in university talk about their partners. at the end, there were all worth it.

choi beomgyu is worth it.

you are still a firm believer of love does not exist. it’s hard to get rid of that idea when you’ve been sticking to it almost all of your life. and given that your parents’ eyes still lack of love and affection for

each other even after being married for a whole two decades now, it’s impossible to accept that there is love out there for everyone.

but to you; love exists in a form of a boy whose eyes shine brighter than any stars in the night sky, and that is all that matters to you.

and to choi beomgyu; even under the cloudy and gloomy autumn morning sky, with wilted leaves dancing around in the air with the wind, with the temperature getting colder and colder as day passed

by, it feels like summer to him — because it doesn’t matter where he is, or what season it is, whenever he’s with you, it feels like summer.

[kj-yikes]

3. Dress

(read on ao3)

Lena isn't at all surprised when she catches sight of Kara and her heart jumps into her throat.

Kara is always stunning. In slacks and a button down. In sweats. In her supersuit. But Lena has a particular soft spot for Kara in dresses.

Kara had been in a dress the first time they met. Lena had been distracted by Clark and his insinuations, but Kara had still caught her eye. Tall, gorgeous, blonde ringlets, legs for days, a little dorky, wrapped in a cute pastel pink cardigan.

It wasn't the outfit though, that really sealed the deal for Lena. Nor was it the adorably awkward demeanor of the woman. It was the flash of understanding passing over Kara's face when Lena said she was looking to make a name for herself outside of her family. Kara's face, as Lena would discover, is always an open book, and Lena had recognized the earnestness with which Kara related to the sentiment.

Each time Lena sees Kara in a dress, she's taken back to that first, fateful meeting, the day her life changed irrevocably. She's taken back, and it never fails to make butterflies erupt in Lena's stomach.

Today, at Alex and Kelly's wedding, Kara's in a light blue thin-strapped dress that shows off the gorgeous slope of her neck to her shoulders. It's stunning, and Lena can't keep her eyes off of the super.

As she listens to Kara's melodic voice singing with Winn, Lena marvels at the events that brought them to this particular moment: Kara, landing on Earth after the destruction of her home; Lex's breakdown that brought Lena to National City; the pain, the betrayal, but also the hope, the connection, the adoration.

Kara eyes keep finding Lena's in the crowd as she sings, and each time, a small blush spreads over the blonde's cheeks. Lena finds it incredibly endearing, her heart swelling with fondness.

It's so much feeling to contain within her that it's hard to keep it from spilling over.

Lena struggles valiantly through the ceremony and the reception after to keep it contained, but she's surrounded by love, warmth, belonging.

She can't help when it overflows and seeps out.

"Dance with me?" Lena asks boldly, extending her hand out towards where Kara is sitting. Kara's face forms a shy smile as she takes Lena's hand and follows her to the dance floor.

Goosebumps rise on Lena's arms as Kara's hands snake around her waist, clenching the silky purple fabric at her back as they sway to the music. Deliberately, Lena slides her hands across Kara's collabones and settle them at her neck. The soft, velvety skin under her fingertips is enticing, but Lena resists letting her hands wander too far.

Kara can't seem to resist, though. She slides a hand up the gap in Lena's blouse to rest against her chest, and it feels like Kara has placed her hand on Lena's very soul.

"I haven't had the chance to tell you how beautiful you look tonight." The words slip out of Lena's mouth before she has a chance to stop them. Kara looks down at her bashfully, shaking her head. "It's true, don't shake your head. The most gorgeous woman here."

Kara's cheeks flush bright red. "How can that be true when you're here and looking like this?"

Lena laughs and looks at Kara carefully. Words of affection flow pretty freely in their friendship, in general, but tonight, it feels different.

Maybe it's because it's a wedding, and it's hard not to be in love at a wedding. Maybe it's because every good morning text, every break sitting on the couch at the tower with legs accidentally grazing legs, every shared potsticker during movie night, has been leading up to this inevitable moment. Maybe Lena's just finally mustered the courage to act on the feelings she's had for years.

Lena presses her forehead to Kara's, sinking deeper into bright blue eyes. "Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Kara looks surprised by the answer that slips from her lips, but her eyes sparkle with curiosity and warmth.

Lena's lips ghost against Kara's, before she finally closes the gap.

The kiss is soft, slow, tender. Sparks start at her heart and shoot through her body. Her heart beats, beats, beats as she learns the taste of Kara's lips, the feel of them against hers. Lena could spend eternity with her lips pressed against Kara's.

It's over too soon. Kara pulls away slowly and opens her eyes, scanning Lena's face with an unreadable expression. Then, suddenly, it's like the clouds part in Kara's eyes, and a wide smile spreads on her lips.

"Lena," Kara murmurs, then Kara's lips are on Lena's again, her hands cupping Lena's face and pulling her closer.

Lena is mildly aware that the slow song is over, as she hears the thump of the speaker blasting a more upbeat song. But Kara's fingertips are clawing desperately at Lena's hips and she can feel Kara sigh against her lips, and Lena can't bring herself to stop. Desire shoots through her veins, engulfing her. Pulling her deeper, deeper still, until it feels like they've melded into one being through their joined lips.

"Kara, don't get me wrong, I am so happy that this is finally happening, but can you please get a room? This is my wedding."

They jump apart like lightning has struck between them.

"S-sorry," Kara says sheepishly, her eyes not leaving Lena's. Alex rolls her eyes as she turns to Lena, a finger outstretched towards her.

"I've got my eye on you, Luthor. Treat her well." Alex tries to hide a smile as she pokes Lena's sternum. Lena forces down a chuckle and quirks an eyebrow. Moving her head to the beat, Alex half dances, half walks backwards, still pointing back and forth from her eyes to pointing at Lena.

Lena feels so light and free as she gathers Kara back into her arms, takes her hand, and spins her to the music.

The rest of the evening is filled with silly dance moves, laughter, and joy. When it's finally time for Kelly and Alex to depart, the crowd gathers around the car to see them off. Lena, who hasn't parted from Kara all evening, wraps her arms around the blonde's waist from behind.

"You truly look gorgeous in that dress, darling," Lena presses herself against Kara's back, whispering into the shell of her ear, "but if you're up for it later, I'd love to see what it looks like on my floor."

Kara's hand freezes mid-wave. She cranes her neck to look at Lena, her dark, hungry eyes juxtaposed with an adorable blush on her cheeks and neck.

"I— uh, yep, yeah, please, okay," Kara stammers, and Lena looks up at her with absolute adoration.

"Let's go home."

[momolady]

Florenz the Vampire Bat

An arranged marriage and a regal manor where sunlight cannot come in, sounds like it could be a nightmare. But it isn't, only in theory is this a bad situation for you to be in. The bite of reality is much better.

Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

From your window you can look down upon the village you once called home. At night, the windows twinkle and shine from the lights within each home. In total darkness it almost appears as if the sky has nestled upon the ground, gathering itself between the cracks and nooks of the rocky mountainside. You are supposed to be within those craggy pathways, walking yourself to the market to buy the children pears and treats for all their hard work. Instead, you are in Florescu castle with a new master.

Stepping away from the window, you let the heavy curtains fall back into place. The curtains are to always remain closed, so the castle is always in the bounds of night. You walked back towards your bed, crawling in to pull the covers up and fix the pillows back in place.

As you set things right, pillows and stuffed toys, the door opened and Ms. Nita stepped in. She saw you making the bed and she tutted like always.

“Now, now! My lady!” She came in and shooed you off the bed. “You need not be taking care of that anymore. I’m shocked you even do.” She smoothed her hand down the comforters and looked back at you with those strange wide eyes of hers’.

You looked aside with a small shrug. “I don’t mind making it.”

Ms. Nita sighed, placing her hands upon her hips as she turned towards you. “You do a fine enough job, but it’s my job you are doing. I promised our lord to take good care of you.”

A small scowl appeared on your face and Ms. Nita took hold of your chin. “I know that no girl is fond of an arranged marriage. But chin up my dear. It could be worse. There are worse houses than the Florescu house to marry into.”

You looked Ms. Nita in her slightly bulbous eyes and removed her hand. “It isn't the marriage.”

“Then what’s the sour puss look about?” Ms. Nita went over to your wardrobe and took out clothing for you.

The dress she picked was much finer than the one before. Somehow your wardrobe was a vast and endless sea of pretty dresses in delicate patterns and soft pastels. You crossed your arms along your chest, rubbing your palms along your bare skin. The castle wasn’t cold, in fact it was always perfectly warm. But you still got chills every morning when you would meet your new husband for breakfast.

“Come now. Get dressed and I’ll do your hair.” Ms. Nita was a peculiar sort of woman. She was extremely pale, short, and round. But she was a miracle worker with your hair. She was able to take the tight curls you grew and style it carefully with thought. She had been given the job of taking care of you in the castle. And while the official weddings had taken place, your new husband had other traditions e wished to follow before he considered you both completely wed.

Breakfast wasn’t held in the dining hall. Instead, you took it in your husband’s chambers. He had a large table set up before his fireplace, and Ms. Nita would serve you both then leave to let you two be alone.

That morning as you walked in, you noticed your new husband standing before the fireplace. He was wearing a bright blue robe with golden stars carefully stitched all over it.

Ms. Nita scoffed as she stepped in with the breakfast cart. “You aren’t even dressed, my lord.”

He turned from the fireplace and the robe fell from his right shoulder. The fire glowed about his dark fur, and one of his clawed hands rested upon the downy fluff of his chest. “I slept awful, Ms. Nita. How am I supposed to face my gorgeous bride when I have not had an ounce of beauty sleep-” He stopped dead when he saw you standing by the table.

He quickly lifted up his robe over his shoulder and a soft smile appeared on his face. “I am to be taken off guard apparently.”

“You didn’t sleep well, Forenz?” You asked and took your seat at the table.

Florenz’s dark eyes shifted around before he moved towards his chair. “I hope you rested well at the very least.”

Ms. Nita placed food upon the table, shaking her head slowly.

“I slept,” you answered plainly. You were keeping a cool front, but inside it felt like your soul was being ripped to shreds. Your chest was tight and your stomach was in knots.

Florenz had no clue as to how you felt. “That’s good. I am glad to hear such good news.” He smiled at Ms. Nita as she placed a solitary cup before him. Meanwhile you had small plates placed in front of you as well as a pot of tea.

Ms. Nita left the room and only the sound of the crackling fire was left.

Florenz picked up his cup and glanced inside. You picked at your food, too anxious to eat, but knowing you must perform or else he might catch on.

“I know technically it isn’t morning. At least, not from what you are used to.” Florenz murmured as he gazed into his cup. “It will get easier once you acclimate. I am sorry you have to do that too. But being what I am, I have no choice over my schedule.” He laughed then quickly shut himself up.

You looked up from your plate, seeing a yellow gleam to his eyes from the light of the fire. His bat-like appearance didn’t bother you, not like they thought it would. The village saw all sorts of creatures wandering through it. You had grown up seeing them hiding and staring from the rocks and behind trees, as well as walking along the same streets you did.

“Are you adjusting well?” Florenz asked. “I mean, I know you are used to a certain lifestyle, a certain affluence, and I am trying to provide that comfort to you.”

“What do you mean? You’re far richer than the Domitry family.” You quickly shut your mouth and cleared your throat.

Florenz nodded, looking back down into his cup. “Yes, well, even that can take some getting used to. But you’ve barely asked me for anything aside from art supplies. You don’t need to be afraid to ask me for anything.”

“I don’t need much,” you murmured.

Florenz sighed and leaned back into his chair. His robe once again fell away from his shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dear wife, but I had expected you to be much more spoiled than you are.”

You chewed slowly on a piece of meat then drank some tea to help you swallow more easily. “I suppose one would.”

Florenz chuckled. “I was not told you were an artist, mostly that you enjoyed fashion and having a large wardrobe.”

That explained one thing, you thought to yourself.

“I would have been better prepared had I been told more about you. But from what your father told me, I assumed you would be-” He hesitated and finally took a sip from his cup.

You set your cup down. “Vain? Lazy? You already said spoiled.”

Florenz looked at you surprised. “I did not want to make such harsh judgments. But I am sorry if that offends you.”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

Florenz’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you get that a lot?”

You sighed. “I’ve thought the same things.”

“I suppose you’re trying to…distance yourself from that sort of image. Correct?” His soft smile returned. “Because I think you are doing quite well.”

“Thank you.” You really weren’t sure how to respond.

Florenz took another drink from his glass. “Do you have plans today? I suppose you’ll be going back to your art.”

“I will be. Do you have business to take care of today?” You pushed yourself away from the table and smoothed your hand down your skirt.

“Unfortunately I do. There is much to take care of before the full moon. I want to make sure once it is here I will be able to have the time to spend with you.” He stood with his glass and walked over to you. He extended his clawed hand to help you rise from your chair.

If there had to be one thing you appreciated about your new husband, it was how tall he was. Back home in the village, you took after your father, who moved to the village when he was young. Most of the village, like your mother, was on the shorter side. You often stuck out like a sore thumb. Florenz’s height was nice to stand next to.

“Not much longer now. I suppose you are nervous.” Florenz opened the door for you.

He had no idea. “A little,” you lied.

Florenz smiled and you could see the sharp fangs in his mouth. “I too get butterflies. But there is nothing to worry about. I think you and I have a beautiful future together.”

You nodded. “I hope so.”

Florenz lifted your hand and dipped down to kiss the knuckles. His tail under his robe swished back and forth. “Have a good day, my wife.”

“You as well.” You waited until the doors were closed and then you let your body sag and slouch. You clutched your chest as you walked down the hallway. Everyday you felt he was closer to figuring it out.

Once you were back in your room you sat and cried for a spell. Once it felt the weight in your chest was relieved you took deep breaths. You missed your family, you missed your home, and you were angry about being placed here.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t even the right girl.

The door opened and you turned to see Ms. Nita with a glass of water. You tried to return to your formal posture, but it felt impossible.

“I can’t keep it up,” you whispered.

Ms. Nita handed you the water. “Keep what up?”

The glass was cold in your hands, it felt nice after all the tightness and fear you held during breakfast. “I can’t tell you.”

Ms. Nita flitted about the bedroom, checking for dust while also taking out another outfit for you to wear while you worked on your artwork. “You said the marriage didn’t bother you. Then what is it? The hours? The altitude? Trust me, you will grow used to both.”

“I really can’t say.”

Ms. Nita stood and put her hands upon her round hips. “If you cannot say, then perhaps I can guess.” She pulled up another chair and sat before you. She looked you over with a very studious gaze that made you feel uneasy.

“Making your bed every morning has never settled right with me. Girls from wealthy families like yours barely know how to wipe their noses, let alone tuck a sheet properly.” her large eyes kept gliding over you. “You’re very modest for a rich girl as well. You seemed shocked by your clothing.” She folded her arms against her chest. “Are you rich?”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“You aren’t, are you?” Ms. Nita whispered.

You looked at her with fear.

Ms. Nita sighed. “Oh dear. Oh, dear, dear, dear.” She clicked her tongue then held her jaw tight. “That foolish old mule pulled a grand switch didn’t he?. So what are you? A maid? A cook?”

“I was a governess to his younger children,” you admitted weakly. “But please. You can’t tell Master Florescu. Lord Domitry promised to give my mother money. My little sister is sick-”

Ms. Nita raised her hand. “Why did Domitry do it?”

You sniffled. “His daughter refused. She destroyed his office in a fit, and since we both looked similar he thought-” Your throat tightened up as you spoke.

She sighed. “That sounds like the real bride we were told about. Can’t say I’m surprised.” Ms. Nita stood up from her seat. “Lord Florenz deserves to know the truth of the matter.”

“No! Please!” You jumped to stand. “If he finds out, then Lord Domitry will stop providing money to my family. I won’t have a job anymore! My family relies on me.”

Ms. Nita gave you a cold look. “My master has been lied to. He’s been deceived. He was promised a bride.”

“And I am!” You exclaimed. “I am his bride. He would be happy with the one he was told, but he does have a bride as promised.”

Ms. Nita huffed. “Do you really think this would be the end of you if he found out? Domitry has made you a pawn, a victim. He used you to make a laughing stock out of Florenz. I have raised that man since he was a child. I raised his mother before him. The Florescu family is my family.” She jabbed her finger into your face.

“It guts me to think Florenz is in the dark. He’s no idiot, but he can be a fool.” She grumbled.

“I have not met a kind man with money,” you murmured.

Ms. Nita nodded. “I suppose you haven’t. Well, if Florenz is cruel, then I will deal with him.” She took your hand and patted it. “You have nothing to fear. Ms. Nita runs this estate more than young Florenz thinks.” She grabbed your hand and had you follow her back towards Florenz’s chambers.

She forced her way inside, no knock, no warning of your arrival. She strode in with confidence while you floundered behind her.

Florenz was getting dressed. He had on pants but his top half was bare. He squeaks as you both came in and he crossed his arms against his broad chest.

“Ms. Nita, what are you doing?!” He snapped.

“I have figured out a plot!” Ms. Nita raised up her arm, still clutchingyour hand.

You and Florenz looked at one another and his gaze went soft. “My dear, have you been crying?”

“Not the plot!” Ms. Nita snapped. She let go of your hand and paced around in front of Florenz. “I have discovered that Lord Domitry has played you for a fool!”

Florenz was still looked at you with concern, like he wanted to approach but his own partial nudity was making him embarrassed. “What?” he looked back down. “What was that, Ms. Nita?”

“Focus!” She snapped her fingers. “Look at her.” She waved her hands towards you. “Take her in. Think about all you know about her. I want you to think hard, Florenz. What about her stands out?”

You wait anxiously, folding your hands together and standing stiff as Florenz looks at you. His gaze is soft. Confused, but very much affectionate. His ears fold back as a shy smile appears.

“A lot of things. I’m very fond of my wife.”

Your heart isn’t sure in which direction it should go, and neither did you.

Ms. Nita scoffed. “No! She’s not a Domitry.”

Florenz’s eyes widened. He looked from you, to Ms. Nita, and back to you. “No! What? Come on now, Ms. Nita. No! Darling, what is she going on about?”

“She’s not a Domitry,” Ms. Nita repeated. “She worked for them.”

His whole body stiffened and the wings upon his back fluttered. Florenz looked at you again, eyes widened as he began to realize. “Oh,” he breathed “Oh!” He exclaimed.

Tears began to well up in your eyes.  “I’m so sorry.”

Florenz took a few steps forward, a serious look upon his face. “So it’s true? Domitry pulled a grand switch on me.”

“That’s right.”

“Well,” Florenz muttered. “That's good then!”

Tears fell down your cheeks as Florenz approached you and placed his hand upon your shoulder. “I am much happier with you. But I do still have Domitry to deal with.”

You weren’t sure what to think.

“What do you plan on doing?” Ms. Nita asked. “Both with this girl and the Domitry family?”

“She’s my wife,” Florenz corrected. “I will be her husband and protect her. As for Domitry, this marriage was supposed to end the feud between our families. But I suppose, if he wants to play me for the fool, then he will live with the consequences.” He walked across the room and pulled on his robe again to cover himself.

You watched him in awe, still barely taking in his words. Florenz handed Ms. Nita a sealed document, which she took and gave him a nod.

“Send that directly to Domitry, he will know what it means.” Florenz placed his hand upon your back, turning you towards him as Ms. Nita left the room.

You were shaking, afraid of what would happen next.

Florenz cupped his hands around her face. “What do we need to do?” He asked. “You must have family back in the village. Should we bring them here for safe keeping? Perhaps once Domitry is dealt with, they can have his house. After all, I’d like us to be alone for the full moon.”

“What?” You voice shook.

Florenz smiled on you. “I may have been fooled into marrying you, but I do not regret it. I find myself falling for you.”

You had been so terrified of your secret getting out, you had barely had a chance to think of your own feelings for him. You sniffled, falling into his arms to cry with relief.

“It’s alright, my dear. I will take care of you, no matter what.” he sat with you upon his bed, stroking your back until you calmed. You fell asleep in his arms and woke up tucked into bed.

Across the room you saw him sitting at his table, looking over a stack of documents and an open tome. His ear twitched as you moved the blankets and he turned in your direction. He stood from the table and approached you.

“I hope you rested well,” he said gently.

You rubbed your eyes. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Hush now. You’re my wife, what’s mine is yours.” He placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.

“I’m so sorry-” You tried to apologize but he tapped a claw over your lips.

“You were forced into a corner. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.” He smoothed his palm up your cheek and tucked back loose curls.

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you murmured.

Florenz nodded. “Well, now that I am aware, let’s start back at the beginning.” He cupped your cheek in his palm. “I want to know you, the real you.”

You smiled brightly. “What do you want to know?”

“Your name might be nice.”

You chuckled, giving him your name.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “It suits you much better.” He snuggled with you upon the bed. “Now, do you really like clothes so much?”

“Not really,” you chuckled. “As silly as it is, I like stuffed toys.”

Florenz’s fangs showed as he smiled. “That’s much more interesting.”

////

Without the constant stress of being found out lingering over your head, you’ve been able to enjoy life at the castle much better. Especially since your sister is getting the care she needs. Once he knew the story, Florenz was happy to take care of everything. Even as the full moon ceremony loomed, he worked to take care of the troubles caused by Domitry.

“It won’t be the first time a Florenz marries someone outside their station,” Florenz told you.

You looked up from your easel, having set it up beside him at his work table. “What do you mean?”

Florenz’s large ears twitched back. “Ah, well you see, My great-great-grandfather fell in love with his cook. So he turned her into a duchess. Made all sorts of stories for her, turned her into quite the gem. Then my grandfather took after him and married my grandmother who had been a practicing nun.”

“A nun?” You giggled.

“Oh yes. She had come from a more esteemed family, but after they came to ruin she came to god until grandfather stepped into the picture.” Florenz turned back to his work. "I still make donations to the convent regularly.”

You smiled softly as you continued to work on your canvas. “And now, you’re going for a governess.”

Florenz sat still with a deep look of thought upon his face. “I would describe you more as an artist than a governess. But luckily, our story has a funny twist to it like the others.” He smiled at you, trapping you in a gazefor a long moment.

You grew shy the longer he stared. You smiled,  and felt your face grow warmer. A nervous laugh then bubbled up. “What?”

“Just looking at you, my dear. I’m thinking about how lucky I am to actually like the person I am with.” His smile turned dreamy. “My parents were never fond of one another, so I always looked at my grandparents as inspiration.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you murmured.

Floren shrugged. “Yes, well, I think it all stemmed from the fact my parents were more inclined to their own. They had me and I think that’s the last time they shared a room.”

“Oh, I see.” You said softly.

Florenz’s ears twitched again. He looked up from his work, checking on you from the corner of his eye. “Do you think you’d prefer separate rooms when the full moon is over?”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean?”

Florenz glanced over at his bed. “Nothing. Ignore me and my babbling.”

You set your things aside and took off your apron, draping it over your chair. You then approached Florenz and placed your hand upon his shoulder. He twitched slightly, glancing down at your hand then looking back at his work.

“Are you worried I won’t want to sleep beside you?” You leaned down closer to him, slipping your arms around his neck. “Because I’ve thought about it.”

Florenz’s body went stiff and still. “You have?”

“Have you?” You spoke close to his ear which fell flat onto his head.

He turned to look at you and shrugged. “I would be a liar if I said I hadn’t. Especially considering how nervous I am for the full moon.”

“Then tell me about it.” You hugged him from behind. “I want to know.”

Florenz tapped your arms and he began to rise from his chair. You stood aside to let him up, wondering what he was going to do.

Florenz held out his clawed hand. “I’ll show you something.”

Taking his hand, he then led you through the castle, taking you further up than you had been before. You went into one of the towers, going all the way up the spiral staircase and through the door in the ceiling. Florenz let you up first and you stood in a room where the ceiling was entirely glass. The night sky was directly above you and the nearly full moon was so close you felt you could touch it!

“This is where we will start the ceremony,” Florenz murmured. He then motioned over to a massive bed in the back of the room that was covered by sapphire blue curtains. “We will spend all night there, and in the morning we will fall asleep there.”

This bit of news stunned you. “Isn’t that dangerous for you?”

Florenz waved his hand up to the glass. “During the night, this glass is clear. But during the day it will turn dark. An old family secret,” he chuckled.

“That’s amazing.”

Florenz walked over to the bed as you marveled at the night sky. He pulled back the curtains and stared inside. “I’m nervous about…being good enough.”

You looked back him. “Good enough at what?”

Florenz’s tail twitched behind him while his ears went flat against his head. “Being a husband is one thing,” he murmured. “But being your lover is something completely different. I have studied, and I have read up on the art. But studying and doing are two completely different beasts.”

You placed your hand upon his back and he shivered all over. Glancing down at you he saw the shy little smile upon your face.

He sighed. “I do not want the full moon to go to waste.”

“I have an idea,” you stepped closer to him. “What if we…practiced?”

His ears stood up.

“Is it against the rules? Because…I’m nervous too. But I don’t want you to be terrified and worrying on the important night.”

Florenz swallowed. “I suppose it’s not entirely against the rules.” He looked down at you. “I would call myself a hands-on learner anyways.”

A few nervous butterflies fluttered around in your tummy. “Then, maybe we could just…I don’t know, maybe just try a few things tonight?”

Florenz took in a deep breath and nodded. He extended out his arms and his robe fell from around his shoulders. “If you would like to, I am more than willing.”

You began pulling at the strings of your blouse, letting it fall open enough that Florenz could see the curve of your breasts. His robe fell upon the floor and he stretched his wings out a bit. His eyes focused upon you, seeing bits of you he had yet to spy.

“Let me help you.” He reached out, helping you remove your clothing. He did well with buttons, and as your skirt fell upon the floor he took a step back from you. Moonlight shown through your blouse and he could see the shape of you through the thin fabric.

Florenz cleared his throat and sat himself down upon the bed. He rubbed his hands over the tops of his thighs. Coming up closer to him, you slowly eased down upon his lap. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close and causing you to straddle his lap. You both shifted and laughed anxiously. Looking into one another's' eyes you grew silent again.

Florenz took the first kiss, plunging in as his hands grasped around your back. You leaned in, furthering the kiss as your hands went through the soft plumage of fur upon his broad chest. You sighed as your lips parted, and Florenz’s hands moved lower.

“Not so bad, huh?” he chuckled softly.

You shook your head. “I liked it.” You looked down at his chest, his dark fur turned pale in the center, leading a trail down his belly and into his pants. Your fingers traced the rim of his pants and Florenz shivered,

“Maybe we should…get fully naked,” you suggested with a crack to your voice. “Just to…” Your mind drifted.

“Yeah,” his voice fluttered. His hands went up under your blouse, touching bare skin. His lidded eyes glazed as he slightly pulled it up, glimpsing the bare bottom of your breasts. His hands dropped back down and he held back a smile as best he could.

“Okay, okay,” he breathed. “I can do this.” He moved you onto the bed so he could stand. He fumbled with his pants, losing grip a few times before he could get them loose. He tugged them down, keeping himself huddled over while your eyes were upon him.

You removed your blouse, sitting there naked with your arms crossed against your chest. You watched him rise up, standing his full height with his head partially hidden by the canopy. Your eyes traveled down his chest, his belly, down to the shadow against his groin.

“Dear,” he whispered.

You looked up as he knelt down to join you on the bed. You smiled to reassure him and lowered your head a bit.

“Are you cold?” He chuckled.

“A little.”

Florenz reached out, wrapping his arms around you. “Then let me warm you back up. It must be chilly without your clothes.”

You moved your arms, holding him as he held you. Two bare bodies pressed against one another. His fur was soft, and his body felt warm and strong.

“You’re so tender,” Florenz murmured. “So supple.”

Your cheeks burned. “Thank you.”

Florenz’s grip tightened around you and he buried his face into the curve of your neck. You whimpered softly as his cool breath beat upon your skin. You stroked your hand up the back of his neck and moved the other around his waist.

“Florenz,” you whispered.

He lifted his head, looking deep into your eyes. He cupped his hand around your cheek as his breathing began to even. “I was hoping this would help my nerves. But it feels as though it has only added to them.” He looked down your body with a look of lust. “Now I worry I will have no control over myself.”

You bit your lip. “How so?”

“I will turn into a beast.” His finger trailed down your neck, onto your chest, then glided between your breasts. “I will feast upon your body, and never quite satisfy my hunger for it.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “For you.”

You swallowed and remembered to breathe. “That doesn’t sound all that bad.”

“But it is. I do not know what I am capable of. Only that I now have the drive to do it.” He brushed his knuckles against your breast, eliciting a stuck breath in your chest. He laid you down upon the bed, stroking his hands down your body until he came to your thighs. He opened them with a gentle touch, moving his palms down your soft skin.

Florenz moaned to himself, licking down your supple thigh and rising back up with kisses upon it. He looked back into your eyes, staring up helplessly from the bed. His long tongue lapped over your skin again.

“Do you mind if I taste you, my dear?” He breathed.

You shook your head. “Go ahead.”

His mouth opened wide along your thigh, revealing his sharp fangs and teeth. He bit into the soft flesh, which only hurt for a moment. Then it turned into warmth and soft tingling. His mouth was pressed against you, tasting your blood as it beaded from the bite mark.

Florenz moaned, his body arching and writhing as he drank. He lifted his head from your thigh, pressing more kisses before he took another bite, much lower than the first. He moaned again, and those vibrations against you traveled up your body.

He licked his lips, letting out a shuddering breath. “Sweet is the nectar, but how is your wine?” He reached down, pulling open your plump mound to see inside. Wetness has gathered around the lips, and has given you a delicate glaze.

“You’ve become just as aroused as I have.” Florenz licked the corner of his mouth.

You shivered, watching his eyes then lookin down.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He breathed.

You swallowed again and nodded. “Yes.”

He looked into your eyes. “I didn’t hear that, my dear. Do you mind saying it again for me? Much louder this time.”

You gathered up your courage, hoping your voice didn’t break as you tried to speak. “Please touch me. I don’t know why, but your bites, they-” Your couldn’t bring yourself to say the words.

“Did you like that?” Florenz lowered down again. He kissed your breast, suckling it before trailing kisses down your belly. “I’ve never tasted anything as delicious as you.” He used his knuckles to open you, careful of his claws to not scrape your skin. His knuckle rubbed against the top of your folds. You writhed a bit, whimpering loudly at the touch.

“You appear to be quite sensitive, my dear.” Florenz sat back up and took a breath. “I appear to be getting drunk upon it.”

You swallowed again, trying to catch your breath. “It’s okay. I suggested we…that we do this.”

Florenz laughed softly. “I did not expect it to go so well. So temptingly.”

You stroked your hand down your body, making sure he saw. His eyes followed your fingers, watching them as you began to touch yourself. He focused intently while you circled around your clit, dipping your fingers inside before returning.

He spread his thighs, showing you what hung between them. His cock bobbed heavily in the shadows, a deep, dark red with purple veins. The head of it flared slightly, and the base tapered into a slight bulge at the base. He took the shaft into his hand, stroking slowly as he watched your fingers.

You then opened your arms beckoning him to come close to you.  His eyes widened, slightly glowing in the dark. He lowered himself down upon you, kissing you and embracing you as your bodies pressed together.

You stretched out your neck, letting Florenz bury his face there. Another bite and you moaned loudly, arching your back as Florenz grabbed tighter around you. Your bodies pressed tight together as he bit again. You gasped for breath, shuddering as his claws sank into your rear, angling you closer, mounting himself at the ready.

A quick pulse was all it took. A snake in your ear, a fluttering of your lids, and you and Florenz were inseparable. You stayed still, both quivering and aching for the next move, but savoring that first, sweet moment for as long as possible.

“You’re so warm,” his voice quaked. “I’ve never felt this-”

You held on tight to him, aching slightly from him being inside you. But it was a good sort of pain, just like when he bit you. “Keep going,” you urged. “It’s…it’s good.”

Florenz moved shakily, unsure at first. He took his time, finding himself a bit more confident as it felt better. The more fluid he moved, the more you felt as well. He fit snug inside you, so you were able to feel every inch of him. You closed your eyes, focusing on that pleasure as he pressed into you. He went deep, then stayed shallow, just to test what felt best.

He went still again, holding his breath.

“What is it?” You whimpered.

“I’ll come if I’m not careful,” he whispered. “I want to keep enjoying this.”

You stroked your hand down his back. “Can you only do it once in your whole life?”

“No. That’s not-” He chuckled. “I can do it many, many times.”

You smiled. “Then do it again when you are done.”

His eyes widened. “But…I thought this was just practice?”

You pulled him down close, kissing him until you felt a shudder inside. His mouth hung open, and he pulled out, releasing upon your thigh and belly. His body grew limp, and the expression on his face was more cute than erotic.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll clean that up.” He took his pants, using them to mop up his mess. He then touched your loins, seeing them swollen with arousal. “What do I need to do now?”

“Touch me.” You wriggled your hips.

He rubbed his knuckle to your clit again, gently nudging it as he watched your wetness seep down onto the sheets. His eyes lidded watching and he lowered down, kissing and licking softly. You whimpered out loudly, panting deeply as the kisses grew harder. He suckled upon you, moaning softly as your thighs closed around his head. You trembled, arching slightly then pushing him away.

You fell back, breathing hard as Florenz wiped his mouth. “Was that…good?”

You nodded, covering your head with your arms.

Florenz rolled you onto your back again and smiled down upon you. “I’m glad we practiced.”

“Me too,” you breathed. “Now…you won’t be so nervous on the full moon.”

He kissed your breasts and then your lips. “Can we practice again before then?”

You giggled. “Maybe.”

Florenz laid down beside you, wrapping his wing around you to cover you. “At least…could I taste you again?”

You smiled shyly at him. “Did I really taste good?”

“You tasted amazing.” he nuzzled into the curve of your neck again. “So warm and soft upon my tongue. Your blood was like velvet.”

You sighed dreamily as he pressed closer. “That sounds nice.”

“Because it’s yours.” He kissed your neck and then nuzzled to your hair. “Because it’s you, I want you.”

“It was…good wasn’t it?” You said shyly. “Being entwined like that felt better than I expected. I had been told my first time would be painful. But you…even your bites felt good to me. But when you were inside me…I was shocked by how much I liked it.”

Florenz smiled proudly. “It was an experience. So wet and sweet,” he breathed. “So warm and…and deep.” he swallowed. “I need to be careful.”

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

He nodded then shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He laid back down beside you. “Now that my nerves are gone, I suppose I am a bit more excitable.”

You smiled. “I see.” Rolling over you curled up against his body. “I uhm…I wouldn’t mind if you got excited again. I mean, what else have we to do today anyways?”

“Nothing I suppose.” he gave you a soft delicate kiss. “We should be careful though. I would hate for Ms. Nita to come looking for us and find us in the middle of practicing.”

You giggled and placed your arms around him. “Then let's close the curtains.”

[thatmexisaurusrex]

bucktommy microfic prompt you say??

okay okay consider:

one of them surprising the other with flowers!!! could be at the flower shop trying to pick out the perfect ones (flower language my BELOVED) or the others reaction to the flowers or just!! whatever sparks joy!! 🥰✨🌼

send me headcanons and microfic prompts

Okay, this is going to be sort of a tie-in to denial-verse.

Flowers

Tommy should have known better.

His boyfriend was always buying him flowers. It made sense that the one time Tommy thought, okay, maybe I should buy Evan flowers, Evan would be in the same flower shop.

Tommy had been looking for something that felt like Evan. Something vibrant and fun. Tommy had chosen one with this bright pop of red tulips and solid pink peonies and lively yellow craspedias and olive and cherry branches.

Tommy shouldn't be hiding behind a display.

But all the same, he was as he watched his boyfriend buy him a bouquet.

"No, he kind of likes more subtle colors," Evan told the employee of the shop, or perhaps the owner of the shop, smiling softly, "I mean, I've given him these loud bouquets before and he likes them enough, but I catch him smiling more at the softer ones. The pastels and stuff, you know? Understated stuff. I don't know. Maybe - "

Evan turned to a more subdued arrangement.

"Maybe this? With the white anemones and the soft blue thistles and the light pink ranunculus and the pop of burgundy with the roses? Does that make any sense?"

The woman helping him, this older woman, smiled at him.

"I think he'll love it," said the woman as she grabbed the bouquet.

Tommy froze.

Because.

Evan was staring right at him.

"You're... gettiing me flowers too?" whispered Evan.

As if he hadn't expected it. As if he hadn't gotten flowers in his life before this either.

And.

And Tommy couldn't not say, "Of course, Evan."

Evan.

Evan rushed over to Tommy, kissing him silly. And Tommy was pretty sure the bouquet he was holding had fallen down to the ground. He would pay for them still. But he would think about that later. When Evan's lips weren't on his.

[robinsno1lesbian]

hiii long time no see! can i please request a blurb where nancy runs a bakery in a small yet popular town and reader come in all the time and is instantly drawn to her innocence and hyper femininity and they both get to know each other one day which leads to them discovering each others desires and tastes 🤭

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

- n.w. x reader

summary: new au unlocked?? baker!nancy wheeler? (2.8k)

warnings: SMUT!! (mdni), vaginal fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, hair pulling, finger sucking, thigh riding, hyperfeminine!nancy, pet names (baby, pretty girl…), not an actual warning but there’s a brief mention of body hair in this and if that’s something that bothers you, respectfully, you can fuck right off :)

a/n: thank you so much for your request! i always appreciate them so if you have any for my summer fics don’t hesitate to send them! this turned into so much more than a short blurb, i hope you don’t mind! i also wrote this at the beach so ignore any typos <3

when you first stumbled upon her bakery on your usual early morning walks, you immediately felt drawn to it.

whether it was the sweet scent flooding the streets of the small coastal town that first drew you in or the loopy, cursive letters of the sign above the door, you do not remember.

there was just something about the small store; not too far off from the main road, but just enough to keep a sense of tranquility, away from the constant buzz of all the tourists that were filling the streets of the town in the warmer months of the year.

you quickly discovered though, when stepping through the entrance of the bakery where a small bell above the door was announcing your presence, that its location did nothing to prevent it from gaining some sort of popularity among the town’s people.

its interior was arguably even prettier than the store had been from the outside: all in soft pinks and pastels, with expensive looking furniture and the sweetness of baked goods lingering.

behind the counter stoood a woman, her sharp facial features framed by brown curls, only tamed by a bow that sat on the back of her head. her attire was, much like the store around her, the same shades of pink. above all this, she had an apron tied to her rather petite form. in her delicate hands she held a bowl with cake batter, but quickly put it down when she saw you.

“hi there” she spoke, wiping her hands with a towel.

you ran your own hands through your hair, feeling oddly out of place among so many pretty things.

“i haven’t seen you around before…?” she went on, blue eyes meeting yours.

“oh!” you said, snapping out of your trance. “i’m y/n. i haven’t seen you around here either”

thankfully, it didn’t come out as accusatory as you had feared it would.

“i’m nancy” the woman, nancy, said “nancy wheeler. i’m still fairly new to this town”

you looked around the room once more, over the cakes and cookies and all sorts of baked foods that were on display.

“i’m sure you’ll be fine” you assured and gestured all around “this is really pretty”

perhaps you were imagining it, your mind playing some cruel trick on you now that you’re facing a gorgeous woman like her, but her cheeks seemed slightly rosy at the compliment.

“why thank you” she leaned against the counter, manicured nails tapping a steady rhythm on its top. “can i get you anything?”

ꪆৎ

ever since that first encounter, and your first taste of her white chocolate chip raspberry cookies, you come to her bakery frequently -if not daily, as long as your schedule allows you.

you get to taste all of her specialties, whether it’s her cherry cake, her sweetly decorated cupcakes or the coffee you order every time.

what you probably like the most of all is her own sweetness. the way she blushes furiously when you compliment her or the way she starts fumbling with her apron when it’s just the two of you and she lets you have a taste of cake batter, your lips closing around the spoon with a soft, maybe slightly exaggerated hum.

you learn about her too, about some ex boyfriend of hers whom she left in a small town in Indiana to pursue her own dreams, about the people she left behind and the new friends she has made along the way.

your daily visits become hangouts when the store is empty and it’s just the two of you. they become shared secrets and lingering touches that never fail to make her cheeks turn all pink and rosy.

that’s around the time when you start feeling a new sense of hunger. not the kind you feel when you watch her working on a new cake from which you know that it’ll turn out delicious no matter what. more so the kind you feel when you’re close to her, when you move her aside by the small of her back to walk past or when you’re feeling especially bold and close your mouth around her pretty fingers to lick off whatever sweet treat she’s got smeared over them.

nancy will scold you then, complain that she’ll have to wash her hands all over again, but you see the way she fumbles when she turns, hear the way she stumbles over the words like she doesn’t understand. too innocent and new to it to wrap her head around the way her abdomen coils when you’re around.

when you first kiss her, she doesn’t know where to put her hands. they land on your shoulders, in somewhat of an awkward angle, but you guide her. help her put them on your waist, where nancy pulls herself closer until she’s pressed up against you entirely.

she kisses you slowly, like she’s still new in her skin and has to figure out how to move her mouth. you let her.

the first time you get to taste her, is in her apartment right above the bakery. on her bed where you briefly wonder, between soft pillows that smell like lavender and sugar, if everything in her life has got those pretty pastel colors.

nancy lets you untie the ribbon in her hair and you run your fingers through her untamed, wild curls. there’s an intimacy to it, one that lingers when she starts shedding her clothes. you lean back and watch through heavy lidded eyes as her skirt lands on the hardwood floor before she pulls up her blouse, further and further up and -god- nancy wheeler doesn’t wear a bra to work.

she seems shy in her own skin and you beckon her over until she’s straddling your lap and her pretty, pebbled nipples are right in front of your eyes.

“you’re so pretty” you swear to her before you take one of them into your mouth and flick it with your tongue. nancy moans and you hum. she’s sensitive there. so sensitive that she starts bucking her hips and grind them against your pelvis when you roll her other nipple between your index and your thumb.

she -honest to god- whines, her brows drawn together in pleasure. it’s the prettiest sight to see.

it doesn’t take long for you to spin her around and watch the way her hair sprawls out around her head on her pillows. she looks like a goddess like this, like a woman taken right out of your wildest fantasies: with her nipples hard and wet, her chest rising and falling quickly and a wet patch on the crotch of her lilac panties.

you could tease her, of course, feel her clit through the thin material and mouth at her pussy until she’s practically riding your face. but you wouldn’t dream of it now, not when you’ve been waiting to taste her for the longest time.

so you pull them down and nancy is spreading her legs and she’s opening for you. soft and pliant and pink like the rest of her, with hoarse curls surrounding her.

“fuck” you mutter. when you look up at nancy, she’s shyly biting her index and draws her legs together by the knees.

“don’t” you tell her gently.

“you don’t have to-“ she gestures downwards. “put your mouth there”

you chuckle at that. “i know. i want to though. is that okay?”

nancy nods immediately, even props herself up on her forearms so she can watch you when you nudge your nose through the hair there and place a first, soft kiss right onto her clit.

she moans, so responsive, and you get lost in the taste of her.

when you’ve made her cum with an actual shout of your name and you’re in her bed together, she kisses your temple.

she tells you that she’s never had sex like this. that no one ever put their mouth on her, that no one ever made her feel this good. you take pride in being what could’ve easily been her first orgasm. it’s sweet and you love every minute of laying with her.

it’s that until she leans above you and confesses “i want you to feel good too y/n”

“you don’t have to” you tell her and cup her cheeks with your hands.

“i know” she promises and kisses your palm.

you cum twice that night: once just from grinding against her thigh under her watchful, amazed gaze. the second time, you’re kneeling in front of her, each of you having one hand buried between the other’s legs, reaching your heights simultaneously.

that night, you find out how pretty nancy wheeler is when she cums. you find out that her cunt tightens, right before she releases, and that she gushes without noticing.

you also find out how her scent coaxes you to sleep like a lullaby. so you sleep, with one of her arms draped over your chest and her warm breath against your neck.

ꪆৎ

you had hoped that, whatever you were, wasn’t just casual. you knew it wasn’t when nancy woke you up with coffee in bed and a promise of “next time i want to have a taste of you too”.

nancy becomes more confident in her desires over time, admitting to more of them to you. you study her body, become familiar to each swell and dip, with every mole on her skin.

by the time you give in to what you’ve been wanting to do from the start, she’s officially your girlfriend.

you’re both behind the counter, an early, lazy morning in the bakery. you’re leaning against it, arms crossed over your chest, as you watch her mix together her ingredients. there are some freshly cut strawberries on a plate and you can’t help yourself but snatch one from it to pop it into your mouth.

“what’s that gonna be?” you ask with a nod in the direction of her bowl.

“strawberry shortcake“ she looks up at you momentarily. “want a taste?”

absentmindedly, you hum. you approach nancy from behind and wrap your arms around her waist. she squeals and scrunches up her nose.

“i’m working”

“i can see that”

she turns in your embrace, a smudged expression on your face when she meets your gaze.

“y/n” she says, nudging your shoulder. “you’re distracting”

“you love it” you return smoothly, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. nancy returns it, regardless of her playful complaints. and even though she gasps in surprise and you can feel her fingers tighten around your arm when you lick past her lips, she complies and kisses you back with all tongue and teeth.

nancy’s eyes widen when you lower yourself down to the floor in front of her, your hands roaming over her sides.

“y/n” she hisses under her breath, eyes darting towards the entrance. “what are you doing?”

you fumble with the hem of her maxi skirt, playfully grinning up at her. nancy is even more gorgeous when you’re down on your knees for her.

“is that okay?” you breathe. nancy takes you by surprise when she lets out a shuddered breath and nods.

“please”

“alright” you nod, already pulling up her skirt so you can stuff the hem up to where it sits on her waistline. you’re beneath the counter, hidden from the view of potential customers or anyone who might walk by. “keep working pretty girl. we wouldn’t want anybody to see”

nancy actually does, you can hear her stirring from above.

with your own task at hand, you pull her panties down her slender legs and quickly store them in your pocket -the slight, but visible bit of arousal sticking to the fabric doesn’t go unnoticed.

with that last barrier of clothing being out of your way, you put your palms on either of her thighs, your ragged breath ghosting over her bare, exposed cunt

“so pretty” you mumble, kissing her mound. nancy’s breath shudders above you. it’s true. you could spend hours, perhaps even the rest of your life, between nancy’s legs, worshipping her body. you part your index and middle finger and run them through her, spreading her labia open, delighted by the squelching sound of her arousal.

“hm” you hum, licking your lips. nancy is wet and wanting for you and she’s right there in front of you, awaiting your mouth.

she lifts her leg a little bit and drags her fingers through your hair impatiently.

“come on” she whispers.

you comply; your mouth open when you press it against her heat. she tastes good. so good. her slick is coating your tongue and it takes everything in you not to get lost in her immediately.

you trace your tongue over her clit and nancy gasps.

this time she drops the spoon entirely to grab a fistfull of your hair. you inhale sharply against her cunt as she guides you to where she needs you the most, the vibration of it going straight to nancy’s core.

finally, finally, you wrap your lips around her.

the noise nancy makes is somewhat of a strangled moan and you’re forever grateful you chose to close the front door on your way in. the noise echoes through the empty bakery, only for you to hear.

you eat her out like this for a while, getting lost in her desperate attempts of stifling her sighs as well as her taste on your lips. you know your teasing won’t make her cum just yet, your mouth avoiding her clit with purpose, only ever ghosting it briefly. you can tell nancy knows, her frustrated grinds of her hips enough of an indicator.

“come on baby” she groans softly. you look up at her just when she turns her chin down to send you a pleading glare.

you hold the established eye contact and bring one of your hands up to run it through her wetness, coating it in it. when you tilt your head, asking a silent question, nancy nods breathlessly. you push into her, two of your fingers sinking into the heat of her cunt.

she slams a hand over her mouth to stifle the moan that threatens to spill from her. you’ve stopped eating her out momentarily to catch the sight of her head thrown back in pleasure.

you moan too, quieter and less desperate, but a moan nonetheless when she flutters around your digits. she shoots you a warning glare, the hand that had been resting on the countertop coming down to cup your cheek.

her thumb strokes your lower lip, pulling it down and open slightly whilst she watches you through hazy eyes.

“quiet baby” she reminds you in a breath before pushing that finger forward. you open up for her, greedily sucking on her thumb to hold back your own moans. she replaces her thumb with her index and middle finger after a while, watching you suck her fingers off from underneath her counter while you’re still buried knuckle deep inside her. there’s a muscle that twitches in her jaw but you’re not sure if it’s because she’s trying to keep it down or because she loves the sight of you.

you hollow your cheeks around the long, manicured fingers that are pressing down on your tongue, giving the woman above you a show.

as you fight back the urge to gag around her, you go back to pumping your fingers into her pussy. in and out, in a steady rhythm, every stroke hitting her g spot perfectly. additionally, you start circling her clit with your thumb. you know that’ll be enough to make her cum and you’re proven right when nancy starts trembling above you.

“y/n” she whispers, over and over, like a prayer. “y/n, baby, i’m close. i’m so close”

you let her fingers fall from your lips, only for her to bury them in your hair once more.

“it’s okay” you whisper but it comes out like a plea.

“i’m gonna cum” she warns, voice high pitched and needy. “gonna cum- fuck- baby i’m cumming. i’m cumming”

her body bends forward a little, curling up in itself as the waves of her orgasm ripple through her. you feel the familiar pull of her pussy trying to suck you in deeper, to keep you in place. nancy is panting, some strands of her curls clinging to the sweat on her forehead.

after a moment of this, of her bent over with her lips pressed together in pleasure, she loosens the grip on your hair and leans back.

with a murmur of “fuck” she finds her voice back.

you grin, slowly pulling your fingers out. you contemplate sucking them clean but nancy is already handing you a paper towel. you’ll get your chance to taste her again, you decide, when you wipe her cum from your digits and stand back up.

you help the woman in front of you fix her hair and pull her skirt back into place gently.

“beautiful” you hum when you place a quick kiss to her forehead. “so beautiful”

nancy wheeler is beautiful, you learn. and sweet, too sweet even.

[afoggymirror]

반짝반짝 너와 함께 있을 때

‧ ₊ ˚ * ๋࣭ ⭑ ⚝ twinkle twinkle when i’m with you ༘ 𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

broke!annyeongz | smut; fluff; puppygirl!Yujin; petplay; shock collar; drunk sex; heavy foot stuff; light hypno; light overstimulation word count | 8000 ao3

Buried several pages deep into a small newspaper, back in her old home town, she’d once read a completely inane story that, God knows why, lodged itself in her brain. It was about a local woman who, due to health complications, had lost the use of her legs, and so she trained her dog – a very pretty Border Collie mix – to fetch the groceries from the local store. Why this story just so happened to pop into her head again at that very moment, Yujin could only guess.

In total, she was carrying five bags: her purse from work balanced precariously on one shoulder, a large tote bag filled to the brim with stuff from the supermarket, and three plastic bags full of whatever couldn’t fit in the second bag. Really, Yujin wouldn’t mind carrying all this junk if it weren’t so fucking cold that day. She’d walked all from the office to the store with her hands awkwardly buried into her armpits for warmth.

She shitstepped around a corner and away from the wind. Her head sunk into her scarf and all the hair she had wrapped it around. Her breath condensed in the air, painting the view of the city around her a paler shade of gray. For a moment, something changed she felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her. The next moment she realized one of her bags had just ripped.

“Ah, shit,” she heard a loud, glassy thoonk against the pavement below, “fuck.” Yujin craned her neck, just fast enough to see the bottle of wine bounce a few times, before rolling to a lazy stop against a concrete bench nearby.

Waddling as fast as she could between the bags and her long fuzzy trench coat – its bottom now certainly coated in gunk from brushing against the ground – she squatted awkwardly to pick up the wine. A light pink rosé, one that they’d never tried before, but which seemed like something they would enjoy, soft and smooth, tending towards a dry. The bottle had some scratches where it hit the ground, but it looked to be intact otherwise. Thank God, who knows what Wony would have her do if she knew she’d wasted nice booze.

Maybe it was her mind conjuring Wony, maybe it was the Sun hitting the bottle and projecting pastel pink swirls onto the pavement, but the city suddenly seemed a lot less gray. Yujin saw in color. It was a Friday, and she was about spend three days with the love of her life. She wanted to hold the feeling in her hand, but instead she held the bottle tight and continued to waddle home, newly oblivious to the strain on her wrists, from where all the groceries now bounced.

Yujin arrived at their apartment building – a discreet little place, not far from the heart of the city – and fumbled taking the keys from her purse, fumbling through the front door and fumbling with the elevator button. She stood in front of the metal doors for a little while before remembering that the elevator broke that week. She took the stairs.

Entering the studio apartment, Yujin took off her shoes and her coat, before dumping all the groceries on the kitchen counter and diving onto bed. The kitchen counter and the bed were, of course, a few feet apart. Their apartment was very small.

She let herself relax, but not for long. Wonyoung wouldn’t be back for a little while, but she still had a lot to prepare before then.

Before the tiredness could get to her, she got up and got to work putting away the groceries. Her mind wandered through the minutes, taking salmon fillets from their package, laying them on a pan with oil (just a little oil, Wony was sensitive about that), setting the water to boil for the pasta…

A nice smell began to drift from the fish on the stove, and she opened the large window at the end of the studio apartment, so it wouldn’t be overbearing later. Wony was also sensitive about that. Speaking of which, was she supposed to leave the wine in the fridge? They’re meant to be in room temperature but Yujin remembered hearing it might be different for rosés?

Her mind busied itself as the Sun lowered in the sky. This evening must have cost most of her paycheck that month, and preparing it was becoming exhausting very quickly, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Wonyoung had a really bad week at work, and if Yujin could do anything to make it better, she would, regardless of price.

Often, she would catch herself fantasizing her words, once Wony got home. Hey baby! she would say, romantic, I know these weeks have been rough for you, I hope I can help get your mind off things for the weekend. Are you hungry? The dinner in her mind tasted amazing, they ate and then went out and then danced through the night, and when they came back their shitty studio had become a beautiful refuge, shielded from the world, lit by stars and candles and fairy lights- oh yeah, shit, the fairy lights!

She plugged in the lights that hung around the far window, framing the darkening sky in a homely orange glow. The dinner was ready by then: salmon and small farfalle with a light lemon and garlic cream, which she plated all fancy, just like they’d seen that guy do in Masterchef. Wony had to have gotten off work about now and Yujin was a little behind getting everything ready – one thing, she really needed a shower.

Yujin covered their shitty, repurposed garden table in a big, Lady and the Tramp-type cloth, magically converting it into the scene of a beautiful dinner, and was halfway turning to find a candle, when she caught sight of something weird, a really ugly orange stain on the floor tiles. Oh, absolutely not, what the fuck was that? She grabbed the rubbing alcohol and some towels and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but the damn thing wouldn’t come off.

And so, when Wonyoung first saw her that evening, Yujin was on her knees, messy hair and work clothes, swiping at some unknown goo on the floor.

“Oh hey, the maid is here!” Wony joked, taking off her shoes at the door.

Yujin’s heart jumped. She turned around to see her girlfriend, an apparition framed in the light of the door way, long hair and winter coat trailing behind her in the air, her beauty gleaming even through the tired face of someone who’d just left a full work week.

All Yujin’s preparation faded from her mind. Through all these years, she could never get used to seeing Wonyoung. She wanted to say she loved her. She wanted to recite all the sweet nothings she’d practiced, to tell her how glad she was to see her and how lucky she was to be with her and that she gave her life meaning.

Instead, the stunned lump in her throat won, and what she said was,

“Did you like, puke on the floor here? What the fuck is this stain?”

“Language!” Wonyoung half-laughed, leaving her purse and coat on the counter and climbing straight into bed, “it’s probably something your clumsy ass spilled.”

Yujin rolled her eyes,

“My clumsy a- hey, don’t go on the bed with outside clothes!”

“You do it too!”

She literally did earlier. Whatever. Yujin turned and kept wiping at this cum stain or whatever this was. Oh yeah wait, she didn’t even say hi to the love of her life.

“Stop cleaning,” Wonyoung said in a whine, and Yujin stopped.

She looked back up at Wonyoung, puppy eyes failing to mask the expectant adoration they always held.

Wony laid back on the comfy bunch of plushies and pillows they kept propped against the the wall and, pouting, opened her arms wide, “hug.”

The word was a higher force moving her, Yujin dropped everything and jumped onto bed, scaling the pillows to lay her head on Wony’s shoulder. Wonyoung wrapped her arms around Yujin like she would any other plushie. Half her head was covered by a forearm and it was a little hard to breathe. She was in heaven.

“Good girl…”

Yujin’s cheeks turned red under Wony’s arms. She couldn’t help but smile her wide, dimply smile, before burrowing deeper into her love’s shoulder. There it was. That weird burning pride that made her want to hide her face. “Good girl,” why did she like saying that? Yujin was literally older than her.

They were both very young when they moved in together, and it had been scary for both. They’d been dating for a few years, and friends long before that, so they knew they’d always have each other. Still, things changed fast, money was tight, and work was insufferable. Since Yujin arrived in town, they’d jumped from shitty studio apartment to shitty studio apartment, frail ships braving the blinding city lights.

When everything else was uncertain, some things had to stay constant: their kiss, their arms, their love.

Wonyoung was warm. Yujin assumed she was, too. Neither had really rested all day. Wony’s wispy, flowery perfume hung now low and scarce around her slender neck. Yujin reached her head to kiss it, kissed down to her shoulders. Her eyes focused on Wony’s delicate collar bones, gentle beneath the wide neck of her blouse. Yujin traced them lightly with her fingers,

“Oh yeah I uh… I made you dinner.”

“Yeah, I can smell it.”

“Do you want some?”

“Later.”

“…”

“…”

“…it’s gonna get cold.”

“We can eat it cold.”

“…”

“…”

C… can we? Yujin hesitated, is salmon ok cold?

Wony’s remained stoic in her poutyness, though Yujin could see her fighting her cheek from forming a smile. Clearly she picked up on Yujin’s worries, and found them cute.

I guess salmon can go on sushi…

“Is… is the smell too strong, do you want me to go open another window?”

“Stay,” she squeezed Yujin tighter.

She stayed.

Wonyoung pet her hair. She got chills. Wony was right, they didn’t need to get up to eat right now. Or get up for any reason, really.

“Actually, go get the remote.”

Yujin got up and crawled to the corner of the bed where the remote had fallen and fetched it, immediately coming back to the pillows. Wonyoung set the TV to the most vapid thing she could find, at a volume just loud enough that they could hear the voices but not distinguish the words.

Hands weaved through Yujin’s hair, scratching lightly, drawing slow paths from the top of her head, ending behind her ear. Shivers followed where the finger tips passed. Yujin felt herself sink deeper into the crook of Wony’s neck, felt a sleepy whimper push through the lump on her throat, felt her vision blur just a little. She hadn’t noticed, but she really was tired.

Her bangs were scratching her eyes a little. Yujin liked her hair short, but these days she hadn’t had the time to have it cut, it grew to her shoulders. Moving a hand up to adjust, pushing off the weight of sleep, took considerable effort. She eyed the TV, but couldn’t make out much. Muffled sounds meshed together in a lullaby, frames blended in impressions of waves, the rhythm of Wony’s breath and the beating of Wony’s heart swayed her as the tides.

With the way things had been at Wony’s work, Yujin knew better than to ask about her day. She was somebody who knew what she wanted, so if she said she just wanted to snuggle and fall asleep to the TV, that’s what Yujin would give her.

It killed her to see Wonyoung this tired. Yujin’s mind had run in circles all day, and even now it jumped from the food which was getting cold, to the bugs coming in from the open window, to how she should clean the floor later… but she knew none of these things mattered. Meaningless gestures to distract from what really troubled her: Wony’s life wasn’t perfect, she couldn’t make it perfect, and it wasn’t fair.

Wony was radiant, blinding, the light from which all else emanated. Yujin couldn’t find the words to express her adoration. It twisted her throat into knots, filled her mind with useless concerns, filled her mouth with stupid irony. When they were younger, first falling for each other, Yujin was nervous, a giddy mess of jumbled feelings, but she somehow felt more at ease expressing herself. Now that they had set into domestic life, that habit gripped them in its jaws, she often felt that her words had dried.

Not a moment passed when she didn’t have something on her chest. She wanted to tell her all she felt, give her everything she had. She wanted to change it all, make this broken world right, make it so Wonyoung never had to work another day in her life, so she’d live life as a princess in a soft, cotton-candy cloud far above it all, away from any sorrows or worries.

And in that moment, Wonyoung twitched a little. She was falling asleep, deep amid the pile of soft pink pillows. She did not seem worried in the slightest.

Before long the arms that squeezed Yujin tight relaxed, the hand waving through her hair came to a stop. She felt the sway of Wonyoung’s breath slow further, her chest rising and falling at a measured pace. Yujin blinked lazily to focus her clouded gaze, chancing a glimpse up towards Wony’s face, and saw it still, doll-like, eyes peacefully shut and lips just a little parted, lit by fairy lights and the flickering ghosts of the TV screen.

Wony was ok. And Yujin was ok, because she was in Wony’s arms.

After chasing her tail all day, Yujin felt the exhaustion truly creep in.

She settled her arms around Wony’s stomach in a way that wouldn’t trouble her love’s breathing, and allowed sleep to take her over.

A faint, compressed gun shot rang out from the low-quality speakers, just loud enough to rouse Yujin. Instantly she noticed something missing. Her body was submerged in pillows, but the comforting arms that held her were gone.

Sleep covered her eyes, her vision was a few large orange blots of light and the vague, blinding rectangle of whatever drama was on TV.

“This is really nice,” Wonyoung’s voice was inviting, accompanied by a slow harmony of metal cutlery on porcelain, somewhere off to her left.

Of course, looking there showed only an array of strange halos, scintillating stars that, really, probably didn’t amount to more than fairy lights hung onto the curtains. A slender shadow amid the dazzling glow sat looking back at her.

“It would be nicer if we’d eaten it warm,” Yujin’s irony woke up before she did.

“You feel asleep too!” she didn’t need to see Wony clearly to sense the laugh in her voice, “you were snoring, did you know that? You snored really loud just now, it’s probably what woke you up.”

“I woke up because you left the TV on too loud!”

“Well then turn it off and go back to sleep!”

Yujin stretched before palming around the pillows, finding the remote and turning off the TV, suddenly noticing she didn’t want to go back to sleep. She looked back at Wonyoung, still blinking mist from her eyes, as if to ask if she really had to.

“I was joking, come eat.”

She went.

Yujin didn’t know why Wonyoung’s words had this effect on her. It was Pavlovian. Her reflex was to please.

Wony’s glass was empty so Yujin filled it again.

“Is the wine good? I was a little worried it wouldn’t pair well with the fish.”

Wonyoung looked at her and smiled,

“You’re so cute,” she picked up the glass and swirled it absentmindedly, “the wine is wonderful.”

Heat creeped to Yujin’s cheeks. She sat, averted her eyes, still hazy from sleep, and began stuffing her mouth with food.

“So my day was awful, but how was yours?” Wonyoung asked, reaching out across the table and stroking Yujin’s wrist.

“I, uh…” frankly, she was drawing a blank. All memories from the previous hours were of worrying about Wonyoung. She knew she’d been neglecting her own things to care for Wony. She couldn’t just admit that, though, “I sure cleaned the house a lot for your ass.”

Wind passed through Wony’s nose faster than usual, in what could, generously, be called a laugh. A laugh, however, which clearly held less patience than it did even a few minutes ago. Sometimes Wonyoung seemed as frustrated with Yujin as Yujin was with herself.

Still, if they weren’t done teasing, Wonyoung would make the most of it.

“Oh yeah? What a good little girl…”

Yujin’s face was on fire.

“Stop calling me that, I am literally older than you.”

Wony leaned forward to rest her cheek on one hand, eyes locked to Yujin’s.

“You know, you’ve been such a good girl today, I’m thinking I might even indulge your weird foot thing.”

“I do not have a foot thi-!” Yujin felt a sock crawl playfully up her calf, coming to a stop between her thighs.

A giggle lost itself between Wonyoung’s lips,

“I’m not judging!” Satisfied with Yujin’s discomfort, she changed the subject, “anyway, you were saying about your day?”

Wonyoung pushed her heel slowly into her. Yujin made a fist, held her knuckles to her mouth, chanced a glimpse up at Wony through her bangs. She couldn’t meet her smiling face for long, her eyes closed before gluing themselves to her plate again.

She scrambled for words to say. Of course she could speak like normal, this wasn’t distracting. She didn’t even know where Wony got the idea she liked foot stuff. She began a story about someone from work who ate at their desk yesterday and so today they had ants inside their laptop or whatever.

Wonyoung pushed firmly against her. Yujin pushed her hips back against her foot. Shit. Maybe Wony didn’t notice her sudden eagerness, maybe she still had plausible deniability. Wony noticed,

“Oh you love this,” she laughed, rocking her slender leg into Yujin at a quick rhythm, “gross baby.”

“Stop…” Yujin angled herself so Wony would be pressing at the right spot.

“Do you want me to stop?” She leaned further, chin resting on both hands, her voice affecting the tone of someone being nice, “I’ll stop if you want.”

Yujin still wore work pants, but the pressure was having its effect, even through the fabric and the shame. Maybe because of them.

“Mm… mm-mmm…” she shook her head no.

She was warm. Not just her cheeks, though those burned with the fires of Hell. All of her. She was a gradient from the heat building in her core to the shame blazing across her face. The fairy lights shone on Wonyoung’s pale skin, a spotlight beaming straight at her,

“Say it with your words, baby.”

A weak moan broke through Yujin’s lips. She wasn’t even entirely sure why. Maybe Wonyoung’s taunts, maybe the fabric rubbing against her skin, beginning to make her sensitive, beginning to hurt. Maybe the confusion itself, the sleepy, shameful heat. Wony knew how to play her, make her confused, and she loved doing it. Wony loved to cause an impression.

“You don’t have… to stop…”

“Stop what?”

Yujin looked back up, a little dumbfounded. What did she want from her now?

“‘Please don’t stop fucking me with your foot, miss Wonyoung. I love this,’” she tilted her head to the side, a cat playing with its food. “Say it.”

Her obedient reflex finally found resistance. Yujin looked mortified. She had a hard time talking about her day, let alone whatever this was.

“Ah,” Wonyoung sighed, performing great impatience, crossing her arms, “I knew you wouldn’t say it,” she pulled her foot from Yujin’s thighs. There was peace under the table.

Sometimes – and for reasons Yujin found easy to ascertain after the fact, but nearly impossible to predict – Wonyoung would simply turn a key. The playful tone that lately permeated their every conversation would feel heavy, trite compared to what they could be saying, those words they both knew were stuck in Yujin’s throat. And so, to entertain themselves, Wonyoung would stop playing, and begin toying with her. Yujin was hers for the night.

“…why are you like this?” Yujin smiled, finally allowing herself to lift her eyes, half shaded by her bangs, and meet Wonyoung’s again.

“You know, I actually bought you something too,” she crossed her legs, and pointed theatrically across the apartment to the kitchen counter, deep into the recesses where the fairy lights could barely light the orange walls. “Go get it from my purse.”

Before Yujin knew it she was in the kitchen, half engulfed by darkness, fumbling through Wony’s purse. It didn’t take long to find what she needed. She pulled out the strange object, squinting to identify it in the dim light. It resembled a thin but sturdy choker, except for a large, black, plastic cube poking from one side.

“Come,” Wony waved, struggling to hide a smile.

“You’re evil,” Yujin went.

“And you’re cute.” Wonyoung pulled Yujin’s chair with two fingers so it faced the window, “sit.”

She sat.

Her heart thumped.

Wonyoung leaned in behind her, held her neck soft with one hand, moved her hair aside with the other, breathed into her shoulder. The warmth of her engulfed Yujin, scarce, stuffy perfume from yesterday intoxicating.

She tried to adjust her posture, arch her back just a little, act like she was comfortable, fully awake and present of body and mind. Like her sleep-deprived eyes weren’t blending the little fairy lights in front of her with the city lights beyond. Like Wonyoung’s fingers didn’t feel like feather pillows, tracing their way from behind her neck around the collar of her shirt, like she didn’t feel herself sinking into them just a little.

She wasn’t fooling anyone. Wonyoung knew she couldn’t think straight. That’s how she wanted her.

“You’ve been thinking too much these days, baby girl.” Oh my God I am older than you, Yujin still considered saying. “And saying too much nonsense.” She was glad not to have said anything. “Why don’t we shut you up for the night, and help you relax a little?”

Now that threw her for a loop. Wony seemed tired these days, that was evident. But did Yujin look like she needed a break too…?

Wonyoung’s breath hitched against the back of Yujin’s neck as she reached to take the collar from her hands. Wony might have been perfect, but even her poker face could slip sometimes. For a second her breathing skipped, it lacked the regal, gracious rhythm she usually projected, for just a second she exhaled too heavy and too fast, betrayed the excitement she felt having Yujin in her hands.

She snaked the collar underneath Yujin’s hair, shoulder length and airy, it moved with Wony’s fingers, reeds on a warm breeze. It tickled, Yujin shivered. She felt the collar clasp behind her, her breathing restrict just a little in its tight hold, and in a second the apprehension hit. How strong would the shock be? She’d find out soon, she guessed. The next time she made a noise. Did Wony even test this?

For what it was worth, Wony didn’t seem concerned. Petting her hair before circling around Yujin, a satisfied “ah” left her lips. An expression like she had something to share, she half turned to one side, to the other, looking for the handle on the window. She slid it half way closed, just enough for Yujin to see herself, reflection vivid against the backdrop of the dark city, framed by the tiny orange lights. She hadn’t seen clearly in what felt like hours, from sleep, from shame, apprehension. Nothing that night felt real, Wonyoung had created a dream for her. But there in front of her, her reflection was crystal clear.

Yujin looked beautiful. She would never have guessed it, the way her work shirt still clung to her with yesterday’s effort, the way her thoughts drifted directionless through the fog of sleep. But she did, she looked beautiful. Her hair, some locks stuck under the choker, bubbled in a messy volume, made her collar bones, her half visible shoulders under the crumpled shirt, glow against the night. Framed her face to accentuate the giddy loyalty she felt with Wony next to her. That Wony brought out of her.

For a moment she couldn’t tell the gleam in her eyes from the stars beyond the window. She looked to her love, golden in the half-light, convinced that the Sun herself was beside her.

“You’re so pretty,” Wony complained, eyes burning into Yujin,

“Ah-” bzzt. Dozens of pins pricked the side of her neck.

A triumphant smile spread through Wony’s face. She had made Yujin forget about the collar entirely.

“Great, it works,” still smiling, she brushed Yujin’s hair into place, delicate, “is it too strong, baby?”

Yujin gave it some thought. The shock had been a little too strong, she did feel a lot of pain, but it made Wony smile, and so she could endure a million shocks just like it. She shook her head “no.”

Wonyoung’s eyes pierced hers,

“Say it.”

Wony’s smile spread to Yujin. She pursed her lips, then, resigned, enounced,

“It’s not-” bzzt.

Seeing Yujin jump, Wonyoung’s smile widened. She moved her legs, tossed her long hair over one shoulder, straddled Yujin’s lap, sent her arms loose over Yujin’s shoulders and the back of the chair, an angel descending upon Yujin.

Yujin held her slim frame, one hand resting on her stomach, another exploring her shoulder blades, pulling her close. She caught a scent, one more personal than the flowered perfume hanging low from Wony’s neck, one just a little savory, sneaking into her with a kiss. The soft lips she loved so much embraced her senses, pulling her deeper into a dream.

Her love was weightless over her, a warm cloud, a rising air current to make her soar. Wonyoung’s kisses moved along her jaw, her head fell further to the side, allowing passage. She felt her hair be brushed back, a soft teasing bite on her ear lobe. She shuddered into Wonyoung’s shoulder, heat building up in her again. Wony’s hair brushed her cheek as she kissed her way down her neck.

Yujin opened her eyes to see herself, pretty reflection bright against the city night, eclipsed by the flowing white blouse and the flowing black hair of the girl she loved, falling over her. Just then, Wony opened the first button of her shirt, pulling it aside to expose her shoulder, before biting down. Yujin moaned, loud.

Bzzt.

Needles traipsed around her neck. She jumped again. The sudden pain brought a spasm from her, sent her arm twitching, her hand made to wrap around Wony’s fore arm. A smile formed on Wonyoung’s face again, Yujin could feel it buried on her shoulder. Wony loved making her feel like this, confused and hazy under her, incapable of thinking straight even for self-preservation, a lucid dream Wony could turn from joyous to apprehensive to painful and back again at will.

She lifted her head, looked down at Yujin. Her smile settled into a smirk, knowing, like she had just divined a way to extend Yujin’s bliss. Tossing her hair over her shoulders, Wony stretched to reach aside, to the table next to them, and when her hand came back into Yujin’s view, it carried with it the rosé. She took a long, comfortable swig, stopping to move the wine around in her mouth a little, breathe in the after taste,

“You should try the wine, baby.”

One hand moving behind Yujin’s neck, she positioned the bottle to pour into her mouth. The wine came slow. It was nice, clearly not the most expensive, not the most complex taste or whatever, but for their standards it was nice. Yujin swallowed, a little rushed as Wony didn’t stop pouring. In fact she seemed to be pouring faster.

Wonyoung’s eyes became sharper, her smile more intent, the more uncomfortable Yujin became. Wine invaded her, she didn’t want to move her head and make a mess – really she didn’t want to deny Wony whatever she wanted with this – but it was becoming harder and harder to gulp down what she was given.

It filled her mouth, her throat already felt a little restricted from the choker, she swallowed, and swallowed, until her muscles sent a spout from the corner of her lips. She shut her eyes, shaking her head reflexively though never daring take her mouth from the bottle, and a loud whimper left her. Bzzt.

The pain contracted her throat, sent spurts of wine down her chin. Wonyoung laughed. She might have hated wasting booze, but this wasn’t wasting, she seemed very entertained. She pulled the bottle from Yujin’s mouth and took it back to her own. Yujin’s throat burned, some wine had gone down the wrong hole and she had to fight the urge to cough loudly. She felt her chin drip, liquid begin to soak her chest,

“My shir-!” Bzzt.

“That shirt was thrifted baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

I might have to buy a new one next week for work, the worry crossed her mind, before she distracted herself with an attempt to cough quietly enough that it wouldn’t trigger the collar, before her eyes lost themselves again on Wony. If she wanted Yujin to stop worrying, it was working. In her confusion, she could focus on nothing else but her.

Wony stretched to put the bottle back on the table before leaning over Yujin, half-open eyes possessive.

“My messy little girl,” Yujin’s cheeks were red for so many different reasons at this point, hearing her say that barely made a difference. She climbed off Yujin, “wait here, I’ll get something to help you clean up.”

Sounds of drawers and kitchen utensils echoed for longer than expected. Bzzt, Yujin’s neck contracted in pain despite not having said anything. She turned to look at Wony,

“Ow-!” bzzt again.

“Hey, it works!” Wonyoung beamed from behind her, pocketing a little remote. She ran a hand through Yujin’s hair, looking down in greed. She pulled slowly on Yujin’s hair, leaning her head back, pulling a handkerchief to wipe carefully at her chin. Yujin reached with one hand, grasping blind at her love’s thigh, eager to pull her closer. Wony acquiesced, grinning, coming closer to tower over Yujin, pulling her hair further back, so she’d see it fully as she reached an arm behind herself, and grabbed a chain she carried over her shoulders.

Wony leaned in to kiss her again, the side angle a little awkward, her hands wrapping soft around Yujin’s neck, a touch of the chain cold against her skin. The metal ran down her chest, crawled over her as Wony moved to attach it to her collar.

She broke the kiss a little too soon, leaned back, one hand cupping Yujin’s cheek, the other wrapping itself in other end of the chain,

“Well… this is great, but I actually want to finish my dinner.”

Um…

“Wony what the fu-” bzzt.

Wony what the fuck are you talking about, she thought, with her inside voice.

Wonyoung pulled away, walked around her toward the table, lips twisted into a smile, chain growing taut between them. She stopped, brought a finger to her lips, affecting like she was really considering what to do next, then pulled strong on the chain.

The tug on Yujin’s neck – the alcohol might have begun to set in – sent her off balance, tumbling. The little lights next to her darted fast past her vision. The floor welcomed her with open arms. Before even fully regaining her senses, her eyes followed, incredulous, the chain up to where Wonyoung stood, a satisfied smirk on her face,

“Come on, girl,” she said, tone half baby talk, “let’s eat.”

Something told Yujin she wasn’t supposed to get up again. Wony continued pulling on the leash, walking carefree to her seat at the table, it was all Yujin could do to follow on all fours.

Wony sat, legs crossed, Yujin knelt. She looked up, expectant, eyes big under her bangs, afraid of what her love had in mind. Wonyoung ate a piece of salmon, some noodles, absentminded, like she’d forgotten Yujin was there.

“Oh, why don’t you entertain yourself while we’re here?” Wony, suppressing a smirk, pushed one foot forward, as if offering it to Yujin.

Frustrated, she blinked, eyeing Wony through messy bangs, furrowed brow and pursed lips. The heat in her cheeks grew insufferable again.

“Come on,” Wonyoung mocked, pulling Yujin by the chain, bending her closer, “don’t be shy.”

Yujin sighed, thankfully too quiet to trigger the collar, laughing a little to the side so Wony wouldn’t see. The window next to them was harder to see through the lights, but the glimpse she caught was beautiful. Wonyoung, long flowing hair, pretty with her posture perfect, enjoying dinner and a nice wine, her in disheveled formal wear, bent before her in chains. This was fine.

She leaned forward, Wonyoung’s foot bobbing close to her, black sock worn with its seam a little off-center. Reaching under her sole and around her ankle for support, she leaned forward and kissed it. Wonyoung chuckled above the table, she did too. She leaned again, kissed down the bridge of her foot,

She was serious. She actually didn’t like feet – she did not! – there was just something comforting about this. Embarrassing herself in front of Wony, expressing her adoration in such a direct, if gross, way.

And adore she did, compelled, by whatever force, to pull off Wony’s sock. She heard more quiet giggling from above the table, Wony crossed her legs in the opposite direction, allowed her to pull off the other. Her feet were long, slim, her skin soft and pristine save for a vein visible when she moved, bones gentle around her slender ankles. They were pretty, she concluded – like how she would comment on a friend’s hair style, not like she would say if she was into feet, which she was not.

When Wony lowered her eyes again, Yujin was deep into a kiss, lost in the skin between two knuckles.

“Here, get the bottom, too,” she flexed her ankle, mocking, pushing her sole to Yujin, before tugging on the leash. It was all Yujin could do to keep herself from smashing face first. She wanted to pull away, take a moment to even process Wony’s words, but her neck was pulled back into place. It was alright, her soles were pretty as well.

She leaned in to kiss her heel, her arches. Her hands held up Wony’s ankle like a relic, a work of art she wouldn’t dare damage by letting go, she wouldn’t dishonor in that way. Her skin was so soft, Yujin had always wondered how Wony kept her skin, her hair, her figure, despite her hectic work hours, and, she couldn’t deny, she loved being able to enjoy it, even if it made her cheeks burn with shame sometimes.

Her kisses climbed to Wony’s toes, before her love began to pull her foot away. It rested on Yujin’s shoulder, and began to push her down. She looked up at Wonyoung, smiling down entertained as ever. Yujin had no mind to resist, wouldn’t know how to anymore, she was gone. Her body leaned forward, as if pulled by gravity, Wonyoung’s gravity. The burn in her cheeks felt nicer now. The wine must have been getting to her.

Wonyoung stepped on Yujin’s chain, pulled her down until her head was level with the ground. Yujin, fully bowed, hair falling around her and spreading on the floor, cared less about her embarrassment by the second. When it rained… Kissing one foot, the other moved to pin her head in place, her whole world was down there, the task at hand engulfed her. Wony wanted her degraded, so that’s what she would be.

Her kissing grew louder, more focused. A moan left her, met promptly by a bzzt. From above, Wony sat back, the melody of her cutlery changed tempo, slowing as if satisfied with Yujin’s eagerness. She took her time to enjoy the humiliation she’d brought out of Yujin, before moving to bring out the next,

“Hey puppy, you must be hungry,” she disentangled Yujin from her legs, leaned over holding her plate, dumped some noodles and some salmon on the ground, scraps thrown under the table.

Yujin looked up, looked at the food. She was well past shame at this point, the desire to please was the first thing on her mind. She lowered her head to the food, took it in, getting sauce on her nose, fish grease on her chin, surely draping her hair on something horrible down there. Whatever. Wony would probably find it funnier if she was messy anyway. The salmon was nice, they really should’ve eaten it warm though.

Bzzt, Yujin jumped, a bit of fish still left on the floor. Wony had the little remote in her hand, and a mocking smile on her face.

“You’re so gross,” Wony laughed lovingly. She patted her own lap, “sit, let’s wash that down.”

She began pouring another glass as Yujin got up, knees sore from being on the ground too long. Standing again felt wrong, like she’d lost the right to be a biped after the previous minutes. Thankfully, Wonyoung, sitting wide and relaxed, offered a leg for her to straddle, a safe haven to keep herself degraded.

One leg on either side of Wonyoung’s thigh, she lowered herself, her movements nearly escaping her, all just a little too long, eyes just a little too heavy. She let her head fall on Wony’s shoulder, one hand holding the other shoulder, a quiet, tired moan running through her.

“You good, baby?”

“Yeah-” bzzt. Wonyoung laughed.

Feeling Yujin’s shirt, still wet from wine, cling onto her, Wony stopped pouring the second glass, pushed her back just a little and began undoing her buttons. Her moves were utilitarian, like it had to be done and Yujin was incapable of doing it herself. Be it some leftover claim to human dignity still in her, feeling patronized by Wony’s tone, be it simple dumb desire from a dumb baby who couldn’t think straight, Yujin just had to interject.

A dimply smirk forming, she reached out her hands to cup Wonyoung’s face – so small, so pretty – and fell, dazzled, into a kiss. Her movements were, by then, noticeably sloppy. Their faces slammed together, Wony smiled, Yujin giggled, a bzzt made her jump, they smiled more.

Wonyoung allowed herself to be pulled closer. Her fingers changed pace on Yujin’s buttons, dancing with revived hunger. When Yujin’s shirt fell open, she tugged on its collar, grasping her in their kiss. Even despite the sorry state of Yujin’s mind, it was clear that behind Wony’s formality, she too wanted more with every moment. She wanted Yujin deeper and deeper under her spell.

Led by bewitched strings, Yujin’s muscles flowed heavy. Her head fell back, hair tickling shoulders as Wonyoung slipped the shirt from her arms. She felt herself move back, her whole body pushing down against the thigh she sat on. As Wony pulled her in, her hips rolled closer, then rolled away, closer, away again. Her weight drove her into a lazy rhythm.

Hands wandered her shoulders, her waist, the small of her back. Cold flowed from the half-open window and harassed her skin, a refreshing contrast to the all-encompassing warmth she’d been feeling all night. She huddled closer to Wony, riding her core higher against her thigh, lost her hands amid the folds of her clothes, hid kisses into her neck and her hair and scent.

Wonyoung held Yujin’s waist with one hand, reached past her with the other to finish pouring those glasses. She brought Yujin’s body back, brought a glass to her lips, before Yujin’s fingers wrapped around it and chugged down the wine, no mind to savor what she tasted. She wanted more of what Wony gave her, more of Wony, more of her magic.

She half-flopped backwards to leave the glass on the table, movements as careful as she could muster, before falling back into Wonyoung. Kissing her cheek, her jaw, her pretty pouty lips, waves crashing faster upon her with drunken euphoria, humping her leg like a bitch in heat.

“I lov-” bzzt. She jumped, but the pain didn’t feel bad anymore. The jolt was a discordant tone complementing the harmony Wonyoung crafted. “-e you,” bzzt.

Wony chuckled, drank a little of her own wine, pulled her back into a kiss,

“Get up,” she did, slow and awkward, hands still resting on Wony’s shoulders. Her love’s eyes burned, keeping her warm through the cold breeze. Wony reached behind her, unclasped her bra, kissed her stomach, her ribs, her chest. Yujin felt herself shake, maybe from cold, maybe from giddiness. She couldn’t stay still, she missed the thigh between her legs, she felt her hands move down by themselves. Wony caught the movement and pulled on Yujin’s pants, “off.”

Yujin moved with the finesse of a dying fish, fingers fumbling around the button until it opened, tugging it down blindly. Hands held hers, Wony looked up into her eyes, amused with her state,

“Slow.”

She did what she could, sluggish movements charged with all the energy of the Sun, hands vibrating in nervous joy, a phantom tail wagging wildly.

With much difficulty, she shrugged off the rest of her clothes. Standing there, in Wonyoung’s hands, lips pulling light on her nipples, barely able to muster a coherent thought, night breeze cutting through her, she felt exposed, she could almost feel embarrassed again. She did not. It didn’t matter, she was not herself anymore, she was simply Wonyoung’s.

She was guided back down. Before she saw them, she felt Wony’s fingers, held up from her thigh,

“Fuck yourself on me,” Wonyoung whispered as Yujin eased down, shaking, over her. She didn’t have to ask twice – not that she ever did. Yujin gasped as Wonyoung entered her, body welcoming her, rhythm building again.

Wony leaned back, reached with her other hand to take another sip of wine, let her lips twist slightly with that perfectly crafted, immaculate arrogance, at the girl falling apart on her.

Grabbing at her blouse, Yujin let her head fall again. She couldn’t bear it. She wanted more. More of Wonyoung’s long fingers in her, more of her scent, more of the exposure, more of the state she left her in, she wanted to throw herself to Wonyoung, live and breathe for her,

“More-” bzzt. She wanted more of the pain, too, “more-” bzzt. “Pleas-” bzzt.

Another chuckle bringing out a fruity after taste in Wony’s mouth, she finished her wine. She reached behind the back of Yujin’s neck, fingers intertwining with the base of her hair. Leaning in, she worked a third finger into her.

Yujin whimpered into her mouth. She was pulled closer by the hair. The taste of wine swallowed her whole. When she couldn’t pull away anymore – when she didn’t have it in her to break their kiss – Wonyoung released her hair. Her hand crawled slow down Yujin’s skin, tracing her neck, her ribs, her waist, her thigh, leading Yujin’s pace while she clutched disoriented at Wony’s blouse.

She held on for dear life. Her mouth was lost in Wony’s. At times her tongue poked shyly inside, but her attention was elsewhere. It flowed blurry, drunk on the scent, always slurring back down her body. Wony used one hand to lead her, grinding, into the other’s fingers. Yujin’s pace was desperate now. She felt her leg twitch, her sides. She arched her back into Wony just a little, the twitch climbed all the way to her shoulders. Their kiss was interrupted by a whimper. It was all so much… Another whimper, then another, then more. Wonyoung smiled against her, curled her fingers in her,

“My good girl…” her face was so close, so pretty, her tone so encouraging, “let go for me.”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt… Yujin jumped, grasped at Wonyoung’s shoulders, shook her head like that would shake the pins and needles from her neck. Wony pulled her back down, fist wrapped around the little remote. Her fingers pushed deep in her. Wony wanted her to cum in pain, and so the pain felt sweet.

Yujin lost herself. She hugged Wony close, felt her shoulders, her delicate skin, bones, hair, clawed at them for a second, before she stopped herself, she didn’t want to hurt her. She just held her while enjoying her own pain buzzing down her back, her own pleasure crashing from her core.

For a second, her mind was completely empty. No words, no worries, just the feeling of pain and relief and the smell of Wony. The feeling of a job well done – Wony wanted her to be a good girl, and she was. The feeling of being well taken care of.

When Wony let go of the remote, Yujin was light headed, barely able to keep her rhythm. She slowed, grinding still, she wanted to keep this forever. Wonyoung ran a hand through her hair, petting her slowly, scratching behind the ear.

Wony left the remote on the counter, jumping onto bed where Yujin lay exhausted. She went to unlock the clasp on Yujin’s collar, before stopping herself,

“Hmm… one last thing…” a final flash of malice crossed her face, “thank me.”

Yujin looked up, big smiling puppy dog eyes meeting hers, dimples forming deep,

“Tha-” bzzt. “-ank-” bzzt. “-yo-” bzzt. “-u,” bzzt. She could’ve said it in maybe two shocks, but she really had started to like them by now. Her head fell back on the stack of pillows, her brain really was fried.

Wony pursed her lips into a smile,

“Cutie,” she unclasped the collar, and threw it overboard off the bed. Their ship now held just Wony, her pet and their plushies.

“You don’t… want me to…?” Yujin brushed a hand on Wony’s hips.

“Later baby, after you brush your teeth.”

“Ah shit, I must have ruined your pants…” she noticed the spot where she’d sat on Wony’s thigh, still humid.

“Language!” Wony bonked her light on the head, before slipping off her pants and throwing them toward the stars. She jumped into the plush pile, “so anyway, how was your day?”

Wony, long legs bare, pulling the covers to nuzzle against her, threatened to freeze the words in her throat all over again, but she pushed past it. They were past it.

“Honestly, Wony, I don’t know what to say. All I’ve thought about these days was whether you were alright… sometimes you seem so beaten down…” she brushed her bangs from her face, before reaching under the covers to join her hands. “You’re too good to be having these problems, to be this stressed.”

“We’re too good,” she hit Yujin on the shoulder, “but we can handle it.”

It was true. With Wony, she could handle anything.

“If I could tell you how much I love you…”

“You don’t need to,” Wony touched Yujin’s head with hers, “I see it everyday.”

They lay there, enjoying soft pillows and soft covers and their soft love.

“My good girl.”

“No, really, why do you like saying that? I am literally older than you.”

“Because you like to hear it…” Wony opened her eyes quick to plant a kiss on Yujin’s forehead, “dumb ass.”

They fell asleep, aboard their soft ship, cruising through the fairies and the city and the stars.

[kinglazrus]

this isn't the beginning (but it's a start)

An AU where Portal Danny went missing his senior year of high school, and he's back home twenty years later.

Ch. 2 | Masterpost | Read on Ao3 | Cover art by @lil-yardstick | Glass figures by @what-even-is-sleep

Chapter One: Oblivion

It was always going to hurt.

Words: 2085 Warnings: mild gore

The star is dying. Tiny flares stretch into the darkness, fiery tongues lapping at the air until the thread of light tethering it to the whole breaks and the heat is lost forever as it dissipates. The star grows smaller with every burst. Dimmer. Colder.

It’s dying, and he might be dying with it, but that feels trivial in comparison. He dies every day.

It always starts in the burial ground, where he roams between the graves. Most of them are little more than mounds, gentle slopes in the grass where something is buried underneath. But others have been tended to so carefully, marked by stone with flowers laid upon them, as if to show there can still be life there.

It’s a nice sentiment, if a bit mistaken.

His memories are buried there, interred deep beneath the dirt and beyond his reach. Most are lost to him, and the few he knows, he knows only by the words carved upon their tombstones. They’re stories he’s been told, faces described, names repeated so many times they should be burned into his brain, but somehow manage to slip away from him again.

But he always wanders, and digs and digs and digs, until his nails are torn and his fingers bleed, and still there’s nothing. If there are any caskets here, he’s never seen them. He lays at the bottom of an empty grave, hands folded over his chest, mud clinging to his fingers as the damp seeps into his clothes and hair. He closes his eyes and wishes the dirt would pour over him. Sometimes it does, stinging his eyes, filling his mouth and nose. Pressing down on him until his ribs creak. And another piece of him dies as he goes stiff and cold.

But he doesn’t get to stay dead. When he wakes, he has to claw his way back up, remind himself who he is and why he’s here. And the next time he pitches forward into darkness, it happens all over again.

So, he’s used to dying.

Then why does this hurt?

It was always going to hurt.

A whimper pulls from his throat, and he holds the star even closer.

He could cradle it in his arms, before. Curl around it as he was enveloped in its light and warmth. Now, it’s caged between his palms, casting soft shadows that sink into the creases of his knuckles as he tries to hold the light in, but it just streams through his fingers while the space between his hands shrinks. Maybe he’s killing it faster. Squeezing the life out of it. Suffocating it. Or maybe, if he lets go, the cold surrounding them will rush in and snuff the star out. Or, without his hands to contain it, all the fire will burst out in one brilliant flash that leaves him blind and aching.

Another shudder ripples through him, and as his head bows toward his clasped hands, a drop rolls from his eye, carving a path down his cheek. It touches the corner of his mouth, seeping into the cracks of his dry skin. When he licks his lips, he tastes iron.

He mistook the blood for tears, at first. Tried to blink it away when he felt his eyes growing wet, and stared down at the polka dot napkin in his hand as his vision went fuzzy. Pretty pastel flecks—yellow, pink, blue, green—scattered like confetti across the paper, except where it was already smeared with red.

He pressed his thumb against the wet spot, wondering how it got there.

“Hey, put that back,” an older woman said. She stood just in front of him, not too close, but enough that he was backed into a corner between her, the wall, and the row of lockers beside him. Her frown deepened the wrinkles around her mouth as she took his hand in hers, raising it up to his face and pressing the napkin against his cheek, just below his eye. She held it there for a second, then squeezed his shoulder.

“Do you know what we did today?” she asked.

“I don’t...” It wasn’t meant to be an answer, but she took it as one. Rightly so. He wasn’t sure what he was doing right then, much less earlier in the day.

“What about the date?”

He blinked at her slowly.

“Okay.” She worried her lip, then ran her fluttering hands over her hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. “Okay, hon. Go sit down.” She grabbed his shoulder once more and tugged him forward, nudging him toward a nearby doorway. “I’ll get your bag and be right back.”

She lingered another moment before heading down the hall, walking so briskly that each step kicked at her long, flowing skirt. She wasn’t quite running by the time she turned the corner, but it certainly wasn’t a walk.

He wondered what her name was.

Then he blinked, flinching in surprise when his eyelashes fluttered against a napkin pressed into his hand, and pulled it back.

Hm. Polka dots. Like confetti. Marred by two bright red stains. He started raising the napkin back to his face, because she had told him to keep it there.

Who?

He paused. That’s right. Or wasn’t right. He was alone.

That’s okay. Everything is fine.

His head throbbed. He crumpled the napkin in his fist and stumbled toward a nearby doorway. Everything spun as if balanced on a point between his eyes, and he could really use a moment to sit down. As he stepped through, the world tilted around him. His shoulder struck the door frame, and he would have pitched forward if not for the door itself, into which he stumbled as his knees went weak. He braced himself against it, leaning heavily on the doorknob while squeezing his eyes shut, and didn’t move until the world settled enough that he could look without feeling a swoop in his stomach.

Identical tables took up most of the room, their chairs poorly tucked, tops strewn with empty chip bags and paper cups. A few crumbs here and there, and some spilled juice that hadn’t dried yet. Along the wall beside him, a row of hooks overflowing with jackets and backpacks. On the far side of the room, a solitary desk accompanied by filing cabinets and a shelf crammed full of books.

One of the fluorescent lights above his head, the second from the left, flickered, clicking and buzzing as it flashed on and off. He stared at it until the stripes of light were burned on the back of his eyelids, and he tore his gaze away.

He looked to the tables again, to the crumbs and empty wrappers, and the crumpled napkin in his hand, and knew had forgotten.

The first shiver brought him to his knees.

It’s okay. It’s okay.

He gasped, clutching his shirt while tears poured from his eyes, but the drops that hit the tile beneath him were red. A howl filled his ears, keening and desperate and echoing all around him. Or maybe it was him. He could barely hear anything above the noise, but somehow a single shout broke through, and his head whipped up to see a woman in the doorway.

Oh, her.

The last thing he saw before the shadows rose up to meet him was the shape of his name on her lips, and then he was swallowed. Plummeting into the darkness and spat out here, before the dying star.

So it hurts.

Because he might be dying, too. Really dying.

He can’t remember what that feels like, but he imagines it’s something like this. With a heat building in his chest while his hands shake from a chill seeping even deeper. Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat as his tongue scrapes, like sandpaper, against the roof of his mouth, and every muscle in his body constricts until his head is bowed toward his knees in a mockery of confession.

He grasps his throat, fingers wrapped so tightly that he might have been choking himself.

“No.” It’s barely a word. A croak. A wheeze. The smallest moan pushed between his lips. Maybe it’s not a word at all, but he knows what he means to say as the iron blooms across his tongue. “Please.”

He can’t breathe. He doesn’t even need to, but now he can’t, choking as something wells in his throat. Guilt, maybe. How much has he pushed this mind away this past year? It’s not like he didn’t feel it. The pull. At first, just the brush of someone reaching out every couple weeks. Then a firm tug every few days. Then every day, as the gentleness gave way to desperation and pokes and prods that made him snap his teeth.

He wanted to answer. Wanted nothing more than to sink into this dream and see that familiar face. He’s sure he would be received with a smile, despite turning his back on it for so long. But he couldn’t. Not until he was ready. Did he even notice when it stopped reaching out? He tries, now, to recall the last time he felt that nudge against his mind.

How long ago was it? A few days, a week, a month. He can’t say. Time is such a difficult thing.

And now...and now...

He tries to reach back. Presses the star against his chest and wills the dream open, waits for the light streaming into the darkness to coalesce into the shape he knows so well. Instead, heat blooms in his chest, as if all the warmth the star lost has found a home behind his ribs. A spark catching and settings his organs on fire as it tries to burn him out.

So maybe he’s choking on his guilt, or it’s maybe just the mass squirming in his throat. He can’t feel it against his hand, but it’s there. Wriggling as it tries to dislodge itself. Scratching against the muscle. He imagines his throat splitting open and a fleshy mass spewing into the stars, squirming amongst the gore as it drifts into space. But no blood wells beneath his fingers.

He wouldn’t even care if it did.

He tries to gasp out, “Please, no, please,” but his chest squeezes and crushes the words before they can form.

No, that’s not quite right. It’s not a press in, but out, grinding the plea against his rib cage. A fullness, like when you eat too much and your stomach stretches to its limits, except the feeling rises from a place deeper within him. Where his heart used to be, where his core now resides beneath layers of ozone and ectoplasm that he moulded in a facsimile of flesh. A little too much swelling against the limits of this body and pulling his skin taut, something that should not be possible for a being who contains galaxies.

His mouth opens, though no sound falls out. He’s not even sure which of them he would be crying for, now, if anything but blood were pouring from his eyes.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go, please.

The stars around them blur. Not dying, just swallowed by the spots dancing at the edge of his vision. His eyes want to fall shut, but he refuses, afraid that if he even blinks, the star will disappear while he’s not watching.

It’s slipped from his grasp while he was thrashing and gritting his teeth. Flares burst off it in every direction as it shrinks smaller and smaller. He reaches toward it with one hand while the other clutches at his chest.

Stop this.

How?

Get it out.

The thing in his throat squirms and slips further down.

Get out!

Cracks spread along his chest. His skin burns as it splits open along old wounds, up his neck and across his jaw. He digs his fingers into the cracks, reaching inside his chest until he finds something soft and fleshy, and he squeezes.

Lightning rips through him, setting every nerve on fire, and his jaw snaps shut. A crack rings out as something in inside him gives. The sound echoes through his head. Blood oozes alongside the ectoplasm as he withdraws his hand, and the cracks along his skin seal once more. The heat rushes out of him, and though the throb in his chest is still there, it’s ebbed slightly, and he finally goes limp.

At the same moment, the star goes out.

—

Masterpost | Next chapter

[ultravioletrayz]

Hi! I saw you write for Lyla smut too and was wondering if I could request one with Lyla is edging reader with a remote control vibrator? Thank you!!

OMG OMG OMG A LYLA REQUEST!!

Pairing: lyla x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, use of sex toys, edging, slight praise kink, squirting

Summary: lyla wants to have fun with her fav, stressed out spider-person!!

A/N: this probs isn’t gonna get as much attention as my miguel stuff because lyla is criminally underrated

Word Count: 901

It had been a rough day. You got your ass kicked on a mission, left your wallet at home so you had no money for the cafeteria at HQ, and Miguel was barking orders left and right about reports that urgently needed to be filled out. You just felt so exhausted, so pathetic, that you ran off to your quarters to collect yourself. You would’ve just fucked things up worse if you continued working in such a frantic state. Noticing your absence, Miguel had sent Lyla in to check on you.

The little AI woman immediately noticed your tense shoulders, the way your hands kept gripping onto things to keep your focus on anything other than your mistakes today, and the way you glared up at Lyla’s hologram. You were always Lyla’s favourite person to be around, a breath of fresh air from having to assist a grump like Miguel all day every day, so she could tell just how stressed and embarrassed you were feeling.

“There’s no need to be sad, sweetie. You did nothing wrong.” Lyla says, her honeyed tone and the soft orange glow of her avatar filling the small room. 

You remain silent as you wallow in your own shame, Lyla’s comforting words falling on deaf ears as you stare at her with disinterest, scoffing and rolling your eyes at her feeble attempts to alleviate your stress. “You’re only here because O’Hara told you to come in and tell me off. I don’t need your pity, I’ll be fine in a couple minutes.”

Lyla pouts and floats above your tear-stained face, her eyes studying yours behind her heart-shaped sunglasses. She doesn’t want you to feel fine, she wants you to feel spectacular. It’s then that she gets an absolutely absurd idea, a cheeky grin on her holographic face as she quickly leaves the room and comes back, her program controlling a little robot that carries a sleek black box into the room. You raise an eyebrow at the comical display of Lyla waving goodbye to the robot and hovering above the box, so far unimpressed by whatever she’s doing to cheer you up.

“If that’s food, I don’t want it. I already got over the whole wallet thing, Pav shared some of his lunch with me.” You sigh dismissively, standing up from your bed to entertain Lyla’s little plan and walking towards the box that was dumped on the little dresser in the corner of the room. Lyla bites her bottom lip as she watches you open it, giggling at the wide-eyed, shocked expression on your pretty face when you see the little, baby blue vibrator sitting inside of its packaging.

“Lyla-” You start, but Lyla shushes you with a wide smile, instructing you to take the vibrator and lay back down on your bed. “You’ve been so stressed lately, let me make you feel better, honey.”

“Mmm… fuck! Lyla, please! Please, no more-!” You sob, thrashing and writhing around on the bed as Lyla flickers and hovers above you, giggling as she watches your movements and reactions intently. It had been half an hour since you first opened that stupid box, and you’ve been begging to cum ever since, with no mercy from the snarky little AI as she revels in watching you let go and fall apart because of her. She plays with the speeds of the vibrator using the remote equipped by her avatar, making you mewl when she maxes it out and the coil in your tummy starts to tighten again and leaving you crying and whining when she lowers it or turns it off completely right before you cum.

Lyla changed the outfit her avatar is wearing, too, opting for a delicate pair of pastel yellow lingerie as she models for you, making you moan as your half-lidded, glazed-over eyes drink up every tiny detail of her holographic figure, making you instinctively press the little vibrator harder against your throbbing, swollen clit and babble about how pretty she looks and how nice she is. It makes Lyla laugh, to see her lovely, stressed little coworker arching her back and aching to cum for her. She knows she’s done her job as an assistant, and she once again amps up the speed of the vibrator, making your thighs tremble and your brows knit together, eyes closed in agonising pleasure.

“You look so cute when you’re like this,” Lyla coos, hovering closer to your naked body so that she can ogle the way your soft breasts move as you pant and the way your knuckles turn white from the grip you have on the vibrator. 

When you open your eyes to see Lyla right above you, with that curious, infatuated look on her little face, you come undone. With a loud squeal, you squirt all over the baby blue toy, your juices coating the plain bedsheets and travelling straight through Lyla’s holographic form. You shudder and gasp for air, letting the vibrator fall from your grip as your once tense body melts against the mattress, the stress and embarrassment from earlier trumped by the pure bliss of the moment.

“Feel better?” Lyla asks teasingly, her hologram flickering as she enables her everyday outfit again. 

All you can muster is a tired, relaxed smile and a lazy nod as you laugh softly. Now all you had to worry about was explaining the noise to Miguel…

Lyla fuels my love of pretty AI women… and women in general LMAO