#slender??? that man looks like a brick wall

[nexus-nebulae]

"this guy is a lot less muscular and pretty slender" *shows a guy who looks like a pro wrestler*

[stars4chratt]

Pins n' Needles

Pairing: Chris x fem!reader

Contents: piercing shop, piercer!Chris

Warnings: SMUTTYYY / blowjob / public sex (kinda) / male stimulation / throat fuck / praise / pet names; (ma, mama, sweetheart, sugar, doll, good girl)  / begging if you squint / switch Chris / Chris + vertical labret, eyebrow & tongue pierced / implied aftercare

Summary: The reader has a booked appointment with Chris to get a new piercing, you’ve become a regular at his shop from the few piercings you’ve gotten before. Unbeknownst to you, he’ll be doing more than just sticking a needle in this time.

Author’s note: Hey y’all, this is my first ever fic I’m posting on my blog. I’ll keep this note short n’ sweet but I hope you guys like it!! Please also give me feedback/constructive criticism because I want my writing to be 100% satisfactory for you all. This is also VERY long; apologies in advance, but again I hope you enjoy it!! From Maxine, with love ❣.

“I wanna put you in my mouth… I wanna crush you in my jaws.” - IN MY MOUTH, BLACK DRESSES

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were full of anticipation while dreaming of getting yet another piercing done. You really loved your others you received before, and you never once had an issue with them rejecting or becoming infected. It’s what made this particular location your favourite.

As you climb down the steps to the bottom floor of a punk-rock, alternative store; it reveals a funky, LED-lit piercing shop. To the right, there stood a desk with posters of underground grunge bands that mixed soulfully with big and upcoming rappers and R&B artists hung up on the brick wall.

There’s a mellow softness of music in the background. From what you can hear, it sounds a lot like FE!N by Travis Scott and Playboi Carti. On the opposite side; there were satiny, leather black couches that hung low from the weight of many customers who had sat there before. The place was desolate and quiet, aside from the tunes muffled in the back.

You naturally assumed it was empty and you were simply a bit early, until you heard a door barge open. 

As you turn your head 45 degrees to look back at what the sudden clamour was, you see a silhouette of a man staring at you. His brunette hair hangs low over his eyebrows in heavy contrast to his icy blue irises.

The dimness of the room brings shade over his profile but a glimmer of light shines at you from the centre of his lip and eyebrow. He’s dressed up in a plain, black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had the words “FRESH LOVE” embroidered into the fabric. The Vivienne Westwood orb necklace hanging around his nape glistened that matched his diamond earrings.

The fashion statement he obtains makes you come to the realisation that it was Chris, your body piercer.

Suddenly his cold gaze wipes away once he gets a good look up and down at you, he curls his lips up into a friendly grin and inquires; “Hiya sweetheart. How can I help you today?” The low deepness of his voice makes you jump slightly.

“Hey Chris, I have an appointment booked for 12:30 to get my piercing done.” You reply trying to hide the trembling in your question from the painful mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Chris peers down at the nimble clipboard of names and dates. His slender index finger slides down the paper, he shoots his eyes back up at you for a split second giving you a smirk.

He looks back down to the clipboard and spots your name and taps his finger on it.

He turns his head back up at you with a toothy leer as he states “I always look forward to writing your name on my clipboard, y’know.” The stubble resting peacefully on the sharpness of his cheekbones spike up beautifully. He feeds his bottom lip into his mouth while he beams a smile at you and he grits on the metal ring with his enamels.

You say nothing because you’re too flustered to muster up consonants or vowels. A flush of cherry blossom pink pours over your face in embarrassment at his casual compliments and nicknames.

You’re too sheepish to admit it but you have a massive crush on your body piercer.

He gathers up a long piece of paper that looks like a waiver, he hands it to you as he states; “I need your signature here, as per usual I will be your body piercer for today. If you could be a doll and read the terms and conditions along with the do’s and don’ts that are listed above that would be great. You can follow me into the back once you’re done, sweetheart.”

He stares at you patiently with a light beam on his face while you swivel the pen around on the paper.

You plop the pen down on the hard wooden desk and hand the waiver back to Chris. “Perfect. Thank you sugar. If you could just follow me in here, please?” He makes a beckoning gesture with his hands, his eyebrow ring almost fully hidden under his hair.

“Okay”. You respond, giving him a smile as you walk over to him and make your way into a room behind the establishment you were just in.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Moments later, you’re sitting peacefully on the flat bed. Admiring Chris while he slides on a pair of black latex gloves with his sterilised equipment laying still next to him.

Soon after, he pops open an alcohol pad and sets it down in the metal tray with needles and studs. He turns his body around to face you and he grabs the tray. He approaches you with the alcohol pad in his hand, his figure leaning into your face to wipe at the skin where you wanted your piercing to be.

Chris then acquires a sharp pointed pen and a long needle, he marks your face with a purple line.

“Go and look in the mirror and tell me if you’re happy or not with the position.” You get up on your feet and stroll over to the mirror and turn your face to where the mark sits.

“Mmm, can I have it more to the left please?” You ask him softly, while you stare at your reflection. “Of course, of course. Lemme get that off ya real quick”. You go over to the bed and sit back down in your original position.

Chris is laser focused on your face and he semi-consciously grips your chin so you look the right way and he can mark your face correctly.

This makes your heart almost explode out of you chest. You can feel yourself shiver but you try to refrain from it for you to stay stable under Chris’ touch.

He lets go of your chin and grins ear to ear at you again. “Happy now, sugar?”

You glance over at your reflection, you can clearly view where the mark is. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problemo, sweetheart.” He utters while he positions the needle where the mark is.

“This will hurt..obviously, just take a few deep breaths for me. It will go in on three, one. two. three…”

Instantaneously, you feel a harsh, sharp pain. The needle slithers through your skin smoothly. You hiss at the sudden sting and your eyes start to water. You open your eyes to see Chris admiring you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it sugar? You did so well for me.” He tugs on his lip ring with his teeth again, showing you how pearly and light ivory white they are.

“Hold on for another second, the jewellery is going in.” You feel another slight pinch, it wasn’t as bad as before yet you still flinched. But Chris’ reassurance made the soreness fade away seconds afterwards.

“Try not to touch it too much, clean it with salt water every day and night and avoid sleeping on it. Leave it in for 6 weeks before getting it replaced and you should be golden.”

You glance back at yourself in the mirror while tears are rolling down your cheeks from the pain earlier. Your face lights up as you see the new shard of stainless steel dug into your skin. “I love it! Thank you, Chris.” You exclaim at him with pure joy, giving him a big smile as you wipe the tears off of your face.

“No worries, sugar. Anything for my favourite customer.” That phrase makes your stomach tingly all the way down to in between your legs. You had to squeeze your thighs to secrete the euphoria Chris’ comments and sweet nothings made you feel.

“How much is this again? I’ll pay you in cash.” You query him. “Oh, you won’t need to pay me with money, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at this statement. You look up at him through your eyelashes for a few seconds with scepticism.

“What do you mean?” You mumble slowly at him while he gazes tenderly down at you.

“You can either pay me a different way, or you can walk out of here with a free piercing. This is sudden, I know that, sugar. But I’m not really feelin’ receiving money from my prettiest customer today.”

Your stomach churns and twists at Chris’ words. The butterflies are scrambling around inside you, to the point where the sensation spreads down to your core. Causing you to become slick with your juices beneath your clothes.

“I-I don’t get what point you’re trying to make, Chris..” You stutter and fumble on your words. Your veins are surging with tension and hesitancy.

“Jeez. Do I have to spell it out for ya, ma?” Ma? That’s a new one. Very similar to the other plain jane nicknames, and yet so different and fulfilling to hear.

Abruptly, Chris starts to inch towards you. You two are only centimetres away from each other, practically breathing on one another.

You feel your heart start to quicken and your breathing pattern to become heavy and irregular. Your heat starts to soak even more as you gawk and admire Chris’ lip piercing now wet with his spit.

“Don’t you have other customers after me..? I’m not sure if this is a good idea Chris..” You break eye contact with his blue rings and start to fidget and twiddle with your fingers.

“Do you not want to..? Shit, I’m sorry ma I didn’t mean to come onto you like that I was just really lookin’ forward to see ya today and I just thought y’would be okay with it like how you’re okay with me calling you sugar n’ stuff like that and-”

You gape at Chris, dumbfounded for a second. You start to hear his Boston accent the more he rambles on in embarrassment. “Chris it’s okay, trust me. I-I do want to… I’ve just never done something like this in a public place.”

His ears perk up and his central lip ring glints, his eyebrow piercing hidden under his locs.

You mentally scream at yourself saying: what the actual fuck is wrong with you? 

“We can do whatever you want Chris, does this door have a lock?” You question him poking and prodding at the handle. “I wanna make sure we really, really have privacy.”

Your mind is zooming and sporadically muddling up millions of thoughts. You were asking yourself; Why aren’t you walking out? Why are you doing this for him? He said I could walk out with a free piercing.

“Yes, ma. It has a lock. Also before you ask, I have no other customers after you for today. Did you not notice the poster I put outside? I’m closing up earlier than usual today.”

You feel your face become hot and your body starts to sweat out of every crevice. The colour of your cheeks go scarlet when you realise he did all this for you. He planned all of this out, since the jump. Ever since you put the phone down on him once you booked the appointment.

“Chris..”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s very unexpected. Like I said, you can walk out with the piercing for free. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not forcing you.”

Somehow, the tenseness in your body loosens. Your muscles stop clenching.

You rush to Chris’ face and pull his lips into yours. Your teeth almost clash into each other. Your puffy, red brims of your mouths intertwine together almost like tying a tight and rigid knot.

You then pull him away from him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Chris ogles at you with his mouth agape yet curved up into a slight smirk.

“What?” You ask. “Didn’t you want this? If you want me to pay you this way, then c’mere. I hope you don’t take cash or card, pretty boy.”

Chris hums in severe approval at your words. He then clasps at your waist and pulls you into another sloppy kiss. More wet and passionate than the one before.

Chris grovels his tongue in between your rows of teeth and you let out a surprised moan at this manoeuvre. Your tongues dance gracefully against each other.

You feel a freezing cold sensation on your lips. The taste of metal consuming your palette. You slowly open your eyes to gaze down at Chris’ mouth… Chris has a tongue piercing.

Your core drips in the slickness of your juice after this information was revealed to you. You no longer held back the temptation and tugged at his lip ring with your teeth.

A choked whine crawls out of Chris’ throat, the grasp on your lower body now tighter and more aggressive. His hot breath combines with yours and condenses the air above you. Making the atmosphere humid and thick. Harder to breathe under your utmost desperation.

“Fuck, Ma. I wanna feel my dick inside your mouth so bad after what my tongue got out of it.” He chuckled, gasping for a breath. Chris’ mouth circling these filthy words on the tip of his tongue to spit them back at you pulls at the tendons of your chest. Your folds become velvety and drenched, almost like his words are casting spells over you. Your mind goes foggy as you both are intoxicated by a horny haze of each other’s presence.

“C’mon then baby, get on the bed.”

“Yes, sugar.” Chris obliges obediently. He rushes to the bed with no delay.

You follow behind and lower yourself down until your full weight is rested on your knees. Focusing on Chris’ craving and horny scrutiny. You slowly part his legs and he lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and breaking eye contact at your unexpected but swift touch.

“No baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes.” Chris whimpers at your command and drops his head down to take in your eager stare.

You push the hem of his shirt further up his body, leaving his lower abdomen fully exposed as you tangle your fingers around his drawstring playfully.

Chris writhes with impatience while you teasingly remove every article of clothing on his lower half slowly. His chest slowly rises and falls in an irregular pattern. His prick aching to be set free from the enclosure of grey cloth.

You use your teeth to grip onto the material and loosen the knot in his drawstring, the very act of you doing this to Chris makes his dick twitch constantly.

You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants to steadily pull them down. Chris lifts his hips up gently to allow you to pull them off briskly.

What once were his unseen Calvin Klein boxers, are now fully revealed. He kicks off his sweats for them to fall on the floor. Your manicured hands rub and slide leisurely across his hairy thighs. His happy trail carved out like a perfectly sculpted statue. Curved and slimmed in all the right places.

You then make your way to the throbbing bulge creating a tent in the jet black fabric. Your hands clasp at the tip making Chris jolt and his hips buckle up into your hand.

A quiet “F-fuck..” could be heard spilling out of his mouth. You hum at the pleasurable sight of him. Your body piercer who sticks needles in your skin for your money and satisfaction, has his dick in your hands.

You start to make your way down his shaft. Chris hisses and covers his mouth with his hand while the other grasps at the edge of the bed. Fully concealing his lip ring.

A slow up and down motion is created by your hands on Chris’ cock. His hips thrust upwards again, basically fucking your hand.

You swallow thickly with restlessness and take your hand off of his dick. It sits there pulsing a beat every now and then.

Chris groans dismally. “Please don’t stop mama, you were doing so well. It felt so good..” Chris spews out of his mouth mixed with his loud and rowdy moans. It’s very clear to you that he isn’t ashamed of how good you’re making him feel, so why should you?

You hastily rip off his boxers out of pure greed which makes his dick come sticking out immediately. Smacking his abdomen.

The lust in your eyes intensifies as you stare with your mouth wide open practically drooling and fawning over the thought of what he tastes like on your tongue. The shape. The colour. The size. Holy fuck he had the whole package. Just you imagining him slamming it inside your pussy made you grow carnal with desire.

The vein popping out the side fleshly. His dick practically begging to be sucked and licked at. 

You pepper small kisses around his shaft. Chris heaves as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

“That feel good, angel?” You ask him tantalisingly knowing damn fucking well the answer is yes.

Chris is completely unable to muster up sentences or even words to the point where he just mumbles an “Uh-huh” of approval.

You lick a long stripe up to his tip, making him squirm and whine underneath your touch.

On the spur of the moment, you feel two hands grip onto the back of your head as they force you down onto Chris’ cock. Your lips clench around the very base of his dick.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Chris exclaims. “Your mouth feels so fucking good… yeah take that fucking dick like a good girl.” 

Your head bobs up and down on his length at a rapid pace. The tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat makes your eyes water again and your makeup comes running down your face. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh, sweetheart.. I’m s-so close..” you feel Chris’ fast rhythm start to quiver and twitch uncontrollably. His hips locking into place as his cock sits inside your mouth balls deep.

“I-I’m gonna cum ma.. I’m g-gonna…” at that moment, Chris spews his white load into your mouth. It squirts out of his tip in long, thick ropes as it paints all over your mouth and on your tongue.

He pulls out immediately afterwards. You’re both trying to catch your breath. You feel Chris’ thumb graze against your lip. Your entire throat still coated in his seed. “Swallow.” He commands spitefully.

You close your mouth and gulp down Chris’ warm cum. You have trouble consuming it all in one go from the amount and how thick it was.

Soon after, you stick your tongue back out to show him that it was all gone. You took it all.

“Good girl.” Chris states smiling down at you, pulling his boxers back up. Moments later he reaches to the side counter to get tissues and a hot towel.

“No more money from you, from now on.” He declares.

“No more money.” You repeat, gazing up at him. Still on your knees.

“Good. Now let’s get you cleaned up, sugar.”

.・。.・゜✭・✫・゜・。.

Author’s note no.2: WHEW.. done and dusted. This was actually uber fun to write. Ofc i’ll be writing TONS AND TONS more for you all. I hope you had fun reading this and i’ll see you again soon! 

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

[scary-lasagna]

Hi! Could we get more of the creeps bumping into someone they used to know before their incidents?? I love your blog thank you!!

Decided to go a negative route for this one to make it spicy

tw: bullying, trauma mention,

Toby

He tried so hard.

Even after the double take, he still wasn't sure about the man five feet away from him.

But he still smelled the same, that irritating wet-dog smell mixed with a shitty watered-down body spray.

Toby balled his fists, attempting to focus on the words of the shirt in front of him.

Standing in line at the bank was not where he expected his next breakdown, yet here we are. He wasn't even in his hometown; he was a few cities west of his origin.

Toby was mentally prepared to glance at a few familiar faces, but never the main culprit of the Devil of his school years.

With the stress of the situation, his medication seemed to nullify, and a quick snap of his neck caused a few heads to turn toward him.

Toby's cheeks burned, and he glared at the marble flooring.

"Ticci Toby?"

Fuck.

Toby tightened his jaw and slowly looked over to the man in the next line over, a redhead with dirt clinging to his oily skin, along with that same spotty beard Toby remembered from his school-days.

Then again, Toby probably didn't look his best after work either, with sweat still clinging to his bangs and dirty, non-bank-worthy clothes.

"Rick." Toby managed a cringeworthy grimace of a smile, "How have you been?"

At the moment, Toby felt like that pathetic excuse for a teenager again. A pathetic excuse for a human.

The memories of being shoved against lockers and brick walls and returning home with more bruises than he cared about resurfaced in waves of pain.

"I've been good. Been working." Rick nodded. He sniffed and glanced away, "You disappeared off the map, everyone thought you killed your dad and died in the fire."

What a fucking opener for small talk.

"He was not my Dad," Toby said curtly. And I'm still alive." However, Toby definitely wished he wasn't at that moment.

The pain of embarrassment and uncomfortableness was enough to make the brunette keel over.

"I bet you wished Lyra was still here after all of that, huh?"

A beat passed, and despite how hard Toby glared at the man in front of him, the line did not budge. Rick continued to stare at Toby.

"You think you're too good to talk to me now?"

Toby breathed. He sighed and rolled his neck.

A verbal tic followed closely after, at the best moment to call Rick a Cunt.

Whatever manilla folder Rick held dropped from his hands and dully fell against the marble.

Toby allowed himself to react out of pure fear and instinct, punching Rick directly in the jaw before he could even lay hands on him.

And, with Toby being much stronger now as a grown man, Rick was not expecting such a hit. The pressure radiated from his jaw and rebounded to whatever brain cells were left in his empty skull.

Toby didn't know what happened between that moment and when he was running from security guards and into the nearest wooded area.

But his hands were covered in blood, and his knuckles had been scraped open.

After returning home, he apologized to Slender for not depositing the check and decided not to speak of anything else.

[shotmrmiller]

that konig art had me thinking about how he'd blackmail you into a relationship.

tw: kidnapping? kidnapping.

-

maybe you're getting harassed at a bar by some disgusting, rancid breath, balding old man, and here comes your giant hero.

he'd twist that pervert's arm and lead him out the front door and around the corner to a dark alley.

you, of course, follow maybe because you're nosey, or you're too tipsy to really understand the consequences of your actions, but there you are, hot on your hero's heels.

the tall man held the pervert by the neck, and the moment you got close enough, started slamming his head against the brick wall with a sickening crack until his body dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.

mary mother of jesus. You cover your mouth, in utter horror, and watch this beast of a man turn his covered face to look at you and gesture you to keep quiet with a gloved finger over his mouth.

he's just killed a man, and you've become an unwitting witness.

the gravel under his heavy boots crunch with each step he takes toward you.

you're frozen in terror as dread crawl up your spine, slow and cruel— just like him.

your skin erupts in goosebumps as he stands before you, neck craning so far back just to look at him that it aches, and you aren't sure if your teeth are chattering from the frosty weather or the icy tendrils of despair currently slithering into your veins.

he grabs your chin roughly, and your breath hitches in your throat.

your lower lip trembles as his flick down to your slender neck, watching it bob as you swallow.

"please don't kill me."

his flat, soulless eyes narrow minutely, and a choked sob escapes you.

he's fucking smiling.

he doesn't say a word, just keeping his predatory gaze on you, flicking around your face as he drinks your features in.

then he nods to himself.

"sehr gut. do as i say, and you live, häschen. ja?"

your eyes prickle with tears but resign yourself to your fate.

a nod.

he staunchly grabs you by the arms and drags you away, forcing you into his inky chariot and taking you away to hell.

Dummer kleiner häschen. Du hättest auf einer Wiese bleiben sollen.

Silly little bunny. You should have stayed in a meadow.

[woongisi]

Drum Line Dream // Song Mingi

dom!Song Mingi x sub!gn!Reader // SMUT

WC// 2.1k

Synopsis// Things went a bit off kilter with your college marching band crush. Turns out, all you needed to fix it in the end was some bad luck and deep fried food.

Warnings// semi-public, grinding/dry humping, pet names (baby)

Author's Note// Written in one sitting and definitely not proofread. Nothing too crazy this time but I HAD to get this very self indulgent idea out of my mind. This one's for you former and current band kids, I get you. ☺︎

---------

College marching band. One of your worst decisions, yet one of your best. There was no shortage of drama to be had but at least you'd met some of your closest friends.

You played the trombone, it was large and it was loud. Your type of instrument and coincidentally your type of man. Maybe you'd smacked a few too many people in the head with your slide or emptied your spit valve on the shoes of those you disliked. Regardless, you considered it revenge for how the wind instruments would sneak up on you and blow air into their reeds as hard as possible just behind your ear.

As far as instrumental squabbles went, you found the drum line to be the most tolerable. Sure, some of the snares made it a point to play as loudly as they could, but they kept it localized within their section. You had a hard time admitting it, but you may have held a bit of a bias toward them.

That bias was Song Mingi. Song Mingi played the bass drum. The kind that you had to pull over your head, two heavy straps bracing your shoulders on either side. The kind that burned through far too many expensive wool felt mallets. You never were sure how they beat them up so quickly.

You met Mingi your freshman year and got acquainted with him rather quickly, you never had much time to spend with him as your show for the year had you in separate areas for most of it. The same followed your sophomore. Now, you found yourself in your junior year.

Earlier in the year you'd ushered Mingi over and haphazardly told him he was hot, and that if he didn't kiss you, you might cry. There you shared a kiss high up in the bleachers, hiding behind the row of bass drums. Since that moment things had become a bit awkward, you apologized, claiming you'd been overly emotional and didn't want things to get in the way of your friendship. What you didn't know was the conflict that caused Mingi.

Song Mingi was one of your best decisions yet one of your worst, just as joining the band was. Something about him was addicting. Perhaps it was his deep voice, his tall and slender figure, his bright smile that lit up the room no matter where you were.

Away games were always your favorite. You may not be able to perform at halftime as often, but cheering on the football team was enough. Besides, there was something exciting about wandering the stands of school stadiums previously unknown to you. Some schools, like the one you were visiting this night, had fancier concession stands than others.

Halftime finally hit, you stayed in place for a few minutes to take a look at the opposing team's band and judge their uniforms before meandering your way to the least busy concession stand.

You greeted the student manning the stand with a smile and a nod, taking a moment to skim over the dodgy whiteboard that served as a menu. You settled on a thing of fried oreos, 3 pieces to a boat. You handed the worker some amount of cash and told her to keep the change. It was pointless to try and find somewhere to sit so you settled down a matter of feet away, leaning against the brick wall of the buildings.

Before you could even take your first bite, a familiar voice caught your attention. Mingi had approached the booth, somehow evading being noticed by you up until that point.

“Ah, I'm sorry. We just sold the last of the oreos for the moment.” The student sighed and briefly checked her watch. “There'll be more ready in about 10 minutes… but you seem to be part of the band.”

Mingi nodded with understanding. “I'll have to be back in the stands by then. I'll just take a coke. Thank you!”

Now was your chance.

“Psssst, Mingi!” You half yelled, half whispered and motioned eagerly for him to come toward you. Mingi was quick to approach, fumbling with his bottle of soda.

“Yeah? What's up?”

“That was me… sorry. You wanna share?” You held the boat of fried oreos out as an offering.

“No, no! You spent your money on those. You should have them.”

“I insist.” You stared down at his gloved hands for a moment. “Would you… like some help with that?”

You had removed your black wool gloves and bulky gauntlets before heading to find food. A foresight that Mingi apparently lacked. He nodded shyly, almost embarrassed, and thanked you.

“Here, open.” You grabbed one of the oreos, using your other hand to hover underneath it to guard against crumbs. You leaned inward, allowing Mingi to take the cookie into his mouth. “I've already got my gloves off, don't wanna make you mess with yours.”

Those lips. Forever your greatest weakness. All he'd done was take food from your hand and all you could do was try not to stare. The kiss you shared a year before lingered in the back of your mind. Soft. They were so very soft. Pillowy and normally faintly flavored by whatever chapstick he'd managed to dig out of his bookbag. You couldn't forget the feeling and even now you regretted how fleeting the moment was.

“Hey,” Mingi awkwardly shifted his weight to one side. “Can we talk for a minute?”

You felt like your heart fell to your ass, suddenly

worried about the conversation that was yet to come. Was he angry, upset, confused? You didn't know.

Mingi led you to a corner he'd spotted when the band arrived on the field. The bright lights didn't quite reach through to dispel the darkness and the area was sparsely populated compared to the concessions.

“U-uhm…” It was unusual, the way Mingi was so seemingly anxious. Your typical charismatic musician that so confidently backed the drum line had disappeared, replaced by someone far more vulnerable.

“Your face is seriously red. You sick? Need me to tell the director that you need time out?” You cocked your head to the side with concern.

Mingi shook his head frantically and grabbed one of your hands. Forcing himself to hold your eye contact, he finally continued. “Iwannakissyouagain-”

“What…?” Whatever he'd said was spoken too quickly for you to process.

“I… want… to kiss you again.”

That was when you learned it wasn't one sided, the memory haunted him just as well. Though you didn't expect simply sharing your snacks to lead to a confession, you certainly weren't about to complain.

You gripped Mingi’s hand back, urging him to follow you as you hurried to hide under the home team’s bleachers. Not a word exchanged in the meantime. This side of the stadium housed the press box, meaning there was more solidity to the structure and more places to hide beneath.

Pressing your back against the wall, you snaked your hand up to rest on the back of Mingi’s neck.

“I missed you, Song Mingi.”

Any hesitation that plagued his mind was erased in an instant. Mingi's lips collided haphazardly with yours, his hands holding your waist. This, you thought, is what you'd needed for a year's time. This kiss was unlike your first, already starting intense. Mingi had no problem taking charge, chasing your lips whenever you pulled away like a man starved.

“Mmn,” You tapped the nape of his neck. “Need to breathe.”

Mingi was undeterred, fumbling with the zipper on the back of your uniform jacket. You shrugged it off of your shoulders, leaving it to drape off of your elbows and grant Mingi access to your neck.

“Shiiiit,” You whined against him. You had never given the uniform jacket design any thought but presently you couldn't be more relieved that once you put it back on, the mock neck would cover any marks. “Needed this so bad.”

Mingi's ministrations were sloppy, hungry, sucking and nibbling lightly on your sensitive skin. A shiver shot its way up his spine, leading him to let out a quiet moan. That was a sound you decided you could get used to.

“Can't take it, wanna touch you.” Mingi growled, becoming painfully aware of his growing erection. “I'll make it quick. Promise.”

“Mmk, anything, I'm yours.”

You rushed to remove your jacket entirely, discarding it to the side. You'd just have to handle the dust that undoubtedly covered it from the gravel layer. Mingi's jacket was soon to follow.

Your mouth gaped slightly, taking in the shape of Mingi's waist. Bibbers were tight, form fitting but so often hidden beneath your black and red jackets. You never realized just how slim his waist was but, now, you'd never forget it.

“Damn things.” Mingi grumbled, undoing the velcro and pulling down the zipper to his marching pants before assisting you with yours. There was no bothering with removing them entirely. Black tees and black shorts that laid just above the kneecap were standard for underneath the band's uniforms.

Mingi grabbed you firmly and flipped you around so that you had to brace yourself against the brick wall chest first. His strong arms held you tight against him, one around your waist and the other reaching over your chest and keeping you steady.

In this position, you couldn't see Mingi… but you could surely feel him. His breath was ragged against your neck with his hips grinding against your ass.

“Mingi, holy shit-” You didn't need to look to understand the considerable length of his cock. Four layers worth of fabric was too much, but at the same time so perfect.

Mingi’s arm situated on your waist slid downward, a gloved slipping beneath your waist band and swiftly finding your arousal. The sensation of the woolen gloves against your bare skin was almost cruel, too good and complemented by the unexpected skill Mingi possessed with his hands.

Low moans tumbled from deep in Mingi’s throat, sending shockwaves straight to your core. You'd heard him whine and groan plenty of times whenever he screwed up a formation for the nth time and on hot summer days when you were finally allowed a water break and moment in the shade. It was different to hear his familiar sounds in this manner. Despite the similarities, something felt more primal now.

Mingi was losing his control by this point, grating his aching cock hard against your figure and mumbling incoherently.

“I'm gonna cum, baby.” He nuzzled his face into you, resting his chin on the area just next to the back of your neck.

“Me too, keep going, cum for me.” You sacrificed one of your arms to muzzle your desperate moans. To be caught was one of the last things you needed.

Mingi broke first, a deep and drawn out whine tearing from him. He continued to rub himself despairingly into you, riding out his own orgasm while trying to keep up with you.

It didn't take long for you to follow in his wake. The building coil of pleasure building in your stomach finally snapped, drenching Mingi’s hand in your fluids. Your moan caught in your throat leaving you to choke back a cry.

For a moment, everything was quiet but the buzz of the nearby breaker boxes and the sound of your heaving chests.

“Fuck, thank you. Thank you so much.” Mingi praised and guided you both to rest on the cold ground. He grabbed your hand with his clean one and smiled brightly as if he hadn't just rocked your world in the midst of a football game. “Can we never keep ourselves away like we have been again?”

“Of course. You have no clue how long I've been yearning for you.” You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose you do now.

Only after kissing Mingi’s cheek did you scurry to gather the estranged components of your marching uniform. The game was back on, your bandmates wondering where in the world you could be.

“Mingi.” You whispered with realization, “Your glove.”

“Whatever,” He sighed. “Here's the story, ok?”

Mingi cobbled together some cover up. Some mostly coherent story about how you slipped and fell, dropping your drink leading to him accidentally putting his hand right in the puddle on the concrete. He only hoped they didn't question why your uniform was largely devoid of any liquid.

Reaching the away team's stands, one of the snares crumpled up a nearby napkin and flung it at Mingi’s face with expert aim.

“Dude, where the fuck have you two been?!”

If only he knew.

[daydreams-after-dark]

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 12

Chapter Contents.

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 14 //

Premise: fem reader + Chan + Jisung 18+ fanfic. This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Chapter Summary: Hyunjin visits Minho

a/n: I wanted to explore Minho and Hyunjin a little more. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: mxm, blow jobs, cum swallowing, anal fingering, unprotected anal sex.

Minho pov.

Minho set two wine glasses and a bottle of red on the kitchen bench. He didn’t even know if Hyunjin liked red wine, but Minho thought he seemed like the type to enjoy a glass of red. He exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair. Shit. He was so nervous, his hands trembled. Maybe he should have a glass right now?

He checked his phone 11.35pm. Hyunjin would be there any minute. 

Minho didn’t really think Hyunjin would say yes to coming and meeting him here. He couldn’t believe he even had the courage to even text him. They hadn’t spoken to each other since that night at the studio, when he thought Hyunjin was going to kiss him. In Minho’s fantasies he’d imagine that he did actually kiss him. Those sweet, full luscious lips connecting with his. He felt the blood rush to his dick, causing it to start filling out. 

When you had helped him bring his Hyunjin fantasy to life and he imagined it was Hyunjin’s ass he was inside, he knew he had it so fucking bad for this man.

“Ping” a text message. Minho’s anxiety surged through his body.

Hyunjin: “I’m at the front door.”

—————————————

Minho tried to slow his heart as walked down the stairs towards the entry hall. The house felt deserted even though he knew somewhere, probably the gym, the others were all having some sort of sex show, and Felix was probably asleep.

He paused at the front door. He had wanted this moment for so long. He couldn’t believe it was finally here, unfolding before him. He shook his head to try and rid himself of his nerves. But it didn’t work, his body felt heavy with anxiety and desire as he opened the big, wooden door.

Minho’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. Hyunjin. Leaning against the brick wall. Denim jeans and a leather jacket. He looked like a fucking model. He was slightly taller than Minho, slender, with long brown hair and he had the most sultry look on his face that he'd had ever seen. Minho’s mouth parted in awe.

Hyunjin met Minho’s eyes and Minho’s mouth hung open even more. He was mesmerized, and he had to blink a few times to snap himself out of the man's spell.

“Um… c-come in.” He stuttered, and the two dancers made their way into the house.

Minho felt Hyunjin’s eyes on him as he lead the way into the kitchen and it made his stomach feel like it was doing somersaults. He could feel the sexual tension between them.

“Umm,” Minho coughed to clear his throat. “Would you like some wine?” he gestured to the glasses and wine bottle.

Hyunjin slinked against the edge of the bench, leaning his back against it, and twiddled a strand of his hair. Minho stole a glance at him and was met with Hyunjin’s curious gaze. He was looking straight at Minho so fucking seductively that it set him on fire. Hyunjin glanced at the wine and back up to Minho.

“You trying to get me drunk, Lee Minho?” he teased. Minho felt his face turn bright red, as he poured the glasses of wine.

“More like calm my nerves.” He whispered, setting the bottle down and placing his hands flat on the counter top to compose himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho could see Hyunjin inching closer to his side. The hairs on his arms stood end, and his veins stood out from the growing tension as he felt the dancer’s energy enter his personal space. Then Minho watched Hyunjin’s hand as it slowly reached for his, placing it on top and squeezing it gently.

Minho stopped breathing entirely. How could he breath when this angel of a man was so close?

Hyunjin leaned in close to Minho’s ear, close enough he could feel the man’s hot breath against his neck. “Don’t be nervous, Minho.” He whispered. “I know we’ve both thought about this moment for a long time.” He brushed his lips against Minho’s neck.

Minho shuddered and slowly turned his head towards Hyunjin, who didn’t make any attempt to step away from him. They were face to face. So close. Hyunjin’s expression needy and flushed, Minho’s expression strained and cautious. Hyunjin bit his lower lip and parted his mouth, trying to encourage Minho to kiss him. Minho stood fixed to the spot. How could he fucking move? This was too intense. This was too scary. Then Hyunjin’s tongue appeared, slipping through his parted mouth and teasing his own lower lip, running it along the plush skin.

Fuck it. Thought Minho and he smashed his mouth hungrily against Hyunjin’s lips.

Hyunjin melted into the kiss immediately, as Minho gave him everything could in that moment. He greedily sought Hyunjin’s tongue sucking it into his mouth then pushing his own back into Hyunjin’s. Hyunjin pulled away panting and threw his head back in a moan, revealing his long, slender neck. Minho took the opportunity to maneuver himself so he was flush against Hyunjin, pushing him hard into the edge of the counter, pressing their erections together. Hyunjin squealed playfully when Minho nipped his neck and delivered kisses up to his ear and bit down gently on his earlobe.

“Fuck. Minho.” Hyunjin exclaimed. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to know what this feels like.” Hyunjin’s hands slid around Minho’s waist tugging him in closer so he could grind against his hardness.

“Jinnie,” Minho said low “I need you… I need to feel you…” he pulled away from his neck and held his face in his hands. “Can I feel all of you, Hyunjin?” his voice was gravelly and full of lust. “Can I feel what it’s like to be inside you?”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to come on the spot, just at Minho’s words, and he threw his arms around Minho’s neck and slid his tongue back inside his mouth. Minho moaned and then growled. Suddenly spurred on by Hyunjin’s intrusive tongue, Minho lifted Hyunjin up to sit on the bench, pushing his hips between seated man’s legs. Their hands and their tongues frantically explored one another as they shed their shirts. Their naked torsos writhed together as they made out in the kitchen.

“But… first I need to suck you off?” Minho reached for Hyunjin's belt and paused looking up at Hyunjin for permission.

“Yes, Minho… please…yes!” Hyunjin whined, desperately.

Minho swiftly unbuckled Hyunjin’s belt, undoing his jeans and releasing his length through the fly of his boxer shorts. Minho couldn’t contain his arousal at the sight of his cock. It was just as stunning and ethereal as the rest of him. He couldn’t wait to taste it. He couldn’t wait to taste Hyunjin’s cum.

“Min…” Hyunjin cried out high pitched as Minho’s tongue gently licked the tip of his penis. Minho looked up and chuckled darkly. “You like that, hmm?” he cooed.

“Mmm… yes… ughh! Please..” Hyunjin seemed to be losing himself at the slightest touch, and Minho wondered what he’ll be like once he’s actually fucking him.

The bench height felt a little awkward for Minho as he had to bend down, but he soon realized this angle was allowing him to take almost all of Hyunjin into his mouth. It felt incredible to finally have Hyunjin here with him in this way. The way he had wanted for so long.

Hyunjin’s cock tasted salty, his skin felt so soft and silky, the big veins looked obscenely sexy. Minho had grown rock hard in his pants. Hyunjin was losing it, throwing his head back, whining every time Minho sunk right down to the hilt.

Minho was always a top, but he had always loved to give his lovers earth shattering blow jobs. But right now, in this moment, Minho considered what it would feel like to have this most perfect cock he’d ever laid eyes on, ever held, ever tasted, inside of his own ass. Sweet Jesus what was happening to him?

Minho felt Hyunjin’s fingers in his hair, pressing his head down and holding it in place as he slowly rolled his hips to thrust his cock into Minho’s mouth. Minho’s eyes watered, and saliva ran down his chin, but he was comfortable enough to take him like this.

“No one’s ever taken me in their mouth this good before…” Hyunjin panted. “I didn’t think you’d be such a cock slut… usually it’s me giving the best head.” His head lolled back again as he gyrated against and into Minho’s face and mouth. “Can I come in your mouth?” he whispered, releasing his grip on Minho’s head. Minho looked up at Hyunjin and winked. “Absolutely. I wanna taste your cum, sweetheart.” and sank back down onto Hyunjin.

He used his hand and his mouth to work Hyunjin up into a frenzy. He could feel him on the brink of ejaculating and Minho was in two minds whether to bring him to climax, or slow things right down and make him suffer. But he didn’t have chance to decide because he felt Hyunjin’s cock pulse as ropes of cum spurted into the back of his throat. Hyunjin let out another whiny cry as his orgasm continued for what felt like forever.

“Fuck… Minho.” He looked down at Minho with watery eyes.

Minho stood back up and for long moment they gazed at each other. Hyunjin drank in Minho’s features like he was the most obscure thing in the world and it pleased Minho greatly.

“So,” Minho tilted his head towards the glasses of untouched wine. “Do you wanna take this to my room?”

————————————————

“You’re gonna make me spill the wine, Hyunjin.” Minho playfully scolded the taller man who couldn’t seem to take his hands off Minho as they stumbled into Minho’s room.

“Let’s just down these glasses and then it’s my turn to make you feel good.” Hyunjin flirted. Both men smirked at each other and gulped down their wine, eager to move onto to more pressing activities.

Minho climbed up on the bed to lay on his back near the headboard, and ushered Hyunjin to join him. Hyunjin, slowly and feline like, crept onto the bed to hover over Minho’s bulge. “Let me take this these off you.” He whispered, flicking his eyes up to Minho’s. He nodded and Hyunjin removed Minho’s clothes swiftly.

Minho shuddered at being so naked in front of this angel. His angel. He laid still as the other dancer explored every inch of Minho’s body. The dips and the peaks of his muscles. The smoothness of his skin. Hyunjin took note of how Minho responded to his touch. Where he was sensitive, where he could be firmer. Hyunjin memorized how Minho’s breath would change from soft sighs, to sucking in his breath harshly. It seemed like Hyunjin was lost in the world that was Minho’s body and Minho loved it.

Hyunjin eventually set his sights on Minho’s cock. His eyes grew big as he took it in his hand, eyeing it curiously, hungrily. “Minho,” he sighed “your cock is perfect. Just like the rest of you.” He gazed up at Minho and Minho swallowed hard. Hyunjin’s tongue appeared again, and he licked the precum that was oozing from his tip. “Mmm. So tasty too. You really are scrumptious.” He approved and proceeded to explore and tease Minho’s cock further.

He delivered long strokes with the flat of his tongue from the the underside of the shaft to the tip. “So fucking tasty, Min” he growled taking Minho by surprise. So far Hyunjin had been soft and flirty and airy with his sounds of pleasure. This Hyunjin sounded greedy. Greedy for Minho’s cock. It made him feel good to see this man losing his shit for his dick.

“Mmmm….” Hyunjin mumbled still wrapped around Minho’s shaft. “I can’t wait to have this pretty cock in my ass.” He pulled off and pumped Minho’s cock with his hand, tipping his head to the side and looking at Minho like he was begging him to fuck him right then. “I want you to save your cum for my ass, Minho… I promise I can let you come in my throat another time.” He looked longingly at Minho’s cock. “I do want to know what it tastes like.”

“Lay on the bed.” Minho said coolly. Hyunjin’s eyes lit up and he tried his best to move slow and sexily up the bed, but it was more of a scurry. Hmm. So needy. Thought Minho and he smirked.

Minho straddled Hyunjin, locking his hips to the bed, and leaned down to kiss him sweetly. First his lips. Then he took his kisses to his cheek, then his ear. “Hyunjin, I want to see your perfect, pretty little hole. Will you show me?” He whispered. He felt Hyunjin try to buck his hips, but he couldn’t move. “I want to tease it. Stretch it. I want to fill you up with my cock.” He pulled away from his ear to stare directly into Hyunjin’s eyes. He saw longing in the man’s gaze and it made Minho’s heart melt.

“Minho?” Hyunjin whispered. Minho’s expression turned curious. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. You know that right? This isn’t just a quick fuck for me.” His eyes turned fearful like he’d admitted something terrible to Minho. But Minho’s heart felt full hearing those words from the man underneath him. He didn’t want Hyunjin to be a quick fuck for him either.

“Jinnie.” Minho’s tone was serious. “I have real feelings for you. I need you to know that.” Hyunjin blinked rapidly and nodded. “I’m in love with you.” Confessed Minho. It felt right for him to say it. Hyunjin was being vulnerable and it felt only natural for Minho to be open and honest too.

“Minho… I love you, I wanna be closer to you.” He whispered and closed his eyes.

Minho proceeded to explore Hyunjin’s body, much like Hyunjin had just done to him. He could feel the man relaxing under his touch, and quickly becoming putty in his hands. When he felt Hyunjin was ready, he knelt between the man’s legs and pushed his knees up to give him access to his ass. A surge of desire rushed through Minho, straight to his cock. It had been hard and leaking this entire time, but seeing Hyunjin’s tight rim made his dick twitch. If he didn’t work quickly and cleverly to prep Hyunjin, Minho would probably come untouched.

He leaned over to his bedside table to grab the bottle of lube. He hadn’t brought any of his own, but Jisung helped him out by sparing him a couple of bottles. Unfortunately the lube was strawberry scented and flavored, which was not to Minho’s taste. But now wasn’t the time to complain. Plus, maybe Hyunjin would be into it?

He poured a generous amount of lube onto his finger and pressed his finger to Hyunjin’s rim, who whimpered loudly at the contact. Minho knew he was skilled with his fingers, and it didn’t take him long to build Hyunjin up to three full fingers. Hyunjin, writhed, whimpered, moaned and cried as Minho finger fucked his tight hole.

“Hyunjin, sweetheart… look at you losing your mind from just my fingers.” He said incredulously. “I am not sure you are going to survive my cock.” He chuckled softly.

“Minho… I’m ready.” Hyunjin whined.

Minho removed his fingers slowly as to not shock Hyunjin with a sudden emptiness. He already had the tip of his dick lined up ready to apply pressure as soon as his digits were free. Hyunjin’s hands flew to Minho’s strong biceps in an attempt to ground himself, and they didn’t take their eyes off each other as Minho slowly slipped inside Hyunjin. They both shuddered at this new sensation they were sharing together. They were almost too scared to breath, the feeling was so intense.

“You feel so thick, Minho.” Hyunjin gulped.

Minho smiled, “Maybe you’re just super tight, my love.” Minho gushed.

He slowly inched further inside Hyunjin, feeling his tight walls stretching around his length. Hyunjin let out a low gutteral moan as Minho eventually bottomed out.

“Fuck!” he muttered under his breath, and the pair smiled. Neither of them could believe this was happening.

“Come close to me, Minho… I wanna hold you while you make love to me.”

Minho melted at those words and all he wanted to do was give Hyunjin what he wanted. He leaned down so he was laying on his torso as best he could, his hard erection squashed between their toned stomachs. Minho braced himself with his arms placed on the bed either side of Hyunjin, and Hyunjin’s arms slipped around Minho’s back causing him to shiver.

Minho started moving slowly, rolling his hips in such a way that seemed to be delighting Hyunjin. He’d never seen a man look so turned on before. The noises Hyunjin was making, the way he gazed into Minho’s eyes as he was being fucked, the way his mouth would communicate all sorts of obscene things without having to say any words, was quickly becoming too much for Minho. He wasn’t going to last long.

He repositioned the angle of his thrusts and at the same time reached down between their bodies to grasp Hyunjin’s cock.

“Let’s get there together, Hyunjin. I wanna see you come on my cock.” He started to pump Hyunjin’s length as his thrusts turned unforgiving. Minho had a lot of power in his thighs and hips, and that helped him deliver hard, consistent thrusts. Sweat covered his forehead as he focused on nothing but chasing his and Hyunjin’s releases.

“I’m c-coming, Min..” And Hyunjin choked on his words as cum splattered all over both their stomachs and Minho’s hand.

“That’s it baby,” Minho grunted as he felt Hyunjin clench around him. Minho threw his head back as he felt that tight coil inside him snap and he cried out Hyunjin’s name as he released himself inside of him. “Hyunjin… fuck…!!!”

Minho slumped down on top of Hyunjin. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat and a lot cum. It was only now Minho noticed the mingling scents of sex, sweat, cum and strawberry lube.

“Minho, you made me feel so good. You didn’t make me feel like… like I’m dirty.” Hyunjin whispered.

Hyunjin’s words hit Minho like a punch in the stomach. Why would this make Hyunjin feel dirty? Minho felt angry that someone must have made Hyunjin feel this way, or believe this about himself. “Hyunjin,” Minho soothed. “I’ll never make you feel like this is wrong, or that what you want is… dirty. I mean,” he paused “unless that’s the vibe we’re going for.” He raised his head and smiled at Hyunjin. “But that would only be after we’d talked about it.” He stroked Hyunjin’s cheek. “I want to you to feel safe with me… to explore anything you want. Okay?”

Hyunjin nodded.

“Let’s get us cleaned up, hey. Then we can talk. Or sleep. Whatever you want to do.” And he kissed Hyunjin slowly, letting him know he’s safe.

a/n; What did you think? Pretty sickly sweet for an unhinged blog I know... but I am truly a sucker for fucking with feelings.

Next up (and we're nearly finished the series) Jisung's pov.

@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @piscesrising01 @lunearta @shltsnglggles @lilbabiebunni @jiminssluttyminx @armystay89 @krayzieestay @stellasays45 @hxnnielk @yaorzu-blog @anjian03 @tsunderelino @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @privhace @kyunchoni @writhingwrecked @kisses-too-the-moon @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @meilix @ismokeeweed @leftovercigarettes @galaxycatdrawz @grandma143

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Two

Warnings: uncomfortable tension, drinking/alcohol, brief mentions of depression (if you read the context clues it’s there), anxious themes, the boys are yet again being ridiculous.

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Charlotte’s first encounter with Jake is none other than memorable. Battling her internal monologue is how she lives her daily life, so this situation is only letting those voices run wild.

Author’s Note: Early chapter two because I am so so so excited for you to meet Charlotte! She’s been one of the most fun characters to create because she has such a specific personality. I hope you love her xoxo see you on Thursday 🥰

Looks That Kill - Motley Crue “If you don’t get her name, you might not make it back.”

“In 300 feet, turn right,” plays through my car’s speakers as I slowly drive through these cramped streets. All the buildings are covered in red brick, some with vines attached; it’s a quaint little area in the city. 

I pull into a parking space and check the maps on my phone again; okay, it’s only a street over; I can just walk that. Grabbing my bag and the folder I’ve been sent with, I step out and promptly lock my doors. Looking at my reflection in my windows, I gently adjust my pants and ensure my shirt is still tucked in. Leaning in and reapplying my dark red lip, I need to make sure I look professional. 

It’s mid-afternoon and fairly quiet, so all I can hear is the click of my shoes as I walk towards the bar. Well, Tavern, rather.  The sign jutting out from the building, the ocean peaking out just behind it, that’s a beautiful accident, now isn’t it? As I approach, I notice the cobblestone street directly across from it. Which must be a nightmare at 1:30 am. 

I took a deep breath before grabbing the door and mentally prepared for this conversation. Or so I thought. The door chime rings loudly, given only ten people are in the bar. The red glow is intense even though it’s still light out. I can’t help but notice the immense amount of pirate memorabilia on the walls and the cute vintage jukebox in the corner. 

As I take it in, I hear the chatter from the patrons sitting at the bar slowly increase in volume. I look over to see a petite man with a curly head of hair laughing loudly at the girl he’s sat next to. Quickly startled out of my focus by a tall, slender gentleman. 

“You look lost,” he quietly says, a completely different vibe from the rest of this place, taking me aback, “Do you need something?” 

“Uh, yes, actually,” I stammer a bit, not expecting someone to come out of thin air like that, “I’m actually here because some paperwork wasn’t completed when the bar opened.” 

“Oh!” his eyes go wide, “he will be the one you want to talk to, darling,” he says rather quickly, pointing towards the bar.

“Could I speak with Mr. Kiszka?” I ask, attempting to sound as confident as I can.

Suddenly, the two sat at the bar looked over to me, with the one behind the bar turning to me before, in unison, they asked, “Which one?” The long-haired ‘girl’ turned to reveal that I was, in fact, very wrong. How many long-haired men are in this bar right now? Jesus Christ. 

I looked into the folder, and seeing his name at the top, I thought, “Um, Jacob Kiszka, I’m sorry.” 

They both point at the one behind the bar, with his hair tied into a low bun, shirt halfway open, and towel tossed over his shoulder. He’s definitely not who I expected to run into here; I figured I would be dealing with a larger, burly sailor-type man who just quit working at the shipyard. 

“What do you need from me, dear?” his voice soft and raspy, which continued to throw me off. 

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you randomly, Mr. Kiszka,” I start, with him quickly interjecting. 

“Mr. Kiszka is our father. Please call me Jake,” the three of them giggling at his comment. Are they all brothers? I mean, I guess they do look similar the harder I look at them.. Unimportant.

He extends his hand over the bar, and I quickly shift everything into the other arm to meet his. 

“Charlotte Rhodes,” I tell him, trying to focus on my grasp being firm on his hand. 

“Well, Jacob, unfortunately, you did not finish filling out some of this paperwork when you opened the bar officially,” I tell him, watching his smile falter a bit. This is the part I hate.

“I’ve been sent here to tell you what is needed from you. It shouldn’t take too long to get situated.” I start flipping through the paperwork, looking for the pages that he needs. 

“Jesus, Jake,” the long-haired one pipes up, “Paperwork’s the only thing fucking you right now, huh?” followed by the most accurate description of a “ha ha ha” laugh I’ve ever heard. 

“SAM,” the petite curly-headed one interjects, his eyes widening. “Not the time.” 

The one who I’ve now learned is Sam mutters, “Tough crowd,” under his breath. 

I inhale deeply, letting out a “Riiiiiiight” on the exhale. I grab a blank piece of paper from the folder, set it in front of myself, and scribble down little things to not forget. ‘Long hair, facial hair, taller = Sam.’ 

As I’m informing him, I watch a young woman waltz behind the bar, starting to wipe down wine glasses and put them away. She is minding her own business, but nonetheless, she’s behind the bar. 

“Um,” I pause, “Who is that?” I quietly ask, pointing at her subtly. 

I swear I watch the color in his face drain out like a cartoon. Oh no, he hasn’t filed paperwork for her either. Well, that’s karma for you! 

“I just hired her,” the subtle panic lacing his voice, “Uh, I just haven’t had time to, um,” he keeps stumbling over his words. One of his hands finds its place on the back of his neck, giving away that he’s getting overwhelmed. 

I don’t know what comes over me; I open the folder, pull out a packet of stapled paperwork, and flip through it. 

“According to your payroll, Joshua M Kiszka and Daniel R Wagner are the only two employees currently.” Noticing the handful of hired and terminated employees below them and choosing not to bring them up. 

“Only I call-” Sam speaks up, locking eyes with the girl behind the bar, “WE call him Daniel.” 

“Unfortunately, ‘Daniel’ is the only name I was provided,” I know my confusion is apparent on my face. What is going on here? He’s defending Daniel’s name but also grouping this girl into it.. Are they..? 

“The rest of us call him Dan or Danny,” the small one informs me. 

‘Don’t use Daniel, or Sam gets emotional.’ 

“I really don’t mind either way-” Daniel starts to speak, quickly interrupted by Sam. 

“No! That’s my- our name for you!” 

I feel a slight breeze as a slender, brown-haired girl swiftly passes me, walking directly up to Sam and grabbing his arm. 

She looked at me, her face twisted into an uncomfortable expression, and said, “I’m SO sorry about him.” Then she glanced at Jacob and said, “Good luck, Jake.” 

She tugged on his arm, and he stood up. Much taller than I was expecting, he grabbed his drink before walking away. 

“But Bird, she called him Daniel!”

“I’m very sorry, but can’t you see the professional pants she’s wearing? She’s IMPORTANT, Sam!”

“Why would I look at her pants?” 

“Just leave them alone!”

I quickly shake my head, trying to remember where I was in the original conversation before things got… weird. 

“Anyway,” I start, “You only have the two boys and yourself as employees, so if she is also bartending, you need to get her paperwork filled out. Otherwise, then you’re also violating payroll.” I’m watching him process everything I’ve told him, his eyes finally looking to meet mine. I can see the anxiety on his face. His eyes look so sad. 

“Um,” I turn to the small man beside me, “Do you mind giving us a minute?” 

“Absolutely. I’m Josh, by the way,” he reaches his hand out to shake mine, 

“Nice to meet you, Josh. I’m Charlotte.” I firmly shake his hand before he prances away to the booth where Sam, the girl who stole him away, and someone else is sitting. 

“I’m sorry about them, or well, all of this?” Jacob finally said, “I definitely didn’t realize that I hadn’t finished things. I double-checked even before submitting it. I really had no idea. This is the first business I’ve ever run, and I’m doing it alone, basically.” His voice is still riddled with panic, and it sounds like he’s trying to make sense of it in his head. 

I pull out a barstool, set the folder on the bar, and make myself comfortable in the seat. Trying to make myself seem less intimidating has always been funny to me, being a more petite girl. 

“I know you’re working, but the least I can do is offer you a drink,” he says, grabbing a glass from behind him and gently shaking it to get my approval.

“Well, thank you. Whatever is easiest for you, I appreciate it.” I start looking through the folder for what I need, realizing I don’t have everything. I can just email it to him. He seems nervous. I’m sure he’ll panic to get everything in order.  

“Wine? Beer?” 

“Actually, if you have bourbon, that would be fine.” 

I watch his eyes go from sad to almost excited. His emotions are evident on his face right now. The corners of his mouth slowly turn into a little smirk, letting out a laugh of disbelief. 

“That’s my kinda girl,” he says, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelf. 

Is it warm in here? Did he just- You’re working, Charlotte, get a grip. 

He sets the glass of amber liquid in front of me, still smiling to himself. 

“Okay, so is there anything else I messed up?” 

“Not to make things worse, but is she certified?” 

His eyes shut as his head drops back; I see his chest rise slowly and then fall, “Oh, I’m sure she isn’t.” 

“Okay, um, so that’s not as important. Let’s just get you situated with this stuff first?” Why are we being nicer to him? He’s clearly behind on everything; just let him have it.  

“Yeah, whatever I need to do. I really am sorry I didn’t do this before.” 

I’m literally ruining this guy’s entire day. Which is his fault. Well, yes, but he feels so bad about it. I’m more used to having owners storm off, not talk to me, or the opposite, yell directly into my face about it. Also, to be fair, I’m not used to bar owners being close in age to me. I’m definitely more accustomed to older gentlemen who would rather risk tax evasion than get their employees on an actual payroll. 

“It’s okay, Jacob,” I look back at him, setting the papers on the bar for him, “Honestly.” 

His eyes look back and forth between mine like he’s trying to decide if I’m lying. The only thing I’d be lying about is that he is kind of cute. Charlotte, you’re here to do your job and leave. Yes,  but he’s been very receptive and isn’t trying to degrade me for doing my job. Plus, his smile is pretty. 

‘Nice smile’

I take a sip of my drink and then surprise myself. 

“How about I leave all of this with you and come back in a few days to grab it? I’ll be in town for a little bit, and I don’t want to overwhelm you more than I already have.” Okay Charlotte? 

“That would be perfect,” he breathes a sigh of relief, “I can absolutely get everything sorted out. Thank you so much.” His voice is back to a more stable sound, and the anxiety seemingly has subsided. 

The door chime sounds off, causing him to glance over as a handful of people come in. I grab my phone from my bag, tapping the screen to reveal 6:07 p.m. Ah, everybody’s out of work. I watch as he looks back at the girl behind the bar, back at the customers, and then at me. 

“Mel,” he addresses her. Can you just find out what they want, and I’ll take care of it?” She salutes as she drops what she’s doing, mumbling, “Yes, Sir,” as she passes him. His eyes roll slightly at the comment, turning back to me. “I can have Josh clock in if you need me still.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just going to finish doing some work, and this,” I tap my glass lightly, letting a small smile slip through. His face softens a bit at the gesture. 

“Okay, well, please just stop me if you need anything.” 

I scroll through my emails, continuing to make little notes for myself. This bar has been interesting so far, but, the longer I sit here, the more things continue to happen. I’ve just been trying to take in everything while I’m here. Places like this are few and far between. 

I look up from my phone to see Jacob fiddling with his hair, pulling the hair tie out slowly and sliding it down onto his wrist. He ran his fingers through his ends to loosely comb it out and then wrapped it back up into another little bun. His hair is so long? Also, it’s fun to watch a man pull out his baby hair. I didn’t think they knew about that.  

He flips the sink on, rolling his sleeves up slightly so they sit just above his elbows. I don’t mean to stare at him while he’s doing menial things, but something is holding my attention while he washes his hands that I can’t figure out.  

I try to focus on anything else, turning to see Josh walking up to Daniel with his hand held out. I can’t make out what they’re saying to each other, but Daniel grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles quickly, releasing Josh back into the chaos of the bar. Wait- so.. Who is actually with Daniel? 

A notification pops up on my phone, and it’s an email from my boss. 

‘Charlotte,

Again, I’m sorry to hear that you’re going to be out for a few days. How much time off do you want again? I know we just talked about this. Anyway, I hope everything goes smoothly with the Caravel Tavern. It’s a new business, so it would be a shame to see it go under quickly. I know you’ll give them hell, though.’

It’s a bit disheartening to see that the entire reason I was even coming to Portland has been dismissed, but I guess that’s just business for you. Not that I was necessarily excited to be here for a few days and not work, but at least be mindful of the reason. I offered to stop by to take care of this since I would be in the area, and maybe that should have been my sign that he didn’t care about whatever else I would be doing. 

“You okay over there, Red?” his small, raspy voice somehow cut through the chatter of the bar. I look up to find him opening a beer for someone and setting it on their napkin, his smile fully displayed for them. 

Taking a little sip of my drink, slowly becoming water with a hint of bourbon, I nod once. 

“You really run a tight ship around here, huh?” I say as he walks back over to me. Something in that moment shifts; I don’t know what it is. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, like the subtle compliment caught him truly off guard. I can’t read what emotion he’s feeling, but his eyes are conveying something different. 

“Uh, I do my best,” he finally choked out, “I probably drive them all crazy, but we’re still afloat, so something must be working.” 

Mel laughs as she’s drying glasses behind him, “You’re definitely something.” 

He slowly blinks with a tight smile at her comment, with a quick shake of his head. I lift my glass to my lips, taking the last bearable sip before it’s quite literally just water. 

“I think I’m going to head out,” I tell him, gathering the paperwork he needs, “I’ll leave this with you; if you can please try to get it done in the next couple of days, that would be great.” He just nods at my request. 

“Also, I didn’t have the physical paperwork on me to get Mel on your payroll but I can email the forms to you if that works?” 

“I will do whatever is easiest.” 

I’m still not used to someone cooperating as easily as he has. I came in too prepared for him to be an ass about everything, on top of surprising him with more issues. I’m grateful he isn’t making this more complicated than it needs to be. 

I fold the blank sheet, hide my notes about his brothers, and slide them to him with a pen.

“Here, can you write down your email and phone number for me?” I ask quietly.

“Trying to get my number already? We just met.” He smirks at me as I cringe internally. 

I just stare at him for a second too long, not able to come up with any sort of response to that. 

The silence is deafening between us as his cheeks flush, his eyes darting down to the paper. He swiftly grabs the pen, scribbling down his information for me, writing his name above them, ‘Jake,’ as if I would forget. 

He clears his throat before speaking, “Well, I need to, uh, go work on this, so,” his embarrassment slowly taking him over, “Drive safe, and I will see you, um, soon. Sorry about.. Everything today?” 

I choke back the laugh threatening to escape me, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he’s made himself. But it was kind of cute watching him shove his foot in his mouth.  I tuck the paper into my bag, grabbing my things as I stand up from the barstool. 

“Oh,” I speak up, “how much do I owe you?” tapping the rim of my glass. 

He leans over, grabbing the glass with a slight smile on his flushed face, “I think you earned it; it’s on me.” 

“Well, thank you. Have a good night, Jacob. I’ll see you in a few days.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I hadn’t been to our lake house in a while—years, probably. We used to spend weeks at a time visiting the lake and spending time on the water. As I got older, so did my parents, we slowly stopped frequenting, but they would never get rid of it. I’ve spent countless hours convincing them to rent it out as an Airbnb, but they refuse. 

The roads are a little daunting at night, with so many sharp turns and practically no street lights. I suppose I should be used to living so far north, but I know that area well. I’ve never really had to drive myself around here; I was always in the backseat for this drive.

Pulling into our dirt driveway, there she is. Our sweet little house absolutely has seen better days, but that’s okay. It feels enough like home to make the next couple of days bearable.  I had been dreading this week, but even seeing the outside, in the dark no less, has made me feel a bit of relief. 

Walking through the mud room and into our kitchen, it smells like a basement. It’s apparent that none of us have visited in a while, and to be fair, it’s October at this point. It’s probably for the best that I’m here for a few days so I can clean things up, and then maybe, next time my parents come, it won’t seem as… musty. It will also distract me from my own brain. 

We do tend to get the better of you. Speak for yourself.

I toss my bags onto my old bed, unable to remember the last time I slept there. I finally sit, letting out a long sigh. Closing my eyes, I let my head drop back, letting the muscles stretch for a moment.  The sadness building up and threatening to escape, I grab my laptop from my bag; I need to be doing something. 

‘Hi,

Sorry for the late response. I stopped by the bar today. They had a lot going on, so I left the paperwork with him to fill out, and I’ll stop back there to grab it before coming home. He seemed eager to get everything done; he’s much younger than I think either of us anticipated. 

As for days off, I think at least this week, and then I’ll be good to go.’ 

I’m not particularly good at giving myself days off, but I love my job, so why would I not work? Also, I rarely have to really connect with people, so it makes it easier to just zone out and get my work done. It’s not often that we have to hound people for their paperwork, and even when we do, it’s usually for the new employees to do. It builds character, I guess. Having grown adults scream at you definitely gives you thick skin. 

Reaching down, I pull the folded paper out of my bag. Typing his email into the To: bar, attaching the documents he needs. 

‘Thank you for being so flexible about this. - Charlotte’ 

I added a subject line, ‘New Employee Payroll Forms’, and double-checked that everything was there. I hit send. Perfect, everything is done. 

Charlotte: Hi Jacob, sorry for the late text- I just sent over those forms to your email. If you can get those done ASAP, that would be wonderful. If you need assistance with anything, feel free to reach out. - Charlotte. 

Feel free to reach out? Why are you offering the opportunity for him to text you? It’s literally the least we can do; you saw how overwhelmed he was. 

I can see the way his face drained of color when I clocked Mel behind the bar. The way he stumbled over his words, his hand finding comfort on the back of his neck, probably to prevent from fidgeting endlessly. He definitely didn’t realize he had messed up. I don’t know why you feel bad, this happens to you all the time. 

I set my laptop on my nightstand and plug in my phone. Everything is done, so now I can just do what I need to. I take the time to make something small to eat and shower, killing just enough time and relaxing enough to where I’m about to sleep. I crawl into bed, pulling my hair up into a bun on the top of my head before snuggling in. 

I reach out to grab my phone and set an alarm for tomorrow morning. I opened my messages just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything or forgotten to reply to anybody. 

Unknown Number: oh don’t apologize. Thank you for being patient with me, i really appreciate it.

I tap on the number at the top, saving the number, ‘Jacob’. I lock my phone, placing it back on my nightstand. Staring up at the ceiling, I attempt to fall asleep. Replaying thoughts of her in my mind, I feel a slight prick in my eyes. Finally, I succumbed to the feeling. I’m not ready.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter One

Chapter Three

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[hecatemoon87]

This story will eventually involve smut. Minors DNI.

Chapter 1

It didn't take Johnny long to notice the gorgeous dark-haired woman coming and going from the bar where he and his biker club haunted. He was acquainted with the majority of the bar's patrons, but she was new and most importantly, different.

She was classy, elegant even. The women that frequented the bar were sexy and tough. And Johnny was very fond of them. But he suddenly found himself craving for something more...delicate.

The woman was slender and was always well dressed. Today, she wore a form fitting light blue office style dress with high heels. Her hips swayed lightly as she walked from behind the bar and toward the exit. As she slipped out the door, Johnny got up and followed.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as he reached the parking lot. He scanned the cars and bikes, but did not see the woman. Until he heard a silvery, but even toned voice from behind him.

"Looking for someone?" she said, leaning against the outside wall facing the parking lot. He turned around and nodded. "Yeah, I was. And I think I found her."

He casually approached her, keeping a respectful distance and hooking his thumbs into his front pockets. The woman arched an eyebrow. He could tell she was slightly apprehensive of him.

"I'm Johnny," he said.

"I know," she replied.

"That so? And, uh, what's a classy dame like you doing around a joint like this?" he asked.

"Well, this joint is owned by my uncle. I don't think it's that bad," she said.

"You're Big Sal's niece? I mean no offense to Sal, but ain't no way a pretty thing like you is related to him," Johnny said, chuckling.

She shrugged, "Well, we are related."

"You said you know who I am?" he asked. Johnny was pretty sure everyone within a two hundred mile radius knew who he was. But he just wanted to know what she thought.

"Yes, you're Johnny, the leader of the Vandals," she said, her gaze dropping away from his. That little gesture indicated to Johnny that she was shy and it made his heart flutter all the more.

"Now, here you know my name and I don't know yours. I'm at a disadvantage don't you think?" he said, softly.

He slow closed the space between them and raised his right arm, resting the palm of his hand against the brick wall. He still allowed adequate space between them as to not spook her.

She glanced up again, her eyes were the color of deep honey, illuminated by the dying light of the day. Johnny swallowed hard, he definitely wanted to get to know her more.

She seemed hesitant in giving him her name, but finally said, "Amelia."

"Amelia," he said in his deep, husky voice. "That's a lovely name. So, Amelia, you're just visiting your ol' uncle Sal?"

"I'm assisting him with some accounting matters," she said, making Johnny laugh softly at how formal she spoke. Sal was a middle-aged Italian man, second generation, and was fairly foul mouthed. Johnny was certain Sal dropped out of school in the six grade, so the fact that his niece spoke so well amused him.

"Accounting matters, sounds very important," he said, leaning in just a bit more. He was now able to smell her perfume. It was subtle, but he detected a hint of vanilla and lavender. It made his chest rumble with approval.

She broke his gaze again, looking to the side, still resting against the wall. "I need to head home now," she said, softly.

"You got a ride?" he asked. She nodded, keeping her eyes cast down. He liked how long her eyelashes were, luscious and black against her cheeks.

"Yeah, but something is wrong with the engine, I'm waiting for my uncle to check it," she said, pointing over to a small, light green sedan that had seen better days.

"Mind if I take a look at it? I'd trust me over whatever your uncle Sal is capable of," Johnny said, walking over to her car. She followed him and watched as he popped the hood of the car.

"Start the engine, let's see what I'm working with," he said, waving her to the driver side of the car. Once she started the engine, a black smoke began to pour from the engine and a fill the parking lot. She shut the car off immediately and came back out to stand by his side.

Johnny looked at her in amazement. "How the hell have you been driving this thing?"

"It actually seems worse now," she said, innocently.

Johnny waved the remaining smoke away and took another look. He pulled out the oil wick and saw it was almost bone dry. "Sweetheart, when's the last time you had your oil changed?"

"Oil change?" she asked confused.

He shook his head in disbelief, this woman clearly had no idea about machines. "Just stay here a sec," he said, walking back into the bar. He walked back behind into Sal's office.

"You have a can of engine oil around here?" he asked Sal.

"Uh, yeah, in the supply closet, why?" Big Sal asked.

"Your niece doesn't have a clue about cars does she?" Johnny said.

"Nah, she's got book smarts, no idea about the other stuff," Sal said, rummaging around the supply closet.

With a can of oil in hand, Johnny returned to Amelia and filled her car with the oil. After he was done, he told her to start it again, and after the smoke settled, the car seemed situated.

Amelia got back out and walked over to him. "Um, thank you. I should probably learn a thing or two about cars," she said bashfully.

"You like bikes?" he asked, offhandedly.

"Oh, no...they're too fast and, um, dangerous," she said, shaking her pretty head.

"Yeah? Well, since I helped fix your car, why don't you repay me by going out on a date?"

Her doe eyes widened, and she appeared to be blushing. "Me?"

"Who else am I talking to?" he said, smiling.

"Um, well, I don't know...you're kinda..." she said, trying to find the words.

"Fast and dangerous?" he asked, coyly. "I think you'll change your mind after a good ride."

"Excuse me?" she asked, taken a back.

"About the motorcycle. Once you've had a good ride, you won't be able to get enough," he said, grinning smugly. He knew what he was saying, and he didn't mean the motorcycle.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

There in the Shadows - A Graf Von Baphomet/Reader One Shot Story.

You and this absolute beauty having a wild time together? Why not? I mean, just look at the man. HNNG.

Words - 1,056

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You can feel the weight of his eyes upon you, an unbreakable green gaze that sends a tingle over the back of your neck. It’s like he’s challenging you to look back at him, dare meet that unblinking stare borne of a desire to make your legs buckle with his fuck.  

Oh, you dare to.  

Your eyes snap to his, unblinking as you turn from your friends, throwing a few words in parting over your shoulder as you walk away. “Be back later. I need to go sink my teeth into that man.” And god, how you would eat him like he dripped honey from every pore. He lifts his chin with a confident smirk, the light catching the razors of his cheekbones, a beauty that would be angelic if he didn’t radiate an aura of pure sexual menace.  

The way his eyes tour your figure as you approach, he must have undressed you in his mind at least twice in the time it takes to arrive before him, your lips curling into a smile as you raise an eyebrow. 

“You called?” 

His eyes narrow in slight confusion. “I didn’t say a word.” 

“No,” you speak, grasping his jaw as you lean in close. “You didn’t say anything. But you still called.” Your thigh presses against his crotch, opening your mouth to run your tongue up his cheek. “And I answered, so now you can take me somewhere quiet and show me exactly why you did, can’t you?” 

You feel his slender body quiver against you, Graf taking your hand, a grin splitting his mouth wide as he nods. “I can.”  

The afterparty is in a bar that borders the venue the band played in, only a small alleyway separating the two buildings, and your destination of choice as he leads you into the shadows, pushing you back against the cold bricks. He looks upon you for a few seconds, running a fingertip down the column of your throat, hooking it beneath the necklace you wear before pulling you into a kiss that knocks the breath from you.  

Usually, kisses take a little build, gain momentum gradually. Not his. His are an immediate winter chill, an icy wind biting against hot flesh, feral but executed with the kind of finesse that has your walls beginning to prickle with want for him almost immediately. Your teeth nip at the plump flesh of his lower lip, and it coaxes a groan from him that rumbles like a bear growl, primal, a little danger awoken as your hands fist his hair and tug hard. 

Pulling his head back, you expose his neck to the hunger of your lips, and he lets you, arousal rushing through him like a blizzard. You bite and it arrows right to his cock, using your thigh to tease the hardness you feel pressing hot against you, his hands grasping your skirt and pulling until it rucks up at your waist. It’s a good job you aren’t particularly fond of the undies you have on, his hands grasping and yanking until they tear, the cool of the night hitting against your bare sex. That is, until his hand presses. 

Hot fingers sink into the soft wet of your folds, his mouth returned to yours, kissing the whimper from you as he strokes at you, makes you pulse against him keenly as long, slender digits rub in precision over your clit. Sensations fizz up your spine, panting against the roll of his tongue with yours, your hands stroking his slender arms, nails grazing tattooed flesh.  

A little cry splinters in your throat as those fingers plunge into your cunt, raking, pressing, fucking you until the lewd noise of it fills the air, Graf groaning as he sucks your tongue, his other hand clawing at the front of his jeans to free his cock. It runs feral between you, his mouth moving to your neck, biting your flesh hard, sucking a dark bruise as his hands grasp your thighs, lifted with ease. His hips press you there, his grip releasing to drop you straight down onto his cock with a satisfied grunt.

The pleasure of him daggering you deep skitters up your spine one vertebrae at a time, his hands moving to clutch beneath your thighs, keeping you spread as he drives into you wildly, all heat and sin. Fuck, the way he groans as he does it, too, the noise fracturing through your chest as your hands clutch tight in his hair, tugging hard, magmatic kisses steeped in grit and sin.  

He’s heavy within you, his fuck more powerful than one would think of a man so slight, hip bones pounding against your thighs in an animalistic rutting you know will leave bruises behind as your walls pulse around him, soaking every last delicious inch of his cock. He spears into you so hard, you scream out, spurring him further as he scrapes sparks along your walls, tightening on him, your nails sliding from his hair and digging into the nape of his neck, shredding his flesh.  

It prickles over your skin like hail, pleasure darting over your nerves, his lips leaving scorching paths over your neck, each marked out by bites of animalistic branding. It’s surging, like a dark wave, you the lone craft upon the huge, vast ocean that is him and the ecstasy that washes over your bones, your chest heaving as you feel his tide dragging at your shore.  

You’re split mercilessly on each hard punch of his cock, remade around him, his hands digging in at the soft of your thighs as he buries his mouth against your neck, sucking a welt as his body begins to quiver. His groans are almost helpless as he arrows you so hard, tears stream down your cheeks, your body lit up by the incandescent heat of stars streaking through you, coming undone with a wail as his hips reach staccato, cock jerking and flooding you with cum. ��

The feel of it burns through you, a forest fire blazing wild, reducing you to cinder as you pant into his masses of beautiful, long hair, rain beginning to patter down over your spent, trembling bodies.  

As if the sky could possibly cleanse the sin that sticks to your skin. 

As if you’d ever want it to.  

A/N - Did you like it? If so, please do reward your hard-working author with a lil' comment and a reblog. Thanks!

[majimasleftasscheek]

YES OF COURSE AND TY!! also sorry I had to put this on a new post instead of answering directly. the format totally broke so it worked better here kjdfkljfd

note! if anything seems particularly gender™, my hcs for Majima are genderfluid so just speaking from my own experiences/feelings! peeps are more than welcome to hc things as they like 💖

long post ahead because Goromi makes me FEEL

ooey gooey lore stuff

Majima's interest in fem ideations began at an early age, somewhere in the teens - a passing intrigue in fashion and feminine looks. it was something different compared to the more or less samey, conservative fits men would have (not that women weren’t also the same but there’s certainly a difference between a salary worker and a hostess)

did girly shit with Yasuko that Saejima didn't have any interest in - putting on makeup, painting nails, etc and even tho her personal supply was limited, he enjoyed doing that sorta thing with her when he’d spend days at their place just hanging out. something about that clicked for Majima. something about the work and craft was fun tho not something he'd readily admit even if it was obvious to everyone else. 

he never really thought any of it made him pretty. thought it made him very unattractive really but it made him something else, something not "him" and he really liked that part about it. it’s transformative

Majima never wholly felt comfortable around only men due to his smaller, slender frame and traits like his curvier waist. in a time where being a manly man was the thing™ and tbh still is, he felt excluded and bullied often, especially if he hung around a brick wall like Saejima. he'd often act out aggressively to overcompensate and try to play the brodude with other guys around 

Majima's first explorations into Goromi often made him feel like the things other guys would gossip about him were right all along (”oh he’s a lil sissy,” “why you walking around with a body like that in the yakuza,” “you’d look good in a dress (derogatory)”) so much of his interest in drag was very much suppressed and felt shameful 

during his Sotenbori stint, his interest in femininity really started to take a more serious turn after hanging around cabaret girls - seeing all the glitz and glamour seemed fun and the idea he could just pretend to be someone else for a time was a nice escape especially since it was a place where he was more or less unknown to old associates. not that Goromi is literally a different person, but it meant something certainly, that he would be treated different, for better or worse

as such, his Goromi persona was shaped by this treatment. catty, non subservient, and bitchy was a response to give herself confidence and bite back. early Goromi however was more quiet and reserved due to the circumstances at the time but modern Goromi is loud and proud

80s Goromi was more of a private thing she did in secret, not really ready or confident enough to be public about except with those she really trusted which wasn't many at the time. hostesses would notice Majima took unusual interest in what they were doing during work prep and friends like Yuki would be those he confided in. the girls appreciated his help with hair and makeup, something that gave him fond memories of simpler days with the Saejimas. 

his concerns were often not being passable enough no matter how feminine he'd try to look but he took solace in that his long hair was good enough to hide much of his face

conversely modern Goromi doesn't care how passable she is and her stereotypical look is meant to be obnoxiously feminine. she's a lady and doesn't give a shit if she’s not ”good enough.” that's not to say she doesn't still hold reservations about it. for all her confidence, it's still somewhat of a façade when she knows that the more excessively fem she looks, the more she feels satirical and it’s a battle to keep up her confidence but she has more loved ones around to remind her she’s fine the way she is

I will acknowledge the in game canon that modern Goromi was used as a way to rile Kiryu up for the sake of haha man in dress butttttt in my own spin, Goromi did that because every other man in her life treated her the same way - where the idea of a man in a dress is laughable. figuring Kiryu as one of the guys™ she expected the same but got the opposite, Kiryu totally going along with it. tho they fought at the end to her insistence, it was one of the few times where she genuinely felt validated for being herself, even if it was under the guise of tricking him. she thought, huh, maybe it could be different with him. maybe I could do this unironically. he’s a dumbass but he’s an honest dumbass. it certainly activated something in Kiryu for sure 

my own dealio: I draw Goromi with very obvious cis male features cuz for me, being cis is part of my own genderfluid experience. so I try not to make her lose too much of her masc traits like her muscles, square jaw, facial hair, etc. it’s very important to me that she’s gnc, no matter how passable she looks

general stuff

fav colors to wear are black, red and pink. white is for special occasions

has numerous blonde wigs but the default Goromi one is her favorite with the typical messy tied back style. rarely goes without a wig but more likely to with trusted friends

likes to be pampered and waited on, big on date nights and gift giving (for herself and treating her booboobear)

very proud of her legs so always happy to wear something short and revealing. will do so when it’s cold out and does not want to hear your advice against it (will complain loudly about having sniffles later)

Saejima doesn’t have any particular feelings about Goromi, like with most things he’s like yeah whatever do whatchu want. as far as he’s concerned, Goromi is still the same prickly ass Majima and she appreciates that greatly

Kiryu does treat her differently since he has his naïve, googoo ass traditional ways of behaving around women and it does annoy her because she wants him to know she’s still Majima regardless of how she acts or looks. he’s mad simpo mode for her and it does blind him to some of her grievances when he tries to be helpful. he does mean well but it’s still a learning process

very much loves Haruka and turns into a puddle when called auntie. is a bit more knowledgeable on girl™ things from what she’s learned from Yasuko and the cabaret girls so she’s often the one to help with things like that. her pseudo confidence helps a lot when she has zero idea what to do and it’s more important to Haruka that someone tries and fails than never trying at all. Goromi knows she’s not a traditional stand in for a woman in this case but Haruka’s kindness and acceptance means the world

does her own nails but has Minami do more complex designs. occasionally Daigo helps but you didn’t hear it from me. getting custom dresses is done thru Nishida who is very very tired of early morning rush orders

big into roleplay and especially likes to rope Kiryu into her bullshit. catch me watching from the bushes when she finds him as Suzuki in y5 and goes along with it by constantly languishing about her ex-BF while shaking her ass like “oh woe is me, if only someone depressed and hunky were to comfort me in my time of need” 😪

Ishin Goromi because I’m ill

VIOLENCE

night life as a murderous courtesan, dresses up in traditional oiran fashion except for the loud, blonde wig. I know it’s not really something you’d see people wearing but Ryuji is blonde and Joon-gi is “silver ash” so I can have this okay kljdfskljdfkl. carries an extra pair of sandals so she can ditch her geta (tall sandals) if she needs a quick gettaway

friends with the working ladies in town so if there’s any *problems,* they go to her. she’s got multiple hideouts in various brothels with changes of clothes and other disguises

I like my Majima hcs to be more murdery than canon and Okita is especially murdery so ishin Goromi bumps it up a notch ☝ very thrill of the kill vibes and I just think being covered in viscera is kinda hot 👉👈

Nagakura (Saejima) helps her put on her makeup. he complains about it every time, mostly because she doesn’t stop squirming while he works

traditional makeup at the time was made outta harmful shit so I’m just gonna say hers is made from rice powder and whatnot because I said so lol

usually wears a hannya mask with a flower strapped to the left eye. often a peony or spider lily. very keen on making sure no one knows who she is. will lift her mask just enough to give Ryoma a smooch tho

something I’m still developing in my fic is that she feels a big sense of guilt for having to hide who she is, not really guilt for killing people lol but rather that she does so knowing it makes her life harder and that parts of her life are always going to have to be secret to protect herself and those around her. it makes getting closer to people more difficult but she’s stubborn in the way she doesn’t want to change for someone else

[darkpeacemusic]

Splendormansion headcanons

What the mansion would most likely look like (art not mine):

Splendor Man is one of the two Slender brothers who owns a mansion (other than Slender).

His mansion is very colorful and happy which makes the other pastas get sick just looking at it.

Some even wonder how the fuck anyone who comes to visit hasn't gotten their vision broken.

I would imagine the mansion would be located in a enchanted forest, very deep in the enchanted forest.

The mansion has a indoor playground where Sally can play.

It also has a ball pit.

Nina has her own special room where she can store all her squishmallows and cute little figurines.

Jason spoils the girls very much by making them too many toys.

Candy Pop and Jason look after the mansion when Splendor is away.

Everyone seems to like Nina but they tell her to keep the craziness down (even Sally calls her out at times).

Jason, Nathan, and Candy Pop are basically the happy married gay couple of the house who act like they are besties (I will do a headcanons post about them in the near future).

Nathan has his own room where he stores the objects he steals from his victims.

Oh, and Nathan is the prankster of the house.

The Puppeteer lives in the attic but is very rarely in there due to him and his proxies always stalking their victims (will do a general headcanons on him in a near future).

The walls are decorated in patterns such as hearts and polka dots.

Most definitely a candy room that is filled with types of candy dispensers, cotton candy machines, and chocolate fountains.

LJ likes to come over the most due to him and Splendor being besties.

Nina's room would most definitely give off a early 2000s scene/emo chick vibe.

Meanwhile, Sally's room be looking like she's living life like a princess.

Candy Pop and Jason share a room that has a combo of carnival and circus vibes (mostly because they couldn't choose which one they wanted).

Jason definitely has his own workshop where he can build his own toys when he is not out killing with Candy Pop.

There are many radios and record players because music is the number one need in the mansion.

The living room gives off Oz vibes including the floor that looks like the yellow brick road (which Nina sometimes joke about by saying "Fellow the yellow brick road").

The bathrooms are all yellow because yellow is the happiest color.

The hallways are decorated with pastels because why the fuck not?

Basically, the Splendor family be living their most happiest yet insane life.

[storm-and-starlight]

batfam height headcanons bc I'm bored

Bruce Wayne: 6'2". He's just Big (though a little bit leaner than he looks -- he's not a gymnast like Dick, but fighting as Batman still requires a little more flexibility than being a brick wall of muscle allows)

Dick Grayson: 5'10". The shortest man in the batfamily, but still pretty tall for an acrobat. He doesn't particularly care that he's shorter than basically all his brothers, but he's taller than both of his parents by a decent margin, which he absolutely has Emotions about

Barbara Gordon: 5'7"-5'9". Just a little shorter than Dick, and the tallest woman in the batfam.

Jason Todd: 6'3". One inch taller than the Batman and he will absolutely lord that over Bruce for the rest of time. The Biggest of the batfam -- on top of everything else, he doesn't particularly care about weight or diet, so he's got the most total body mass out of everyone

Tim Drake: 6'1 1/2". Used to be around 5'8" until he hit a growth spurt in his late teens and shot up to just below Bruce's height. Still on the slender side, though, and is secretly a little upset that he didn't manage to make it to 6'2"

Stephanie Brown: 5'6"-5'8". Just barely shorter than Barbara, and a little jealous about it

Cassandra Cain: 5'4". The shortest person in the batfam, and somehow even more dangerous for it (people tend to underestimate her on first meeting because she's Tiny. No one makes that mistake twice)

Damian Wayne: 6'2". Almost exactly Bruce's height, and quite smug about being the same height as his father. Does not like the fact that Jason is taller than him (Jason thinks this is hilarious)

Duke Thomas: 6'0". A nice round six foot. Has never really thought about his own height, and is politely baffled by all the other batboys having such weird complexes about it all

[lillianrennifer]

Misunderstanding

One Piece Law x Reader

Please click HERE to understand what the emojis mean.

Warnings:🙋🏻‍♀️👍🏻🥰🎓📱

—————————————————————

Taking a sip of his lukewarm water, Law leans against the weathered brick wall of the convenience store he had just left. “It's too damn hot." he mutters frustrated as he sheds his jacket, wrapping it around his slender waist. Above him, the faded store sign creaks in the breeze, grating his already thin nerves.

With a sigh, he pulls up the damp fabric of his black shirt, revealing a glimpse of his toned lower stomach. Pressing it to his brow he uses the shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his eyes squinting in discomfort.

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, he retrieves it and begins to reply to Luffy's text, his thumbs moving with a practiced ease. When suddenly, he's startled into reality by a shout of, "Hey Law!"

Looking up, he sees a girl jogging toward him, her hair bouncing with each step, a bright smile spreading across her face as she waves enthusiastically. 

Skidding to a halt by his side, she grabs his hand and drags him along, her grip surprisingly strong. "Sorry for being late! You weren't waiting long, were you?" Her fingers intertwine with his as she holds his hand in a vice-like grip, pulling him down the sidewalk.

Thoroughly perplexed, Law is about to ask her, "What the hell is she doing?" when she tugs him down to whisper in his ear. Her warm breath tickling his skin, causes a shiver to run down his spine. "Please act like you know me!" The tight grip of her hand and her pleading eyes clearly implore him to play along.

A light flush rises to Law's cheeks, and his heart races as his flustered mind struggles to comprehend the situation, his thoughts whirling with questions.

What is she doing?

Why is she holding his hand?

And why does she seem familiar? 

Deciding to play along, Law responds as casually as he can, his voice laced with a hint of amusement: "No, I didn't wait long." He keeps pace beside her, his strides matching hers as they stroll down Water Seven Street.

The warm sunlight casts a golden glow on their conversation, and the sounds of the city—chatter, cars, and birds—create a lively backdrop for their exchange. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts from a nearby bakery.

As they walk, Law can't help but notice the girl's infectious energy. Her bright smile and sparkling eyes draw him in, and he finds himself smiling back at her. 

"That's a relief!" she chirps, her bright smile faltering for a moment as she checks her watch. "Work ran a little late, so I was afraid you had." Her voice is sweet and confident, with a hint of playfulness beneath the surface. 

Law raises an eyebrow, intrigued by her enigmatic behavior. "How was work?" he asks, trying to keep the conversation going, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shows genuine interest. 

“It was good!” Peeking over her shoulder, her face pales as her eyes fall upon something that makes her heart drop. Abruptly lowering her voice, she whispers, “Oh my god, thank you so much for doing this! A creepy guy has been following me since I left work.” Her voice trembles slightly, and Law notices a faint quiver in her lip.

Glancing over her shoulder again, her eyes scan the crowded street with a hint of desperation.

Law follows her gaze and catches a glimpse of the man he thinks she is referring to - a tall figure lurking on the edge of the crowd. His cold silver eyes narrow as he takes in the man's large and intimidating physique, noting that he's close enough to keep them in his sights but far enough away that he can't quite hear their hushed conversation - a strategic distance that only adds to Law's growing unease.

The man's black mask, cap, and jacket make him almost invisible in the shadows, but Law's trained eyes pick up on the subtle details that set his instincts on high alert.

“Taller than I am, more muscular, wearing a black mask, cap, and jacket?” Law murmurs, his voice low and cautious, his eyes never leaving the man as he waits for her response.

She nods almost imperceptibly, her voice barely above a whisper. “That's him. I tried to lose him in the crowd, but he’s still there.” Her eyes lock onto Law’s, pleading for help. “Please, just keep pretending to know me until we can lose him.”

Law's instincts kick in, and he nods reassuringly, his grip on her hand tightening. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He says, his voice firm and protective. 

"Seriously, thank you,” Glancing up at Law, she smiles gratefully, her eyes shining with relief. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. Luckily, I spotted you. I know we don’t really know each other,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen you in class, and you seem nice enough. I figured it didn’t hurt to try." She grips her bag tightly, her knuckles white with tension. 

Typically, Law finds talkative individuals bothersome- Luffy- but there's something curiously appealing about her rambling.

As she continues to express her gratitude, Law can't help but be drawn in by her endearing mannerisms and the way her eyes light up when she smiles. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and he finds himself smiling back at her, his initial wariness melting away.

With each passing moment, he becomes more invested in their conversation, his initial reluctance giving way to a growing sense of interest in and concern for this stranger.

Despite the tense situation, Law is charmed by the girls warmth and vulnerability, and he can't help but want to help her. Suppressing a smile, Law's deep voice rumbles, "It's all good. I have a little sister, and I hope if she were ever in a situation like this, someone would be kind enough to help her."

Her gaze lingers on his face, her expression softening as she senses the sincerity behind his words. His kindness is palpable, enveloping her in a warm embrace filling her with a sense of safety and calm making her feel like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

She notices as he speaks, his eyes crease at the corners, causing his normally stoic face to soften which only puts her more at ease.

"I didn't know that you have a sister!" she exclaims, her eyes widening in surprise. "Though….” Rubbing the back of her head, she lets out an embarrassed laugh as her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink when she admits. "To be fair, I don't really know much about you in the first place."

He can't suppress it anymore; she's too cute, with her embarrassed expression and flushed cheeks.

Letting out an airy chuckle, a gentle smile appears on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Well, to be fair, you're doing better than I am," he says, his voice tinged with amusement and a hint of warmth. "You at least know my name. I'm afraid I don't know yours.” he admits. 

"Oh, I'm Y/N!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling. "Nice to officially meet you!" she adds, her voice bright and cheerful, with a hint of playful enthusiasm.

“Y/N,” he thinks to himself, “That's a cute name.”

Law can't help but smile at the sweet sound of it and the way it suits her personality.

Once again she peeks over her shoulder and Law’s eyes follow her gaze, noting that the man is still lurking behind them. Law’s grip on her hand tightens instinctively, in a protective gesture.

"So, Y/N, what are we going to do about him?" he asks, his voice low and urgent, his eyes scanning their surroundings for a possible escape route. He tilts his head towards the man, his chin jutting out in a subtle nod. "We can't lead him to your place."

Letting out a dejected whine, her shoulders slump in defeat, her voice laced with exasperation. "I know!” She groans, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I don't know what to do! I don't want to have a confrontation."

Law's eyes soften as he witnesses her frustration boil over. He can feel her tension, her anxiety palpable as she recounts the trials of her day.

"Ugh, this has been the worst day! First, Professor Beckmann gives us homework that's hard as hell! Then I had a shit day at work, and now some creep is stalking me home!"

"The homework isn’t hard for me.” Law murmurs, earning a roll of her eyes and an exasperated laugh.

Chuckling he holds up his hands in defense as she playfully hits his arm, her tone teasing but laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"Well, of course, it's not hard for you! I may not know a lot about you, but I do know you're the smartest in our class. No need to brag though." Her words are a gentle jab, but Law knows she's right.

"I wasn't bragging.” he protests, his eyes locking onto hers as she raises an eyebrow, her expression skeptical.

The look she gives him is a clear "You're not fooling me.” and Law can't help but grin, his face warm with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. He knows he's caught, and her playful jab has hit its mark.

"Okay, maybe I was a little," he admits, a sly grin spreading across his face as he raises an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "That wasn't my original intention though." He pauses, his gaze drifting to her school bag. "I noticed you still have your school bag. Figured I'd ask if you'd like to come to my place so I can help you with the homework?"

"Really?!" She asks, her surprise evident in her tone, her voice rising in a delighted squeak.

She can't believe her luck - not only is he offering to help her with her homework, but he's also providing a safe haven from the creepy guy following them. The warm sunlight and sweet scent of blooming flowers in the nearby park add to the sense of serenity, making her feel even more at grateful.

"Yeah, might as well kill two birds with one stone," he says, his voice low and gentle. "You won't have to suffer through your assignments by yourself, and the creepy guy can't follow you home." He offers a reassuring smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You're the best!" She exclaims, her voice full of gratitude, as she wraps herself around his arm, feeling a sense of warmth and belonging.

This is when Law becomes very aware of the fact that they've been holding hands this entire time. His heart skips a beat as he realizes how much he's enjoying her company. The gentle pressure of her hand in his, the softness of her skin, and the sweet scent of her perfume all combine to create a sense of intimacy and connection.

Unbidden Law's face blooms into varying shades of red. Quickly he turns his face in an attempt to hide his blush by covering his face with his hand. "It's no problem.” he says, clearing his throat in an effort to urgently restore his composure.

His voice comes out a little gruffer than intended, but he hopes it will suffice. "As long as you're okay with my noisy ass roommates.” he adds, trying to sound casual despite his inner turmoil.

"I don't mind!" She chirps, her voice cheerful and enthusiastic.

"It's a date then." Law says, his heart racing with excitement.

He can't believe it - she's agreed to come to his place, to spend time with him in a setting that's far more intimate than a crowded classroom or sidewalk.

"A date!" She repeats, her voice rising in surprise. Quickly lowering her head, she tries to cover her face with her hand, her movements endearingly awkward.

Unfortunately for her, before she can, Law manages to catch a glimpse of her reddening cheeks, her embarrassment and delight plain on her face. He feels a surge of pleasure at the sight, his heart skipping a beat as he realizes she's just as excited about this as he is.

Taking pity on her, he rewords his statement, trying to put her at ease. "A study date," he clarifies, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"Right, a study date!" She exclaims, shooting her head up, her cheeks still covered in a blush. "I knew that's what you meant.” she adds, her voice laced with a bashful chuckle, the sound sending a warmth through Law's chest.

He smiles, feeling a sense of connection with her, and nods in agreement, his heart still racing from the excitement of their plans.

After a few moments of walking in slight awkward silence, Y/N suddenly asks, "Oh, do you mind if we stop real quick so I can pick up dinner?" Her voice is laced with a hint of hesitation, as if she's unsure if she's imposing.

"No need," Law replies, trying to sound casual despite his growing excitement about their plans.

"You cook?" she questions, raising a brow in surprise, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Law chuckles sheepishly, feeling a warmth rise to his cheeks. "Absolutely not!" he admits, his voice laced with laughter.

Y/N giggles, the sound sending a thrill through Law's chest. "Well, then what am I supposed to do about food?" she asks, her voice playful.

Law shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I may not cook, but my roommate does. He's actually in Culinary School," he explains, feeling a sense of pride in his roommate's skills.

"That's awesome! Must be nice having a roommate that cooks so well!" She exclaims, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Law nods in agreement, feeling grateful for his roommate's culinary talents.

"While I'd love to try his cooking, I don't want to make him cook so late at night," She says, wanting to be considerate.

Shrugging nonchalantly, he absentmindedly remarks, "He won't mind. You're a pretty girl. He'll gladly do it."

The words slip out before he can catch them, and he feels a flush rise to his cheeks as Y/N's face turns a delicate shade of pink.

Raising an eyebrow, a sly smirk spreading across her face. "Oh, you think I'm pretty?" she asks, her voice laced with playful teasing, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Law's face grows hot as he stammers, "Well, I mean... in a conventional sort of way."

He can't believe what's happening to him tonight. He's usually so calm and collected, but this girl has him flustered, his words tumbling out in a awkward jumble. No other girl has ever made him act this way, it's both alarming and exhilarating.

Y/N's smugness is etched across her face as she replies, "Right…." Her voice dripping with satisfaction. As she raises an eyebrow, her sly smirk grows wider, and Law can't help but be captivated by her playful teasing.

Her eyes sparkle with amusement, as her voice dips low and slight seductive. 'So, Law…. what do you think makes me "pretty" in a "conventional sort of way"?” she asks, her words dripping with glee.

Poor Law's face grows even hotter as he tries to stammer out an answer, but Y/N just laughs, a throaty sound that sends shivers down his spine.

“Oh, Law,” she giggles, shaking her head. “You're so adorable when you're flustered.” As they stroll down the street, Law can't help but notice how Y/N's eyes sparkle in the light of the evening.

She's enjoying this, he realizes, and he can't blame her. He's never been so thoroughly flustered in his life.

Law clears his throat, trying to compose himself, but she just laughs and playfully nudges him with her elbow.

“Oh, come on, Law. I'm dying to know.” As they turn a corner, Law's apartment building comes into view.

“Well….” he starts, trying to sound suave, “it's your smile, your eyes... your whole demeanor, really.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, her expression skeptical, but Law can see the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Go on,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement.

As they approach the entrance to Law's apartment building, reality comes crashing back down on him like a cold shower. "As much as I'd love to continue this, Y/N, we still have to deal with him," Law says, his eyes flicking back over his shoulder to the man who's been following them.

Y/N's smile falters, and her face falls, the fear and anxiety she's been trying to shake off this whole time comes flooding back into her eyes. "What are we gonna do?" she asks, her voice trembling.

Law sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket, the screen flickering to life as he thumbs through his contacts.

"Four of my roommates are quite intimidating," he says, his eyes locked on Y/N's worried face. "I'll ask them to meet us outside."

Finding Zoro’s number he clicks on it, the phone ringing as he puts it to his ear. After the third ring, a gruff voice answers, "What's up, Doc?"

Law's eyes never leave Y/N's face as he speaks, his voice calm and reassuring. "Hey, Zoro. I’ve got a situation here. Can you grab Kidd and the others and meet me outside the building? A friend and I’ve got a tail."

"Sure thing," Zoro agrees, already heading towards the door. "Just one problem though. Kidd isn't here. I'll grab the other two though."

Law's expression turns serious, his eyes narrowing as he processes the information. He presses his lips into a thin line before responding, "Thank you, Roronoa-ya. I'll call Eustass-ya to see if he's nearby."

Zoro's voice comes through the phone once more, "No problem, Doc.” before hanging up.

Law can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Kidd's absence is a significant blow to their plan. Out of his intimidating roommates, Kidd is the most formidable.

In fact, from what Law has seen of the man stalking Y/N, Kidd and he appear to be about the same height and build. Having the red-headed powerhouse by their side would be a significant advantage if things go south.

Law's thumb hovers over the screen as he searches for Kidd's number, his mind racing with possibilities.

He turns his attention back to Y/N, his voice reassuring, "Don't worry, help's on the way." He murmurs, forcing a calm smile onto his face. "Zoro and the others will be here soon. We'll get you out of this, okay?"

Y/N's eyes lock onto his, her gaze searching for any sign of uncertainty. Law keeps his expression steady, hiding his concerns behind a mask of confidence.

She softly nods her head, attempting to appear confident, but secretly, she's still gripped by fear. Law's phone call with Zoro had seemed reassuring, but she can't shake off the lingering feeling of unease.

Just then, the door to the apartment building opens, and Zoro, followed by two of Law's other roommates, Killer and Sanji, exit to stand on the stoop.

Law's eyes slightly widen in surprise as his gaze fixes on a fourth man standing beside Sanji - their fifth roommate, Luffy’s, elder brother Ace.

Zoro's eyes scan the sidewalk, and upon spotting Law and Y/N mere feet away, he points at Ace and calls out, "Ace is here too, so I asked him to tag along." Law's expression morphs into a mix of surprise and gratitude.

While Ace may not be Kidd, the added support of the fiery young man is a welcome surprise. Law's roommates are an formidable bunch, adding Ace's skills and experience, their chances of getting out of this situation unscathed have significantly improved.

Y/N recognizes the rowdy boys from school and feels a glimmer of hope flutter through her. Her heart still races with anticipation, but with Law and his roommates by her side, she feels a sense of security she hadn't felt moments before.

The group's combined strength and determination are palpable, and for the first time since this ordeal began, Y/N dares to think they might actually make it through this alive.

Still wishing Kidd was there, Law clicks on his contact and raises his cell to his ear.

"Come on, Eustass-ya," he mutters under his breath, his frustration growing with each passing moment. "Answer the damn phone."

Just as he's about to give up, Law freezes, his eyes widening in shock. From behind him, he hears the unmistakable ringtone of Kidd's phone, followed by the echo of his gruff voice when he finally answers the call. "What do you want, Doc?"

Law's eyes widen even further as he slowly turns his head to stare back at the man who had been following them this whole time - the man who happens to be his roommate, Eustass Kidd.

"Eustass-ya!" Law exclaims, his voice laced with anger and disbelief. "You're the one stalking Y/N?!"

Dropping his hand from his ear, Kidd lets his arm hang loosely beside him, his phone still clutched in his hand. His expression contorts in a mix of shock, confusion, and anger, his eyes widening in disbelief as he explodes, "What the fuck are you talking about, Doc? I'm stalking who?!" his voice rising in indignation, the words laced with a raw, emotional intensity.

Blinking owlishly, Law stammers, his eyes darting between Kidd and Y/N. "You mean you're not stalking Y/N?" he asks caustically, his voice laced with skepticism, as he points at the confused and afraid girl beside him.

Y/N's eyes are wide with fear, her face pale, and her gaze fixed on Kidd as she awaits an answer.

Lowering his mask to sit below his chin, Kidd's mouth turns down into a deep frown, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Again, who?" he questions, his voice firm, but with a hint of defensiveness. "I ain't never seen this chick before in my life!" He cries, gesturing at Y/N with a dismissive hand, as if she's a stranger he's never laid eyes on.

Y/N takes a step forward, her voice trembling. "B-But...you've been following me since I left work.” she accuses, her eyes welling up with tears. Her words hang in the air like a challenge, her gaze fixed on Kidd, daring him to deny it.

On the stoop, the other guys silently watch the exchange, their faces a mix of shock, confusion, and disbelief.

Sanji, however, is flaming mad, his eyes blazing with fury, his fists clenched at his sides. Angrily he takes a step forward, his body tense, ready to pounce, but Ace quickly intervenes, grasping his arm and holding him back.

"Easy, Sanji," Ace warns, his voice low and calm, but firm. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

Sanji struggles against Ace's grip, his face red with rage. "That bastard's been stalking a girl? I'll kill him!" he growls, his voice low and menacing.

Killer and Zoro watch the scene unfolds, their faces a mask of calm, as their eyes fix on Kidd with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Arms crossed over their muscular chests they wait for an explanation. The tension is palpable, the air thick with unspoken questions.

"I wasn't following anyone!" Kidd reiterates, his voice rising in indignation, his eyes wide with protest. "I was walking home from work!”

Another question keeps rattling around in Law's head, his eyes narrowing in skepticism. "Well, why didn't you say something when she ran up to me shouting my name?" he asks, his voice laced with suspicion. "She was clearly loud enough for you to have heard."

Kidd's expression turns defensive, his hand reaching up, to pull out his AirPod. "I was listening to music this whole time," he explains, his voice firm. "It only paused when you called. I didn't hear a thing until then."

The AirPod dangles from his fingers, the tiny speaker visible, a testament to his claim.

Law's gaze lingers on it, his mind processing the information. The air between them is thick, with unspoken questions and doubts.

Sanji's anger seems to simmer down slightly, his face still red, but his fists no longer clenched. Ace's grip on his arm relaxes, his eyes fixed on Kidd with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. While Killer and Zoro continue to watch the exchange, their faces somber.

Y/N's eyes, however, remain fixed on Kidd, her gaze accusatory, her expression unyielding. "Were do you work?" she asks suspiciously.

"I work at the Victoria Punk auto shop," Kidd replies, his voice firm, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of frustration.

At the revelation of where Kidd works, Law notices Y/N's eyes begin to widen, her face pale, as if she's realizing something. Her eyebrows furrow, and her lips part slightly, in shock.

Hesitantly, Law asks, "Y/N, where do you work?"

Face scrunching up in embarrassment, she whimpers, "Grand Line Bakery and Coffee Shop."

A collective cry of "Oh!" rings out amongst the group, their voices filled with understanding.

"That's right across the street from the shop!" Kidd exclaims, his eyes wide with comprehension, but still flashing with irritation. His face is red as his hair, his large fists clenched by his side, as he processes the situation. "I go there every day after work to grab a bite to eat."

Pulling an empty paper bag out of his coat pocket, Kidd shows the group the bag, clearly showcasing the name of the bakery in bold letters.

"I've never seen you before, though," he huffs, his tone still slightly gruff. To be fair, even if he had, he wouldn't have noticed her. Kidd isn't the most observant person.

Y/N curls in on herself, her face red with shame and mortification. "I just started there.” She murmurs as she looks down at her feet, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I'm so sorry for the confusion!" She cries, her voice trembling.

Law's expression softens, and he takes a step forward, his hand reaching out in a comforting gesture. His eyes are filled with kindness, his voice is gentle as he comforts her. "Hey, it's okay, Y/N. We've all been there. Misunderstanding’s happen."

The tension in the air slowly begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding as the group lets out a collective sigh of relief, which seems to signal a newfound camaraderie.

Kidd's still slightly tense posture and narrowed eyes hint that he's still a little annoyed, but willing to let it go. Sighing reluctantly, he murmurs, "It's all good," his voice is still a little gruff, but his eyes show a hint of compassion. "Sorry I accidentally scared you."

“Oh no, please don’t apologize!” Y/N begs, her hands fluttering in panic as she takes a step closer to Kidd. “This is absolutely my fault!” She exclaims, her voice laced with desperation. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” She asks, her eyes wide with sincerity.

Pursing his lips, Kidd hums as he contemplates his reply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thinks. Finally, a sly smirk spreads across his face. “You could buy me my after-work snack for a month,” He suggests, his voice tinged with amusement.

All too eager to smooth things over, Y/N begins to shake her head in agreement before she is cut off by a sharp growl of “Eustass-ya.”

Frowning at the redheaded man, Law warns him with a gaze that making her pay for a month is way too much.

Tisking, Kidd mumbles, “Ok fine.” Sighing, he changes his mind. “One week,” He says, his voice a little softer. Glancing at Law, he makes sure that is an okay amount of time.

Nodding his head lightly, Law agrees to the arrangement.

Smiling widely, Y/N shakes her head enthusiastically. “You’ve got a deal!” She exclaims, her face flushed with relief.

“Well…” Zoro hums, his voice dripping with boredom, “Now that that's over, I'm going back inside.” Turning on his heel he heads back into the building, his broad shoulders and back flexing slightly as he moves.“Oi, curly brow,” He calls over his shoulder in a languid tone. “What's for dinner?”

Before Sanji can grumble at him, the girl's eyes light up like a lantern. “That's right!” She exclaims, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Spinning around she faces the blonde man, smiling brightly. “Law said one of his roommates is a cook, is that you?” she asks, her voice full of excitement.

“Yes, that's right!” Sanji cries. His eyes transforming into heart, pulsing with excitement. Giddily he scurries up to the girl so fast his legs become a blur.

Dropping down on one knee, his eyes fixed adoringly on hers, his face beams with a charming smile as he takes her hand in his. “That I am!” he declares. “I am your humble servant, Sanji,” his voice dripping with gallantry. “Would you give me the honor of knowing your name, my lovely?” he asks.

The girl giggles, a light blush flushing her cheeks, and replies softly, “Y/N.”

Sanji's eyes widen in delight, and he exclaims, “Oh my! Such a beautiful name for a beautiful young lady!” Bringing her hand to his lips, he presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

From beside them, Sanji hears a low growl, “Cook-ya,” and glances up to see Law’s piercing gray eyes fixed on him, a hint of annoyance in their depths, his sharp jawline flexing slightly as he grits his teeth.

Sanji's eyes flash with annoyance at Law's interruption. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of a beautiful moment here?" he asks, his tone slightly irritated.

Law's jaw clenches in a subtle display of jealousy. "Just making sure you don't get too carried away with your flirtations, Cook. You're not exactly known for your subtlety."

Not wanting the roommates to fight over her, Y/N intervenes, her voice gentle but firm. "Hey, let's not ruin the evening with bickering, okay?" She smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Sanji huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Fine," he says, his tone slightly sulky. "But I'm still going to win her heart with my culinary skills." His confidence unwavering. "And my charm, of course." He declares, sending her a wink.

Y/N laughs, her face lighting up with delight. "I think I can handle both of your egos." She teases, her voice light and playful. "But for now, let's focus on dinner. Sanji, what's on the menu tonight?"

Sanji's face radiates excitement. "Ah, my latest masterpiece!" He exclaims, launching into a passionate description of his latest culinary creations.

Y/N listens intently, her gaze fixed on Sanji, while Law tunes him out, his eyes fixed on her with a hint of affection.

Kidd silently follows the trio inside, observing the scene with disinterest, his eyes fixed onto his phone.

A warm smile spreads across Y/N face as, the group heads towards the kitchen , ready to indulge in Sanji's culinary delights.

As they begin cooking, Law feels grateful for the lighthearted moment and the savory aromas wafting through the air. Surrounded by the comfort and camaraderie of his roommates and the sweet scent of Y/N perfume, he can’t help but feel that the earlier misunderstanding was actually a blessing in disguise.

If you liked please leave a comment (they keep me motivated), like and re-post. Thank you all I hope you enjoyed it! Love ya! 😘

[tenma-udai]

perfect (for you) - gabstar - Haikyuu!! [Archive of Our Own]

bokuaka coffee shop AU/meet-cute !!

Bokuto has never really been much of a coffee person. It’s too bitter, the smell is overpowering, and the caffeine is bad for his nerves. But he’s always appreciated the coffee shop right across the street from his gym. He thinks the snuggling owls engraved onto the spacious window panels are adorable, and the way the shop seems to glow from within when he passes by it in the early mornings feels homey and comfortable. The little cardboard cups that the patrons carry out are intricately decorated in spirals of white, black, and gold. It’s not even a conscious thing really, but for some reason, he always finds himself admiring the cozy little cafe as he passes it by going to and from the gym. Something about the atmosphere, the happy-looking patrons, the way the architecture makes it look more like a bookstore than a coffee shop just leaves Bokuto helplessly charmed by it. 

He never would have gone inside under ordinary circumstances. But one Saturday a monsoon rolls in right as he’s just wrapped up his morning workout. The downpour leaves the gutters overgorged, and rivers rippling down the streets. Damn. Bokuto might still have braved jogging home, but he just dropped a good chunk of change on his super-cool new workout shoes and the thought of getting all that squashy new foam soaked depresses him. He doesn’t want to hang out at the gym all day, either. And then he remembers the cafe. Right across the road. 

The storm has gotten so bad that he’s still fairly soaked, even after only a brisk jog across the street. He opens the door and the heavy scent of coffee hits him. Ugh. Bokuto wrinkles his nose, but he supposes it’s what he’ll have to tolerate for somewhere warm and dry to wait it all out. There are round little tables scattered around the room and the walls are lined with bookshelves. Huh? Is this also a bookstore? No wonder Bokuto had thought it looked so library-esque from the outside! Bokuto gapes at it all as he shakes the rainwater out of his hair and wipes the excess droplets off his jacket. He looks up and— 

Bokuto’s soul is punched out right of his body. Like he’s just been hit over the head with a ton of bricks. He freezes; his eyes go wide and round as dinner plates. Time seems to come to a standstill.

The most gorgeous man Bokuto has ever seen in his life is standing behind the counter. He isn’t looking at Bokuto. He seems entirely transfixed on his task, wiping down white ceramic mugs with beautiful hands. Gorgeous hands, even. Bokuto didn’t know beautiful hands were a thing, but he cannot deny the evidence so plainly in front of him. Long slender fingers, his delicate tendons flexing enticingly, the graceful, purposeful way they move. And then there’s the rest of him: inky black curls framing soft porcelain skin, a sweet mouth pursed into a concentrated frown, thick brows that draw the eye to his piercing gaze, and the longest eyelashes Bokuto has ever seen. Bokuto didn’t think this kind of beauty existed outside of movies and magazines, but here it is right here before him. It’s all Bokuto can do to stop. And stare. And gape. 

Bokuto has no earthly idea how long he stands there. The concept of time is entirely lost on him. The strikingly gorgeous man sets down his mug and startles at the sight of him. 

“Oh!” he says, and wow, even his voice is beautiful. Tenor, melodic, and soft. Bokuto’s heart is doing backflips in his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.” 

He folds his towel neatly before stepping toward the cash register. Cute . The gorgeous man blinks up at Bokuto expectantly. 

“What can I get you today?” he asks.

Bokuto snaps his mouth closed. A shiver ripples up his whole body. He’s speaking to him. 

“Um!” Bokuto squeaks and oh god he’s squeaking. “Hi!” 

Hi? There’s an actual angel standing right in front of him and all Bokuto can think of to say is hi? Goddammit, what the hell is wrong with him? The cashier blinks like Bokuto has surprised him, but then his expression softens into a warm smile. 

“Hello,” he returns, sweet and shy. 

That’s it. Bokuto is done for. He’s found him, this is his future husband right here. Bokuto is certain of it. Bokuto glances down at the name tag pinned to the strap of his cute little apron: Akaashi. Akaashi. Nice to meet you, Akaashi. Bokuto can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with him. He’s going to wake up every morning drinking the sight of his beautiful face; he’ll hear the sweet tenor of his voice saying hello over and over again. Bokuto’s belly is alive with electric butterflies, skittering through his skin and shooting sparks through his fingertips. His grin is too big and undoubtedly dopey-looking. 

“Um,” Akaashi says. There’s a faint flush to his cheeks. “Did you need something?” 

Huh? Oh fuck! Bokuto shakes himself, trying to snap out of it. 

“Coffee!” Bokuto blurts out. “I— I came to get coffee!” 

Akaashi has a strange little smile tugging on his lips. He peeks up at Bokuto through the thick line of his lashes. 

“Well, I would certainly hope that’s what you came for,” he says, in a low voice. 

Wow. Look at him. He’s so perfect. Bokuto is so glad he’s decided to marry him. He fidgets with the strap of his gym bag, nervously shuffling his feet. 

“I— I’ve never been here before,” he admits. He forces himself to look away from Akaashi with great effort, gaze darting up to the black chalkboard menu hanging above their heads. “I— um.”

God, there are so many words written up there. Bokuto is not an excellent reader to begin with and the handwriting isn’t exactly excellent. He squints, mouthing along as he tries to decipher it. 

“Better hurry up,” Akaashi says, voice rich with amusement. He folds his arms over the POS system and rests his chin atop his wrists. “I have quite the line.” 

Bokuto jolts. He whips his head around but the place is entirely empty. Line? What line? Akaashi makes a strangled sound. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, bashfully. He slinks off of the POS system and looks away. “I was— I was just kidding. I think the storm has driven everyone else off.” 

Bokuto swivels back around to stare at him. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. And then promptly bursts into laughter. His duffle bag scrapes the floor as he doubles over. 

“You’re funny, Akashi!” he cries. 

Akaashi clears his throat. “It’s Akaashi.” 

Shit. Bokuto better get this right; it’s going to be his last name someday after all. He furrows his brow and puffs out his chest as he concentrates. 

“Ah-kaa-shee,” he says, drawing out each syllable. 

Akaashi smiles sweetly. “Very good.” 

Bokuto’s belly flutters with his praise. Akaashi looks down, lips pursing strangely and fiddling with his fingers. A nervous habit? Bokuto wonders. That doesn’t seem right. Surely Akaashi is too gorgeous to ever be nervous about anything. Bokuto is certain he has everyone fawning over him, catering to his every whim, and bending over backwards to catch the barest hint of his smile. That’s the only rational reaction to such a serene, untouchable beauty like Akaashi. He should never have a reason to be nervous. Bokuto wishes he could reach across the counter and soothe his fidgeting hands. 

“Did you need recommendations?” Akaashi prods. 

Fuck, right coffee! Bokuto doesn’t know the first thing about ordering coffee. What does Kuroo get when he orders? Bokuto is drawing a blank. 

“I… yes!” he manages. “I want… I want whatever you think is best!” 

Akaashi’s eyes glitter with interest. The corner of his mouth twitches upward like he’s fighting back a smile. 

“Whatever I think is best, hm?” Akaashi repeats, something warm and syrupy laced in his tone. “That’s quite a lot of power you’ve just given me.”

“I trust you!” Bokuto says, clasping his hands into fists and pumping them. “You’re the coffee expert!” 

How does Akaashi’s face get prettier when he flushes? When Bokuto blushes he becomes an unattractive beet-red. Akaashi, however, is somehow soft and delicate with color flooding his cheeks. Like rose petals or champagne. Akaashi moves over to the coffee machine, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Can I get a name for the order?” Akaashi asks. 

“Oh!” Bokuto jumps. “I’m Bokuto! Bokuto Koutarou!” 

Akaashi smiles and Bokuto’s heart leaps in his chest. If Bokuto didn’t know any better he’d think the troublesome organ was trying to escape his ribcage and fling itself at Akaashi directly.  

“Okay, Bokuto-san,” he says. “I’ll make you my favorite.” 

His favorite . Bokuto has to know what it is. What sort of partner doesn’t know their husband’s coffee order? Bokuto drops his duffle bag over on the table closest to the countertop and then hurries back to watch Akaashi work. Akaashi glances over at him, his flush deepening. 

“Wh-what brings you out in this weather, Bokuto-san?” he asks. 

Stammering? Is Akaashi actually the shy type? But he’d been so bold with his teasing earlier! What an enigma. Bokuto wants to know every single thing about him. He wants to crack open Akaashi’s brain and explore every nook and cranny. And then delve into his heart and wedge himself in there somehow while he’s at it. 

“I work at the gym across the street!” Bokuto exclaims. “I— I didn’t wanna jog home in the weather.” 

Akaashi hums like he understands. He flips on a switch and steam billows out of the fancy espresso machine. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before then,” he says.

“I've always been meaning to stop by! I love coffee!” Lying, lying, he’s such a liar, what is he doing?! “The owls on the front outside are so cute!” 

Well at least that last one is true. Akaashi’s smile makes the dubious morality of his falsehoods seem insignificant. 

“Me too,” he admits, almost sounding bashful. “Both coffee and the owls.”

“Really?” Bokuto says, breathlessly. 

Akaashi clears his throat. The tips of his ears are pink.

“Yeah. They’re cute,” he says. He flashes him a soft smile. 

You’re cute , Bokuto opens his mouth to say it, but wait, is that coming on too strong? These kinds of things should be handled with care, shouldn’t they? Fuck, Bokuto should have listened more when Kuroo was bragging about his ‘rizz.’ It suddenly feels like he’s been thrust into a test he hadn’t bothered to study for. 

“They’re super cute,” Bokuto agrees, eager to please him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay what else can he say? Say something charming, clever even. Something that’s sure to impress him. “They’re statistically the cutest animal.” 

Akaashi makes a soft sound of surprise. It takes Bokuto a second to realize it had been a laugh. Akaashi shoots him a grin, eyebrows tilted up like he can’t quite believe it. 

“Statistically?” he repeats, amusement evident in his tone. 

“It’s a fact,” Bokuto continues. He holds up one finger as he speaks. “One, they have big eyes, which everyone knows makes animals cute. Two, they’re fluffy and soft, which is very cute. Third—” 

“Those… aren’t statistics. Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupts, squinting his eyes at him skeptically. Bokuto’s heart pounds. His mouth is dry as sandpaper in the blink of an eye. 

“They aren’t?” Bokuto asks.  

Akaashi’s mouth twists in amusement. 

“I think you have the word confused,” Akaashi explains, gently. He stirs cream into the coffee with elegant flicks of his wrist. “Statistics require gathering data and taking practical measurements. I’m afraid that something as subjective as ‘cuteness’ would be extremely difficult to take any statistics on.” 

Bokuto blinks three times. He gasps suddenly. 

“And you’re smart too?!” he cries, clutching at the silvery spikes of his hair. He shakes his head, disbelieving “Oh wow! Wow, Akaashi! You’re—"

Bokuto struggles to find the right thing to say. It ends up being the only thing that’s been on his mind since he first set eyes on him. 

“You’re perfect!” Bokuto blurts out. 

Akaashi rocks back on his heels like Bokuto physically struck him. He makes some kind of noise— not unlike a repressed squeal— and his mouth squirms into an uncomfortable line. He looks away, tucking his face into his elbow, the back of his neck flushing a deep red. 

“I— I wouldn’t—” he struggles. He clears his throat and braces himself on the counter. “No one is perfect, Bokuto-san.” 

So cute. So earnest and so effortlessly charming. He’s doing a terrible job of convincing Bokuto that he isn’t perfect right about now. Bokuto laughs. 

“How can you say that?!” Bokuto cries. “You’re funny, you’re smart! And you’re beautiful too! You’re like the perfect guy!” 

Akaashi pushes his glasses up his nose, shooting him a stern look. 

“Is that all it takes to be the perfect guy, Bokuto-san?” he asks, dryly. Bokuto puffs out his cheeks in defiance, placing his hands on his hips. 

“Well it’s a pretty good start!” he protests. 

Akaashi’s breath hitches. He chokes. He covers his mouth with his hand, and his body heaves. It takes Bokuto a few seconds to realize it but he’s— he’s laughing! Bokuto is alive with glorious triumph. He’s definitely doing something right if he’s managed to make Akaashi laugh like this. Full-bellied and breathless, pink with his giggling. Akaashi looks back up at him and clears his throat, trying to compose himself as he smooths down his apron nervously. 

“I…” he says, still breathing hard. “I suppose you have a point there.” 

Bokuto preens. 

“I’m pretty smart too, huh?” he boasts. 

Akaashi looks amused for some reason. His eyes are sapphire blue, Bokuto realizes then, as they dance with delight. Wow. Bokuto really has hit the jackpot. Akaashi scans Bokuto’s body quickly and turns back to his work. He sprays whipped cream on top of the coffee and peppers chocolatey powder on top. 

“You’re also very funny,” Akaashi says, in a low voice. He then places the white mug on a little white dish and hands it to him. Their fingers brush as Bokuto takes it and tingles race up his spine at the contact. Akaashi swallows, looking at the floor shyly. 

“And… and the third thing too,” Akaashi says, giving him another once over. 

Bokuto takes eight full seconds to process what he’s just said. Partially because he’s still reeling from their fingers touching, but mostly because Akaashi looks so hopeful, so expectant and just so beautiful that it knocks the wind out of Bokuto entirely. He wonders what colors Akaashi would like for their wedding. Bokuto has always been partial to gold and pale pink personally. Bokuto thinks a spring ceremony would be best. Akaashi would look so lovely with cherry blossoms swirling around him, maybe a few catching in his inky curls. And then it would be like every year the earth was celebrating their anniversary with them. He’s going to have to ask for his ring size. Is Akaashi’s family the traditional type? He’d better ask. Also, what is Akaashi’s given name? He can’t very well call him ‘Akaashi’ if they’re both about to be Akaashis soon enough here. Bokuto stands there, dazed and still holding the mug of coffee, smiling like an idiot. 

“Okay,” Akaashi says, a strangely wheezy quality to his voice. “Well. I’m sorry. I thought—” 

Sorry? Everything Akaashi’s just said hits him like a sharp slap to the face. Bokuto gasps and the coffee drops out of his hands, smashing to pieces on the floor. Akaashi jumps. 

“You’re! You just! Beautiful! The third thing is beautiful!” Bokuto shouts. He jumps from foot to foot in his excitement, clutching his face. “Oh! Oh wow! Really? Me?”

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi cries. “Stop! There’s broken glass!” 

“We’re perfect!” Bokuto cries, only half-listening. “Oh my god— Akaashi! You and me! We’re perfect!” 

“Please don’t hurt yourself!” Akaashi is shouting. “Stay still!” 

Bokuto freezes with great difficulty, hands still raised and shoulders crowded to his ears. But he has to obey. Wasn’t one of the marriage vows something about obedience? Bokuto frowns as he struggles to remember. He can’t help wiggling his shoulders in a little happy dance as Akaashi drags over a trash can and a mop. 

“Akaashi, let me help you with that,” Bokuto insists. 

Akaashi gives him a withering look. 

“I can’t very well let a customer clean up,” Akaashi says. 

“But it’s my fault!” Bokuto protests, stooping down to help him pick up glass pieces very carefully. Akaashi sighs. 

“Please don’t cut yourself,” Akaashi says, but allows Bokuto to help him. They pick up the shattered ceramic piece by piece with careful hands. Akaashi’s long, elegant fingers seem like they were born for the task and Bokuto can’t help but admire it. 

“Sorry for making a mess,” Bokuto says, softly. 

Akaashi hums. His mouth twitches. 

“Well,” he says. “I suppose no one is perfect after all.” 

Bokuto jolts in surprise. And then promptly laughs. 

“Akaaaaashi!” he cries. “Are you teasing me?” 

Akaashi looks up at him, grinning mischievously, and for a brief moment Bokuto sees it all. Everything flashes through his mind’s eye in less than a second: their fingers brushing in the popcorn bowl during their movie date, Akaashi carrying around a giant plushie Bokuto wins for him at the carnival, splitting one milkshake with two straws, a road trip to the beach where Akaashi wears a floppy sun-hat as they watch the sunset, Akaashi in a tux with dreamy look on his face as flower-petals swirl in the air around him. They’ll buy a house, Bokuto is thinking two kids--maybe more if Akaashi thinks they can handle it-- and lastly he sees Akaashi’s face, wrinkled with smile lines and soft with age, but still just so beautiful. Because this is it. This is him. 

“I might be,” Akaashi admits. “Is that okay?” 

Delight bubbles inside Bokuto, too pure and potent to contain. It comes bursting out of Bokuto in all-too happy giggles. 

“Tell you what,” Bokuto says. “Go out with me, and you can tease me all you want.” 

Akaashi’s lips spread into a slow, sweet grin. And Bokuto knows it’s the perfect way to start their forever. 

[raisindave]

[Chapter 52] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

He was shorter than you would've expected, shorter than any trainer you've had before. Even stood next to Price, he looked nearly half his size. You could easily match his height with a better pair of shoes than your running sneakers. A decent night's sleep made you bright-eyed and eager to learn, a sentiment Price seemed keen to share, catching a glimpse of a confident smile under his moustache. For the time being you were taking in as many visual clues as possible as to who this prescribed instructor was. A tight-fitting moss-coloured tee clung to lean muscles on a slender frame, definitely not a soldier per se, but unquestionably some kind of martial arts instructor. Roughly your age, with deeply rooted smile lines etched into his cheeks. 

"Sergeant Grant, this is Lorenzo. Lorenzo, Sergeant Grant. You'll be spending the next few weeks together," Price's voice boomed over the tile toward you.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sergeant," Lorenzo spoke in a thick Italian accent, rocking on his heels as he spoke. 

"It's nice to meet you as well," the words flowed easily as you stood before the two men, the rest of your comrades sat just past them at the same tables you had spent the night before. "-And just Lua is fine." 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a skeletal mask rise from whatever he was doing as you spoke those words. Lorenzo smiled sweetly when you approached, pulling you into a handshake that shook your entire body. With an upturned palm he led you through a pair of swinging doors that bridged the common room to the outdoor courtyard, not wasting time with further introductions. Gleaming sunlight caught on fresh puddles that made your pupils strain to adjust to the change of lighting. At least the air was fresh, sticky with dew. It still smelled of warm rain on damp concrete and grass from the recent showers Gaz so kindly noted the night before. 

"Do you speak my language?" He spoke as you walked, 

"Like a two-year-old," you lamented, "nothing beyond the bare minimum."

He hummed in thought as he pressed further into the sunny turf, taking his time to consider his words as an unsteady silence wedged between you. From where you stood, there were buildings on either side of you, like a horseshoe of concrete and plaster enclosing you into a broad grassy courtyard. The opening that didn't directly lead to a glass window or brick wall led to the damp tarmac where bustling aircrew scurried like ants to ferry jets and trucks to their allocated spaces. 

"You captain said you're like a kind of traduttrice," he spoke with an air of certainty despite his fractured knowledge of the language.

Of course Price speaks fucking Italian. He seems to speak a little bit of every language, to the point where it makes you wonder why you're even on the team to begin with. 

"A linguist. Like a translator, just with a few extra steps," you corrected awkwardly, raking your eyes over the lush trees that fenced the grassy plaza offering shade for rich soil. 

"Linguist, Linguist," he trailed off, rolling the word over his tongue as if to taste it. "You're like a songbird- la uccellino, singing different songs and chirping them back to your officers."

"That's one way of putting it," you shrugged, returning your gaze back to his. 

It gave you a chance to consider his appearance further. Rich olive skin made him look like he belonged in an oil painting, and brown curls hooked and looped atop his head in messy locks. He wasn't hard on the eyes, definitely the kind of man you'd see on the cover of one of those 10-cent romance novels you see at thrift shops. And something about his easy grin said he knew it. 

"Let us begin?"

"Here? In the yard?" You jested, uncertainty reverberating through your system as if he'd just delivered a punchline. 

"Rule one: combat doesn't consider your comfort," he said, slapping his hands together in a clap as he spoke, rolling his neck around his shoulders.

"But… does the first lesson have to be in the mud?" Only after the words passed your lips did you realize how whiny you sounded. 

"Okay, we can just talk then," Lorenzo smiled sweetly, meeting you with hazel eyes. 

"Thank you," you said, folding your arms over your chest as the chilly morning air crept over exposed forearms. 

"Okay, Uccellino. See how your feet are shoulder-width apart?" He stepped closer, meeting your eye level. 

Your eyes followed his pointed finger as it led you to correct your stance, but just as your gaze caught your feet, a flash of movement caught you by surprise. In an instant, an explosion of pressure hit your shoulder, one that you quickly identified as you being hurtled to the ground. His boot had swiped out your feet from under you, toppling you to the ground like a sack of rocks. Sunlight suddenly beaming in your face, paired with cruel gravity and searing pain made you wince. Cool mud from a rainy night before squelched under your shoulder, seeping through your shirt and caking into your hair as you wrestled against gravity. 

That's when you heard your peanut gallery chuckling in the background. A flick of your eyes showed your four comrades watching this trainwreck unfold in a matter of seconds. The world had only just stopped spinning when you caught their playful judgement, but the horror of their scrutiny was overruled by your attacker's approach. Lorenzo extended his hand down to you, inviting you to help yourself back up to your feet. It took half a mind not to slap it away, rejecting his corny training style. 

"You lied," you barked, slapping your hand against his as you hoisted yourself back upright. 

"Rule two: don't trust anyone," he let his grip on your hand slip, making your tailbone collide with the damp mud again. 

You swung your ankles behind you, leaning forward to bring yourself upright on your own, but a boot on your hip sent you toppling back down. Cool mud squished between spread fingertips, blowing away stray hairs with an exasperated breath. The peanut gallery dispersed, catching them sauntering away toward the tarmac on the horizon. Another flash of movement commanded your attention back to the figure before you, reflexively wrenching your body to catch an incoming kick from hitting your side. Recently pristine pants chafed and dragged over your thighs, forming leaded weights restricting explosive movement. 

"Do you think the only time someone'll attack you is when you're on satin pillows and sheepskin?" he called down to you playfully after you thwarted his initial kick. "No—the real combat happens when you aren't ready for it. It's dirty and unpredictable, and it always will be. Even when you're training."

"How am I supposed to train if you won't even let me get back to my fucking feet?" You spat, offence clouding your vision along with the slurry of muck. 

"That's not my problem," he sighed, circling around you like a vulture. "It's yours," his passing shadow suggested he was keen for another strike. 

"That's not fair, attacking me when I'm already down," the words came out like a roar, clawing for control over cruel gravity that insisted you surrender. 

"It's the best time to attack someone, really," his shadow lurched into yours.

Your legs sprung forward when a clenched fist tried to grip the back of your slippery shirt, instincts compelling you to resist his grapple at all costs. Seconds fluttered past in a blur. Unsteady ground resisted your attempt to understand your footing, forcing the terrain to serve as an additional opponent in this fight. There wasn't enough breath in your lungs to allow you to leap to bring him down with you like you wished you could. 

"So is this what you teach? Brutality?" you roared. 

"I teach survival. 'Doesn't have to be pretty, Uccellino," his accent rolled his words, swinging on squishy footing to aim another shot at your side. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," you grunt with a tight jaw restricting your enunciation. 

"My beloved mother used to say, 'Every knock is a boost,'" he sang as his boot connected just below your shoulder blade. 

You cried out in pain, and for a moment all the world's colour was replaced with darkness. Blooming heat radiated from where he'd struck, forcing all remaining air from your lungs. It made you gasp and gape for air like a fish out of water.

"I doubt your mother has ever had to deflect a kick to the kidney laying flat on her back in the mud," you chirped back with a fractured voice, creaking from your strain for oxygen. 

Finally, an explosion of movement and sheer willpower brought your feet to swing below you, rising from a crouch on shaky posture. It could have been his mercy, but you'd prefer to recognize it as you finally getting ahold of yourself. Crisp air on damp skin did an excellent job at cooling superheated muscles when you finally had the opportunity to find precious moments without an incoming smite. Your head spun, even when you tried to shake away the fog that came with standing upright too quickly. 

"Rule Three: Use your size to your advantage, Uccellino. You're no brute like your comrades," Lorenzo gestured for you to lower your stance with a downward-turned palm. 

"You're just making these rules up as you go, aren't you?" you muttered, turning on your heels to face him as he began to pace around you again, eagerly. 

"Let the attackers' momentum do the heavy lifting, and you're just here to guide them along," his words and actions clicked in your mind, and he hopped into a jolt toward you.

Where his fists initially collided with the fabric material just below your collarbone, you instead deflected his grip with your forearm, swaying your torso low to steady your balance. In a show of repurposed kinetic energy you guided his advancements past you, planting the heel of your palm on the back of his shoulder to steer him away. With your posture lowered, it meant your center of balance was low- lower than someone who had height over you. Low enough to regain composure quickly enough to strike back, slamming your shin into his spine as he stumbled from your diversion. His grunt turned into a laugh as he turned back to you, responding your well-placed strike with a pleased smile that flickered to a wince. 

It was a valuable lesson, a unique trait of your stature. One that was never taught to you expressly taught to you in generalized training that came with your enlistment. Laswell did indeed mention that you wouldn't be expected to see combat, but the field has regularly put you closer to the action than you're used to. The threat of violence is just the new norm now, and it's past your time to adapt. Part of you made you hate the fact that Ghost was right about one thing, but the other part of you wanted to deny his correctness altogether, opting to declare it your own discovery. 

Training went on for a time, possibly another hour considering the sun's angle. It was no use looking at your wristwatch; it was caked with a thick layer of mud thanks to Lorenzo's avant-garde teaching style. By the time he called it, you found yourself cradling muscles you didn't even know existed in your body. Sweet spit had pooled in your tongue and messy hair made you look like a wraith. The thought of what passers-by might be thinking had never crossed your mind since your comrades left, but the few passing soldiers in tight formations seemed too thoroughly drilled to turn their heads to observe fully. However, that didn't stop brief glances. 

Initial outrage and a damaged ego translated to an unexpected bump in confidence once you started getting the hang of your instructions. Learning always felt so rewarding, especially when it's on your own terms. Bidding Lorenzo adieu came with a polite smile and a 'well done' that made weakened muscles feel like they're worth the oncoming soreness. Eventually you stepped past the swinging doors you'd passed through hours before, yawning in the crisp conditioned air. The Italian sun was searing at this time of year, though nowhere as severe as your last locations. Perfect imprints of each tread of your boots were left behind with every step toward your dorm, counting down the seconds until you could burn these ruined rags. 

Even in the shower, you got to track what existing bruises marred your skin before the new ones had time to manifest. Deep red teeth marks on your inner thigh began to fade to pink, a dwindling memory, soon to be overridden by brutal Lorenzo's grappling. It's refreshing to not have to scuffle with someone twice your size. Price couldn't have chosen a better instructor, though the thought of another lesson in the morning made your joy dim. It felt like every time you ran your hair through another handful of shampoo, more dirt swirled into the drain in a neverending cycle. Uccellino, what a sweet nickname. Little bird. So sweet, more graceful than a cricket. An insect that's known for its penchant to irritate people. 

Just as you started to wonder where those teammates had disappeared off to, a view past orange curtains showed them filing out of a boxy green jeep just off the distant tarmac. Price and Gaz immediately followed by Soap and Ghost. Each sported heavy armour and packs, but it goes without saying what they were up to. Probably trudging through a nearby forest or cliff face, enjoying local scenery while you were fighting for your life in the mud. It's hard to be upset though; after all, it means you got to avoid rucking. That's a win, even if it means cleaning rocks of dirt from split fingernails. 

They had the nerve to look peachy keen, bounding toward the complex in springy steps. Didn't even break a sweat. Soap was swinging his helmet around like a purse, tapping the back of his fist into Ghost's shoulder. Ghost must have replied with some snide quip that made the other's faces light up with a chuckle before they slipped from your field of view. Just before they passed, you swore you felt brown eyes flicker to meet yours through the window, but the second you saw movement in your direction from that pale mask you'd ducked away. 

More than anything, a sense of power and pride warmed your chest as you wring your hair dry with a thin towel. The world tends to feel small when you're stuck with the same six or seven faces on repeat. Especially when each of those faces could pummel you to death, shatter your career, or both in some cases. A rare glimmer of hope sang in your bloodstream, and with the upcoming gala, it felt like you might just meet your prince charming who'll whisk you off your feet. You'd never pinned yourself as the hopeless romantic type, and the thought confused you. Maybe Italy just has that effect. Ultimately, the feeling of control and pride is an illusion, and the powers that be hold your puppet strings like leads. But it didn't mean you couldn't enjoy one moment of genuine peace. No matter how brief it'll likely be. 

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[aegon6targaryen]

AO3 - Of Kings and Bastards - 10

Hi everyone, with the help of my good friend MidJourney, I was now finally able to come up with an image of Prince Aegon Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar and Elia Martell, as I imagine him in my fic "Of Kings and Bastards" on AO3 and that I'm happy with.

I wanted him to look tall and strong, yet athletic rather than bulky, more like the first Aegon, who was said to have been a brick wall of a man, than like Rhaegar, who was rather slender. I hope that can be seen. :-)

So, here he is: