#textures are comfortable for me. i like power through for stuff that tastes good but i hate a lot of white american food for this reason

[unidentifiedfuckingthing]

i dont think theres any one food that can bridge all autistics preferences and sensitivities but if i could beam a thought at every new-food averse autistic to try its lentils........ i kept seeing people picking out mexican and indian food specifically as difficult to try/find safe foods because they both tend to be spicy/intense/complex and i think part of that is probably sampling bias that in america people just arent as likely to go to a restaurant for more mundane foods so youre less likely to find or be suggested these simple comfort food style things but in my eyes lentils are like the next tier down from like, rice, for easy & palatable & highly extensible base ingredients

[isometimeswritenicethings]

A Bit of Fluff for Everyone

Soft, plush pillows cradle your head while a cozy mattress hugs and holds your body, an incredible peace allowing your breath to flow steadily and your heart to beat strong. Surrounding you is a dark room lit only by a single, red lava lamp, the different shades of night brought to life by the sounds of lively, light-hearted music and an intoxicating aroma which blesses your lungs but only once a week. How beautiful it is to bathe in this scent of love, home, and comfort; while you wish it could follow you all day and all night, you know that getting used to it would be quite drab. No – instead, it surprises and delights you every time you are able to experience it again, remembering each beautiful memory tied to that little knot in your brain which it awakens and tickles with its little fingers.

You take a deep breath, expanding your lungs and filling your body with this astounding experience; they smell so beautiful. This being, this ball of love which you hold in your arms, smells of late evenings in your car and days spent watching movies, playing games, and shopping. A life so fragile, so delicate; you care for them so tenderly, wishing to give them only the best love that you can offer. A gentle rustle against your chest as they make an adjustment, lifting your hand and pressing it to their soft, careful lips. A damp tickle caresses your skin for only a second before their gentle love lifts from your fingers. Then, as if by some miracle, it happens again and again and again, sending sweet, warm traces up your arm, through your spine, and right into that ball in your brain which makes you shiver and sigh in pure, innocent bliss.

Their hair brushes against your nose and cheeks as they continue planting marks of love all up and down your arm, you starting to wonder if you can even take any more of this wholesome pleasure. There is nothing left for your mind to think about; all you feel is that little ball lighting up in joy each and every second. Your body starts to fill with this excited tingle to the point where it feels like you may very well explode.

“Love, turn around.”

Their barrage comes to a slow stop, a few more kisses having been planted for good measure. They slowly release your arm and spin around in front of you, putting their face in yours, your noses kissing between two pairs of cheeks. You can’t help but wear the dumbest smile your muscles could think up. Through a few centimeters of darkness, your eyes meet with their matching pair, staring at you with more love and admiration than you can even imagine.

“You are driving me absolutely crazy in the best way.”

“I knooow, but you always make me stop.”

“It’s because you make me feel like I’m going to pop with whatever that shit is. Y’know, like, in your brain.”

“Oxytocin?” You can hear a patronizing chuckle in their lungs as they correct you.

“Yeah, whatever – that stuff. Shut up.” Your mouth stretches to a smile, but your embarrassment tries to pull it into a frown. The result is an undeniable grin with the sides pulled down.

“Don’t be so silly, or else I’ll have to kiss you again.”

“What if I wanna be sillyyy?”

“Then you better be able to handle your oxytocin.”

After a short moment of thought, you decide upon the best course of action. “How am I supposed to be silly, again?”

“Just like that, goober.” You see their eyes shut with yours following close behind. Soon enough, their nose moves beside yours, the two hugging as their attentive lips press up against yours, gripping at your upper lip and holding it firmly. A tsunami of their tender aroma and this powerful bliss rage all across your body, filling your head with nothing but beauty and love, your heart flying from your chest. Even if your brain would let you, your mouth would refuse to leave this soft, warm embrace; it simply feels too good. And so, you cherish each infinity that passes while this kiss persists, each heartbeat bringing into frame a new realization of their texture, their taste, their scent, how they feel in your arms, the oxytocin in your head and the buzzing throughout your body. When they finally release you from their lips’ embrace, your brain flows back through each thought and feeling which washed over your mind and body, storing them forever in some secret part of your brain to be unlocked the next time you are reminded of their scent.

After what feels like an eternity, you are finally back in your bed in this dim, lava-lamp-lit room, soft music playing as this beautiful human lays in front of you, staring affectionately into your pounding soul. Your heart controls your mouth as it releases these three, simple words out into their listening ears.

“I love you.”

You see a wide smile creep across their face, their eyes in a squint as their cheeks push them ever so slightly shut.

“I love you, too.”

They bury their face in your neck, their hair cradling your chin with a soft tickle each time they breathe and move ever so slightly. Eventually, all manages to fade away as you are carried off into the best sleep of your life.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

[scented-morker]

⇢˚⋆ ✎ life of the party

Party boy! Jay x female reader

Warning : drinking, partying, but I think that’s it

Word count : 2.05k

Overview: dating the university’s party animal means you have to attend as well, and one night you get a little too into it, ending up with your boyfriend simping for you while you’re wasted in his passenger seat 🥰

･:*:･ﾟ☆

As soon as Jisu turns onto the street you can hear the blaring music, a telltale sign that the "small get together" your boyfriend had convinced you to attend was not as small and casual as he made it sound. You probably should expect it by now, dating the class party animal comes with some not as normal girlfriend duties as say your friends who went to their boyfriends sporting games or went on study dates after school. Not that you and Jay didn't do those kinds of things, but it was a Friday night and half the towns "in crowd" had parents away on a company retreat.

Jisu pulls into the grassy area on the outside of the gate, shifting the car into park while you have her a grateful smile.

"Thank you for coming with me, I get it if you don't wanna be here since it's way bigger than I said"

"Y/n, honey I've done this before, I know your boyfriend and his friends, it'd be crazy of me to think it was going to be anything less than a circus in here. Why do you think I made you change out of that awful mom jean fit?"

You looked down at the expensive lavender dress she had let you borrow, it was a satiny texture and a little out of your comfort zone, but it hugged your figure well and all fear about being overdressed was now scratched as you saw the magnitude of the party.

You sent her a sheepish smile, glad to have a friend with brain cells when it came to parties at least, she copied your homework every morning before class

You step out of the car, thanking past you for choosing the white go-go boots on your feet instead of strappy heels at the sound of your friend squealing as her heels sink into the wet grass. It makes you both walk faster, and before you know it you're walking through the door, instantly being sucked into the giant crowd of bodies. Jisu takes your hand before you can get separated, leading you to the kitchen.

"You," she mixes random bottles set out on the counter into two red solo cups, taking one herself and then shoving the other into your hand, "are going to have so much fun tonight"

You raise your eyebrow at her but take a sip anyway, confused when it doesn't taste disgusting.

"Can you make more of these?" You excitedly ask, knowing this is a much better alternative to the gross keg everyone else was drinking out of.

"Yeah, if you finish it and still want another one I can, but honestly with the amount of stuff in there and your ahem, lightweight tendencies, you might be gone before you finish that"

You give her a playful glare but listen anyway, taking smaller sips as not to chug it all and ruin your brain for the rest of the night.

She heads out to find her other friend Yuna, who she heard was here thanks to the drunk freshman babbling about her smile, and you head out to look for your boyfriend.

You make your journey into the crowd of dancing bodies, stopping to dance with some of the acquaintances you've made at school. Eventually the music changes and you continue your journey, spotting Jay over by the wall, popping a sucker in his mouth as he heads over to where his friend Heeseung is standing.

A surge of excitement goes through you when you see him, the same emotion you get every time you're reminded that he's yours, intensified by the atmosphere of the party and whatever was in your now nearly empty cup. His black hair shone under the party lights and the smirk he wore gave you an adrenaline rush.

'That's mine' you thought smugly as you walked past some girls that were staring at him, giving them an obvious side eye to let them know you had seen them checking out your boyfriend. They averted their looks as you continued your confident stride up to Jay.

"Babe!"

He spotted you coming up to him and his entire demeanor changed, the smirk now a full on smile and he practically ran towards you. Apparently he was just as excited to see you as you were him.

"You made it!!"

"To your little get together" you put sarcastic air quotes around your words while giving a laugh, "yeah I did"

"I'm sorry babe, I should have known it would get this wild" he really should have, but you let it slide because he looks genuine with his apology.

He finally let's go of the hug, sliding his right arm around your waist and looking down at you, seeming to just notice your outfit.

"Wow, you look, wow"

You let out a giggle, pulling the collar of the white shirt he wears under his black tee, and he lets you bring his face down to yours as you connect your lips in a kiss.

You're still giggling when you pull away.

"Thank you"

He laughs at you, grabbing the cup from your hands and checking the level of liquid.

"Yeah how much of this have you had babe," he asks, although the look on his face tells you he already knows.

"Just that one!!"

He gives you the cup back, ruffling your hair and muttering something about "lightweight" before sliding his arm back around you, pulling you with him as he goes back to his group of friends.

You stand with him as he talks to Jake, something about dancing you think, you weren’t really paying attention. Your focus was on his chest, where your hand was fiddling with the long chain hanging off of his neck. You don’t know why you were so transfixed with it, and at this point you were so far gone you didn’t have the brain power to think about it.

You took another sip from your cup, finding it empty and pouting down at the plastic. You tugged on Jay’s chain lightly to get his attention, lifting your cup up to let him know where you were going. He nodded his head once in understanding and turned back to his friends.

You once again had to cross the slew of sweaty, dancing bodies to get to the kitchen, and you once again stopped to dance, partially forgetting what you were even doing in the first place.

Maybe you didn’t need another drink after all. Another drink! That’s what you were doing!

You smile to yourself, eyes turning into round circles as you got back to your original plan.

You’re too lazy to try and make your own drink or find Jisu to make you one, so you just grab a bottle, pouring until your cup is halfway full and then heading back out to Jay.

When you get there he’s laughing at something Sunghoon said, and you get back into your spot on his side, hands finding their way back to his chain.

“Welcome back babe”

You find yourself giggling at the affectionate nickname, leaning into his chest.

“Okay, you” he’s chuckling slightly to himself while he speaks, a raspy sort of laugh that makes your stomach do flip flops, “have had enough of this”

He takes a sip of your cup, almost coughing up a long immediately after before looking at you like you’re insane.

“This is straight vodka”

His friends break out into laughter and you join in with them, enjoying Jays unfortunate action.

“Oops”

He smiles at you before setting your drink down, and quick as lightning he’s picking you up, spinning you around while teasing you for trying to ‘drink like a big kid’, your endless laughter right in his ear the entire time.

When he finally stops you explain yourself, “I was just too lazy to mix anything and beer is gross”

The group laughs again, and then Jay starts telling them goodnight, doing the weird bro hug thing they did after every party and saying he’s going to ‘take this one home before she starts dancing on tables’ which honestly, now that you think of it does sound pretty fun.

You wave goodbye as your boyfriend leads you out, shooting a text to Jisu that you’re leaving with Jay and won’t need a ride home so she doesn’t freak out when she can’t find you.

He’s parked a few feet away from the driveway, surprisingly not blocked in by other vehicles.

He goes to the passenger side ahead of you, opening the door, presumably to let you in, but you take a slight detour.

“Dancing on tables sounds fun, but you made us leave”

He stares at you while you climb up on the hood of his car, slightly shaking his head and letting out a laugh when you start doing the Macarena on his hood.

“Wait wait!! C’mere”

You call him over, and he immediately comes, the passenger side door still wide open as he leaves it to come see you.

“This is gonna be so cool, I’m finally taller than you”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, but the loving smile is still there.

“C’mere”

You notion him closer, and he obliges, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when you attack him with a flurry of kisses all over his face, laughing before eventually joining together at the lips.

He meant it to be a short peck, but when he goes to pull away you don’t let him, holding on tighter to his collar and chasing his lips.

By now you’ve sat down on the hood, abandoning your standing position as you slide further down the car to be closer to him, and his hands rest on your waist before he’s finally able to pull away, although the pout on your face let’s him no you aren’t happy about it.

“What has gotten into you tonight” he laughs, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear while you grip onto his biceps.

“I don’t knowwww!!!” You whine, leaning back on the car, “you just look really good tonight. Did you know that? Like as soon as I saw you I just died, and I really want to mess up your hair”

His cheeks stay the same shade of peach that they previously were, although the tips of his ears light up and he smiles down at the floor.

“I mean you can still mess up my hair, but I’m not making out with you in my friends driveway while you’re wasted”

You give him a frown, wanting to deny his accusations but realizing that’s exactly what you wanted to do.

“Fine” you huff out, sliding off of the car and letting him lead you around to the still open door.

He walks around to the other side, sliding in the drivers seat and starting the music, Tattoos Together by Luav floating out of the speakers as he pulls out of the drive.

“I don’t want to leave you yet, can we not go home”

He looks over at you for a little second eyes on the road kids before giving a little nod.

“How about we go get some coffee, sober you up a little, and then we can go to my house and you can show me the star shapes you like”

You excitedly agree, giving a little “yay” as he turns toward the 24 hour coffee place, although your brain can’t let his small transgression slide, and you launch into a speech about “they’re actually called constellations Jay. C-o-n-s- tellstions, idk I can’t spell, but they aren’t star shapes”

He smiles at your rant, purposefully having said it to get you to correct him, laughing while you give a very dumbed down and partially incorrect explanation of how stars are formed.

He wasn’t sure why you curled up in a ball in his passenger seat drunk babbling about astronomy at 2am made him realize it, but he was oh so in love with you, and there was no going back from the blooming in his heart when you laughed at yourself for saying something completely wrong, your hand latching around his and shaking it in your amusement.

Yeah, Jay was in deep.

[anyoneseenadam]

The Moon Spirit - three

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: Fenrys being cute, badass reader but like a shit ton of angst, allusions to sexual assualt (Fenrys canon stuff), mentions of weapons? idk if that counts

word count: 4.4k

a/n: so this took a while but it’s finally done, please comment it genuienly keeps me going cause it’s super easy to get unmotivated, hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————————————

After he left you, Fenrys begrudgingly found himself back at the palace, bowed on one knee in front of Maeve. She looked cruelly beautiful as always but there was something more sinister sparkling in her eyes today, remaining quiet as he stood back to his full height, meeting her gaze with wavering confidence.

“Who have you been with?” she finally broke the silence and he cursed himself for thinking he could ever get away with that.

“I just walked a young girl home, she was new, and I was afraid someone may take advantage of her if she was alone,” he spoke truthfully, allowing Maeve to push into his mind as she searched for a hidden lie.

He watched as she drew in a sharp breath, something like fear flickering across her face before her tightly drawn lips spread into a wide smile.

“Come here,” she commanded, and he went to stand in front of her, close enough to smell her sickening perfume and to see the flawless texture of her skin. “Do you love this girl?”

He shook his head, no, and she ran a hand down his face in a motherlike way. “Good, you will be recruiting her.” His eyes widened and he had to put his energy into not flinching away.

“What?” he spoke with an incredulous tone and Maeve glared at his lack of respect making him bow his head. “Sorry your majesty, I’m just slightly confused. She was just a young girl and didn’t seem to have any former training.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge, you men are too foolish. That was a powerful girl, and I would rather she remained on my side than any other.” He frowned, powerful? She had seemed kind, lost and strong enough to hold her own – but not powerful.

“I need you to see her again, convince her to join.” Fenrys physically felt the command go through him and he stood taller again, nodding gruffly as she waved her hand in dismissal.

--

Your first few days of work had been harder than expected, and you had gone home with aching muscles from lifting books and sore cheeks from plastering on smiles. Albert had made your days easier, drinking hot tea with you as you slowly revealed more and more about your past to him, his kind, old eyes lulling you into a comforting state.

But you didn’t receive rest when you got home. Ploughing through books on spirits and practicing using the limited magic you had found until the early hours of the morning, getting barely two hours of sleep a night unplagued by nightmares. By your fifth day Albert had handed you a pot of cosmetic product to hide the circles forming, commenting on scaring the customers away as you stuck your tongue out at him but smearing some on regardless.

On the second Saturday after your arrival you had a day off and used it to venture into the market, your empty shelves no longer sustaining you, let alone Amaris. Your basket soon filled with colourful fruits and vegetables, and you were browsing the fish section when a shadow fell over you.

“Let me take that for you,” you turned to see Fenrys standing over you with that same easy smile, his head tilted slightly. You rolled your eyes, trying to block out the feelings expanding in your chest at just the sight of him.

“And here I thought I had lost you,” you muttered, and he laughed, taking your basket from you, and paying for the wrapped salmon you had just been passed. “You don’t need to do stuff like that,” you told him, and he took your arm as he led you out of the market.

“Can’t help myself, I see a pretty girl in need and boom, I have to help.” He joked and you laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, the damsel in distress disease, I’ve heard that’s a nasty one to cure,” he smiled down at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not really, all I need is a kiss,” he tugged you closer and you squealed, shoving him away as he laughed.

“As I said, nasty.” He dramatically put a hand to his heart, throwing his head back in distress.

“You wound me darling,” he complained, and you laughed, hating how much you genuinely enjoyed his company. You reached your apartment in no time, and he stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to your door.

“So no invitation of tea, a glass of wine, a home cooked meal?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes,

“I’m afraid I reserve that for people I like,” he raised his eyebrows, hopping up the steps two at a time.

“Even if I have genuine cause to talk to you?” he asked and the sincerity in his eyes made a shot of fear run through you. He couldn’t know, could he?

“What is it?” you asked, and he smiled softly, a little pain shining through his loving eyes.

“The queen has a proposition to make.” His voice quietened and you straightened your posture, your entire demeanour switching in a second.

“Come in.” you opened the door and stepped in, allowing him to duck as he followed.

The first thing he noticed was how barren your apartment was, a simple kitchen, connected to a room with a pale blue sofa and worn coffee table. Your shelves were bare, and he sneaked a look into your room as he passed the open door, your mattress on the floor covered by only a thin blanket and a few cushions, one incredibly expensive looking gold dress on the floor, stained dark red. But before he could venture further in he heard you cooing in an impossibly soft voice.

He turned the corner and blanched at the sight he saw, “What the?”

You turned from were you were feeding small bits of salmon to a pure white bundle of fluff that hissed as soon as it saw him. “Amaris, be polite!” you scalded, and he surveyed the cat with a wary look, untrusting of the small creature.

“You have a cat.” He stated, suddenly completely unsure of his taste in women.

“No he’s actually a spider,” you deadpanned and Fenrys pouted.

“But I thought you’d be a dog person,” he complained, and you laughed, moving to throw open the curtains in the room before you started putting away the food you had bought, boiling a pot of water over your stove.

“I just like animals, why does it matter?” you asked, and he threw his arms up before transforming into his wolf form. You gasped and Amaris meowed loudly, scampering to hide behind your legs.

“You’re a wolf.” You stated and he turned back with a smile.

“No I’m a spider,” you flipped him off as you turned to put the rest of your food away.

“I prefer you as a wolf, they’re one of my favourite animals,” you told him and he smiled, sticking his tongue out childishly at Amaris who just sauntered of to doze on a pillow.

“So, what does the queen want?” you asked, pouring the hot water into a pot you had prepared, and he sat down on your worn-down sofa, cringing as it creaked under his weight. You followed suit soon after putting the pot and two mugs down, curling your feet underneath yourself as you looked at him.

“Well, she has told me that you’re actually extremely powerful and because of this she wants to recruit you. She wants you to join the Cadre.” He spoke surely and confidently but his eyes shone with wariness.

“Okay first of all, I’m not at all powerful, secondly how would she even know if I was, which I’m not! And third, what is The Cadre?” he laughed slightly and moved forward to pour himself a cup of tea.

“Well you clearly are because she recognised you and always knows these things, trust me. She’s never wrong about this. And The Cadre is a group I’m in, elite soldiers sworn to protect Maeve.” He explained and you shook your head.

“Fenrys I barely know basic self-defence, I’m not a soldier. And I don’t want to be sworn to royalty.” Your hands were shaking slightly at the thought of being sworn to another tyrant, “Plus in all honesty I only found out I was Fae on Monday, so I’m not exactly well versed in this shit.”

“How did you not know before?” he asked – frowning.

“The country I… come from, there was no magic. The king wiped all magic out years ago.”

“Why?” It was an understandable question but still made you panic, he couldn’t know.

“I don’t know, all I know is he did, so those alike me – with magic but born into a magicless world – never got to know.” You were good at concealing emotions, that much Fenrys could see. You seemed to have iron walls built into the clouds around your heart, protecting it as fiercely as you would Amaris.

“Well, Maeve wants to meet with you soon, so let me know when you decide gorgeous,” he stood, and you smiled at him gratefully for not prying further.

“I’m really sorry Fenrys I just don’t think it’s a good idea. As I said I’m not a soldier.” He nodded but his eyes still conveyed a sense of worry.

“Well keep in mind you would get to train with me, probably shirtless.” He joked as you opened the door for him, grinning when you laughed loudly, shoving him through the door.

“Bye Fenrys,” you said, eyes sparkling as he waved, whistling his way down the street comically.

You closed the door as your smile fell, a weight settling on your chest as you already knew why he looked so wary – Kings and Queens didn’t understand the word no.

--

You practically ran to the library the next day, opting to bring Amaris with you as he peeked out of the small handbag you had found stuffed into the back of your closet. When you flew into the library you instantly sought out Albert, who took one look at your flushed, shining appearance and abandoned the pile of books he was putting away, motioning for you to sit down.

You sat quickly, huffing out a breath as Amaris crawled out of his makeshift home and started exploring the new territory of the small backroom reserved for staff only.

“What bothers you child?” Albert’s voice was steady as always and his dry, warm hands grasped yours gently as your eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I just – I needed to talk to someone,” you stuttered out, your breath coming in harsher pants as he shushed you.

“Take a minute and allow yourself to breathe first dear,” he commanded, and you pressed a hand to your heart as you tried to slow its pounding. “Start from the beginning, tell me what’s wrong.”

“The man I loved, his- his name was Dorian, Dorian Havilliard.” You said quietly and Albert let out a small chuckle.

“I presumed as much, I visited Adarlan once, and an old man never forgets the face of a princess.” You looked at him through blurry eyes, confused.

“You knew?” he smiled sadly at you.

“I was 90% certain, but I would never have pressured you to reveal secrets like that.” He passed you a tissue, “But I sense that’s not all that weighs heavy on you?”

You shook your head, “Queen Maeve has made clear that she wishes me to join the Cadre.”

Albert’s face changed with the clear shock, and you bowed your head, shamefully.

“And what did you say?” he asked slowly.

“No, of course! I don’t have any desire to be another monarch’s puppet.” You stated and he shushed you again.

“You need to remember that people always listen.” He scolded, repeating one of the first things he had told you when you started working. “I agree that you should be cautious, but perhaps gaining the queens protection would be beneficial. Plus you would become an extremely skilled swordsman.”

“I am not a man, nor do I wish to be.” You said through gritted teeth, “And I vowed that I would become skilled on my own and go back to Dorian.”

“Yes but if you join, you will be more skilled than ever before,” Albert reasoned and you shook your head, tears welling up again.

“I thought you’d be on my side for this, you are the one who told me to be careful around powerful people.” You felt unjustly betrayed as he spoke and his shoulders slumped slightly, sighing before grasping your hands lightly again.

“I am dear, and I urge you to do what you think is best. But I am simply reminding you that if you truly want to beat this king you are being offered power on a silver platter right now, and perhaps it would be foolish to deny yourself it.” You let his words run around your head as you worked overtime trying to figure out a plan.

“Say I joined – what do I need to do to ensure I don’t become another puppet?” you asked, and he smiled at you.

“First of all, she will offer a blood oath and you must refuse it with everything you have in you – she came to you remember you hold the power. On that note you must summon all those queenly powers of yours and ensure when you speak to her, she is meeting you and she is trying to win you over. Never the other way around.” You nodded, pocketing the information in your head. “When in the palace you are always being watched, always being listened to, so keep your wits about you. But I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”

You laughed under your breath, “It’ll be just like going home,” you commented, and he smiled.

“Sadly yes, now take this money. Go but a new dress and tomorrow you will take a carriage, you can’t walk there.” You thanked him softly, placing the gold in the purse you held, “You’re a kind girl, that is what makes you strong and that’s what will make you a good queen. Don’t let them take your heart.”

Your throat tightened and you nodded due to the lack of trust you held for your voice, standing, and collecting your bag in one hand and Amaris in the other. Albert stood to take you to the door with a smile, and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“You can have tomorrow off work as well, however I feel our work together is already coming to an end.” You smiled softly, allowing him to pet Amaris’ head softly before he kissed your cheek gently, ushering you out the door.

“Have a good night Albert,” you said, turning to see him watching you with sorrowful eyes.

“Remember what I told you dear, don’t let them take your heart.” Your smile was sad as you spoke,

“I won’t.” You both heard the lie but, neither of you decided to correct it. Not tonight.

--

Of all the things Fenrys expected to see the next morning, you were the one he hoped for. But as he looked around at the powerful men surrounding the room he felt white-hot panic seize him as he realised what you were about to do. You hadn’t even looked at him when you walked in, keeping your eyes trained solely on Maeve, not even dropping them as you dropped in a low curtsy.

He was even more shocked by the blood red dress you adorned, the v-neck deep and skirts long with a slit up either leg, high enough to reveal the halter you wore with a silver dagger and a ruby encrusted hilt secured into place. Every man, woman and mouse watched as you walked through the room – head high and shoulders back, revealing enough to entrance everyone in the room but covering enough to keep them wanting more and he felt his anger grow as he watched you.

You waited with a soft, but condescending, smile on your face, allowing Maeve to regrasp some power by speaking first – every movement so calculated and precise. As he watched you he saw the power and understood the fear and lust building in the room.

“So I guess you heard my offer.” Maeve finally said, drawling low with relaxed posture.

“I did.” Your statement was short, to the point but you saw it grate Maeve’s nerves and smiled as sweet as spun sugar, “Your majesty.”

“And?” he watched as Maeve grew more agitated and was surprised she hadn’t killed you yet, usually not standing for even an ounce of insubordination.

“I am willing to accept on one condition – I’m not taking a blood oath.” He had to fight jumping in the air with glee as you spoke, so afraid you were going to get tangled in the mess he was in. Maeve’s face grew dark, but you held your ground, never letting your eyes stray lest she see your weakness.

“Well that’s simply not viable,” she stated, glaring you into the ground but you just smiled again, nodding with a polite laugh.

“I see, well this was a lovely meeting, gentlemen.” You raised your hand politely as you moved to leave, your eyes finally flittering over him and the rest of the cadre. You bowed once again to Maeve, making to leave when Maeve raised her hand.

“We are not finished.” She stated.

“Well I’m terribly sorry your majesty but I’ve made my terms extremely clear, and since you refuse to budge - I believe we are done.” Your voice was still sweet, but he watched your face change slightly, every bit a queen looking down upon her people. He couldn’t help but wonder were you learned to speak this way, but Maeve simply laughed.

“Yet here you are,” she spoke with a mocking tone, and you smiled with your teeth this time.

“Need I remind you that you sought me out, if I have terms it should be in your best interest to meet them if you wish me to join your miniature army.” Fenrys heard Lorcan snarl lowly next to him but gripped his arm in warning.

“Oh your training is impressive princess, but I’m afraid it will be of no use.” Your face didn’t budge as Maeve spoke, but Fenrys watched as something flickered through your eyes, “You see, I learn of misdemeanours in other courts very easily and I wish to show you what I learned of Adarlan.”

“There’s nothing you could show me that I won’t have seen before,” you said, and he watched the two of you laugh like you were mingling at a party instead of standing of in a court.

“Oh I’m afraid this is relatively new, you might reconsider your terms after this,” you stood straight as Maeve walked down the steps and moved to whisper something the rest of them couldn’t hear in your ear, her hand pressed lightly to the base of your neck.

She pulled away after a few minutes and he took in your now shaking hands, eyes filled with tears you clearly refused to let fall. You took in a steadying breath before speaking, “You’re lying.”

“Oh I wish I was princess, but I can only show the truth and it appears your prince had moved on rather quickly, what use is there going back to a country where you can no longer rule.” She stroked your hair condescendingly and you chewed the inside of your lip as it quivered. “But here, here – under my control – you have power of your own. Men will no longer hold onto you like a prized pony, you will become something they fear, you will be my perfect princess, the daughter I never got to have.”

Fenrys inhaled sharply, he knew Maeve never planned to relent the throne, especially not to a woman from another country. She looked at you like you were a doll, something for her to reshape and change. You must have seen it to, but through your blurry eyes everything had changed.

“Okay,” your voice was smaller than before, and he wanted to tear Maeve limb from limb for having broken you down so harshly with just a few words. She smiled cruelly at you as she cut a small line along her forearm and you bowed your head in pain, before falling to your knees – graceful even as pain consumed your entire being. You brought your lips to her wound and drank as she repeated the words that he remembered all too well.

When you rose your lips were sparkling red, and your eyes were glistening with tears still unshed – but you raised your head like a queen and Maeve smiled.

“I believe you have already met Fenrys, he will be training you as the training you have received is not proficient, I’ll have all your belongings brought to a room here.” Maeve waved her hand to some guards, but you stopped her.

“I only need Amaris brought here; the rest can burn.” You muttered.

“And for your new wardrobe?” She asked and you smiled looking down, wiping your mouth slowly.

“Make it red.” You finally met Fenrys eyes, and he stepped forward, desperate to drag you far, far away.

“Shall I escort her to her new room?” he asked Maeve and she flitted her eyes to him, then to the hand he had pressed to your back.

“Yes and then afterword’s come find me,” she smiled cruelly at him, and he felt you stiffen under his hand, but he just nodded and began to lead you out of the room.

He led you through the corridors and up the stairs in silence, angry at you for accepting and at himself for not putting up more of a fight. When he reached the room he presumed would be yours he opened the door for you, following you in as you sat on the bed, your usual lightness replaced by the weight on your shoulders.

He watched you bow your head and came to sit beside you, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise; this was my choice.” You said and he reached an arm around your shoulders, but you quickly shrugged him off.

“I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t, if you and the queen are…” you trailed off and Fenrys bowed his head in shame.

“It’s not like that, she, she makes me,” he muttered, and you inhaled sharply, turning to him with those watery eyes.

“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” you whispered, instantly looping your arms around him neck and holding him tight. “She’s a monster.”

Fenrys huffed a laugh, pulling away, “You’re telling me.”

He reached a hand for your face slowly, wiping under your eyes where a tear had escaped, “how did she change your mind?” he asked, dark eyes searching your face for clues as your bottom lip quivered in pain.

“She showed me home,” was all you said, and his shoulders dropped. He would leave it for now, you were young and clearly not ready to speak – and now, they had all the time in the world to speak.

“Sleep tight, training starts at seven tomorrow,” he stood and kissed your head lightly and you nodded, words getting caught in your throat. He left quietly, walking away as quickly as he could to avoid hearing the soft sobs that erupted as soon as he closed the door.

--

You could barely contain your tears until you got to your room, repeating rule thirteen over and over in your head, crying in public is only appropriate at funerals and weddings. But as soon as Fenrys left your room you sobbed into your hands, wailing, and crying like a child throwing a tantrum as you let out the emotions, the screams that have been locked inside of you for so long.

You had done everything for Dorian, changed every part of yourself and become the perfect princess, girlfriend, fiancé – and he, mere weeks after you had to run, was already moving onto a new girl.

As hard as you tried you couldn’t get rid of the image of him and the blonde girl out of your head. How he kissed her softly, his hand on her lower back where it always used to rest on yours. The smile when he pulled away, the way he laughed with her, the way Chaol smiled at his brother when he was happy. You had been forgotten, replaced, almost instantly, the warmth you used to feel when you thought of home, of your princes’ arms replaced by a tight chest and a cold feeling encompassing your heart.

“I’m sorry Albert,” you whispered into the air as you stood looking out on your balcony, gripping tightly to the rail as you feared your legs would give out, “She already took it.”

You were interrupted by a quiet knock on your door, wiping your eyes as you opened it – taking Amaris from the tall guards’ hands as a flurry of women pushed in, filling your drawers with clothes and cosmetics, candles and hair pins, books and plants, a million supplies for Amaris and then some. You smiled politely at them as they left without saying a word, in and out extremely quickly as you stared at a knot in the floor.

Another knock sounded soon after and you turned your head to see one of the Cadre staring in with piercing green eyes. You motioned for him to come in and stood, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he took in your messy, tear-stained expression.

“You’re the first female member of the Cadre, ever.” He stated and you blinked slowly.

“Lucky me,” your tone was sarcastic, voice rough from the crying but the man smiled.

“I’m Rowan, it’s good to meet you.” He reached out a hand and you met it, allowing him to kiss the back gently.

“(Y/n)” you returned, with a slight curtsey.

“I look forward to fighting with you (y/n),” he stated, releasing your hand and turning to leave, stopping right before he reached the door, “Oh, and don’t lose that dagger, you’ll find a shocking number of men dislike powerful women.”

“First I’m hearing of this,” you deadpanned, and he chuckled.

“Goodluck kid.”

[oftenderweapons]

Illicit Affairs — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 11.2k

Genre: Smut. A tiny little bit of angst and fluff too but. Smut.

Rating: 18+

Hi bumblebees! Thank you for staying with me so far and for being so kind with hey works and my continuously shifting schedule.

Quick plot! Hoseok and Giggles have just met: Giggles was the substitute for Mickey’s vet and she helped the doggo and Hoseok during an emergency, however the hour they spent together was enough for Hoseok to develop a quite intense crush for the young woman. He decides he wants to invite her to a date and picks his apartment as the location, going out of his way to try to impress her. However, the elegant dinner miserably crashes once his poor nerves abandon him. Fortunately, Giggles can take the reins, but is also willing to give them up at the right moment.

Special thanks to beta extraordinaire, @hobiandsprite​ I really love you. Please, don’t be sad and let those giggles out every now and then.

Moving on to The Big Stuff.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing. Basic BDSM training, Sir!Hoseok x sub!reader; safe sex, briefest mentions of masturbation (male and female), grinding, humping, making out, lots of tongue action, food play (and very messy one at it), cum play, cum eating, mild choking kink, one (1) breast slap, mild fetishism (panties, perfume/smells). Hoseok is overall very controlling, especially while he’s giving her basic training. There’s some sort of exhibitionism (if you like,,,, squint). Also Hoseok is a neurotic mess, Giggles is also quite tense and both like each other a lot, which leads to a few moments of weakness here and there. Mentions of vet emergency (don’t worry, Mickey is doing alright, he was just suffering from the hot temperatures).

Here you can check my full masterlist

Enjoy 💜✨

Jung Hoseok was nervous.

He was tense, palms sweating, nape drenched in perspiration.

He was a ball of nerves and he had never felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever since his first performance in the U.S.

Not like the day of their debut, but close.

And all of this for a stupid date.

He just wanted to know you, see if the image he had built of you actually corresponded with your actual personality.

He cracked his neck and shoulders, pacing back and forth, wondering if it were a good idea having you at his place.

After all, you were Mickey’s vet. He could be safe with you, right? You wouldn’t expose him now, would you?

It was the first time he ever brought someone in his home and he was way too nervous to feel comfortable.

He immediately picked up his phone.

“Jung. Hoseok. I don’t even know why I picked up this call. Why aren’t you getting prepped and polished for your date?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet and gravelly from the other side. It was seven pm, he shouldn’t have been sleeping, Hoseok mused, shaking his head once he realised Yoongi was spending the weekend with Kitten and the two had probably been dozing off on the sofa all afternoon.

“I think I fucked up. I like this apartment, I can’t jeopardise my home.” He panicked, finally losing his cool.

Yoongi inhaled and groaned as he stood up, leaving Kitten alone to rest undisturbed. “She seems a kind person. A smart one too. Just talk to her.”

“You know I suck at talking!” Hoseok whined, combing his hair off his forehead. “I don’t know why I want to impress her so bad.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Because you have a crush on her.”

“But I don’t even know her!” Hoseok protested, sitting on the sofa for a second before standing up again.

“That’s the key ingredient of a crush. Once you start getting to know her, you either grow out of it or fall in love.”

Hoseok cocked his head and toyed with his earlobe nervously. “Do you think she’ll like me? I mean, she looks so sweet, and so innocent and I can’t even imagine her being into—”

“Don’t judge. Strange fits sometimes work. Think Jimin and Princess. Seokjin hyung and Angel. They work. Strange, I know, but they do.”

Hoseok exhaled.

“Stop pacing. Don’t be too hard on yourself. First date is always a bumpy road. Maybe you’ll find out she’s not your thing and all these worries will be gone by the end of the night.”

“What if I like her and she doesn’t like me?”

Yoongi softened. “It’s all part of the game, Hobah.”

Hoseok nodded. “I have to go see if the chef needs help.”

Yoongi grinned. His friend was really going out of his way. Once, all he wanted were hotel rooms and quiet, curvy brunettes with so many sins they had officially given up on heaven at least a lifetime ago. “No matter how it goes, I’m sure you’ll find someone right for you.”

Hoseok nodded curtly before realising his friend couldn’t see his reply. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Sweep her off her feet, Casanova.”

With a bubbly laugh, Hoseok interrupted the call, headed to the private kitchenette. “Can I help you in any way?” Hoseok asked, still keeping his hands on his stomach, trying not to touch anything that could possibly cause a disaster — which considering the setting and his poor cooking skills meant everything.

“It’s okay. I can take care of everything. Don’t worry. Relax.” The chef almost wanted to take a second to pat the younger man’s back. He was probably six years his senior but the stress of a first date was timeless.

And the poor guy was sweating disastrously.

“Okay, then I’ll go check the table.” Hoseok murmured.

“Already settled. And the cake  is waiting in the fridge. It’s still too hot for it.” The chef replied as he turned off the stove since the sauce for the noodles had reached perfect texture. “Maybe a small glass of soju could help?”

Hoseok shook his hands in panic. “Oh, no. That would make it all worse. Why is it so hot in here!”

He walked away from the kitchen, once more staring at the table near the wide floor to ceiling windows. The view would soon turn stunning, the Han river running like a pitch black road, cutting the city in two, Itaewon lighting up in the distance and emerging like a glowing mirage against the night sky.

What if she’s scared of heights?

He banged his head against the wall, pacing again, texting the group chat.

HS: “What if she suffers from vertigo?”

SJ: “You didn’t place the table by the window, did you?”

Hoseok tugged at his hair, undoing a button on his shirt. Why was everything so fucking hot?!

HS: “Should I move it? I have ten minutes! I can move it.”

TH: “Don’t. You can place her with her back to the window if she feels uncomfortable.”

JK: “You’re such a loser, hyung. Relax, it will work out.”

HS: “DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX YOU UNGRATEFUL RASCAL”

JM: “Okay, let’s calm down. Personally I would feel even worse with my back to the window. You can move to the coffee table. It will feel more informal and you will FINALLY GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS,

JM: “she probably just wants to chat over fried chicken while you’re going to make her uncomfortable with all that finesse.”

NJ: “Gotta agree with Jimin on this one. She’ll simply want to chat. You’ll want to chat and get to know her.”

YG: “I told you it will be alright now stop spamming.”

HS: “AND I SUCK AT CHATTING”

JK: “yeah, you kinda ramble”

JM: “not helping Guk.”

The doorbell rang.

Fuck.

He pocketed his phone and headed to the door. “Yes?”

“Uhm… It’s confusing here, I think you need to pick me up.” You said anxiously over the intercom.

“I’m coming. Wait in the foyer.” He slipped on his shoes and got in the elevator, cracking all the joints of his fingers as it descended, going through the process again once he had cracked them all. He dumbly wished he had more fingers.

The door opened and there you stood with your back to him, your shoulders covered by a messy tumble of hair.

“Hello?” He called, making you turn around immediately.

His stomach turned upside down when you hit him with your sweetest, most radiant smile as you faced him. “Hi!”

He felt dumbstruck. You looked adorable, way too pretty for him. Way too incredible for anyone in the universe. “Hello.” He repeated, feeling a nervous smile constrict his face.

It almost looked like a grimace. For a second you thought you had somehow disappointed him. Maybe your dress was too informal? Were you too underdressed?

Staring at his outfit, you realised you were.

“You look very handsome.” You flattened your dress nervously, aware of every movement you made, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh, thank you.” He emitted the most neurotic laugh. Pull yourself together, Jung Hoseok, he innerly scolded himself before gesturing to the lift. “Shall we?”

You nodded, your glee completely lost. Staring at your dumb flats, you approached the opening doors and entered, Hoseok following suit.

You both stayed silent for a couple floors. “How was your day?” You managed to find the guts to ask.

“Uhm… Okay, I guess? My family came to pick Mickey up the other day so it’s been very quiet and a bit lonely.” He smiled but he looked sad.

You nodded. “Pets really change the whole feeling of home.”

He noticed you pressing your hands together before your lap, tucking your elbows against your sides as you tried to shrink yourself enough to disappear. You knew you should have bought a nice dress for this. You cursed your childish tastes and your sweet saffron dress, too demure and cheap for him. You had maybe spent 30,000 won on it, probably the equivalent of his shoelaces.

Screw that — obviously even his shoelaces cost more than that.

You started sucking at your lips, frowning at yourself for messing up your lipgloss. Out of nerves, you started twisting slightly side to side, your dress moving slightly with the motion, your eyes still focused on your shoes.

He was intimidating. Why in the world did you accept a date with him? He was way out of your league! All it would be was one date you would remember someday in your old years, annoying your grandchildren with that one time you had dinner at one of the most incredibly powerful and famous artists of the world.

Hoseok surreptitiously dried his palms against his trousers. He looked at you. His stomach turned again. He wondered how he would manage to eat all that food. All he could do was look at you and take in the cute freckles, that peppered your nose and cheekbones, and your arms too.

“You have freckles.” He noted absentmindedly, a thought unwillingly turned into speech.

You turned your head to him, batting your lashes confusedly. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

“Yes.”

“You look like a strawberry.” Jung Hoseok, what the fuck.

You frowned. Again, was that good or bad?

“No one has ever told me that before,” you replied with a tense giggle.

He cocked his head at the sound. That was sweet. He liked that. Could he make you laugh like that again? “And you look very pretty in the dress. That shade of yellow really compliments you.” He confessed, feeling his whole face blush.

This felt like his first crush, when he would hide behind corners not to face the girl he liked, and when he would hide his face because it made him feel strange to be looked in the eye by her. She was way too pretty for him.

Thank the heavens, you thought as the doors finally opened on his floor.

He was drenched in sweat. He could literally feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

He smiled again, this time more relaxedly as he led the way. The lighting was perfect, the deep night sky splashing its colour over Seoul, the billowing darkness of the Han, the magical glimmering of Itaewon, like a flock of fireflies in the distance.

“Goodness gracious,” you exclaimed, walking toward the window and looking out, completely ignoring the table. “This is… It’s like flying.”

He smiled and let his shoulder sag in relief, his elated exhale cooling his heated chest. “I was panicking because it kind of hit me that you could be scared of heights. Like one of those last minute panic thoughts.”

You turned to him to comfort him. “It’s—”

You noticed the table. You noticed the gargantuan quantity of bowls and dishes and plates and cups spread all over it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Was this supposed to be a formal dinner?” You asked, your whole face scrunched in perplexity.

He froze in utter confusion. “Just dinner.”

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking as his left eyelid started pulsating with small flutters.

He hurriedly placed his hand over it, turning his back to you. “Yeah, just… Hot weather, blood pressure...”

You walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was drenched. “Jung Hoseok,” you called calmly.

You could feel his heartbeat get three times faster.

“Hoseok. Turn around,” you told him sweetly, rubbing his shoulder-blade softly, completely ignoring the way the fabric stuck to his skin.

He turned to you, still cupping the left side of his face with both hands.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, feeling the ridge of his shoulder with your fingertips.

He nodded shyly, giving you the smallest pout.

“And you got a full meal for this? Were you trying to kill me by overfeeding me?” You asked with a tiny smile.

“I— I didn’t know what you like and I hired a chef so we could have excellent food here at home and—”

“This wasn’t necessary, you know that right?” You rubbed your thumb against the muscle and bone of his shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but it seems like you went maybe… slightly out of your way for this.” You noticed more details, like the flowers and the candles and… wait, he hired a chef? There was another person that would take part in your date as a silent, distant viewer?

“Is it too much?” He asked, frowning and grimacing.

You offered him a lopsided grin and tipped your head to one side, then to the other, back and forth in a so-and-so gesture.

He covered his whole face with his hands and collapsed on the sofa. “Shit, I fucked up so bad.”

You crouched down before him, making sure that the dress didn’t expose too much of your thighs. “It’s okay. Would you like to have a formal dinner?”

“I just wanted to make a good impression.” He whined, tugging at his hair once more.

You touched his forearms, trying to ease his tension before realising that you were technically strangers and maybe he didn’t like being touched. You scolded yourself for your over-tactile approach, and your dumb habit of treating everyone like abandoned puppies. Embarrassedly you placed your hands on your lap, his face raising to meet yours as he felt your fingers leave his skin. Had he done something wrong? Had he made a fool of himself one more time, without even knowing?

“You already made a good impression—”

“I wanted to confirm it!” He wailed exasperatedly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down. “We can walk this walk or do something more low-key. More... relaxing,” you suggested, smiling easily, calmly.

He could feel himself calm down. “Would it disappoint you if we just… I don’t know... ate some noodles over a glass of soju and beer?”

You giggled. “That would make me ecstatic.”

“Let me go call off the chef then.” He stood to his feet. “Thank you so much.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “No biggie.”

In two minutes the chef came out of the kitchen, bowing at you while you still sat on the sofa. “Good evening. I wish you a good meal. I hope you’ll enjoy the food.”

“Thank you for your hard work! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!” You replied politely and warmly, watching the man collect a bag from the entry room and bow to Hoseok as he accompanied him out.

“He had already finished cooking.” Hoseok exhaled. He looked ten years younger and significantly less stressed. “The meat had already been grilled, it just needs to be warmed up in the oven.”

“You mean there’s more food?” You asked, eyes wide in terror.

He started shaking his hands in equal fear. “We don’t have to eat that too. Maybe just a couple short ribs?” He wondered.

You stared at the rice and side dishes on the table. It was probably four times what you normally ate, and that was without considering his half of the table. “You have glass noodles?” You asked, and he nodded excitedly at your interest.

“With aubergines and mushrooms and pork belly?”

You felt your mouth water. “Can we have those though?”

He smiled excitedly. “The chef was stir frying the vegetables so we would have to finish that.”

You shrugged. “I can do that while you go get changed, if you’d like. Wear something fresh and cozy.”

He looked around nervously.

You immediately realised what was wrong. How could he let a stranger wander through his house? And he wasn’t just anyone. He was a celebrity. A famous person. What if he thought you would sneak through his private spaces and sell information about him to the press?

“Uhm—”

“Oh my god. No, it’s okay. Who would let a stranger stay in their home while they’re in the shower. Dumb me. Sorry.”

He blinked a couple times. “It's the first time I have invited someone in my house, except for my close friends.” He looked down and smiled, his cheeks shooting up in a complicated mix of sadness and joy. “I'm nervous because of that too.”

You nodded. “I know it could sound dumb to say but I care about you. And I'm not interested in gossip and press and all of that. I will respect you and your home. It's basic human decency,” you said, sitting next to him. “I only suggested you go get a change of clothes because that cannot be comfortable and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted out of that.”

He looked up at you with big, soft eyes. “It would really be okay?”

“Yes, it would, Hobi.” You flinched at the nickname. “Hoseok. Sorry.” You wanted to tear your own tongue off.

However, just as much as you felt disappointed at yourself for the small slip, he felt warm about you calling him by a nickname. He wanted you to say it again. And again. And well… again but in other ways.

“I'll be back in five minutes, just to rinse off and get comfy.”

You nodded. “I'll wait here and then we'll get the noodles ready.”

Hoseok felt extremely relieved once he changed his clothes. The loose linen joggers felt like a soft cloud around his legs, air already circulating better against his skin. And the satin shirt made him feel classy and casual at the same time.

He was pleased at the comfort-looks ratio of his outfit and exited the room confidently. He was further reassured once he found you scrolling through your phone, sitting there innocently, smiling at him once you saw him appear.

“Okay, ready to go?” He asked, standing in front of you, all set to accompany you to the kitchen.

You nodded and took his hand as he helped you up. “Let’s go.”

He smelled amazing, like anise and patchouli. Something sweet and manly at the same time. It suited him perfectly.

Standing a bit too close after he tugged you up, you surreptitiously tried to sniff him, your eyes falling shut once the vaguely honeyed fragrance met your nostrils.

He observed you as you stood there, clearly entranced. Heat crept up his cheeks as your breath tickled down his neck: he was slowly becoming aware of your presence, of the warmth that your skin radiated, of the way a strand of your hair skimmed his arm.

“I like your perfume,” you whispered.

He felt his knees grow vaguely wobbly, a swoony, shy smile stretching his lips.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised his face was just a few inches away from yours, his blush visible in high definition right before your eyes.

He looked so incredibly, adorably embarrassed. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

Your eyes met his, and for a second he hoped you would get on your tiptoes and kiss him, but you casually turned around and started walking away, turning to him only to ask about the kitchen.

Trying to keep his delusions on the low, he led you to the kitchen, where all you could see was the tidy chaos of creation.

A few bowls were piled neatly in the sink, together with lined up utensils. You let him show you the several drawers and cabinets, explaining where to find a frying pan for the vegetables, the noodles already cooked and marinated in the secret sauce the chef had prepared.

All he could do was stare as you easily made your way through the motions, the main dish of your meal ready to be served after a few minutes, the vegetables keeping a crispy texture while the noodles hit a chewier feel once you mixed the two together.

You set both on different bowls and offered them to Hoseok. “I’ll put a couple short ribs in the oven.”

He nodded and reached the dining table, frowning at all the food spread there in cups and plates and dishes and bowls.

His disappointment was short-lived.

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmured gently, completely incapable of keeping yourself from tracing his spine in between his shoulder blades.

You watched his back straighten, the glossy satin glimmering at the shift of muscles and tendons underneath.

You wanted to see that again. No shirt on, next time.

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, trying to awaken yourself from your fantasy.

He set the bowls down and you sat in front of each other, thanking for the food quickly before you started chatting about which food was where.

The meal went on calmly while you talked about your family, your job, and the pets you had visited during the day. At the same time, he explained some of the undercover dynamics of his job, like all the training and briefing and preparations necessary before interviews, photoshoots, or even something as basic as a public appearance where all they had to do was stand and look pretty for the photographers. He teased the theme of the Run episode they had just filmed — which was almost fifteen episodes ahead to the one that had just been aired.

You chit-chatted for a long while, your conversation resembling the sound of chirping birds thanks to Hoseok’s naturally melodic intonation of speech. He was lovely when he stumbled a bit over his words, the ridge of his ears scarlet with embarrassment once a slip of tongue had him making a lewd allusion you caught with a mischievous grin he couldn’t quite catch since your eyes were glued to the table; he had been too busy being ashamed of his freudian lapsus to actually notice that you had enjoyed the reference.

He was saved by the sound of the oven beeping, telling him that the ribs were warm and ready, which made him excuse himself.

He returned just a minute later with more soju and beer, asking if you were okay with the serving or if you were full.

The smell was so inviting you let him convince you.

No matter the large dinner and the several dishes, you managed to eat way more than what you thought, only a quarter of the table remaining untouched.

“Okay, maybe we could pack up the leftovers.” You suggested, standing up once your conversation hit a natural pause, comforted by the feeling that Hoseok no longer felt like a stranger to you.

You helped him, easily getting acquainted with his living room and kitchen. It felt nice to get gradually more independent, enough that you could easily help him up with the containers and that you could assist him with organizing the tupperware in the fridge.

It was all going okay until you were standing in front of the open fridge, ready to close it when his hand landed on yours on the handle, holding the door open. He leaned against your back, grabbing a paper box from the top shelf.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, all chirpiness gone.

Shivers propagated from your spine to your limbs, your brain suddenly struck by the feel of perspiration coating your inner thighs. You felt wet and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or actual arousal.

His perfume came in again once he stretched to reach the box.

Hoseok’s attention moved to the mole on your neck as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he said, giving a quick look at your lashes, at the freckles peppered over your cheekbones, your face turned to the side, ready to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

His hand was hot against yours, his back light and solid at the same time.

He parted from you, feeling disappointed with the fact that he had to move, biting his lip as his arm struggled keeping the box upright.

You caved slightly as cool air replaced the warmth of his chest, still feeling the phantom presence of his touch.

“Let’s go back to the living room.” He bit his lip, grabbing another bottle as you almost ran from him.

You weren’t okay with what was going on. Not one small bit. You were not okay with the idea of getting drenched and making a mess of yourself on the first date. You were even less okay with the idea of going back home and spending all night with your hand between your legs, thinking about the mind-blowing sex Jung Hoseok was most definitely capable of performing. With a body like that and years of pilates lessons, there was no doubt he could rearrange your organs as your legs and arms bent to accommodate him and please him.

You were even less pleased by the way you craved to satisfy him. You wanted to hear him moan and whine with his melodious voice. You wanted to hear the symphony of his pleasure, the sound of his cries, the smashing of skin against skin, and maybe the legs of the bed scraping against the floor, the headboard thudding against the wall.

You wanted his perfume on your neck, against your chest. You wanted your thighs to smell like him, the scent of your sex mingling with his cologne. It was primal and visceral and obscure and thrilling.

And then a sick side of you wanted to wake up all the neighbours, let them know he was living the night of his life. And since you could only hope of getting a second chance, you found yourself ready to use the night you’d been granted, if fate would allow you an in to the sinful heaven you were imagining.

After all, you weren’t even sure he still liked you.

As he sat in front of you, Hoseok observed your side profile while you stared out of the window, completely lost in your thoughts, your cheeks reddened because of the alcohol.

He was so whipped for you.

However, he knew the initial thrill would eventually fade and leave him with an adorable, beautiful young woman who could never own his heart or tend to his vulnerable side. It had happened so many times before that he was just waiting for his interest to die down.

Because right as he stared at your dreamy expression, he realised he would never lay a finger on you.

You were far too precious for him to sully you with his dirty paws and devilish ways.

With a sliver of sadness tainting his smile, he placed the cake in the middle, preparing two forks, one on your side and one on his.

“I’ve heard champagne is great with strawberries,” he commented, opening the bottle and awakening you from your daydream.

You blinked a few times. “Oh, just a little or I’ll end up dizzy,” you replied with a small smile. “This cake looks beautiful.”

“I hope you aren’t allergic to strawberries or dairy products,” he mused, lifting up his glass to clink it with yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated before answering his questions. “Luckily I don’t have any allergies. Usually I prefer eating fruit and vegetables, but I’m pretty cool with any kind of food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hoseok replied before realising he’d better never see you again. You were too tempting, too pretty, too gentle and overall too attractive for someone like him. Chances were you would be a bit disappointed but would find a proper date within the next two weeks. Women like you were far too requested and treasured in a city like Seoul.

You were suitable from head to toe. You had a degree, a job, a place to yourself, you were accomplished. And then your innocent looks, your kind manners, the caring side he had the fortune of catching a glimpse of.

You would be taken in less than three weeks. He could tell.

It was a mystery to him how you were still single after eight months in the city.

He found the courage to look up from the dessert, only to regret it immediately.

Your mouth was wide open in an attempt to chomp on a huge strawberry, your lips rosy, your nose smeared with cream.

I shall not.

I cannot.

I should not.

He paused.

Fuck. I will.

He placed down his fork and stood to his feet, your eyes following him as he came to your side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking at his stone-cold expression.

You put your fork down, staring back at him with concern.

His hand moved tentatively to your cheek, laying gently along your jaw.

Turning to him, you stared some more, your chest inflating and deflating rapidly and deeply — which was not lost on him.

Too afraid to look, you closed your eyes as he leaned down his thumb moving closer to your mouth, parted as you found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your whole world was dark and hot once his breath fanned over your face.

With overwhelming desire coursing through him, Hoseok stared at every single detail, drinking you in with eyes so hungry, like he could swallow every freckle, every mole, every bit of plump flesh and bony edge.

With his hand trembling slightly at the strange position, he dragged his thumb against the tip of your nose, collecting the cream smeared there.

Your eyes opened in surprise at the unanticipated motion, meeting his lowered eyelids, his lovely lashes making an appearance against the fair skin.

And then his thumb met your lips, covering them in sweetness.

“You had cream on your nose,” he said, his eyes never abandoning the curves of your lips.

Jung Hoseok knew he was a sinner already. But with heartbreaking realisation, he knew the next action would deem his fall.

His tongue slipped out of his mouth, guided by a need so deep he could barely control. With the worst intentions, he focused on touching you as little as possible, trying to scoop up the cream caught on the gentle petals of your lips.

What he didn’t expect was for your own tongue to slide out and brush against his.

From there, it was only ruination.

His tongue slid in your mouth, catching on all the flavours of the dessert. It was strawberries. Strawberries everywhere; your freckles, your hair, your shampoo, your dress, he was possessed by them, drowning in a forest of strawberry bushes growing all over him, climbing into his mouth and underneath his clothes.

“Hobi,” you called weakly as he let you go, your body shooting up on your feet as you tried to chase after his mouth, tried to have his arms around you.

He moaned and caught you, placing his forearm against your lower back and holding your cheek with the other. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “I promised myself I wouldn’t but you’re too hard to resist.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, kissing his jaw, trying to reach the underside of his ear. “Please.”

You tried to calm your breathing by inhaling deeply through your nose, which in retrospective was an awful move since his scent filled your lungs and all you could do was whine in reply, the sound ridiculous and embarrassing to your own ears.

“I’ll do bad things to you, honey. We should stop now,” he said, trying to be judicious.

“Please,” you begged again, rubbing your face against his neck, already trying to cover yourself in his perfume. “Just a kiss, please.”

Closing his eyes, he gave in, following the line of your neck, the sweet mole at the base, drawing your throat with the inner side of his lips.

“Hobi…” You whined once more before receiving a gentle tug at your hair.

“I’m getting there, don’t be impatient,” he growled, making your neck stretch backwards. Once more his tongue slipped out, drawing a line from the hollow between your collarbones all the way to your chin, stopping at your lower lip. “If you’re patient you get a reward, see? That’s how it works with me, sweetheart.”

He kissed your mouth, first delicately, tentatively, trying to feel you open up and give in.

Once you did, he locked your face against his with the hand of his nape, following your body as you walked backwards, reaching the sofa.

“What do you want to tell me, my pretty strawberry?” He teased once he allowed you to let go of him.

“Thank you.”

It was not what he expected, but it made his stomach churn with longing. He needed to please you more, give you more, just to hear those words again.

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, tell me. What do you want me to do, sweetie?” He watched as you sat on the carpet.

You remembered how soft it had felt earlier under your knees. “I wanna make out?” You asked, lashes batting. You didn’t want to sound eager.

“Just make out?” He asked, sitting down in front of you. There was no way he would allow you to blow him tonight.

You looked at him with sparkly eyes. He wanted to dive into them, to feel the magic they held glow inside his body. “Am I allowed to ask for more?” You questioned with the sweetest pout.

“You can ask me anything, honey.” He skimmed the skin of your jaw with the back of his fingers before feeling the hot curve of your neck under his palm.

“Would you think ill of me if I asked for more?”

He shook his head and smiled softly. He would never think ill of you. Not even if you asked him to fuck you for a whole audience of connoisseurs to stare. “You're my cute, little strawberry. I could never think lowly of you.” He cooed.

“What if I wanted you to… to fuck me?” You asked, biting your lip nervously before looking at him.

He thought about the consequences for maybe half a second. He felt awful because, at the end of all the reasoning he knew he would hoard you and every single ounce of pleasure he could coax out of your body.

“Are you sure you want that?” He asked, letting his hand follow the path between your breasts, down to your waist gripping your side.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I'll be so good to you.”

His grin was outright evil. “I know you will, baby.” He kissed your temple. “I need to go get protection if that's what you want. I'll give you a minute to think about it and if you still think so when I'm back, then we're gonna deal with your needy head, mh?”

You nodded, staring at him as he stood up, incapable of not studying his crotch where his cock was visibly tenting his loose trousers.

He chuckled as he watched you stare. “It'll be yours if you still want it later.”

Your eyebrows raised in disappointment as you watched him leave.

So… it was actually going to happen. Did you want it to happen?

What a stupid question! Yes. Of course.

You wanted him and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time.

His footsteps reached the room once more, disappearing once his feet touched the carpet.

“Okay. Here we go, sweetie. Are you still sure you want to have sex with me?” He asked, kneeling and moving your hair off your face, your head reaching his sternum from your seated position.

“Yes, I'm sure,” You confirmed curtly. “Please.”

Oh, to hear you beg. He could cum from that alone. It was intoxicating. And he wasn't even touching you. He could only imagine what sounds you would make once his cock would fill your cunt.

“You want the bedroom—”

“Here. Please.” You shut your eyes tight. You felt like an animal, willing to fuck wherever, and the immense temptation of feeling the plush carpet underneath your back, the city lights illuminating his skin…

Hoseok inhaled.

You were wilder than what you looked and such information aroused him immensely.

“Lay back, honey.” He murmured, extracting three small squares of foil from his pocket and laying them on the coffee table.

Slowly, you lowered your back to the carpet while he kneeled close to you, your legs rotating so that your feet laid right in front of his knees, your legs bent and pressed together.

“That's nice, ____. Lovely,” he said before placing his hands on your knees. “Would you like to spread your pretty legs for me?” He asked, his fingers sliding down your thighs, reaching the hem of the dress.

You looked adorable once you demurely parted your feet to offer him some space between your knees, the hem of the dress moving closer to your lap.

His legs slotted between your thighs and he bent down, reaching for your face. “Such a good girl,” he praised you, cooing once he noticed your cheeks redden. “So adorable.”

On all fours on top of you, you felt the unique shape of his mouth draw your throat before giving a lick. “I bet you taste like strawberries all over.” He started kissing down your chest, rubbing his cheek against your small breasts. “You make me feel like a man starved,” he continued, kissing your stomach, your abdomen, laying one small peck on the fabric covering your belly button.

“Hoseok,” you whined, feeling his hands around your hips.

He stopped brusquely, his body entirely leaving yours. “Now, now, sweetie. What did you just call me?”

You batted your lashes as you stared at him in confusion. “Hoseok.”

“Okay. If you want to have sex with me, honey, that name will not do.”

You stared at him some more.

“I’m Sir,” he affirmed sternly. “The moment you get wet between your legs, I become Sir to you, understood?”

You nodded quickly, breath and brain completely stolen out of you.

“No nodding, my cute berry. Either ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’. Let’s try again. Is it clear what you must call me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He grinned and kissed your belly again, just a bit lower. “That’s excellent. Well done, ____.”

You smiled and placed your hands on his hair, feeling the soft locks as he looked up at you.

He growled at that, your fingers naturally curling in fists as you brought them to your chest. “A very good girl indeed.”

You propped yourself up to your elbows once he lifted the skirt of your dress.

He could barely believe you. “Goodness.”

“At first I thought my dress was stuck on my underwear when you called me strawberry.”

Under the cutest, loveliest, most girlish dress he had ever seen, he was met by another adorable surprise. You were wearing a playful pair of ruffled panties in gingham print, with a small strawberry embroidered on your mound.

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, eyes closing before he dipped his head between your legs, studying the patch of wetness on the gusset of your panties, drawing a line from there to your clit, eliciting a moan. “You’re so sweet. And so evil at the same time.” He bit your inner thigh, making you wince. “Can’t believe that song predicted you on my carpet.”

You giggled and arched your hips against his face, your wetness meeting his cheek lewdly.

He inhaled you, completely intoxicated before he came back up, his arms caging your head. “You really rubbed yourself against my face, honey?” He asked with a stone cold expression.

You were afraid again, but that didn’t keep you pussy from clenching around nothing.

“Yes, Sir.” You replied, the respect in your voice nothing but a taunt.

“If you make a mess you gotta clean it, sweetie. Understood?” He asked, grabbing your face and angling his cheek to your mouth. “Clean it.”

“Please, Sir,” you mewled, trying to push your crotch against him, crying out once you noticed his body was too far away for you to find something to grind against.

“Clean after yourself. Now.”

You did as he told you, feeling the salty, bitter tang of your arousal transfer from his smooth skin to your tongue.

“All of it,” he muttered once you stopped after the first lick.

You completed your task, his pelvis lowering to yours as a reward. “There you go. Now thank me.”

Your arms moved around his torso, trying to get him closer, just to brush your chest against the soft, smooth satin of his shirt.

“I said, thank me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You felt him cave immediately, giving you his hard and lithe body against your chest, your crotch, right in your arms as your legs wrapped around him. You felt crazy, grinding against him like a teenager, ridiculously reminded of how you used to go off by humping a pillow. “Please, inside,” you wailed, your sigh hitting his chest and disappearing underneath his shirt. Once you inhaled, his cologne felt like a bruising kiss, your hips meeting his harder, faster.

“You like my perfume?”

You nodded furiously.

Not again. He violently separated himself from you. “What did I tell you about replies?” He scolded you.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You looked down with repentance. “I like your perfume very much, Sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Now, after I praise you, thank me.” He pushed your dress up as his hand dragged heavily from your crotch to your throat.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied obediently, watching as he got on his knees and tugged his trousers down, the white boxers underneath surprising you as they outlined his length perfectly.

“You want it out?” He asked, watching as you sat up straighter and licked your lips.

You were almost ready to nod when you caught yourself, Hoseok smiling proudly once he saw you correct your behaviour. “I want it out, Sir.”

“Excellent.”

He lowered his underwear too, his cock standing erect immediately, it fluttered even straighter once you kept looking, your hands touching your breasts needily.

Hoseok stretched to the coffee table, grabbing a condom and tearing the foil open, sliding the latex on quickly and firmly.

“My cute berry, I need you to be very careful about this. You know what a safeword is?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir.”

He momentarily covered himself, needing to get all your focus on his words. “Safewords are what you use to communicate with your partner in a BDSM scene. A safeword means that you don’t like what is going on and you want to slow down or stop. We will use the traffic lights system. If you say ‘yellow’, I will slow down, if you say ‘red’, I will let go of you entirely and help you recover from whatever it was that hurt you, mentally, emotionally or physically. On the other hand, ‘green’ means that you’re okay and you are ready to get back into the scene after a ‘yellow’. If I ask you your colour, you reply with those. All clear?”

“All clear, Sir.”

He grinned proudly. “Then explain to me how it works.”

“If I want to slow down, I call ‘yellow’. If I want to stop, I call ‘red’. If I’m all good, I call ‘green’ — Sir.” You added for good measure, knowing that one too many wouldn’t hurt for sure.

“That’s my good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled as he looked in your eyes. He knew he would remember you forever, even if he never developed any feelings for you. You were by far the most unique woman he’d ever had under him so far.

For a second he observed your cute, frilly undies, wondering if he wanted them off.

No. 

He took his cock out of his underwear, letting the waistbands of his trousers and boxers rest on his mid-thigh.

“Wanna keep these pretty panties on.” He murmured once he laid on top of you. “Tell me if the elastic band hurts you.” He said, moving the gusset aside and testing your wetness with his fingers, spreading the slickness over your folds. “So fucking soft. Dammit. Can't wait.”

He dipped his head against your neck. “You want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You placed your hands on the small of his back, his eyes closing as he relished in your touch.

“Beg for it.” He murmured, dragging the tip up and down your slit.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Sir.”

“You won't beg?” He asked, looking at you.

You pouted. “Why do you want me to beg?” You asked with a frown.

“I need to know you want me, my sweet berry,” he pouted back. He touched your face giving you a few kisses to convince you. “I want to hear your sweet voice saying 'please', just one more time,” he whispered, feeling merciful, especially after all the ways he had already pushed you.

Your will bent to his. “Please.”

And just like that, his tip entered your warm, tight cunt, a moan exiting his mouth. “Yes, yes, ____. Yes, baby,” he groaned, at which you responded with a mewl.

“Hobi…” You cried, squeezing around him once he bottomed out.

“Don't make me punish you,” he murmured, exhaling raspily. “You've been such a good girl. Don't get naughty.”

“Sir, please.”

He started snapping his hips out, slowly, then in again, one inch at a time, so deep and slow, over and over. “Yes, baby. Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels too good, Sir, I'm…”

He hummed in pleasure, feeling the skin of your neck under his lips. “Too good. My berry, you're so tiny and tight.” His hips trusted in quickly and unexpectedly.

“Holy… Sir, please, again, please.” You squealed, feeling his thumb slide your panties further aside to reach your clit.

He breathed out with effort against your ear as your mouth reached his earlobe. “Fuck, not there, Berry. Not there,” he said, tugging his ear out of your mouth.

“But Sir—,” you tried objecting before his pace became irresistible. While one hand reached the crown of his hair, holding him against you, the other one met his glute, your nails sinking in his flesh. Your breath started coming in short hiccups, leading you to your climax as he outright hammered into you, his back curved away while his forehead stayed glued to your neck.

“Am I fucking you right, ____? Is it good enough for my golden girl?” He growled once he felt you tightening around him more intensely, with longer squeezes.

“It's perfect, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you reacted readily, shaking your head as pleasure started overpowering you, trying not to hurt him.

“Cum, my sweet berry. Show me.”

The hiccups of your breathing started turning in tiny whimpers, then squeals.

You were ready to bury your head in the ground and never come back because you knew what would come next.

The squeals turned into an uncontrolled cascade of giggles. Giggles.

Hoseok picked his head up at the curious sound, only to see your palm covering your mouth in an attempt to bottle the stupid reaction.

Hoseok smiled through gritted teeth, going faster, harder, deeper now that he understood that the sweet gurgling laugh was due to your orgasm peaking.

He pinned your hand away from your face, basking in the desperate joy of your bliss before he felt himself ready to blow.

“I'm gonna slide out now,” he warned, making sure that your high had faded and your body laid limp and drained underneath him.

Your body relaxed against the carpet, your eyes closed, your lungs still working hysterically to give you back some oxygen after the ruthless fit of giggles. You whimpered once you felt him pull out.

“Look at me, honey,” he called, making you prop your upper back on your elbows as you looked down, only to be met by the sight of Hoseok slipping off the condom. “Let me cum on your cute panties, mh? Can I? I promise I'm clean, I can show you the—”

“Do it,” you replied, giving him official permission.

“Really?”

“Really— I mean, yes, Sir.”

He smirked and started pumping himself furiously, his expression frantic as his tip pressed to your mound and he came apart, his hot seed drenching the red and white cotton, an animalistic growl making his whole chest shake.

You welcomed him in your arms once he collapsed on top of you, right hand smeared in slickness. “I’m gonna call you Giggles.” He said, kissing your mole, the precise spot where he could feel your blood run underneath the skin, the hollow just under your earlobe. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You felt your whole body blush. “It’s so stupid but I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t stop it, it’s adorable.” He sniffed at your hair, “you still smell like strawberries.”

“Must be my shampoo.”

“Fuck. So good.” He sniffed some more. “I thought it would kill me earlier, by the fridge.”

“I thought you would kill me.” You said, feeling his neck with your lips. “Your perfume might be aphrodisiac.”

“You’re too tempting.” He chuckled. “I might need another round.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked me on your living room carpet.” You said, combing his hair as he still regained his energies.

“Aren’t you happy?” He asked, suddenly panicked.

“No, I mean. I’m… I’m really happy. I’m just… incredulous that this is happening to me.” You replied with a surprised laugh.

“Maybe I should give it another go to make sure you actually understand what’s happening.”

“Would you mind helping me understand on the dinner table?” You batted your lashes cutely and paired that with an angelic smile.

“Are you even real?” He touched your face with his clean hand, giving you an inquisitive look. “You appear, all cute and innocent and then you want me to get you all dirty and filthy?”

Your smile widened. “The other ones were a bit scared by this side of me.”

“I won’t be scared of your needs, Giggles.”

You blushed again and hid your face.

“No hiding,” he reprimanded before rolling on his side, leaving you some room to obey the orders he was about to give you. “Keep giving me those sweet giggles,” he said, tracing your belly with his fingertips before trying to tickle you.

The effect was immediate. You clenched your legs and slapped his hands away from you, the torturing sound parting from your lips in a series of childlike gurgles. “Stop! I’m gonna mess up!” You screamed, trying not to stain your dress or the carpet. “No! No! Wait! Yellow!”

At that he took his hands off you immediately, your body laying on your back breathless.

“You good, Giggles?” He asked, voice drenched with worry.

You nodded, still panting.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He questioned, watching you move your head in confirmation.

“Okay.” He looked at your dress, trying to find a zipper. “Should I—”

“Start with my underwear, please?” You asked, your breath laboured due to arousal rather than exhaustion.

He nodded and licked his lips as he slowly tugged your panties down, careful about keeping his release from touching the carpet or your legs. Once the garment unhooked from your ankles, he folded it carefully to keep the wet fabric tucked in.

“Kneel, Giggles.”

You followed his command blindly, watching as your hands slid up under your skirt and tugged your dress up, his palms meeting your ribs and dragging the fabric upwards, past your breasts, then up against your armpits and backwards to your shoulder-blades, slipping the the neckline past your head.

Dress off, he let it fall distractedly to the floor, his eyes going from your face, to your hair, to your nipples — sinfully rosy — following the line leading from your breastbone to your belly button. He kissed the first piece of skin that met his lips, someplace where his heartbeat felt like a drum, like the bass coming from an old boom box. It was so comforting in a way he barely understood.

He needed room to think. “Get on the table.” His voice was once more stern and distant, especially once you watched him grab the opened foil containing the tied up condom, then stand up and leave.

You followed his direction nonetheless, standing awkwardly by the table, watching the cake and stealing a strawberry since the orgasm had awakened a certain sweet tooth in you. You dipped the strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, relaxing just a little after you heard the water run in the kitchen.

He was probably washing his hands.

You took you time licking up the cream, only to start chomping down on the incredibly large fruit right after. That’s when Hoseok appeared.

He was shirtless now, the garment dangling from his spindly fingers before he laid it neatly against the back of the couch. You stopped mid-bite.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt your snack, go on, honey.” He licked his lips and gave you a steamy look before going to the table and pocketing the condoms left. “Is it good?” He asked, walking to stand right in front of you.

You felt slightly unnerved as he seemed completely indifferent to your naked body.

“Sit on the table,” he ordered

You frowned and hesitated.

At that, he let his hands hover over your hips. “Shall I help you with it?” He asked, giving you the chance to avoid his touch before laying his fingertips delicately on your skin. “Gimme a colour, Giggles.”

“Maybe yellow.” You bit your lip, insecurity getting the best of you.

He moved his hands to your face, suddenly turning comforting. “Quick tip, my pretty berry.” He caressed your face in a way that made you feel way too at ease. “If it’s a ‘maybe yellow’, then it’s a yellow. How can I help you, ____?”

Your real name made you come down to earth. You shook your head and looked away, Hoseok suddenly scared of having gone too far.

“I’m not comfortable with the way I let you control me, maybe.” Which was not entirely true. You were not comfortable with the way you craved his control after spending maybe four hours with him — including the afternoon he entered the vet studio with Mickey in his arms and a hopeless, lost look on his face.

“It’s all up to you, ____. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but the answer is really within yourself. I can’t make you more comfortable with how you feel,” he said, still not even considering your nakedness in front of him.

In such a moment his indifference was welcome.

You looked down, your hands disappearing into your hair. Maybe this was the only night you were granted. Did you really want it to end already?

He did not touch you as you mulled over every option.

“I’m… I’m not— We’re technically strangers, I shouldn’t be trusting you like this, you shouldn’t be trusting me like this either, I mean this is all so— all so twisted and wicked and fast and—”

Hoseok was ready for reality to slap him across the face. He was ready for your regrets and you walking to your dress on the floor and cursing your messed up panties which you most definitely could not wear to go back home. He was ready for you to call what you did a mistake and say that there was no way for a woman like you to be with a man like him.

“My mind tells me I shouldn’t, but I want it so much.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor, finally finding the courage to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, that’s not true. I’m comfortable with the way you control me.” Slowly you took a step back, your ass meeting the surface of the table. “I’m just questioning what that means to me.”

He nodded. It explained a lot about your innocent, greedy approach to sex. You were exploring and you had found something you didn’t expect to even remotely consider.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and sat on the table. “No, Sir.”

His eyebrows shot up before he regained his composure. “Colour.”

You allowed yourself to stare at his chest. He was so well-built. Harmonious. He looked like a painting. “Green. Very deep, dark green. Sir.”

He took a step closer. “Green?”

“Forest green. As green as a clover.” You felt his hand on your belly, dragging against your skin all the way to your throat, pushing you down as you lowered yourself on your elbows.

“If you feel uncomfortable emotionally or mentally speaking, you call a yellow. Please, promise me you’ll be very careful about it, Giggles. I care about your mindspace. It means everything to me.”

“I promise, Sir.”

He removed his hand from your throat and placed it against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss on your lips once he bent over you. “You’re talking to Hoseok right now, ____. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on how your mind’s doing. Promise it.”

You kissed him back, closing your eyes once his tongue caressed and molded against yours. Breathless, you parted from him. “I promise, Hobi.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything about tonight. It would break my heart, okay?”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you nodded. “I’ll take care. I promise.”

“Good girl. Now stay right there, lovely. Look what I got for you.” He found the cake, placed carefully away from your laying body. Skillfully, he dipped a strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, dragging the tip of the fruit across them like lipstick.

He bent down and licked a fat stripe following the seam of your mouth, only to repeat the gesture once more; however, this time you let your tongue lash out and tangle up with his, the strawberry held away from you, trying not to catch it in your hair.

“Open up,” he commanded, pushing the treat past your lips, into your eager mouth. “Suck. Now.”

Your gaze became bubbly once more as you followed his lead, your cheeks sucked in at the pressure you were making with your mouth, the strawberry emerging completely clean from your mouth.

He smirked at the sigh, arching an eyebrow at the result. “You make it hard not to push my cock in your mouth.”

“Maybe that’s what I want you to do.” You raised an eyebrow right back at him, getting cocky.

“Not happening. I wanna hear that laugh again, Giggles.” Tentatively, he gave a small slap to your breast, surprising you and making you arch your back, gasping in pleasure. Your legs tightened around him, trying to clench your thighs shut at the feeling of arousal slipping out of your hole and sliding down to your behind. “And don’t you dare be a brat to me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your voice was squeaky once you managed to reply.

“Did you like it, Giggles?”

The treacherous sound escaped your mouth once more as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir.”

You wondered if you would ever get tired at the reply. You doubted it very highly.

“Let’s see if you like this too,” he mused before pouring more champagne in a glass and dipping the strawberry in the wine. He fixed his stance between your legs. “Remember our safewords?”

You confirmed before he lifted the strawberry and let a droplet fall right in the middle of your chest, splashing heavy and wet on your skin. Cold too.

“I’m going to make you my dessert, my pretty strawberry. Remember? Strawberries go well with champagne, lovely.”

He let one more drop fall to your breast, your breath stopping completely at the coldness, Hoseok’s eyes amused at the sight of your nipple awakening and hardening, lengthening even. It became impossibly rosier as another drop fell.

It felt stupid not to repeat the same treatment to your other nipple, which responded twice as quickly now that arousal was abundantly flowing through every single inch of you.

The strawberry drew a neat line of champagne pearls from your belly, which you sucked in at the cold, all the way up to your neck — a line that Hoseok followed with his mouth, letting his tongue stretch out of the way whenever a droplet rolled out of place.

He let the strawberry fall into the glass, extracting the condoms from his pocket and placing them on the table before taking off the rest of his clothes. He tugged at himself a couple times, getting hard enough to wear a condom.

His hands were going to get dirty, therefore he had no other options than getting ready very quickly.

“Giggles?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, Sir?” You corrected yourself in a millisecond, not wanting to risk another delay in your pleasure.

“I’m going to get really dirty now, lovely. Would you be okay with showering here?”

You let your lashes flutter a few times before nodding.

He gave a curt nod in reply before wearing protection and letting his cock rub against your crotch. His body stretched over yours, his thumb collecting a dollop of cream and dividing it with his other thumb. You observed his movements attentively as his clean fingers laid against the side of your breasts and his thumbs landed on your nipples.

Your mouth opened silently once the sensation flowed in, his digits starting a rolling motion over your peaks, playing them in small circles that innocently reminded you of a joystick.

“Colour.”

“So, so green. Can I have a blue for mind blowing good.” You tried to pick your head up, letting it thud back down once his cock dragged perfectly against your clit, eliciting a purr from your throat and a groan from his, his sex perfectly sandwiched between your and his belly.

“Blue— I— ” He talked in small babbles and hiccups. “I get what you— ah— what you mean.” His forehead met your collarbone.

He found unspeakable strength and managed to rise from your breasts, collecting half a handful of cream spreading it over his entire palms and fingers like lotion before grabbing your breasts and kneading them, his hands dwarfing them entirely.

“Sir, please, I need your cock,” you found yourself ridiculously begging, ready to hump anything that met your core.

“Slip it in for me, Giggles.”

The moment he got inside, you didn’t even try to keep it down, riding him no matter the difficult position or the awkward angle. You let your hands scratch down his chest and grip his arms — and he allowed you.

You were getting more and more unhinged and he wanted to see every little detail, every little second, every single step that brought you to bliss and ruination, giggling like you’d never been half as ecstatic in your life. His hands slipped and groped your gentle curves, his mind growing hazier by the second.

All his control came back once he noticed your legs leaving the ground, as you scooted back just by a few inches, your calves latching behind his back before you shook your head.

“What?” He asked, bending his arms to get closer to you.

“Position. It’s…” The soles of your feet met the edge of the table, your hands securing your legs in position before you felt your hips hurt.

“Bend them to your shoulders,” he suggested, helping you fix your knees with his elbows. “Good. Can you touch yourself for me, Giggles.”

You obeyed without even replying, feeling him groan as the new position allowed him to reach deeper and rub your g-spot in the process.

That’s when the squealing started. And then there it was, pleasure. Right before you.

“Give me all the giggles, my sweet berry,” he cooed, nodding and smiling once the soft laugh started.

He let himself grow wild, his fingers sliding to your neck, gripping it gently before he led them against your chin and into your mouth, bathing your tongue in cream — or rather, what was left of it.

The other hand secured your waist, using it for leverage as he rammed into you, pushing his cock in your cunt, constricting it after the muscles remained tense after the orgasm.

This time he came inside you, still covered in latex, but inside you.

He was too fucked out to think of how you would feel without a condom, too fucked out to care that he was pressing his mouth — fuck, his entire face — against your dirty chest, getting his hair sticky with cream, his cheeks and chin and nose and eyes and forehead… His mouth welcomed the sweetness, sucking at your skin before his tongue came out to lap at the sugary mess. He was too lost to care, sinking deep and staying perfectly still as he enjoyed every second of his high inside your most intimate place.

You came to your senses just in time to watch him process the situation he was in.

“Oh, hell.” He rose from the table, standing up, looking at you, at his hands, running the back of them against his cheeks before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He settled down again, your legs wrapping around him.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, rubbing your palm against his spine.

He hummed in confirmation. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You mussed up the hair at his nape.

He licked up your nipple, catching it with his lips and suctioning it into his mouth.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the cuddles. From the exhaustion radiating from his body and the overall disaster you both were, you knew your night was over.

“Can I go clean up please? It’s getting chilly.” You asked, using the excuse to get some space to yourself.

He stood slowly, slipping out of you attentively. He took off the condom, completely lost in his silence, knotted it up and kept it carefully between his fingers as he slipped on his underwear. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Once he showed you the way, you let him understand you didn’t want him to shower with you.

Feeling the scent of his body wash cover your skin was painful now. You tried to indent the name in your mind and hoped it wasn’t too expensive. Once you managed to exit the shower stall, you dabbed your body dry, realising too late that you hadn’t brought your dress with you.

You wrapped the towel around you and opened the door, walking out once you were sure you wouldn’t drip over the floor.

“Hoseok?” You called.

Once you reached the living room, you found your dress, slipping it on and realising a second too late that your panties had disappeared.

“Giggles?” Hoseok appeared from the corridor, still shirtless, with a pair of bermuda on.

“Uhm… I should… Go, I guess?” You said, staring at the floor awkwardly. “I…”

Hoseok felt fear grip him once he thought this could be the last time he would see you.

“Wait. I—” He stretched his hand toward you. “I think— Uhm, underwear. Since I messed up yours.” He rubbed his nape. “I could wash your… panties and return them to you… Next Friday?” He looked up at you with a sheepish smile. “Over fried chicken and a chill dress code?”

Your cheeks shot up as you felt yourself smile. “So this is not a one time thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

You nodded, increasingly convinced.

You gingerly wore his boxers, noticing they were relatively comfortable on you, the cotton breezy and light, definitely soft over your abused skin. “Then I’ll return these on Friday. Over fried chicken and chill dress code. And maybe my peach frilly undies?”

“It’s a deal then, Giggles.”

“Deal.”

[kindahoping4forever]

Wanna Know That Body Like It’s Mine // Calum Hood

@cal-puddies​​​ and I once again cannot thank you all enough for clowning with us during another Hoe Hours weekend! If you haven’t yet, be sure and check out Cass’s Cal fic from yesterday (I Love The Sound, I Love The Taste) and my Ash fic (Fight So Dirty) that kicked off the event. (In addition to the bonus Cal blurb - What’s Mine Is Yours - we couldn’t help but co-write because again, we’re clowns.)

We’ve been hyped on this piece for a while - it was requested by an anon (and specifically requested we co-write, which warmed our hearts) about a month ago and while there were stops and starts, we’ve basically been working on it ever since (I swear Cass had sent me a shared doc within seconds of me sharing the request lol). We can’t wait to hear what you think so please blow up both of our inboxes!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Cal. So much smut but an equal amount of feelings. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, oral and manual stimulation of both a male and a female, semi-public sexual encounter, sex toys, rimming, pegging.

Word Count: 11,384

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Hoe Hours Masterlist

Crystal: Taglist // Ko-Fi          Cass: Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

————-

“Hey babe!” Calum calls out, letting himself in to your apartment.

He’s greeted by a fit of giggles followed by an apologetic “Sorry, Cal, we’re almost done.”

“That’s OK, pretty girl, I’m early.” He walks by the living room, offering a quick ‘hey’ to you and the friend you’re visiting with and then helps himself to your kitchen. He gets himself some water and finds something to munch on, leaning against the counter and absentmindedly scrolls his phone while he waits.

He respects your privacy so he does his best to tune out what he can hear of your conversation but he can’t help the way his ears perk up when he hears your friend use the term “pegging.” He can’t hear much beyond that and he makes a note to ask you about it later.

She leaves shortly after and you pop your head into the kitchen on your way to change into your date night outfit. “Ready in 10,” you announce.

“No rush, baby, take all the time you need,” he reassures you, still scrolling his phone.

You sidle up next to him. “Of course you say that, you’re in here spoiling your dinner,” you tease, dipping your hand into the box of crackers he’d selected and shoveling a few into your mouth.

He takes a breath to defend himself but is stopped when you slide a few crackers into his open mouth; he chuckles and presses a crummy kiss to your lips and swats at you as you leave the room.

Date night is a success: you and Calum treat yourselves to a great dinner and even greater sex. You’re cuddling in bed afterwards, talking about whatever comes to mind. There’s a brief lull in the conversation and then he asks you how your afternoon visit went.

“Oh, it was entertaining as always, you know she’s always got a story,” you laugh.

“Sounded like, you girls were really getting into it when I showed up,” he teases, kissing the top of your head as you lay on his chest. He waits a beat then continues, “Did I overhear something about pegging? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was digging through the fridge and that’s the type of thing that kinda grabs the attention.”

You nod and smile against his skin. “Yeah, she was saying they’d been talking about it for a while and then he whisked her away on this big trip for her birthday last month, surprised her with all the gear and they finally did it.”

His curiosity is piqued so after about 30 seconds, when it seems like you’re not going to continue the conversation, he boldly presses, “And?”

Unfazed, you reply, “And? They loved it. Said it made her feel powerful, he came harder than she’d ever seen. Super hot, brought them closer together, all that stuff.”

“Huh,” Calum comments noncommittally. There’s another short hanging silence and then he asks, “You ever thought about that?”

“Pegging? Um... you know, it’s not really something that’s crossed my mind.” You kinda shrug and turn your head up to look at his face. “Is it something you want me to think about?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” he ponders out loud. “I don’t think I’d be opposed... I mean, you let me do that to you.”

“Well, it was a lot of work to get me to be able to take you that way,” you remind him.

“And I think it was worth it. And you don’t seem to complain about it,” he playfully argues.

You smirk at him, “There’s nothing to complain about. I do like it, that’s why we keep doing it.”

“You make valid points,” he grins. He watches you yawn and then kisses your nose. “Get some sleep, love.”

The subject doesn’t come up again over the next few days and you think nothing of it when you receive a text from Cal asking if you want to visit the sex shop. You both enjoy incorporating toys into your sex regularly and you hadn’t treated yourselves in a while, so you respond that it’s a great idea.

You walk hand in hand into the shop and then Cal kisses your cheek and you break off to look at different things. You browse for a while and then decide to find him and see if he had anything particular in mind for this trip.

You find him in front of the wall of strap ons, harnesses and dildos and he’s looking more than a little wide-eyed.

“Hey handsome, what’d you find?” You ask, curiously peering in the direction of his eyeline.

He leans in and admits in a low voice, “After our talk the other night... I just keep thinking about it.”

“Oh... OK,” you reply, rubbing his back gently. You’re a bit surprised but immediately supportive. “So... what are we looking for?” You gesture towards the wall.

You watch as he opens his mouth a couple times to answer and then he just shuts it and walks forward, looking closer at different toys. You can immediately sense he’s overwhelmed by the choices.

You link your arm in his and press a peck to his shoulder. “I know it looks like a lot but you’ve helped me pick out toys before so you’re not totally in the dark here,” you point out. “It would just be... you know, for you this time.”

“I think that’s the intimidating part,” he comments, chewing his lip. “I don’t want to pick wrong and not enjoy it and mess up something that’s supposed to be fun for us.”

You rub his arm tenderly. “Cal, we’re talking about us, we always have fun trying things. So you don’t need to worry about that,” you say firmly, hoping your confidence will provide comfort to him. “If you want to do this, the important thing is that you’re comfortable and figuring out what you want is the first step.”

He nods and scans the wall again, taking a deep breath. “The flesh colored ones are a lot,” he says quietly. “We should get a fun color.” You smile agreeably.

“I’m not ready for balls. Just a cock,” he states, almost under his breath. You bite your lip in amusement, not wanting to discourage him.

“This is good, bubba, you’re narrowing it down,” you encourage him.

An employee sets up a ladder to the left of you to get a toy down for another couple and you see Calum’s eyes repeatedly darting over there; you’re not sure if it’s out of embarrassment at his uncertainty or curiosity in what they’ve selected.

You give him another couple minutes but he’s gone quiet and you decide to step in. “Maybe it would help if we went home and talked about it? You can look at some of my toys, feel the different textures… we can look online and filter things down?” You gently suggest. “This was a good start but it might be easier to make a decision without the pressure of being in a store.”

He exhales, you assume in relief, and puts his arm around you. “Sounds good, baby,” he agrees. You expect him to lead you out of the store but instead he walks you over to the furthest corner of the intimidating wall. “Wanted to show you this, thought it suited you for some reason.”

He points at a box containing a chic-looking red and black harness; it’s a similar style to lingerie he’s picked out for you before, with fancy lacing details over the hips and ass. Of course even when planning a sexual encounter that he’s requested, he would think of you first. You grin at him. “I love it, we should get it,” you declare.

“Yeah?” He beams excitedly, picking up the box. “It caught my eye and I couldn’t get the thought of you in it out of my mind. It says it’s adjustable for most toys and it’s crotchless.” He winks at the last part and you giggle, taking the box from him and heading to the counter.

You leave the store on a high and Cal seems really into it for a few days; next time he’s over at yours, he even asks to have a look at your toys. He feels them, wanting to understand the weight and the girth.

“I have to applaud you,” he comments, sitting on your bed, studying your collection.

“For what, bub?” You casually reply, laying on the bed, watching him.

His eyes widen as he gestures at the various shapes and sizes in front of him. “You take all of this so well… and I think about you taking my cock and… holy shit, babe, that’s not easy.”

“Well… thank you, baby,” you chuckle. “But also, we probably won’t use anything similar to your cock for you just yet,” you wink.

And then it’s forgotten. Days pass without Calum bringing it up and you don’t feel like you should, since it’s something he instigated and you don’t want to make him feel pressured.

“It’s totally fine if you’ve changed your mind on the pegging thing,” you casually say one night, sitting on the kitchen counter while he loads the dishwasher. “I just want to make sure you’re not avoiding talking to me about it because you’re afraid to.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at you. “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about it,” he shrugs.

“I think it’d be fucking hot, Cal, but we’re not doing it for me,” you explain. “I’m not the one who needs to make the decision here. But for the record, if you want it, I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Well then,” he smirks. “I’m about done here. Let’s go look for some toys.”

Moments later, you’re on the couch; you sit on Cal’s lap and his computer sits on yours. You pull up a couple different sites and start filtering.

“OK, so what do you think about firmness?” He gives you a questioning look in response. You smile softly. “OK so my pink one and the like, kind of clear one? Those were super soft right?” He nods. “So we’re gonna want something firmer than that. But we probably don’t want anything too hard either.”

“Right, so like a medium then?” He reaches around you to reach the touchpad, scrolling the page. “Which of these do you use?”

“Mmm, don’t have toys for my ass.” You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock through his shorts. “Only this guy and the plugs we bought.”

“Someone’s frisky,” he comments, eyes turning back to the screen.

You filter the pages, pointing out a few options, clicking across a few different sites but still haven’t removed your hand from his crotch. He lets out a loud breath through his nose. “You OK baby?” You ask sweetly.

“Yeah, I’m great. Got a pretty girl on my lap, just barely giving me a hand job through my shorts, looking at cocks to fuck me with,” he shrugs. “All while we’re sat in the living room; just a normal day.”

“Oh, if the location is an issue, we can take this to the bedroom,” you offer with a laugh.

Calum shakes his head. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You turn and look him directly in the eye. “Well, I know one way you could find out for sure,” you lilt, spreading your legs a little.

“You act like I won’t,” he teases. He sticks his hand down the front of your shorts, slicking his fingers through your folds. He pulls his hand out and lifts his fingers to his mouth. “Yeah… we’re gonna wrap this up in the bedroom,” he announces.

He leads you to the bedroom and sits up on the bed, gesturing for you to sit up against him. You fit yourself in between his legs and pull the computer into your lap. “Let’s finish this up,” you murmur, looking back at him.

He agrees and you go back to searching, though every so often you shift your hips just so to hear him gasp. He points out some choices that he likes and you go find your soft tape measure to make sure he understands the girth of the cocks he’s picking. You instruct him to measure a few of your toys but “for reference” he pulls out his own cock to measure and that gets him distracted.

You see him stroking himself out of the corner of your eye but you try to stay focused on your search, opening a few more tabs to show him. You hear the familiar hiss that means he must’ve just thumbed over the head of his cock in a very particular way and you finally have to look up at him.

“What is this, hands on research?” You joke, taking a deep breath to steady yourself at the sight.  

Cal grins, closing the laptop and setting it aside. He grabs your hips to bring you face to face with him. “Think that’s enough for today,” he says deeply, nipping at your neck. “I need you.”

“I mean, it seemed like you were doing OK on your own,” you breathe as you reach for his hard cock, lightly running your fingers up the shaft.

Suddenly his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you don’t quite recognize. Melting into the kiss, your hands race his as you rid each other of your clothing and within moments you’re sitting in his lap, positioned above him, teasing his cock with your wetness.

He’s torn between wanting to whine at your teasing and wanting to tease you for being just as affected by the situation as he was so he splits the difference and moans as he grabs your hips and thrusts up into you.

You start to ride Calum at a fairly steady pace but he’s clearly determined to get you both off and get you both off fast; his hands are seemingly glued to your hips and he bounces you up and down on his cock, meeting your every movement with his own.

Neither of you say anything, letting your noises speak for you. He only lets go of you when he sees you biting your lip as you try to find the right friction; he moves one hand to grab your ass and the other he slips between your legs to find your clit.

It only takes a couple minutes from there for you both to finish in a flurry of noises. He keeps you in his lap for a moment, as you both come down. “See, pegging is already doing wonders for our sex life,” he quietly jokes, kissing your face.

The next day, you come over after work; you let yourself in and find Calum on the bed, with the websites already pulled up for you to browse together.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he announces as you sit next to him.

“Thinking’s good,” you chirp, kissing his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know we didn’t find exactly what I wanted but we were only looking in the dildo section, since we already bought you that badass harness you’re gonna look so hot in,” he excitedly rambles. “SO, out of curiosity, I clicked on some of their kits and I think they could work for us.”

He clicks through a number of tabs on his browser, searching for what he wants to show you and explaining his findings to you. You’re honestly impressed by the amount of research he’s done on his own; it makes you feel good to know he’s decided to take an active role in this process, it lets you know he’s serious about it. It also makes you irredeemably horny to know he’s been sitting here alone, spending what looks like a considerable amount of time contemplating what the perfect kind of cock is for you to fuck him with. You press your legs together and try to listen to what he’s saying.

“...It comes with different sizes so that gives us some leeway on that decision - they’re all cute colors, no balls. And it says they all have the flared base so we can use our harness instead of the one it comes with,” he reports, scrolling through the website’s pictures for you to see.

He’s right; the set he’s found ticks basically every box on your shopping list. You can see why it would catch his eye: it’s equal parts arousing and unintimidating, made for a beginner like him. “Cal, this looks great,” you enthuse, reaching over to add the set to your cart. “You’re better at this than even I am, I don’t think I’ve ever picked out a toy this fast.”

“I don’t know about that,” he preens a little at your praise. “I just clicked around and once I saw this one, I started picturing you with it and… I think it’s a good choice.” His voice catches slightly and he clears it, pointing to the moderately sized royal blue dildo.

Again, your entire body feels charged thinking about Calum thinking about you, wanting you like this. You begin pressing wet kisses along his jaw and he chuckles at your eagerness. “Got a couple other things I think we should shop for, pretty girl,” he smirks, seeing you pout in his periphery.

“Oh? Let me see,” you reply, moving to snatch the computer away from him. You giggle as Cal anticipates your move and sits it beside him on the bed so he can continue searching. You sit up on your knees and continue mouthing at his jaw, neck and ears, your hands lightly moving over his chest. You take note of the way his sweatpants are beginning to tent.

“Baby,” he breathes. “I wanna show you this set of plugs… might be a good idea… we didn’t go right into having you take my cock… worked up to it.” His breathing increases every few words and you know you’ve got him when you thumb over his hardened nipple through his shirt and he shudders.

You shake your hand under his shirt to give more direct attention to his nipples while sucking on his neck. “Yeah, Cal... plugs... sounds great,” you murmur.

“What’s got you so needy today, my love?” He chuckles, grabbing the back of your head for a proper kiss.

“Something about you taking such an interest here, making an effort to get it right... I appreciate it," you mumble against his lips before pulling him in for an even deeper kiss.

“Well. Something about you taking that kind of control... seeing you strapped up and wanting me that way...” He groans. “C’mere, darlin.”

He pulls you back onto his lap; you make out hungrily and it's just as intense as the day before but not as frantic. After a few moments, your shirts are discarded and you start slightly grinding in his lap. Cal grips tight onto your hips, pulling you down a little harder. 

“Have you ever experimented before?” You ask, pulling your face away from his to gauge the answer.

Getting him to share isn't always easy so you don't expect him to answer so breezily. "Always wondered what it'd be like, dipped a finger back there a couple times but never really pushed in," he shrugs. "Felt kind of silly doing it myself. And I couldn’t ever imagine someone doing it for me until now." He smiles softly, eyes shining.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. “Should we give it a go then?” You quirk an eyebrow, smiling as well. You feel him tense for a second and you thread your fingers in his hair. “I mean, we should start trying at some point, but we can take it slow,” you explain. He stays quiet and you reassure him, “We don’t have to do this yet if you’re not ready.”

He studies your face for a second and breathes deep. "I want to… think I’m just kind of wrapping my head around it," he admits, furrowing his brow.

You melt at his conflicted expression and kiss him tenderly. "Hey, you don't have to worry, we're in this together, you know?" He nods firmly at your encouragement. "Good... luckily I know by now how to get you to relax," you tease as you kiss down his chest, palming him through his sweatpants.

He lets out a breath through his nose. “Baby.” He’s grinning, you can hear it even with your eyes closed.

You let his cock spring free and you softly kiss the tip before pulling his pants all the way off.

“You trust me, baby boy?” You ask, tugging at the band of his pants.

Cal lifts his hips. “Of course,” he offers without hesitation.

“OK. I’m gonna try something, alright?” You warn, coming back up to pay special attention to his cock.

You hear him murmur his consent as you lick up and down the sides of him and then sink your mouth down, bobbing just enough to get him nice and covered in spit. You pull off and check his face, which is watching you, fascinated; he raises his eyebrows in anticipation for what's to come, given your announcement.

You wrap your hand around his length, slowly tugging it as you mouth his balls. You gently rub your hand up and down the back of his thigh before pushing it up and very gently kissing your way down further. You gently lick over his puckered hole and wait to see how he reacts.

You hear a sharp intake of breath which you expect, what you don't expect is the way he slightly scoots his ass down closer to you. You move your tongue against his opening again, this time adding a couple swirling motions, which earn you some low groans.

You grin to yourself and repeat the action. He wraps his hand around the back of his leg, lifting it for you so you can focus your attention where he really wants it. Calum may be ready for this after all.

There’s a whimper that escapes his lips that lets you know he’s enjoying this more than he was letting on. “Tongue,” is all he says. “So good...”

You let go of his cock and slide both hands up the back of his thighs, pushing them closer to his chest.

“So pretty, babe,” you coo. He’s had you like this many times before and you can see why he likes it, the vulnerability it forces you to share. “Touch your cock,” you direct, going back to tend to his hole.

He seems entranced by the way you're making him feel, a seemingly never-ending gravelly whine pouring from his throat. After a few more flicks of your tongue, you pull back and notice his hands remain clenched at his sides.

"Cal, baby," you lightly tap his thigh. "Stroke yourself for me, handsome, I know you need it."

Calum breaks out of his daze at the sound of your voice and pulls his cock away from his stomach, where it's been laying there leaking.

You go back to work and he wraps a hand around himself; he manages two or three tugs before he lets out a guttural moan and immediately drops his cock again. "Babe... touching feels too good... don't wanna cum yet, want you to keep going," he pants.

“Oh... I’ve got a needy baby boy, huh?” You tease. You let go of his thigh and reach for his abandoned cock, lightly teasing your fingertips over it while you lap at his entrance.

You feel him relax a bit so you start to tease the tip of your tongue inside him, partly for him but mostly so you can hear his neediest whines yet.

Cal whimpers as you cup his balls and run your finger lightly on the underside of his shaft. You can see the precum pooling on his stomach.

He’s mumbling with that rasp that his voice gets only when he's feeling truly wrecked. You place a few sloppy wet kisses to that space between his hole and his balls and he shouts as his whole body jumps.

You pull back to admire him in his debauched state and the cry that leaves his lips confirms what bad shape he’s in. He lets out a breathy, “Baby, why?” followed by a begging, “Please don’t stop.”

“Just wasn’t sure if you were enjoying it,” you tease, diving back in with more enthusiasm and determination than before.

You keep one hand lightly massaging his base and it only takes a few more licks over his opening for you to feel him twitch in your grasp and to hear him groaning. His orgasm is absolutely obscene; his cock spurts rope after rope of cum over his torso, as he whines desperately, still pushing his body closer to you, urging you to keep going.

You give him what he wants and keep flicking your tongue against him over and over with the occasional dip inside until you feel him start to settle down. You move your kisses to his thighs and look up at him again.

"Cal?" You check on him.

His eyes are still screwed shut, his hand now tight around his cock, squeezing the last few drops of cum from his tip. “I’m good baby... so fuckin’ good,” he sighs. His other hand reaches out to you and his body relaxes completely. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so wrecked and it makes you want to do this for him even more.

You take his hand and grasp it tightly, coming up to gently stroke his lightly sweat-covered face with your other hand. "Did so good for me, bub, holy shit," you compliment him. "So hot seeing you like that, I could definitely get used to this."

He kisses your hand and then looks down at his cum covered body. “I think I could too,” he laughs euphorically.

The weekend comes and Cal lets himself into your place, as he always does; Duke comes scampering in too.

“Hi love!” You greet the dog, leaning over to pet him.

Cal grins, watching you with Duke.

“Hiya, other love.” You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your toes to kiss him. “Listen… I went ahead and bought those toys you showed me,” you say nonchalantly as you pull away.

“Oh? Good... I forgot,” he says sheepishly. 

“Look, I haven’t been dating you for this long not to assume you wouldn’t remember after we got high and you buried your face in between my thighs like I was your last meal,” you tease, tapping his shoulder.

“And I’d do it again,” he smirks. “Especially... like… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about your tongue every day we did that.”

“Oh? Enjoyable for you, handsome?” You chuckle.

“I mean, judging by the amount of cum you cleaned off my stomach, I'd have to say yes,” he says with wide eyes, pulling you back in to him.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re back in the bedroom. Your panties stay on but Calum is completely naked, on his back and holding his thighs up for you again. His breathing is heavy and he’s whimpering as your tongue dances over his hole.

You pull back and peer over at him. “Cal… do you wanna try something?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby, anything you want,” he rushes out.

“Babe, this is about you,” you point out patiently.

“I know… you’re right… I want it, I want it.” It’s almost panicked the way he’s whining.

You run your hands along the sides of his thighs soothingly. You reach over for the small bottle of lube you’d tucked under one of your pillows just in case and coat your fingers with it. You wrap your hand around his cock and slowly touch him, knowing he might need the distraction and then you gently tease a finger against his hole, swirling it, causing him to gasp. You wait until he relaxes and then you squeeze his shaft as you slowly start to push your finger in.

Cal lets out a breathy “Oh” like you’ve never heard and you press a kiss to his leg as you push in a little further. You continue slowly like this for a minute until his breath sputters and you feel him tightening around your finger. You pause and start to pull back but then he emits a deep “Keep going” that you can’t disagree with.

You push your finger in slowly past the resistance and then gently start moving around, looking for that one spot; you’ve done your research so you would know what to expect and what you were looking for.

He practically pries your hand off his cock. “Can’t,” he whines, desperate.

“OK, handsome,” you murmur. You kiss along his thighs and wrap your free hand around one. You work your finger a bit more, watching his body react. When he starts moving back against you, you ask, “Want another?”

“Mmm hmm,” he nods frantically, eyes closed.

You slick a bit more lube onto your second finger and start to work it in as well. “Doing so good for me, baby,” you sigh. You didn’t realize how worked up you had gotten until you hear how breathy your voice comes out. “This is so fucking hot, Cal.”

“Oh god, baby,” he cries, voice straining as your two digits move inside him. You look up at him and he’s looking right back; it’s one of the more intense moments you two have shared. He drops his head to the pillows and you watch his back arch and a slew of curse words spill from his lips. “Right. There,” he huffs.

You gently bite his thigh. “Want to see you cum for me, baby,” you coo, confident in your movements. Almost immediately, his sounds become even breathier and whinier and you see his hand fly to grasp his cock as the cum starts spurting. “There you go, baby boy,” you praise as he desperately bucks his hips. “So good, handsome.”

You pull your fingers out and Calum lays panting for a while, dazed. You press a kiss to each of his knees and move to start cleaning up. His eyes are shut but he feels you moving around the room and he reaches out to touch your arm. “I love you, baby,” he quietly rasps.

The next morning, Cal gets up just after dawn to take Duke out and never returns to bed. You find him at your kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal and writing in his journal.

“Morning, bub,” you yawn, kissing the top of his head as you pass by to make yourself some breakfast. "I was thinking if it's nice out, we might take Duke to the park today?"

He gets up and takes his bowl to the sink. “Oh, uh… I was actually thinking I’d head out pretty soon,” he says apologetically. “I’ve been busy so the house is kind of a mess… there’s actually a lot I should take care of.”

“Oh. OK, yeah,” you shrug. You’re slightly surprised, you thought you were spending the day together but it’s not unlike Cal for him to put vital tasks until the last minute. “Maybe next week.”

The next few days follow a similar pattern. You ask Calum if he wants to grab dinner, he already has plans. He’s “swamped” and has to postpone your movie night. There’s still a “Good morning, pretty girl” text waiting for you when you wake up every day and a “Good night, my love” text that chimes every night when you’re brushing your teeth so you’re not too worried but you can tell something is off.

You get an email that your toy order has shipped and you send a screenshot to Cal, accompanied by the eggplant and dripping emojis. It takes him a while to reply, which is typical, but when he finally does, all you get back is “lol.” You frown. You don’t know how you expected him to respond but it was definitely not “lol.”

Your understanding of the situation starts becoming a bit clearer when you scroll up through your text thread and see that every time you’ve brought up your recent encounters, he’s either changed the subject or given an extremely short, vague response. You exhale slowly. You’re going to have to talk to him.

A hike is the least confrontational activity you can think to suggest and he agrees to meet you at your usual spot with Duke later that afternoon. They find you in the parking lot and you kneel down to show the small dog some love before you give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek.

As you’d hoped, you basically have the trail to yourselves; you walk for a bit, chatting easily about everyday things. You stop for a quick break and you decide to take a deep breath and go for it. “Kinda wanted to talk to you about something, bubba,” you start, hoping you don’t sound as uneasy as you feel.

Cal sits on a nearby bench and scoops Duke up to sit beside him. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, brow furrowed, dark eyes squinting in that way he does when he’s really concentrating on what you’re saying.

You sit next to them; you want to look him in the eyes but you’re weirdly nervous so you focus on petting the sweet dog who is also patiently waiting for you to make your case. “I feel like… and I could be totally wrong and please tell me if I am… but I feel like maybe you’ve been avoiding seeing me after you know… the last night we spent together,” you try to put it as delicately as possible. “And it’s fine if you didn’t like it and it’s fine if you want to stop trying the things we’ve been trying but… I need you to talk to me about it, Cal. I shouldn’t have to guess here and I’m feeling really shut out.”

He’s quiet for a minute but you know he’s going to take his time weighing his words and making sure he expresses himself clearly. Finally he quietly says, “You’re right.”

There’s another pause and you hope to ease his mind by cracking, “That’s a good start, babe, but I’m gonna need a little more.”

Calum shakes his head fondly, waits a beat, then lets it all out, both slow and rushed as only he can. “I guess I just didn’t expect… I don’t know, baby, we’ve been together a while and we’ve done a lot of shit but that’s the closest to you I’ve ever felt. Which is good like… I want that. But I just felt really… exposed?” He stares off down the trail for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve just never felt need like that before and I don’t think I was prepared for how it would feel to let you see me like that.”

It takes a minute for him to feel like he can meet your eyes and you can’t help but think it’s for the best, as yours are brimming with tears. You feel so deeply for him in this moment and the love you have for him overwhelms you.

“Baby,” you whisper, reaching your hand over the bench to squeeze his shoulder. “That’s a lot. And I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me? You didn’t have to deal with all that alone.”

“A bit hard to be open with someone about being embarrassed you were open with them,” he points out with a shrug.

“But Cal, that’s just it! There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, you know there’s no judgement between us, especially in bed,” you firmly insist. “And if you are feeling weird about anything, I need to know. The only way we can continue this is if you talk to me, babe, that’s just the way it’s gotta be.”

Calum nods quietly and sits Duke on his lap so he can pull you closer, placing his arm around you. You rest your head on his shoulder and say, “You have to trust me with this, bub. I’m not gonna feel comfortable doing this unless I know you can communicate with me. How can I be sure you’ll tell me if something doesn’t feel right physically if you feel awkward even telling me that your feelings are off, baby?”

He squeezes your arm. “I can do that,” he promises. “I also think I was a little afraid to make you feel bad about it. I really did like it. And I could tell you did too. It was just the after I had trouble processing.”

You lift your head up and gently turn his face to look at you. “I’ll make you a deal,” you state. “I can definitely step up my aftercare game for you. But for me, Cal, I need once and for all you to understand that this isn’t about me. I know it goes against your instincts and I love that about you but we’re doing this for your pleasure and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Deal. Although… I’m still gonna give you one hell of an orgasm when you do this for me… there’s no talking me out of that,” he smirks, lightening the mood.

You text him later that week to let him know the toys have arrived and his face immediately flashes on your screen.

“Should we get out of town?” He asks.

“We can do whatever you think is gonna be most comfortable for you, bubba,” you affirm. “I figured you’d want to do it at your place because it’s familiar territory and it’s going to be such an unfamiliar experience…”

“I know I agreed that technically this is for me but... I still feel like it’s about us…” He thinks out loud. “I dunno, part of me wants to take you away on this big romantic adventure so we can be alone together. No outside world, just our bubble.”

“I love you, baby. Whatever you want,” you say softly.

And so it’s settled. The next afternoon Calum is waiting for you on your couch when you get home from your half-day at work. He’s already packed a bag for you and he’s raring to go.

You head into your room to change and decide to check what he packed for you. You unzip the bag and to your surprise, it appears he’s thought of just about everything, including his favorite lingerie for you. The harness, the dildo set and the plugs are all accounted for and he’d even remembered your travel bag from the bathroom. You smile at his effort and head back out to him.

“Great pack job, baby, I’m all set!” You toss the bag by the door excitedly.

He grabs your hand as you walk to the door and for some reason it goes straight to your core; you’re not travelling far but you realize the drive is about to feel that much longer.

You haven’t been in the car very long when Cal starts noticing how touchy you’re being with him and about halfway through the trip, he decides to ask. “What’s with you, baby?” He asks, playfully nudging your knee.

“Nothing,” you tease. “I’m just excited! Time alone together? This is rare.”

He glances over at you and gives you a look. “You sure that’s it? Because the way you’re squeezing your thighs tells me you're excited in another way.”

“Honestly, Cal... I’d give anything to ride your face right about now,” you boldly admit and give a cheeky grin when you see his face twitch at your words.

He groans, “The absolute death of me.” Shaking his head, he quietly commands, “Undo your shorts.” You do him one better and push your shorts to the floor.

“Can’t get my mouth right now, but I’m sure my fingers will do,” he mumbles as he very quickly pushes your panties out of the way and slicks his fingers through your folds. “Oh... pretty girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers away to suck them into his mouth. You turn your body toward him, resting your back against the door and pulling one leg into the seat with you.

Cal steals a glance and his thumb presses to your clit, causing you to moan.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, you naughty girl,” he teases, nudging his pointer finger inside you. “Is this how you’re gonna be all weekend?”

“Probably,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Good,” he responds smugly. “I knew getting away would be the right choice.”

He pushes two fingers in and you grip the seat, letting out a little noise of approval. “Please, Cal!”

He knows he can’t take his eyes off the road no matter how badly he wants to look at you, so he turns down the radio so he can listen to your moans and let his imagination fill in the rest. You resituate and tilt your hips up toward him more. “Rub your clit, baby… want you to cum for me,” he growls.

You bite your lip and do as you’re asked. You moan loudly as he pushes in a third finger and his eyes somehow remain on the road. You let out a little gasp.

Calum can’t help but steal a glance. “Mmm, my pretty girl’s pretty pussy,” he licks his lips. “You’re so close, baby, I feel you squeezin’ my fingers.”

You grab onto his wrist with your free hand as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. Your head lulls back against the window and he makes quick work of finishing you. “Yes, baby, so hot when you cum for me,” he praises.

He withdraws his fingers once you stop throbbing around them and he lifts his index finger to your lips for you to suck clean; he goes on to suck the other two.

You sit, still exposed to him, catching your breath and you eye his hard on. “Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” he warns, keeping focused on the road. “I can practically read your mind and you’re basically salivating.”

“Can’t help it if I wanna suck you off…” You say breathily, hand dancing up his thigh. “You just made me cum… makes me wanna make you cum… you knew what to expect.”

“And now I expect you to keep your hands to yourself till we get there. Just a little bit further baby,” he promises.

You huffingly adjust your clothes and see him smirking out of the corner of your eye. But he’s right and it’s not long before you’ve made it to the hotel and checked into your room. The energy between you is wild; comfortable but nervous, familiar yet unknown. You find things to do to busy yourself, knowing it’d be ridiculous for you to immediately jump into bed. Cal connects his phone to the room’s sound system to play some music, hoping to ease the tension as you both unpack

The music helps and you go from humming along to the music to singing to being goofily spun around the room by him within minutes. After a few songs, the only bag left unopened is the one containing all your toys and you stare at it for a beat.

He notices your hesitation and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s leave it for now, baby.” He nuzzles into your neck. “Sitting in the car all that time got me craving a hot shower, come join me.”

The shower (and inevitable shower sex) helps you both relax and when you’re back in the bedroom getting dressed afterwards, you bound over to the bag left on the bed.

“This is silly. Why am I nervous now that we’re here? Do you feel nervous?” You babble as you sit on the bed, unzipping the bag and dumping it out next to you.  

Cal smiles to himself and sits down next to you. He soothingly rubs a hand over your back and with the other he picks up one of the dildos, examining it. “Nah, I’m quite looking forward to getting to know our new friends,” he says lightly. He sits it down and leans in closer to you. “It’s gonna be so good, darlin’. Can’t wait for you to fill me up,” he rasps.

You suck in a breath and capture his lips in an eager kiss that’s somehow both comforting and thrilling. “I don’t know if that qualifies as a pep talk but thanks, bub,” you laugh against his skin.

The rest of the day seems to fly by; you and Calum decide over drinks that it’d probably be best to ease into things and just try out the plugs for your first night. He insists on eating you out before you even think about touching him and by the time he makes you cum, he’s whining against you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting but the plug experience goes off without a hitch. You think to yourself that you’ll never tire of seeing him spread himself for you, never tire of hearing the new type of moans he’s been letting out since you started this journey.

It doesn’t take Cal very long to get used to the smallest plug in the set and you’re surprised when he asks you if you’ll switch to the next size up. He must’ve noticed your reaction because he tells you that the past few times he’s jerked off, he’s also fingered himself, thinking about your upcoming plans. That admission leaves you throbbing and Cal has to get you off again before either of you turn in for the night.

The next morning, you awaken to the feeling of light kisses being pressed along the back of your neck and Cal pressing himself his hardening cock into your backside, warm hands rubbing over your thighs. “Morning, pretty girl,” he says with a crack, his voice not as awake as the rest of him. “Think it’s time, baby.”

It takes a few seconds for his meaning to land. “OH,” you turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Is it? Like right now? First thing in the morning?”

“Don’t wanna wait any longer, want you now,” he murmurs, kissing over your face.

You indulge him for a second before pulling back and asking, "What time even is it? It feels early."

Calum hovers over you, nibbling at your ear. "Doesn't matter, babe. Sun's out, it's a beautiful day and it's fuckin' time," he enthuses.

There's a beat as his words register with the both of you and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a snort. He grins at you. "I meant that like for emphasis, like ‘It's fuckin’ time' not like I'm calling sex Fuckin’ Time," he laughs loudly, shoulders shaking the further he gets into his defense.

You cackle, tears running out of your eyes. You tease, "What does it say about me that I still want you after hearing that come out of your mouth?"

He shakes his head, breath coming out in wheezes. "You must really have it bad for me, I guess," he shrugs, eyes sparkling.

"Something like that," you giggle, drawing him in for a kiss. You nip at his mouth as you pull away. "Now, let's get what we need, baby. It's Fuckin' Time."

He hops in the shower while you evaluate the lingerie he packed for you and decide what he'd like best. You get out your gear and think to yourself how glad you are that you watched a video online about how to properly fit the harness for your body; you're so excited you're not sure you'd be able to figure it out on your own otherwise.

By the time Calum's out of the shower, you're admiring your reflection in the mirror above the dresser; you could always count on him to pick out underwear that both accentuated the things he loves most about you and made you feel great. Your hand wraps around the synthetic cock jutting proudly from your crotch; you give it a light squeeze and marvel at how the silicone is such a familiar feeling but feeling the weight of it attached to you, seeing it as part of you, knowing what you're about to do with it? All new feelings, equally jarring and thrilling.

You hear a sharp intake of breath behind you and turn to see Cal, clad only in his grey sweatpants. He walks over, eyes never wavering from you and takes your hand to spin you around so he can fully appreciate you. He lets out a soft whistle. “Gorgeous,” he praises, eyes travelling over you and landing on the royal blue dildo he chose. “A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

He pulls you in to kiss you and you giggle against his lips as you feel him shifting, trying to find a comfortable place to situate your protruding appendage. “Is this what you have to deal with with me, baby? Jesus,” he laughs at the awkward dance.

You shrug. “I’d say it’s worth it,” you say flirtatiously as you reach down to palm him, raising an eyebrow when you feel him soft.

He runs a hand over the back of his neck like he does when he gets bashful. “I, uh, might’ve pre-gamed a little in the shower. I wanted to be sure I could make this last,” he discloses.

You smile and peck his lips. “Good boy,” you coo.

Cal steps back and eyes you for a second. “You’re feelin’ yourself, aren’t you, baby?” He grins at you.

You bite your lip and turn back to your reflection and you find yourself wrapping a hand around the dildo once again. “Actually, I kind of am,” you state with a nod.

He kisses your shoulder. “I’m feelin’ you too... now let me get you off so we can get to Fuckin’ Time,” he jokes.

You giggle as he leads you to the bed. "Always such a way with words," you tease.

Calum attempts to lay you down with him but you hold a hand up, signaling you need a moment. You reach over to the bedside table, where you’d ended up unpacking your toys, and come back up with lube and the plug he liked the night before.

“We should probably start with prepping you, handsome,” you suggest gently.

He nods in agreement and lifts up to strip off his sweatpants. He holds his knees for you, like he’s done so many times now, and waits to feel the chill of the lube against his entrance. He gasps sharply when he feels your tongue briefly brush against him instead.

“Sorry, baby boy, couldn’t help myself,” you chuckle, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. He ends up taking the plug with even less resistance than the previous session and he beams as the praise flows from your lips.

You lay beside him and sigh as he moves above you, kissing along your neck and the tops of your breasts, murmuring about how pretty they look in the bra he picked out. You expect him to make his way in between your legs but he pulls back before he makes it there. "Think I'm gonna need you on my face, love."

You let out an excited hum as Cal gets situated next to you and squeal as he grabs you and pulls you over to straddle his face. “I knew you’d look incredible in this, baby,” he murmurs, nibbling your thigh, fingers tracing over the lace of the harness before teasing over your wetness, thanks to the crotchless center. “And anything with this type of access is A+ in my book.”

"Well, you're a man with exquisite taste," you compliment playfully.

You gasp as he licks a fat stripe up your center. "Mmm, talk about exquisite taste, darlin’,” he laughs huskily.

The lighthearted moment is short-lived as he quickly gets down to business licking you. His tongue dances along your folds, occasionally dipping inside your entrance teasingly. It always takes you a minute to feel comfortable grinding on his face but once you start rocking your hips, you're unable to stop and he grips your thighs to steady you.

“Slow down, baby, I’ve never let you down,” he murmurs. He presses up on your thighs to make room for him to push two fingers inside you.

“God, Calum.” You moan, looking down at him, tangling your fingers in his hair. “So fucking good.”

He withdraws his fingers in favor of licking up into you and you feel your eyes widen as you watch him reach up to grab the dildo and begin stroking it. You groan loudly, feeling yourself become even more turned on than you thought possible as you watch his hand move over the silicone as his mouth pleasures your pussy.

"Like how my cock feels in your hand, baby? Do you like jerking me off?" You tease, arousal emboldening you. "If it feels this good to you now, just think how much better it's gonna feel inside you."

Cal grunts into you and you swear you could cum just from that sound alone. His hand works quickly over the toy as he wraps his other around your thigh, pulling you down on his face. With his nose lightly nudging your clit, you can’t help yourself and start grinding on his face again.

“Get it, baby,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you in me.”

He sucks your clit in between his lips and your legs shake around his face. He releases it in favor of flicking his tongue and then lifts you up a bit, kissing along your lips as he catches his breath.

"Somethin' about seeing you like this," he breathes. "I don't know, pretty girl, it's already more than I dreamt of."

You murmur in response and he brings you back down onto his mouth. "Now I need you to cum for me."

You grip tightly into his hair, encouraging his skilled tongue to finish you off. “Oh fuuuuuuuck,” you moan loudly, leaning forward into the headboard as you cum. Cal takes his time licking around you, letting you enjoy the come down.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, lifting you off his face. You land next to him and he sits up, immediately pulling you into a sloppy kiss. “Need you,” he states plainly, reaching for the lube and placing it in your hand. “Please, I can’t wait,” he urges.

You let out a loud breath, pleased by his eagerness. You start slicking the lube over your strap-on; Cal hurriedly lays back down on the bed; his chest rises and falls rapidly, you can tell he's both excited and nervous and you recognize that the look on his face is the one he makes when he's trying desperately not to touch himself.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, hoping to calm him a bit. "Do you feel ready for me, baby?" You move down his body and lightly run your fingertips over his cock, playing with the precum that's sliding down the shaft as you check on the plug that's been filling him. "You take this one so well, Cal. Think you're nice and open for me."

He lets out a shaky breath, reaching to hold onto your hips for a second. “Baby,” he says quietly as you gently pull at the plug, pulling it to the widest part and letting it slide back into him.

“I’m serious, Cal, wish you could see how well you take it,” you praise, watching in amazement. “You gonna be this good for my cock? I know you want to, don’t you, baby boy?” You tease, digging your nails into his thigh.

He whimpers slightly and you watch as he attempts to collect himself, cock already twitching with anticipation, leaking onto his stomach. "Pretty girl, I'm gonna need that pretty cock in me as soon as you can, don't think I can wait much longer," he rasps

“Oh, I think you could,” you tease. “But I won’t make you.” You pull the plug out, gently squeezing his balls in your other hand. “The idea of you letting me have you like this is so hot...” You trail off as he shudders underneath you; you assume it’s from the coolness of the lube you’re rubbing over him but you suspect it partly has to do with your words as well.

You grab your cock and line yourself up, pushing the tip against his hole. “OK, Cal, remember to talk to me,” you whisper, rubbing your hands reassuringly on his thighs. You make eye contact with him as you start to push into him at an achingly slow pace, watching his face, making sure everything’s OK.

You see him puff out his cheeks and exhale slowly a couple times, trying to decipher how he feels about your intrusion. You slowly continue until you meet that resistance and you pause before going any further. "Relax, baby," you soothe. "We’ll go as slow as you need, I promise."

You start to pull out slightly and his eyes widen as he involuntarily lets out a loud moan. You halt your movements again and wait. "That was actually a good sound," he chuckles, squeezing your hand on his thigh. "It's just. Feels fuller than before. But good. Just different." He rambles, sorting through his racing thoughts.

You squeeze his hand back and smile at him. He breathes deep. "We can keep going, just slow like this," he nods to himself. "And maybe some more lube?"

“Of course, Cal, yes, this is perfect,” you enthuse. “Tell me what you want, just like we talked about. That’s what’s gonna make this good for both of us.” You encourage excitedly, working more lube onto your toy.

You feel like kissing him; you think he wants it, maybe even needs it. But you know you can’t lean in to do so, you’d push in too quickly, so you settle for kissing his knee.

He squeezes your hand again, “A little further, love,” he requests.

You do as he asks and you see him wince briefly so you back up. This decision is met with a whimper. “No, baby, in. I’m good, I promise,” he states firmly.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and reach to play with his cock a little, hoping to give him both some relief and some distraction. He licks his lips and relaxes into your touch, allowing you to inch the toy in a bit more. "Doing so good, Cal," you comment softly.

You watch his chest breathe in and out, timing it with the slight rocking of your hips to help you enter him more and more. Calum wraps his hand around yours, helping you stroke your hand over him.

“Oh fuck.” He moans, squeezing your hand around his cock. “Like that,” he pants.

Your tactic works and he gets so caught up in the feeling of your joint efforts jerking him off that he doesn't notice you've finally worked the dildo inside him entirely. "God, Cal," you groan at the realization. "How does it feel knowing I'm buried inside you, baby?"

He shudders at your words. “Buried?” He asks, making sure he heard right. He feels you pressed all the way against him and groans. “Oh my god, baby… fuck.” He gently tugs on you, pulling you down to him. “I’m so happy we’re doing this,” he murmurs, kissing you. 

You move back to a kneeling position and gently pull your hips back; when you slowly push forward again, his mouth drops completely open and the only thing that comes out are little breathy sounds.

You feel yourself throbbing again, this is already much more intense than you anticipated. Calum's eyes are squeezed shut but you're confident if they were open, they would be glassy. "Baby boy," you warmly coo, slowly rocking your hips. "Let me see you stroke your cock, handsome."

His eyes open and he blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on you working above him. Your words finally register and his hand travels down, wrapping around his cock. "Feels so good," he murmurs, fighting the urge to speed up his hand. "Want more, baby, please give me more."

You slightly pick up the pace and mild discomfort flashes across his face but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure. You lean in and press kisses across his chest, covering the tattoos there.

“Mmm, more baby…” Calum pants, squeezing the head of his cock. “Can you... please… faster?”

You oblige and he lets out a loud whimper quickly followed by a guttural moan when you accidentally change the direction your hips hit.

“Right there... right there, GOD, right fucking there,” he chants, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing you to help you find that spot again.

His moans go straight to your core and you feel arousal start to drip down your thighs. You can't believe how hot it is seeing him like this, witnessing him give himself over to you like this and let his guard down, telling you what he needs from you. "Makes me feel so good to give you what you want, baby," you admit in a whinier tone than you intend. "Just want my cock to please you like yours pleases me."

“It’s fucking perfect,” he chokes out.

The two of you manage to find that magic spot again and your hips hit it relentlessly once you do. Calum is breathing heavier than you’ve ever heard before and when you tease a finger down his precum soaked shaft, he yelps. “You wanna cum for me, baby boy?”

"Don’t want this to end," he confesses, voice faltering in that way you know means he's at the point of no return. "You're just fucking me so good, baby." His voice catches at the end of his sentence and he groans deep and loud as his cock starts to twitch; his hand flies towards it as the pulsing intensifies, cum shooting out in wild, strong spurts along his torso, some reaching as high as his chest tattoos. His moans seem to go on forever, as does his orgasm; you continue to drive your hips into him through it, marveling at the intensity of his release as he pumps the last drops out.

He grabs your hips when it becomes too much and you slowly pull back and out of him. “Holy fuck, baby.” He breathes in disbelief. “You... you fucked me good.”

You grin and move beside him, fingers dragging through the cum covering his chest; you lean forward to lick at the ropes decorating his tattoos and he threads his fingers in your hair, gazing at you adoringly. “How're you?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“I loved it. But… honestly, I’m dripping, Cal,” you confess, sitting back up. “I knew that was going to be intense but like… fuck.”

He notices the sheen of wetness on your thighs and reaches out, arm heavy with exhaustion, to caress your leg. "What can we do for you, love? Anything you want, you deserve it."

You lean down to kiss him. "I feel like your mouth is making promises the rest of you can't keep, baby boy." You chuckle against his lips. "I have an idea but first help me out of this harness, I wanna be naked with you."

He helps you out of both the harness and your bra and then pulls you against his body. You put one of your legs between his and start to rock your hips against it, looking up at him for another kiss.

He nibbles at your lips before kissing them, sighing into your mouth as he feels your wetness spread on his leg. "Tell me what you need, love, want you to feel as good as I do right now."

You bite your lip and shift yourself off him, leaning over to the bedside table. "At first I thought it might've been a mistake that you packed my plug along with the set we got for you," you start, retrieving the toy and reaching for the lube. "But now I'm thinking you may be the smartest man alive."

Cal smiles broadly as he watches you slick it up and then reach behind you and start spreading some lube around your tight hole. "I know you, baby, thought you might get jealous seeing me stretched out like that," he teases.

“You do know me,” you affirm with a smirk. “Help me?” You ask, handing him the lubed plug.

He grins cheekily at you and captures you in another kiss as he works the plug in; he pushes it in a bit and then pulls it back out, making sure you feel all the stretch he knows you love.

You groan at the sensation and Cal plays with you a little more, enjoying your sounds and the way your hips are moving. "Babyyyy..." you whine and he relents, pushing the plug inside you fully and giving your ass a light tap.

"You want something else, darlin'?" He asks sweetly, reaching towards the drawer again. "Brought your vibe too. Or we've got the other dildos from my set we didn't need."

“So thoughtful, such a gentleman,” you tease, gesturing towards your small bullet vibrator. He clicks it on and starts teasing it against your clit.

You bite your lip and groan. “You’ve earned this, baby,” he declares, watching intently as you take the toy from him and start moving it on yourself.

You got so worked up from fucking him that it only takes a few minutes before you're close. "Gonna cum," you announce to no one in particular.

Calum watches as you hold the vibe against your clit waiting to fall over the edge. He moves his hand from your chest, where he'd been gently playing with your nipples, down between your thighs and plunges two fingers inside you, moving them carefully so as not to upset the position of the vibe.

“Fuck, Cal,” you moan, hips bucking against the vibe, pussy clenching around his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, encouraging you to ride his fingers and switching out the vibe on your clit for his thumb when he can tell it’s become too much.

He withdraws his fingers from you and licks them clean as you flop face down onto the bed next to him. He chuckles and runs his other hand through your hair and down your back as you come down. “You can’t possibly be more worn out than I am, pretty girl.”

You shift your head to face him. “I don’t know, baby… having you like that… kind of the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or done in my life,” you tease, eyes and voice dreamy with exhaustion.

“Well… letting you have me like that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done or seen, so I guess it’s a draw,” he responds, kissing your face as he gently removes the plug from your ass.

You curl into each other and it’s quiet for a few moments as you both take in what you just experienced. “Thank you for asking me to do this for you,” you breathe, breaking the silence. “It feels good to know you trust me like this.”

Calum kisses the top of your head. “Can’t think of a thing I wouldn’t trust you with, darlin’,” he says thoughtfully. “I love you.”

You murmur, “Love you too, baby boy.” You peck his chest and sit up, pulling on his arm. “Let’s get cleaned up and then it’s Fuckin’ Nap Time.”

He lets out of a huff of a laugh, allowing you to pull him out of bed with you. “I’m never gonna live down Fuckin’ Time, am I?”

“Think you’re just gonna have to embrace that one, bub, I’m not letting it go,” you giggle as you pull him towards the shower. “But don’t worry, I can guarantee you’re gonna be hearing that phrase a lot this weekend, you’ll have time to embrace it.”

---------------

@mymindwide​​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​ @pxrxmoore​​​​  @loveroflrh​​​ @ghostofmashton​​​​ @sexgodashton​​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​​​  @castaway-cashton​​​ @boomerash​​​​ @cashtonasfuck​​​​ @megz1985​​​ @ashdork-irwin​​​ @ashtonangst​​​​ @angelicfluffs​​​ @findingliam-o​​​ @abadaftertaste​​​  @youngbloodchild​​​ @irwinsbetch​​​ @ashsun​​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​​

@wiildflower-xxx​​​  @metalandboybands​​​ @another-lonely-heart​ @realisticnotes​​​ @makeamovehemmings​​​ @ashtondaddy90​​​ @golden166​​ @burstintocolor​​​ @mfartzzz​​​ @babyoria​​​ @saphseoul @petunias-pet​​ @youngblood199456​​​ @seanna313​​ @calumftduke​​​ @zhangyixingxing1​​​ @stardust-galaxies​ @Redeserts

@zackoid​  @queenalienscherrypie @lovelybonesetc​ @Obey-Kaylin @xsongxbirdx​ @justhereforcalum​​ @laura66sos​ @cocktail-calum​ @karajaynetoday​​   @babylon-corgis​  @afiforeverx @The-divine-femme @heyheyhaleyd​  @babylonhfk​ @spicycal​  @Mauriemiller @holystxne​ @bbversdocandy  @meetmedowntown​​ @creampiecashton​​  @lovelywordsblog​

@rhiannonmichellee​ @iovehemmings​ @glitterycalum1205 @katcontreras​  @ificanthaveu​  @canterburyfiction​ @opheliaaurora​  @queer-5sos @gigglyirwin​  @glitterycalum1205 @rebelwith0utacause​ @sadistmichael​ @notinthesameguey​ @angel-cal @pilunb​ @the1weliveinnow @smilexcaptainx​ @viiirgo​ @myfavfanficsever​ @addietagglikesbands​ @calmsweetcreature​ 

@strawberriesonsummer​  @talkfastromance4 @myescapefromthislife​ @lukedorkyhemmings​ @bronte.niven @stormrider505 @katiaw2 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @crazyforcal​ @simply-sam-things @harringtonstudios​ @calmforharry​ @midwestloser33

[autistic-lalli]

I dont know how to properly frame my question, but autistic!lalli has always been a headcanon I readily claimed as canon in my heart because it MAKES PERFECT SENSE in my brain. But besides me, what I'd like to ask is what traits/habits/behaviors Lalli has that immediately clicked to you that he was autistic? Or showed that he was? Like, gush to me about them

(this is mainly so I can get better at writing him and also because I'm curious to know! Actually, SLAP me with EVERYTHING about Lalli, if you can 😂 I'd love to actually know everything)

This topic was also requested by @the-story-isnt-over-yet ! This post is for both y’all :)

I’m going to try to keep this organized, but we’ll see how successful I am. First up, I’ll talk through Lalli’s general traits, then the traits I picked out quickly and resonated with, and then I’ll touch on a couple other things that stand out to me!

Sensory Experience

Lalli repeatedly displays sensory-avoiding and sensory-seeking behaviors. He likes soft textures and sweets—he picks himself up a big ol’ fluffy cloak in Adventure 2, and his mind conjures him a nice and soft one in his dreamspace, and we all know how he feels about pastries. He’s always willing to eat sweets and breads, which suggests that Lalli has samefoods as well (samefoods are like a comfort food, but taken up to eleven; foods that always sound good, sometimes to the point that they’re the only thing an autistic person can eat.) It’s just a single line, but where Lalli tells Emil that he hates blueberries, it makes me think of a very specific picture (I’ll link it later if I can find it.) Blueberries, and other fruit, don’t taste the same every time! Some are sweet, some are sour, some are mushy, some are grainy, and some are juicy. When you don’t know what to expect from a food, this makes it hard to want to eat it, even if some aspect of the flavor is good.

But I digress! One thing that I resonated with right away with Lalli is that he clearly has sensitive proprioceptive awareness. That just means the sense of where your body is in space. When Lalli sleeps or hides under a bunk or table, he’s reducing his sensory input. Being in a small space is comforting because there’s less space to be aware of.

Lalli is also sensitive to touch, which is a fairly easy trait to spot. He doesn’t like the friendly punches the crew delivers, and even balks at Emil’s touch when he’s upset. There are exceptions, but those exceptions come at times when Lalli is calm and expecting the touch to occur.

And sound! Lalli doesn’t like loud sounds, in particular loud people (sorry, Sigrun.) This is a great place to talk about Lalli’s shutdowns. We don’t see Lalli experience meltdowns, but he does have a shutdown a couple times. Shutdowns are a response to stress and sensory overload. It looks different for everyone, and since it’s internal, it’s hard to tell how exactly Lalli’s shutdowns run. However, we see him cover his ears to block out sound and hum (“mrr!”) in order to calm himself down. He’s just trying to regulate his sensory experience. His humming is also an example of vocal stimming.

Social Difficulties

Lalli definitely has social difficulties, but it can be hard to tell which difficulties are due to the language barrier and which are due to his brain chemistry. But! Paying attention to the first part of the story, when he’s with all Finnish-speakers, as well as the dream sequences can really help us hone in on those traits.

Lalli, in general, doesn’t understand other people beyond what they say. He doesn’t understand body language or sarcasm—he doesn’t get why everyone’s punching him, he doesn’t know when Tuuri’s joking and when she’s serious, and he stares at Emil because he’s curious about him and doesn’t realize it’s impolite. He doesn’t notice when Emil is rude and doesn’t understand social scripts like saying “thank you” and “you’re welcome.” When he wants to express approval or comfort, he gives a soft pat to the other person. More touch than that might be too much for him, but he does want to express something, and pats are an excellent tool in that way.

Lalli’s inability and/or refusal to learn or use the crew member’s names also gives us insight to how Lalli faces social conundrums. To him, everyone else is more distinguishable by the epithets he gives them—their names don’t mean anything. It’s like naming someone “flower delivery guy” in your phone contacts instead of “Greg.”

Lalli also isn’t easily frightened. The only times we see him be really afraid is when someone he loves is in immediate mortal danger. The everyday stuff like trolls and omens don’t scare him, which is certainly in part just because he’s used to these things. Trolls and spirits are an everyday part of his life. But an unusual lack of fear is a common autistic experience as well, so I suspect it goes beyond Lalli’s accustomation.

Other Traits

A couple other things that didn’t fit into either of the former categories! First of all, the rubik's cube. That’s just autistic solidarity. Emil picked up a stim toy for his bf, we love to see it.

But also, Lalli relies a lot on his routine. That’s probably why the military, and scouting in particular, suited him. He has his own personal routine that is the same day in and day out. He tries to keep a routine on the expedition, but isn’t able to, which increases the amount of stress he’s under. Nothing is predictable, which automatically makes everything more stressful.

Relationships

I also think the dynamics of Lalli’s different relationships are super interesting and really highlight some things that aren’t often covered in media with autistic characters. It’s super heartbreaking the way Onni and Tuuri don’t seem to understand Lalli. Tuuri especially doesn’t understand why Lalli does the things he does, and doesn’t seem to make any effort to understand, which is sadly a common experience for many autistic people.

On the other hand, Emil’s reactions are the complete opposite. As I put it to a friend once, Emil often makes mistakes with Lalli, but he never crosses the same boundary twice. He lets Lalli have agency in their relationship. If Lalli has a boundary that inconveniences Emil, he doesn’t complain about it, he simply adapts. Lalli has very specific needs in his relationships, needs that are both unusual and difficult for him to communicate, so it’s far easier for him to just default to being a loner.

Me & Lalli

On a personal level, I have a whole lot of these traits. I stim with soft things, I’m sensitive to sound, I tend to be hypersensitive with my proprioceptive sense, I had to intentionally teach myself to read body language (I work as a theatre artist, which helped a lot,) I’m not easily frightened, I’m sensitive to touch and sound, and I certainly struggle socially. Furthermore, I actually had an untreated sleep disorder until about a year and a half ago, so I deeply resonated with Lalli’s chronic exhaustion.

Truth be told, I headcanoned Lalli as autistic from his introductory card, and I knew he was autistic within ten pages. Chronically exhausted and doesn’t know what’s going on? Mine now.

The Autism Metaphor

I talk about this some in my autism and superpowers post, but I really love that Lalli is both autistic and is living an autistic metaphor. It’s not uncommon for characters who can see or sense other things (ghosts, spirits, emotions, danger, etc.) to read as autistic, because that’s what autism often feels like. Our sensory experience is so distinct and we are so aware of it that it can feel like a superpower at times--in a good way and in a bad way. We’re living in a sensory world that a lot of neurotypical people don’t understand. Furthermore, these kinds of powers or sensitivities usually come with an isolating social impact in these stories, which only strengthens the metaphor for autism.

But Lalli has both actual autism and is a mage. He sees spirits and omens and can sense when trolls are near, and also is sensitive to sounds and doesn’t like to be touched. These things aren’t related to one another, but they all read as being in the same category, which both deepens the metaphor and makes him really interesting as an autistic character.

This is also why Onni readily reads as autistic as well. We don’t have as much direct evidence for him, and in many ways his trauma seems to run much deeper than it does in Lalli and Tuuri, so it’s hard to separate out what’s a trauma response and what’s an autistic response. Overall, I’m quite a fan of “no Hatakoinen is neurotypical,” but that’s a post for another day ;)

I’ll also be posting a panel or two of an instance where Lalli is displaying an autistic trait each day for the month of April!

[professional-dikut]

ooh ooh a request? tech/crosshair, crosshair being supportive of tech's interest tangents and making sure he takes care of himself when he gets too invested and distracted with work? idk how to write requests lol. ps. i read your latest echo/cross one and it was freaking amazing wow so fluff much angst yes comfort :)))

Ahhhh so sorry this took so long! I love this idea sm and i had many plans for this req so i hope you enjoy! (Fic under cut⬇️)

Word Count: 2673

TW: minor bad eating habits?

"Ouch!"

Crosshair snapped his eyes up towards a muffled hiss from Tech.

The man was sitting at his small work table, shaking his right hand around as sparks began to die down on a small bundle of wires in front of him. He had a stylus between his teeth and there was a tiny pair of pliers in his left hand. His leg bounced and his eyes darted back and fourth between the flimsy next to him and the bundle of wires.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and swung his legs off his bunk to rest his feet on the ground.

Tech grumbled some incoherent curses before snatching the stylus out of his mouth and jamming down a few messy scribbles onto the flimsy.

Hunter had randomly decided to head down to the training facilities for a few hours, and Wrecker and Echo were in the cafeteria having some late night snacks. Crosshair had grabbed a snack on the way back from their simulator course earlier, though he hadnt eaten since lunch. So He and Tech were left in the barracks to do their own thing for a while until they decided to sleep.

Slowly, he pulled a leg up to his chest as he watched Tech move.

His hands flew across the pieces and parts that only he understood. His eyebrows were furrowed in the way they always were when he was deep in thought, and his eyes were zeroed in on what was in front of him and nothing else. His leg continued to bounce up and down while he twirled the stylus in his hand.

Crosshair smirked.

He stood up, quietly, and began to make his way around and over to Tech's table.

Tech muttered something and scribbled down some more notes, readjusting the bundle of wires.

The sniper slowly pulled a stool around to sit across from Tech, making as little noise as possible.

Tech didnt look up. His eyes stayed narrowed on his project, hyper focused on the goal in front of him. He picked at a few of the wires with the pliers, before twisting some together into a pattern.

Crosshair watched and got comfortable in the stool, crossing his arms and resting a leg on one of the bars around the middle of it.

Still twisting and pulling the wires into a weird pattern, Tech glanced aside to look at a black panel with some buttons and screens on it. He looked back and fourth between the wires he was still messing with, and the panel, as if he was deciding which one he should focus on. The wires were starting to look less jumbled as he wove them together, and he chewed his lip before switching to only one hand on the wires.

Crosshair's eyes widened, watching as Tech worked the wires with one hand, as the other fiddled with the panel.

His right hand moved—somehow—still weaving the wires together in a perfect pattern. It was slower than both hands, of course, but it seemed to be working and he hadn't messed up yet. Crosshair watched with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

The panel had lit up at some point and was blinking in a few spots. Tech put a small screwdriver between his teeth as he tapped at the panel. Every few seconds, he'd grab the screwdriver and poke around the buttons, causing tiny colorful sparks that reflected in his goggles.

Eventually, the wires came together into one part, and Tech pinned the ends together with small ties. Pulling the panel towards him, he flipped it over and set the wires aside as he opened a small flap in the back of the panel.

He poked around in the small flap a bit with the screwdriver before grabbing the wires again.

Crosshair watched while Techs eyes narrowed and squinted at the wires, as he slowly placed them into the panel. Sparks jumped around his fingers as he attached the wires from the top and bottom, allowing them to sear together by them selves. Every few minutes a hand would fly up to readjust his goggles.

Shaking his head, Crosshair tried to suppress a grin as Tech finished up his project, swatting sparks away here and there.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked quietly, finding an opening where Tech wasnt as focused.

He waited a minute or two as Tech caught up to the question while putting things back together and into their original places.

"It is..." Tech mumbled, stuffing screws and tools into small containers and pouches.

Crosshair watched, waiting with patience as Tech finally gave a satisfied sigh.

"A power calibrator that I constructed to connect into the rear nose cannons." Tech began to say all at once. Crosshair listened intently. "It will allow more power to be transferred to the shields while the rear cannon is being fired, so that way we can do both at once without losing one mid-battle."

Crosshair squinted. It was actually genius. Half the time during missions, their shields would fail while firing the rear cannons due to the power usage. Though they had more power in the firing, the Marauder almost always got a pretty good beating if they used the cannons for to long.

"What wires did you use?" Crosshair asked, scooting his stool closer the table so that he could rest an arm in it.

"Twinaxial cables, acutally." Tech said spinning around in his own stool to toss something onto his bunk. "They're a variant of the coaxial cables, and have more than one conductor. They are good for short-range and high-speed power signals so they'll work well for what I'm using them for."

Crosshair nodded. He knew most of what Tech was talking about, and tried to understand what he didn't. Tech would usually explain if he was confused, but at the moment, he was pretty educated on what he was talking about.

"Great idea, Tech." Crosshair praised. Now that he had a quick opening, he could do their little routine that they always went through around these times.

"What did you have for lunch?"

Tech shut a drawer and froze.

Slowly, he turned in his stool to face the sniper with a look of deep thought on his face. He furrowed his eyebrows and rested his hand on his chin as Crosshair waited. Slowly, Tech conjured up an answer.

"It was a..." Tech began, tapping a finget on his chin. "A ration bar, I believe."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and turned his head to the side.

"You had one for breakfast." He implied quietly.

Tech blinked and looked down at his hands.

"It's possible Ive had two, today." Said Tech, picking at his gloved hands.

"Any real food?" Cross asked.

A defeated look rested onto Tech’s face and he readjusted his goggles.

"Water?" He asked again.

Tech stared.

Crosshair sighed and turned in his seat, glancing at the snack next to his bed that he'd grabbed from the cafeteria earlier. He hadn't been hungry much then, but he did plan on eating it. He was pretty sure there was some soup, maybe a biscuit or two and possibly some meat.

He hopped out of his stool and Tech looked up in surprise.

Stalking over to his bunk, he grabbed the biscuits and a small thermal of soup. The meat was in a foil like bag and had a jerky texture and taste that Tech always liked, even since they were cadets. Cross took the bag and tossed it on his bed, poking around for any spoons or silverware. When he didnt find any, he shrugged and popped open the little thermal.

Crosshair caught Techs look of confusion as he spun around to sit down in his bunk, taking a whiff of the soup.

It smelled good, and it was still somewhat warm. If he didn't eat it soon, it would get cold in the next thirty minutes or so. He took a sip from the thermal and sighed as the warm liquid trickled into his belly and the bland taste settled on his tongue.

He looked up.

Tech frowned as he pulled his second glove off, the first one already on the table. His head was hung low and his eyebrows were still furrowed like he was thinking hard about something. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something, but he shut his mouth and froze as he looked up.

"Come here." Crosshair spoke, patting the spot next to him on his bunk.

Tech blinked and rested his hands on each other.

"The soup is gonna get cold." He spoke again, nodding to the thermal before taking another sip.

Tech looked at the soup, and then back up at Crosshair before scrambling out of his stool and padding over to the spot next to him on the bunk.

Cross leaned back to get the jerky/meat stuff as Tech got comfortable, pulling a leg up to his chest and turning towards the sniper.

Techs eyes lit up behind his goggles as Crosshair opened the bad of jerky, and quickly grabbed for a piece.

Crosshair caught his hand and swatted it away as Tech gave him an offended look.

"Excuse me?" Tech frowned, trying to maneuver around Cross's hand.

"Water first." The sniper said, shrugging and pulling the bag away from Tech and taking a bite of the jerky himself.

"Ugh." Tech grumbled and stood to stalk over to his own bunk, grabbing a flask of water that he took a few angry sips of on the way back.

"There."

Crosshair smirked as Tech plopped back down and snatched a piece of jerky out of the bag, taking a bite with a small smile on his face.

Cross handed Tech the thermal so he could open the small plastic container that had three biscuits in it. He peeled the plastic seal top off and took one if the biscuits out. They were a little deformed, and kind of stale and soggy at the same time, but thats what they got; And truthfully, they didn't really care.

Tech went between the thermal and the jerky, starting to realize how hungry he really was.

Cross handed him one if the biscuits and he took it happily, taking a bite and washing it down with some water from his flask.

"When's the last time you slept?" Crosshair asked randomly while Tech chewed.

Tech looked up up in thought and shoved another piece of jerky in his mouth. Crosshair sighed and moved the bag of jerky away for a second so Tech could finish chewing and not choke. He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles and stared at Crosshair as he took another sip of the soup.

"I woke up at five-hundred thirty like always." Tech said, wiping his mouth and shrugging.

Cross cocked an eyebrow at him. It was already nearing close to twenty-hundred, so Tech had been awake for longer than twelve hours at the least. He sighed again.

"Okay, what time did you go to sleep last night?" Crosshair asked.

"Around the time when I finished fixing Wrecker's blaster." Tech answered easily, looking around Cross for the bag of jerky.

The sniper was pretty sure he had fallen asleep before Tech finished up on Wreckers blaster. The amount of time spent fixing them depended in the damage, and depending on Wrecker, the damage was usually pretty major. Cross had fallen asleep at around twenty-four hundred, and Tech had only started working on the blaster a little bit before that.

"And when did you finish that." Crosshair questioned.

"Around four-hundred thir-"

Tech stopped, thermal tipped halfway towards his mouth.

Crosshairs eyes widened and the crease deepened between his brows.

"I meant-"

"No," Crosshair cut Tech off, turning to face him more. "You got an hour of sleep?!"

"Well, more like forty five minutes because it takes me a while to fall asleep sometimes." Tech said simply and then winced as Crosshair let his jaw drop.

"You need to sleep." Crosshair stated, closing the bag of jerky and standing.

"Wait," Tech whined, reaching after the bag of jerky. "Im not tired yet."

Crosshair tossed the bag of jerky onto the little work table and whipped back around towards Tech.

"Yes you are." The sniper said, looking pointedly at the bags under Techs eyes that he tried to hid behind his goggles.

"But-"

"Finish your soup, then you are sleeping."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow as Tech began to protest again, but wearily sipped the last of the soup and took the last bite of the biscuit.

Soon, Tech was out of his armor and in his blacks, pouting around as Crosshair nudged him towards his bunk. He had also gotten out of his armor, as encouragement to Tech so that he didn't feel like Crosshair was prodding too much or being too bossy. Even as cadets, Tech was never one for normal sleep; he loved to use the late hours of the night to get things done.

Crosshair paused as he looked at Techs bed.

"Well no wonder you don't sleep." Cross muttered, poking at cords and wires that were hanging from the ceiling of the bunk.

"They are projects." Tech argued, sliding a box away and onto the floor.

"I see that." Crosshair said and scanned the writing on the walls.

Tech yawned, and Crosshair found himself yawning too. He didn't feel too tired, but he didn't sleep well these days.

They usually didn't.

Tech gave a tired sigh before climbing into his bunk, and grabbing for the thin blanket.

"Are you- Oh." Tech stuttered in surprise as Crosshair climbed in after him.

The sniper wrapped an arm around Tech's waist and pulled him close as he tugged the blanket over the two of them. Tech wriggled around and tried to get comfortable under the blanket as Crosshair reached up to the light switch on the wall of the bunk. A wave of sleepiness surged over Cross as the lights slowly dimmed, until the only light was the faint glow of Tipoca City outside of the large wide window.

"You need to start getting better sleep," Crosshair started, closing his eyes as Tech scooted closer to him. "You're gonna stunt your growth."

Tech snorted and nuzzled farther into the snipers chest.

"Right." Tech whispered and yawned again.

Rain pattered against the window, and Crosshair could never tell if it was gentle or not. He'd gotten used to the ever present rain of Kamino, and wasn't sure there was such thing as gentle rain on the ocean planet. It was cool growing up, but it got old eventually.

"Do you remember when we went off-planet for the first time?" Crosshair asked randomly.

Tech pulled his head away from Cross's chest to look up at him with a confused face.

"Remember how fascinated you were by the karking grass." He said, grinning down at Tech.

Tech laughed and buried his face into the pillow, shaking his head a little.

"I thought it was so interesting." Tech said, voice muffled by the pillow.

He looked up at Crosshair and smiled sadly.

"It's so colorful." He sighed, resting his head next to Crosshair’s.

"I know." Cross whispered, pressing a kiss to Tech's forehead and nosing his dark curls as he closed his eyes.

Tech was out quick, snoring softly next to him within minutes. Crosshair smiled, a real smile, and gently pulled Tech’s goggles off. His eyes were tired, but his breathing was steady and his body was relaxed.

He looked so peaceful. So different from his constant state of either jumping around from project to project and rambling about different information and facts—or hyper focused and oblivious to everything around him. It was rare to have time like this with Tech.

Crosshair appreciated Tech.

He loved Tech.

He let that settle proudly in his thoughts as he slowly began to drift to sleep too.

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 11 - Help

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2173

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Time for Red Son and Sandy to have a talk

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

He must have passed out at some point because Red Son wakes up, finding himself still on the floor, leaning up against the bed. Pillows and blankets have been stuffed around him and a heater has been placed in the small space. The shivers he was experiencing earlier have quieted down to a low rumble beneath his skin, and he feels much more cozy.

There is a tray in front of him as well, with some more tea and a couple of bean buns on it. From the steam coming from the tea, he can tell it is still warm. The steam reminds him of his sudden lack of powers, and he sinks his nose down into the blankets, hitching his shoulders up to his ears in remembered embarrassment and shame. Not only is he injured, but without his powers he is utterly defenseless.

A gurgle from his stomach alerts him to how empty it is, and he eyes the tray once more. He weighs having to leave his little cocoon of warmth to eat, but ultimately decides that having something warm to eat and drink will satisfy both his hunger and his need for heat. The thought that they might be poisoned did cross his mind, but he logics that if the Blue One was going to kill him, he wouldn’t have bothered healing him first. No, there had to be another reason he was going through all this trouble.

Red Son worms his arm out from the blankets and reaches down to the tray, picking up a bun and sinking his teeth into the plump bread. It has the perfect texture - soft and pliant, but firm enough that there isn’t a hint of sogginess where it touches the sweet beans inside. The bean paste has a nice creamy texture to it, with grains of surgery goodness. A contented mumble purrs out of his mouth as he chews on the sweet treat. He gets through half a bun before his dry throat reminds him to slow down and drink something. He takes a sip of the tea, which has a pleasant bitterness to it, with a mixture of ginger and flowery fragrance balancing it out. The tea and the buns compliment each other nicely. Red Son couldn’t remember eating or drinking something with so much apparent care and flavor put into it in a long time. If the big guy’s snacks taste this good, he wonders vaguely what any meals he makes taste like. Not like Red Son intends to stick around very long to find out though. A part of him that he doesn’t want to listen to quite yet, wonders where he’d even go.

Instead, he turns his thoughts to his present circumstances. Where is that big guy anyway? There are still a few cats in the room, but true to the man’s warnings they stay away, eyeing Red Son cautiously. Chewing through the first bean bun, he picks up the second one and notices another two items on the tray - a bell and a note. The note says ‘Red Son: I hope you enjoy the tea and bean buns. Please ring the bell if you need assistance.’

Red Son rolls his eyes at this. Like he wants anything to do with an enemy. Then again, he did seem to care for his injuries and give him some (extremely tasty) tea and snacks. But why? Red Son still can’t figure that out. He huffs out an anxious breath and puts down the last half of the second bean bun, stomach now having been filled despite the small amount of food. He slowly nurses the rest of his tea as he contemplates the situation. Where would he go? What happened to his parents? Would they even want a now powerless demon like him around?

After staring out at space for a bit, getting distracted at nothing but the same questions rolling around in his brain, he notices that his tea has gotten a bit cold. His body is also really achy from sleeping on the floor the whole time. He tentatively stretches out his sore limbs as best he can despite the bandages. He contemplates the distance from the floor to the bed, and decides that he can totally get up there by himself. He struggles onto his knees, careful of his sore ankle, and puts a hand on the bed.

A meow distracts his progress. He looks down to see that blue cat with the tuft of fur that matches the big guy’s mohawk. It’s pawing at his leg and giving him a meaningful look.

“What’s wrong with you? Go away! I’m trying to do something!” Red Son swats at the cat.

The cat responds with more meowing.

“Pft, dumb loud cats,” Red Son grumbles as he tries to ignore the yowling, and shifts his body upwards. He wobbles on one leg, but keeps steady with his hand on the bed. Unfortunately, the bedding is too fluffy to give him sturdy enough leverage to help him up to it. He lurches forward trying to use the momentum to get him up, but instead finds himself doubled over in pain, as his ribs protest the movement. His leg gives a final wobble, and he slips back to the floor with a grunt. He muffles a yell of pain and frustration in the soft mattress.

“Are you all right?”

The loud, but somehow still soft voice causes Red Son to flinch back. He swallows another grunt of pain, in the form of a growl he throws at the Blue One who had appeared in the room. “Of course I’m not all right! I-- I…” He looks to the side unhappily. “I can’t get into the bed.”

“You could have asked for help,” the man says matter-of-factly. “I left a bell.” He smiles genuinely and points to the bell still on the tray.

“I don’t need your help.” Red Son grumbles.

The blue man blinks, then squats down to Red Son’s level, and tilts his eyebrows upward, as if trying his best to appear as small and non-threatening as can be. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know?”

With an eye-roll, Red Son huffs, “Well, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Technically, you did,” the man points up a finger.

“Listen,” Red Son says ignoring that obvious falsehood. “I’ve been completely fine on my own before. I’ve never had to ask for help! I don’t know what you’re doing here by bandaging me up and stuff, but I’m not playing your game! I don’t need your help! I can do this myself if I just try a bit more!”

“I’m sure you can!”

Red Son gives him a rueful look at his placating tone.

The man’s eyes soften. “But you don’t have to.”

Red Son’s instinct would be to argue further, but there’s something just so darn honest about the man’s tone and a gentleness in his eyes. He mulled over the man’s words. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

The man speaks up again, his gentle demeanor not changing in the slightest. “Would you like to get in the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get in the bed by yourself?”

“...Not… easily,” Red Son decides.

“Would it be easier and less painful if I helped you?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be okay if I helped you get in the bed?” The man holds out an offering hand, palm up.

Red Son looks between it and the man. He nods slowly.

“Okay!” The Blue One beams like Red Son just made his day.

Red Son grimaces and squints as if he is looking directly at the sun.

It ends up being much easier getting into bed with the man’s help. Red Son gets the feeling that the Blue One could’ve just picked him up and put him in bed. But he took care to allow Red Son to go through the motions of pulling himself up and shifting into a sitting position on the bed, as if he had done it on his own, and not that his entire weight was being supported by the Blue One. Red Son decides to not dwell on that fact, and tries to hold onto the last dregs of dignity he had left. Once in bed, the man moved the pillows and blankets back in place once again creating a warm cocoon for the demon to be nestled in. He also moved the heater closer to the bed, and brought him a new cup of warm tea.

A big part of Red Son hates all of this unnecessary pampering, but he was beginning to get very tired and cold again and he didn’t have the energy to fight back.

“Why did you help me?” Red Son asks finally.

“Like I said before, you asked me to!” the man says jovially.

“No, not the bed thing - why did you rescue me?”

“You asked me to do that, too!” Upon seeing Red Son’s disbelieving expression he says, “Well, technically, I don’t think you knew it was me you were asking - you were kind of out of it -  and also maybe you don’t remember because of the whole shock, and cold, and being injured thing…” Red Son notes that the blue one really likes talking with his hands as they gesture about in his explanation. Either way, Red Son is not convinced.

“But why? This must be some sort of trick, or maybe a way to hold me hostage for-- you’re not going to try to use me as leverage for my parents, are you? Or-- what happened to my parents?! You haven’t captured them, too?!” Red Son’s voice starts pitching wildly, and he casts a highly suspicious gaze at the man.

“Woah, woah there! It’s not any of that!” The man holds up his hands in surrender. “MK was able to stop DBK. It’s… difficult to explain what happened, but you all were carried away by a, uh, flash flood…” Red Son quirks an incredulous eyebrow up at that. But the Blue One continues, “I happened to find you washed up on shore by my house boat. To be honest, I don’t know what happened to your parents. ” He shrugs apologetically, as Red Son’s eyebrows knit together at that revelation.

He mulls over the explanation. But something didn’t track right. “But I-- I attacked your friends. We’re… enemies! There’s… no way you would help me unless you had some sort of a plot.”

“Red Son,” the Blue One says, (again with that annoying, honest, gentle voice!). “I helped you because you asked, and I wanted to. No other reason than that. You are free to go and look for your parents whenever you want.”

Red Son sits there, confused. He considers himself very good at reading people. If this guy wanted to intimidate him and hold him hostage, he could easily do so through force, if his appearance is any indication of that. But instead he used everything in his power to appear not threatening. So either the Blue One was one of the best liars that Red Son had ever seen, or he was telling the truth. And he isn’t sure which explanation perplexed him more. Furthermore, if he was free to go and he did find his parents, would they even want him back? Maybe this was secretly a ruse to do so and find that they had actually disowned them. He would certainly deserve that after what he did…

Red Son shakes his head as if to rid himself of those thoughts. “How did you know my name?” he asks instead.

“I try to remember the names of everybody that I know.” The man gives a toothy smile, and points a thumb at himself. “My name’s Sandy, by the way!”

Red Son scrunches up his nose in what he hopes is convincing disgust and not embarrassment at not knowing an enemy’s name. “O-of course I knew that was your name, Blue One! I just don’t lower myself to using the names of peasants!” He tries to make a show of folding his arms, but it’s difficult when one is bandaged to his torso.

The Blue One laughs loud and heartily, which is not the reaction that Red Son wanted, but by now he supposes is the reaction he should expect from this impossibly happy man. “That’s fine! But please,” he places the tray with the bell on a table next to the bed. “Feel free to ask for assistance if you ever need it!”

Red Son grunts in response and buries his nose back under the covers, sinking into the cocoon of blankets. He realizes that he is still very tired and his eyes drift shut. He feels that he can maybe relax a little bit around the Blue On-- Sandy. Still, uncertainty about his parents and his powers bubble beneath the surface. Maybe it would be better if he stayed here. He couldn’t show his face to his parents. Not after all this.

start || <– previous // next –>

[dukeofdogs]

Beta Thronebreaker

It’s no mystery that  at first Thronebreaker was supposed to be just a single-player mode for Gwent before becoming the standalone title we all know and love. 

Long story short: I came across of few scrapped/unused stuff that I assume was supposed to be used in that very first version of TB campaign. 

Textures not used anywhere in the final version of TB, but looking very similar to how beta Gwent looked like:

And recenlty (today lmao) I came across these flavour texts for various cards written by Reynard and Gascon!

Ballista: Your Grace, we may begin work on constructing ballistae: seemingly simple war machines able to hurl a missile three hundred ells. Can these bolts crumble fortified walls? No, but ranks of soldiers they shatter like so many bowling pins. -Reynard

Battering ram; Your Majesty, our engineers have prepared plans for powerful battering rams: massive, steel-capped rods able to ream through even the tightest-sealed gates. Alas, their crews stand exposed during operation, and thus must require additional defense. - Reynard

Bomb throwers; Meve, you'll never guess who I've managed to get for you: a top-notch alchemist, name's Kalksten, or Kulkstern... doesn't matter, the important thing: he's making us bombs. Just need to train our lads how to use them without blowing off their fingers, and next thing you know, the Black-clads will soil themselves when they see us coming!- Gascon

Catapult; Your Grace, before war broke out, our Rivian manufactures were hard at work on an improved version of the classic catapult. It seems metal cords, properly engineered, can dramatically increase their effectiveness. Now is our chance to put their designs to good use. - Reynard

Crushing trap; Meve, ever seen a crushing trap in action? It kills a man on the spot, no matter how much plate he's clad in. If we can just get the Nilfgaardians to step into these beauties, the results will surpass your wildest dreams.-Gascon

Fire scorpion; Meve, great news! My lads have caught a Nilfgaardian engineer. Took but a singing of his heels and he spilled all possible beans about how their fire scorpions work. We've got everything we need to begin production - we'll give the Black-clads a taste of their own weapon!- Gascon

Infiltrators; Meve, first off - thanks for the kit! The lads love it. Second: soon as you give the sign, I'll start teaching them the fine art of climbing and lock-picking. They can't wait! These are exceptionally useful skills in times of war - and profitable ones in times of peace.- Gascon

Light cavalry; Meve, give us a few good horses and we'll form a mounted division no one can outrun! Believe me, many a Lyrian merchant's tried. We'll harry the Black-clads' flanks and break their formations till they flee south in frustration.- Gascon

Slingers; Meve, instead of dumping coin into complicated contraptions, why not equip your men with simple slingshots? It beggars belief how much damage they can do in the right hands… Plus, they're simple, light and practically foolproof. Whisper the word and I'll start schooling some slingers.- Gascon

Hounds of spalla; Meve, my lads want me to thank you for putting together a tannery - our new leather garb fits like a glove and doesn't cramp our movements while out beating around bushes. It's a welcome change from our old duds, which we'd, um, "borrowed" from some of your soldiers.- Gascon

Infantry level1; Your Majesty, proper grounds and equipment are crucial for the training of new recruits. I suggest we start by acquiring the core essentials – this should not prove too costly while promising immense benefits. - Reynard

Infantry level2; Your Majesty, better equipment could spell the difference between life and death for our soldiers. If you feel we can manage the cost, you shall surely win their gratitude.- Reynard

Infantry level3; Meve, I know you're used to fighting in armor, but in partisan warfare, heavy plate's about as useful as a burr in your breeches, and even less comfortable. We need light armor, form-fitting stuff that lets you strike fast and run away even faster. - Gascon

Infantry level3 ; Your Majesty, if we allocate the appropriate funds, we will be able to forge the plate armor needed to equip heavy cavalry divisions. I'll see to their training myself, you need but say the word.- Reynard

Infantry level4; Your Majesty, though I train our forces to the best of my knowledge, with an outlay of further funds we could recruit experienced drill masters to teach our men new, battle-tested techniques. Alas, the services of such masters come at a steep price. - Reynard

Infantry level5; Meve, we should acquire the equipment needed to practice the art of breaking-and-entering - with this skill under their belts, our men will no longer need to pound away endlessly at enemy gates. Instead, they'll slip over the walls and open them for you from within. - Gascon

Infantry level5; Your Majesty, we could begin production of extremely high quality arbalests - we need but find the coin to hire a skilled weaponsmith and pay for his tools and materials. - Reynard

Kaedweni officer; Your Majesty, as our army grows, so does the need for ever stricter discipline during battle. We should assign a petty officer to each unit along the lines of Kaedwen's renowned infantry. Just say the word, and I'll see to their training myself.- Reynard

Kaedweni siege expert; Your Grace, King Henselt has permitted his best engineers to teach our recruits the secrets of their trade. This opportunity we ought to seize - for the Kaedweni king usually guards this knowledge tightly. Clearly, he wants very much for us to fight effectively and hinder the black-clad onslaught.- Reynard

Kaedweni siege support; Your Grace, from Kaedwen have come volunteers who wish to share their knowledge with our recruits. To school more qualified engineers in our ranks would be a great boon - both to the operation and maintenance of our war machines and to the upkeep of our camp. - Reynard

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 78: The Great Provider

Chapters: 78/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, Alarr Is A Little Bitch Now And Forever, Seriously Bull Cults Are Super Old, And Super Important

Summary:  You face the bull.

“There's a lot of people looking at me.” Your father whispered to you, fiddling nervously with a crumbling slice of dark buttered bread. “Your asshole beau got me good this time.”

Seated on the other side of you, Loki sighed. Of course he could hear, even with the din of the First Feast all around. You shook pepper onto a peeled, boiled egg.

“It wasn't planned like that.” You whispered back. “All of the humans are seated on this side, me included. The planners just thought you should be next to me.”

On the one hand, you were glad your father was acknowledging your relationship without major pushback. On the other hand, insulting a prince within earshot of that prince, and many of his vassals, was probably not such a good idea.

“I mean, I can ask them to change the seating order. Put you down at the farthest table, with a bunch of Asgardians you've never met.”

He shuddered. “You wouldn't. My own daughter wouldn't do that to me, her poor old father, who has so few years left to him. You wouldn't show such cruelty to a vulnerable old man.”

“Yeah, yeah, you've got one foot in the grave already. You could fall over dead any minute now. You're practically dust.”

“Well, that might be going a little far.” he huffed. “I've still got some vinegar in me.”

“You even talk like an old man.” you teased. “Besides, you don't get to pull the Old Man Card, and then complain because I play along. Make up your mind.”

You passed him a serving bowl full of bilberry porridge, and he dipped some out. One thing your father was always willing to do, was try new food.

“Speaking of, what counts as 'old' to these folks?” he asked. “You've been saying some stuff about that, but it seems unbelievable.”

“You gotta start believing this stuff, Dad.” you chided.” It's all real. I know it's hard. My head has been swimming for months. But it gets easier to accept the more you learn. Anyway, for an Asgardian, about five thousand puts someone firmly into the 'elderly' category, but for an Aesir, like the king, or Saga, or Loki, the sky is the limit. I can count the number of kings Asgard has had in it's whole history on one hand. They just live that long.”

“Five thousand? Damn. That's...That's like, pyramid building times, isn't it? Say...did they...?”

“No, they didn't build the pyramids. I already asked. And even if aliens did build them, it wouldn't have been Asgardians” you pointed out. “They would have been in the north, making, I dunno, runestones? Longships? Something like that. The people in the north never really did the large-scale monument building like they did in Egypt. But Asgardians sure did. You saw the paintings of the old palace?”

That thing that looked like a pipe organ? Yeah.”

“So, if they were building our monuments, they'd have looked like that, wouldn't they?”

“Okay, but what if it was different aliens? We know there's more than one kind of alien.” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but...I never found out if the other gods of the world were aliens or not. But even if they were, I'm pretty sure the pyramids were built by humans, even if they were built for their gods.”

“They were.” Loki interrupted. “But they also made for interesting sight-seeing expeditions for many peoples across Yggdrasil, so yes, aliens visited Earth quite often in your distant past.”

Your father clammed up and glared. After a few awkward moments, Loki turned back to his plate, passing along a crumbly cheese that turned out to be similar to feta. You added some to your grain salad.

Just get through dinner, you thought to yourself. Why did the men in your life always have to be so difficult?

Time was left between courses for the making of toasts, and there was a lot of back and forth-between the Icelandic dignitaries praising the Asgardians for being such gracious hosts, and the Asgardians praising them for hosting all of Asgard in the first place. There were toasts for the Avengers in attendance, though they were somewhat subdued; the Maximoff girl was still a fairly controversial figure, Dr. Banner continued to be visibly uncomfortable with the attention, and the Vision was simply not as well known. But they were dutifully honored nonetheless, and then the humans of Trolerkaerhalla turned their adoration on you.

'The People's Seidkona', they called you. 'The bridge', and 'the Huldra shield'. Even 'the Sapphire Brand', a kenning Loki had invented for you, which made you wonder what he had been discussing with his worshipers when he was out working on the longhouses.

The dessert course was mixed dried fruit, cooked down into a compote and served over bread.

It was also the last course before the slaughter of the bull, for tomorrow's Second Feast.

You'd told Tara and your father about it, to mixed reactions. Tara was repulsed, but your father, who presumably saw more dead animals along the side of the road than you would be comfortable with, seemed to take it in stride.

“Someone has to do it.” he'd said, “They gotta get to the plate somehow. Sucks, I know. There's no way out of it?”

“It's tradition.” you'd sullenly explained. “And it's really old. Like, Proto-Indo-European old. Back when kings used to be worshiped and held responsible for everything. If the crops failed, they sacrificed him. So it was in a ruler's best interests to make sure his people were provided for. I think, eventually, the bull became a stand-in for the king. I don't know if the Asgardians influenced us in this case, or if it was the other way around, but there's a whole deep layer cake of symbolism involved, and I really do have to participate.”

The bull and the ruler. Symbols of power, fertility, plenty, and prosperity. It was poetic, in an ancient, rustic kind of way.

You had thought that you had it all together, but when you heard the bellowing sound of the bull somewhere close, and your heart clenched in your chest.

Suddenly dessert didn't taste so good.

                                                                              ******

There had been an arena built between tables for the bull to be driven into, with a raised platform that you were currently perched on, holding a goad with a trail of ribbons at the end. You would be enticing the bull towards you with the movement of the ribbons, and once it was within range, Loki would strike.

Then the beast would be butchered on the spot, to prepare for the next nights festivities. It would be very educational.

The human guests had been informed of what was about to happen, and of course, the Asgardians already knew, but they still cheered you on anyway. Skaldic students picked up a slow drum beat, that pulsed like a heart.

How many thousands of years worth of rulers and seidkonas doing this? Odin and Frigga had done it. Bor and Bestla had done it. Buri and Audhumla had not-the holiday hadn't been declared until after Buri's passing. But one had to assume that they all gazed out from Valhalla, within it's great black hole, and saw what their descendants were doing. Presumably, Buri could now see that two people who had no true relation to him, were now the ones honoring him. How would he feel about that?

The bull bellowed behind the gates, the sound echoing and distorting strangely. Loki lurked next to the platform, waiting. This wasn't going to be like a matador facing down an angry beast. This was going to be an ambush.

The gates slowly begin to open, and your adrenaline spiked into the sky.

Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes

The bull entered the arena and you froze in shock, almost completely forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.

The bull was...wrong. It was completely still, standing on a board on wheels. It did not walk into the area, but was pushed. It's head was oddly textured, almost shiny, and strangely shaped. It bellowed again, weird and distorted, but did not open it's mouth.

Its strangeness blended into your anxiety, becoming a potent cocktail of revulsion and dread. Loki patted the platform next to you, and you started, jerking your ribbons to and fro. The bull bellowed one more time before Loki strode up to it, and, with one smooth and elegant swing, beheaded it.

There was no blood. The wound was hollow, and the head sprouted the legs of a child as soon as it hit the ground, running around and mooing irreverently to the amusement and obvious confusion of the audience.

It was fake. It was a fake bull. Loki had mentioned to you that you need not worry because he had taken care of her bull problem, but hadn't had time to elaborate before you'd had to scramble up the platform. You would have never guessed he meant this.

With a flourish, Loki whipped the tanned hide off the bull, revealing a hollow armature beneath, within which was an ice-covered table, piled up with cuts of meat, bowls of organs, piles of stew bones, and a bucket of blood. The bull reduced down to its edible parts, all ready for tomorrow's feast.

The drums stopped abruptly, the child who had been hiding in the paper-mache bulls head discarded it to the side and ran off into the cheering crowd, as people came forward to carry away the bits of bull.

Loki draped the bull's hide over his shoulders and helped you down from the platform.

“Did I not tell you?” he said smugly. “I took care of it for you. Truly, the symbolism is the most important part, and this speeds the process along so that we may get to the dancing all the sooner!”

“That was freaky as hell!” you scolded. “You shoulda told me it was gonna be a fake! I spent that whole time all bent out of shape because of it, ugh, what a lot of wasted sleep!”

“In my defense, I didn't find out that you were troubled about it until yesterday. I had only a limited time to come up with something.”

“And you decided to stuff a kid in a fake bull's head? That's what you came up with?”

“That's Beli's youngest great-great-great-grandson, and he volunteered! My dear, what's wrong? I thought you would prefer it this way?”

“I do!” you huffed, irritated. “But I need you to start telling me when you do things like this! How am I gonna do my job if you already make all the decisions by yourself? Stop trying to surprise me all the time. I froze out there because of it! What did that look like to everybody else, huh?”

“I think they were too captivated by the bull to take notice...” he didn't sound so sure. “But yes, you are right, of course. It is a bad habit. I will be better.”

Somewhat mollified, you took his arm and allowed him to lead you to the dances.

                                                                              *******

“It's an insult!” Alarr raged. “He reduces our history to mere spectacle!”

“It may have been for convenience.” his wife pointed out. “Our Midgardian guests need more frequent rest. It wouldn't do for his Highness' little seidkona to collapse from exhaustion.”

“Do not call her that!” he snapped. “She doesn't deserve the title! What part of her is a seidkona? The part that graces Loki's bed? Or the part that gets into cat fights with her betters? This is exactly what I am talking about though! The Midgardians are weak, but we are the ones expected to lower ourselves to their level? If they cannot keep up, they shouldn't be here! The prince is a fool, and the Allfather merely enables him. Together, they will reduce us to infants.”

“Watch your tone with me, Alarr. I tire of your temper.”

“And I tire of watching our culture and people be diminished for easier consumption by outsiders. When does it end? If even our holy days aren't exempt from foreign influence, then what part of us can we really expect to keep? How much can we be diluted, and still remain Asgard?”

“Alarr, this obsession has already cost you dearly. And not just you, the whole family has been impacted by it. You are so preoccupied with everything you're afraid we're going to lose, that you don't see the harm that you are doing to us yourself! Now you may sit here and let your rage rob you of your Buridag, but I'm going back out there to enjoy myself! Stars know, I've had precious few chances to do so lately!”

She stormed out, leaving him behind to seethe.

                                                                       ******

“That was so weird.” Todd said. “I thought it was going to be a real cow.”

“I'm glad it wasn't!” another camper exclaimed.

“Yeah, me too, but why did they go through all that rigmarole about what was going to happen, explaining the whole thing, telling us not to fear, and then wheel out a meat-filled piñata instead? Did they think we were gonna think it was real? Like, are we toddlers to them?”

“Maybe? They're all hundreds of years old, aren't they? Even the kids.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I feel like that's a problem though. I mean, think of the advantages they have over all the rest of us! I can't help but feel like they will eventually have a disproportionate amount of global influence, just because of the monumental projects that they can put together with that longevity. And like, I know the longhouse squad might not mind having alien overlords, but I'm sure not excited about it.”

“Global superpowers rise and fall. That's just history.” another camper said. “Are you sure you aren't just worried that yours might be overshadowed?”

“No need to be rude.” Todd chided. “People were rightly worried about super powered individuals before these guys even showed up. I mean, look at what happened to Sokovia! When I was a kid, that kind of thing was unthinkable! Now we've gotta worry about nukes, and terrorists, and school shootings, and climate change, and now alien invaders and supermen on top of all that? It's no wonder people are so worried. Did you know these people haven't even signed the Accords? What do you think that says about them?”

“Hey, I'm not disagreeing, man. I'm skeptical too. But they're refugees all the same, and it's only been a couple years. I figure they're just trying to get adjusted before they go committing themselves to anything big, you know?”

“And that's fair for the average Asgardian. As far as we know, they didn't do anything wrong. But Thor...you know, as much as I like him, he's been involved in some pretty destructive events. And the least, I mean, the very least he could have done to show some kind of good faith with Earth, would be to turn his brother over to some kind of justice. But he hasn't; he's just let Loki flaunt every authority. The man committed a felony, he kidnapped my girlfriend, and...nothing! He's not allowed on United States soil, but he did it anyway, and nothing has been done. I can't help but be resentful, who wouldn't be?”

“I know what you mean, but then why did you come to this shindig, anyway?”

Todd shrugged. “I just wanted to see that she was okay, you know? We weren't perfect, but we really had something, and I just want to make sure she's okay. She didn't look okay, up there with that fake bull, and I don't like it. I know her; she's kinda delicate. All this is gonna be too much for her.”

“You have a lot to say.” interrupted an unfamiliar, accented voice. The little knot of campers jerked to attention. A young man stood nearby, arms crossed, glaring.

“Uh, yeah...” Todd said. “To my friends. Who are you?”

“Fritjof.” the stranger said shortly.

“That's the mutant.” one of the campers whispered urgently. “We saw him out in that fight, remember? He throws fire!”

“Oh.” Todd held his hands up in front of him. “Hey man, we don't have any beef with you. No need to lose our tempers or anything...”

Fritjof snorted. “Somehow, I doubt this.” he sneered.

“Frit!” A woman cried, then rattled off a quick sentence Todd could not understand. Fritjofs intimidating stance softened, and he answered back.

“I'm going to dance now.” He told Todd. “Be a more gracious guest.”

Several of the campers let out the breaths they'd been holding, as he left.

“What a freak.” One of them muttered.

“Don't know what his problem is, but I think he could use a class on minding his own business.” Todd said.

“So, you wanna go dance?”

“Not really, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to go see what it's like.”

                                                                              ******

The dancing was energized and frenetic; stomping, clapping, twirling, leaping. It was full of laughter and celebration, messy and unchecked. The commoner's dances were danced by all, and you had thrown yourself into them with relish. From arm to arm you passed, jumping and shouting in time with everyone else.

You danced, and spun, and bounced, finally ending up panting back in Loki's arms.

“Come, sit with me.” he said. “You need a breather.”

He sat you down in one of the covered seats, wrapped you in his cloak for extra warmth, and pressed a cup of hot cider into your hands. The community continued to dance, some breaking off to rest, some jumping back in. You simply watched, sipping your cider as Loki twirled Sjofn, Thor kicked with Wanda, and a very tall Asgardian lady tried to entice an increasingly uncomfortable looking Dr. Banner. Even Gloa seemed to be having a good time, though you noticed Alarr was nowhere to be seen. Andsvarr, however, was dancing for all he was worth, and rarely let Saldis out of his grasp. It was cute, but not as cute as Tara, slightly drunk off buttered rum, flirting openly with several very confused Asgardians, or your father, trying hard to avoid Dr. Banner's fate.

Loki whirled his way back to your side, and plopped down next to you, but must have noticed you were fading.

“It has certainly been a long day, hasn't it?” he asked. “Would you prefer to return to our rooms?”

“Yeah. As much as I'd like to stick around, I'd really need some sleep.” you admitted. “Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow too.”

“Then shall we?” He offered his arm, and somehow the two of you slipped away without much notice.

“Are you going back out?” you asked, as he tucked you comfortably into his bed.

“Yes, for a little while longer. It's best that my brother and I be seen out among the people for as long as possible. I'll be back later. Sleep soundly, my dear.”

The rigors of the day caught up to you quickly, and you had no inkling of how much time had passed when you finally felt him slip into bed next to you, smelling of sweet crystal mead.

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 1625  ⚬ warnings: none :) ⚬ genre: m rated, kinda angsty, kinda fluffy, a good mix of both i guess!

✧✎ synopsis: you just woke up in your best friend’s bed, and you aren’t sure how to feel. as far as you’re concerned, nothing will erase the night before.

✧✎ a/n: i haven’t been able to write all week since i’ve been so busy!! but i found a pocket of time to write this! i find that i’m really picky when it comes to choosing the right plot for jun!! i just want the best for him!! but i thought this was a nice fit! and smth to digest while i edit my other fic!

It was a little weird, you couldn’t deny it. Waking up beneath the covers of your best friend’s bed wouldn’t feel so unnatural, so awkward, if it weren’t for the actions that unfolded the night before. You spared a glance to the right half of the bed, only to realize the sheets were empty, nothing but a slight indent hollowed into the mattress. The sight led you to feel even weirder, until you couldn’t bear to look any longer and you roughly dishevelled the blankets whilst turning over onto your side, a loud huff escaping your chest.

You couldn’t stay in his bed forever, and Junhui couldn’t keep nervously pacing around the living room, dragging a hand through his frilled, chestnut hair. There was nothing to undo it, nothing to erase the memory or lessen the blow of the aftermath. You and Junhui, best friends since the ninth grade, had hooked up. Junhui currently shared the house with two others, but they had gone home to visit their families for the college reading week whilst Junhui had plans to take the metro home by Monday. You came over rather late to help him pack.

Everything had been going perfectly fine from what you could remember. By the end of the night, Junhui had a small suitcase containing his clothes and other essentials, alongside a knapsack filled with his study guides and treats he wanted to give his little brother’s kitten. But then, as quickly as all was normal, everything flipped like a coin toss. Junhui’s hand was slowly sliding up your warm thigh until his palm was pressed against your core through your shorts, to which he created a dizzying, sweet friction by rubbing the flat expanse of his palm.

The kisses lost their tenacious nature, and suddenly you had crawled into the boy’s lap, racing, insignificant thoughts ticking by in your head as Junhui helped you discard your t-shirt, his face then burying against your chest. You could recall the velvet-like texture of his brown locks sliding through your fingers, how his soft tongue lapped at the honey between your thighs whilst you whimpered and cried out his name, your spine arching from the bed. He was your best friend. You had no idea your best friend could make you feel so euphoric.

Continuing to lay beneath his covers, the intense memories flooded you in one big rush, forcing you to shove your face deep into the pillow in some nonsensical hope that it would stop the heat from dancing upon your skin. However, the pillow was useless. You could smell nothing but a mild concoction of Junhui’s fresh cologne and his shampoo. Gritting your teeth, you quickly threw the sheets from your body, rushing into the connected bathroom in order to splash heaps of cool water across your cheeks.

Whilst the beads dripped down to your jaw, you examined your naked body in the mirror.

Why did you have to have sex with Junhui? Your best friend? Why did the thought of him pressing you against the counter and sneaking his hand back between your legs make your chest flutter? As you shut off the faucet and patted your face dry, you didn’t have an answer.

Maybe you just liked him, and you always sort of wanted it to happen. 

Maybe he wanted it too.

You pulled over your t-shirt and tied back the string on your shorts. A low, garbling noise rumbled in your stomach, which was understandable considering it was nine in the morning and you hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. However, a daunting feeling outweighed your hunger. Walking into the living room had your heart skipping beats, knowing who would be there after he’d slipped from between the covers, trying not to interrupt your sleep.

Junhui was sitting at the kitchen table, the television humming quietly in the background with some rare-sighted television show. You recognized the circular shape of his glasses resting on his nose, whilst the thick fibres of his dark, chestnut hair were notably rumpled in different directions. He was in his sweatpants, wearing a burgundy flannel he left unbuttoned, which revealed his firm chest as well as all the little scratches and hickies you’d painted his skin with. Walking in on a sight that was so unprecedented yet beautiful admittedly stunned you.

Swallowing nearly burned your throat, but you still called out his name.

“J-Jun?”

The boy jumped slightly, though once he spotted you, he got up quickly from the chair and dragged his fingers through his hair.

“Jeez, you scared me.” He breathed out anxiously. “I-I was just— I was waiting for you to get up.”

“I know.” You replied, finding it particularly difficult not to ogle the pretty marks leading down to his abdomen. “I have all my stuff, so if you want me to leave, then…”

The air became almost palpable, like a heavy weight pushing in from all angles. You couldn’t meet Junhui’s eyes and looked at the television instead, playing with your fingers. A generous film of sweat was already beginning to slick your palms and your pulse resembled claps of thunder. Junhui wavered carefully on what to say to you, his best friend.

What if he told you to leave?

“Do you want to eat breakfast first?”

You went rigid. Then, you tightly curled your toes and looked into the boy’s eyes, as kind and deeply coppered as they always were.

“Really?” Sounded your tiny squeak.

Junhui nodded. “There’s still some of Wonwoo’s pancake mix left in the cupboard.”

You smiled, feeling more at ease. “Does he care if we use the rest of it?”

“No.” Junhui said, before immediately back-pedalling. “Well, maybe. But I don’t think so.”

There wasn’t much conversation as you two made breakfast. 

Junhui cracked the eggs into the powder whilst you poured out the correct cup of milk. At one point, as Junhui mixed the batter with a whisk, a small drop managed to splash onto his glasses. He took them off and used the corner belonging to his flannel, rubbing the spot away, and for some stupid reason, you found him so endearing that you had to remind yourself not to stare. Before last night, you two prepared breakfast all the time together, mostly for Junhui’s ravenous roommates who’d eat anything in sight.

But everything felt irreversibly different now.

You kept glancing at him from the corner of your eye as he leaned against the wall and flipped the pancakes, occasionally running a hand through his hair, pushing the earthen curls away his forehead. At one point, Junhui clearly caught you in a daze, though he didn’t say anything and continued moving the golden, fluffy pancakes onto a plate. No matter what the boy did, your mind responded by spinning out these oddly romantic idealities, and it was then you realized these fictions weren’t unbeknownst.

They were always roaming around, deep in the back of your head, because when they came to you there was a distant sense of familiarity. You had no idea how long you felt this way.

“Jun.” You said his name after finishing breakfast, pushing aside the syrupy plate with your elbow.

He was checking something on his phone, though he set it down and stared at you.

Without overthinking, you asked, “Do you regret what we did?”

“What?” Junhui echoed, scrunching his nose.

You sighed, squeezing your hands together in your lap.

“Because… I just— I don’t regret it. I enjoyed it. Seriously.” Looking into his unreadable gaze, you decided not to hold anything back. “I like you a lot, and I’d be with you if you wanted me. I know everything feels a bit shaky right now, and I know I’m throwing this all on you at once, but I just want to be transparent. I really, really like you.”

Junhui blinked at you, closing his mouth that was agape and pushing up the glasses that had fallen slightly. He smoothed his hand up his chest, scratching his lavender collarbone, and you weren’t sure how to translate his lack of word. Suddenly, the boy pushed his chair back.

“Come here.” His deep voice sounded, to which your legs felt like utter gelatine as you approached his side of the table.

“Junhui, I—,”

You wanted to tell him something about how you’re sorry for making such a situation more awkward than it even needed to be; however, those sentiments were purged from your mind as Junhui pulled you into his comfortable lap, his hands cupping your face whilst he pressed his pink, still somewhat-bruised lips to yours. Shock filled you first. In fact, you were motionless for a few seconds, until reality slapped you stinging, prompting you to eagerly welcome the boy’s sweet kiss. When his grip returned to your waist, squeezing softly, appreciatively, you completely melted against his body and released a blissful, hazy sigh.

“Yes.” Junhui then nipped your bottom lip, looking at you with a doe twinkle through his glasses.

“Yes?” You echoed, and attempted to catch your breath. “Yes what?”

“As in yes, I want you.”

He pressed his thumbs into your hips, allowing you to feel a dull pain from where he’d bruised the skin the night before. It reminded you of everything that transpired, except, now that you had stopped repressing your true heart, you embraced the memories, refusing to recoil and lie to yourself. In the moment, you were unsure of what your relationship entailed, or how people would react, though you weren’t looking to concern with what others may think, because your current elation was far too powerful. 

You kissed Junhui again, tasting the sweet syrup on his tongue.

It was still a little weird. But you loved it.

✧✎ a/n: it pains me so much that i cannot write for jun as often as i’d like. he really deserves this. jun stans i will try my best to give him the content he deserves!! hope you enjoyed, let me know what u think!

[imsofthelp]

Category: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2,414

Summary: After a bad breakup, you find yourself in the embrace of your best friend and things escalate quickly after that. 

Your phone was ringing again. This would’ve been the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. You chose to ignore it, not even checking who it was, because you were sure that it was your ex disturbing you at such an ungodly hour.

You opened your eyes, lids as heavy as bags full of rocks. Sunshine shone as bright as ever but even brighter than other days while the constant breeze was just perfect and kept it from getting too hot. Even the birds outside were chirping, reminding you that they existed at 5am. It seemed like the day was going to be perfect.

It took ten seconds, if not less, for that bubble to be blown. The sudden headache was terrible and your shirt was still wet from tears, meaning you fell asleep for half an hour at best, probably not even for that long.

A shiver ran up your spine - even on a warm morning like this one you needed a blanket to feel comfortable.

You almost gave in to the wish to stay in bed for a whole day, doing absolutely nothing except watching some stupid reality TV and gobbling down whole tub of ice cream. But you decided against that.

You were broken in every possible way after your breakup. You screamed, you doubted your decision, you got drunk and then cried some more.

You couldn’t let yourself be like that cliche heartbroken TV show character anymore. Four days in a row of crying enough to fill rivers and eating enough ice cream to last a whole decade. Today was the day you ended that self-loathing cycle.

Warmed by the sunlight which slipped into your bedroom through the big glass windows without any curtains, your feet touch the floor.

You tried to reassure yourself that everything was going to be fine but as soon as you stepped the first step, your feet landed on a dirty lid of ice cream tub. Cussing out loudly, you hopped to the bathroom like you were playing classes or hopscotch.

After discarding your ice cream and tear stained pyjamas into an already full laundry basket, you relaxed into the bath. Setting the water temperature just right instantly made you feel better.

Warm water released the tension from your muscles and left you feeling so relaxed. You lay there for what felt like hours until a different ringtone was coming from your bedroom.

With a towel around your naked form, you made your way to the phone being careful not to step on any more lids.

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen flashing with the name “ALIEN QUEEN xoxo” and picture of your best friend smiling widely while showing peace signs with both hands.

Without hesitation, you picked up.

“You finally picked up!” screamed Mina and you had to move phone a few inches from your ear, afraid that it will make you deaf.

Mina definitely had no such thing as inside voice, “I was scared!”

Oh, so that was the person that was calling you. Well, you were dumb to except your ex to actually give a fuck about you.

Hearing the tone of her voice full of worry made guilt shoot up your body. You could bet your ass that there were like 20 missed calls from her.

Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you listened to her ranting and scolding you like a child. You paced a few steps forward and back. To this day you couldn’t figure out why you couldn’t just sit still while speaking on your phone. It was truly a mystery that science couldn’t explain.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mina asks after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m just...” you swallowed, breath hitching in your throat,

“My emotions are still all over the place” you explain, now observing your reflection in a dirty spoon you found on the table.

“You okay?” she asks with concern clear in her voice.

“I’ll be fine. Finally took a shower to not to look like a hot pile of trash anymore.”

Mina laughs and you feel a smile creeping up your face.

“Still hot, though,” she teases, “You wanna come to my place, watch a bunch of shitty movies and finally get over that asshole?” You can hear her smile and unintentionally smile wider yourself.

An answer leaves your lips way before you think through with it:

“Hell yeah!”

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

Neon red lights in Mina’s living room casted weird shadows on the bright pink walls, making you even more dizzy than you already were.

Loud music was blasting while you swung your hips and moved your free hand (the other one was busied by a champagne glass) to the rhythm as the lyrics were blurring in your mind.

In the neon red light Mina looked like death, or, more like, deathly stunning. From the way she danced so passionately to the music, how her free hand constantly buried itself in her soft pink hair and to the way that her sparkly mini-dress hugged her toned yet soft body.

Hell, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol messing with your head or the pain of broken heart that was begging to be healed by anyone. You really weren’t that against anyone being that hot.

Mina grinned, white pearly teeth hugged by plush, glossy lips. Her eyes were half-lidded as her hand reached out to you, as if she was trying to pull you into her with some invisible power.

You felt like a mortal about to be seduced by a goddess.

“Dance with me?”

Maybe it was her invisible power, because soon your hands were on her waist with her own resting on your neck. One hand was running up and down your back as you both struggled to spin to the rhythm of the fast song.

You leaned closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder. Her hot breath burned like fire against your skin, sending shivers up and down your body.

She smelled like vanilla and fancy perfume and you felt as if you had been spellbound, closing your eyes and letting the moment carry you away.

Songs changed but two of you stayed in the same position. It was only your hand constantly reaching to touch her hair and Mina giggling from time to time, whispering words that you couldn't quite catch.

This was probably very wrong. Not the dancing, no, you were best friends but the thoughts you were having about Mina were wrong. Blaming the alcohol for mixing up your thoughts and your mental state after the breakup, you closed your eyes. Letting the music carry you. Letting yourself have no thoughts even if it was just for a second.

“Hey,” you raised your head, Mina gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face. She paused for a moment as if she wanted to do something more with her half-lidded mascara smudged eyes. You couldn’t read her expression, “Want to watch a movie?”

You didn’t really want that, but you hoped that after sitting down for awhile you‘d feel better. Or at least get these inappropriate thoughts that were clouding everything out of your head.

The neon lights were turned off as if that the party was over, and Mina turned on some channel on her huge tv. You weren't surprised about pricy, fancy stuff around her place anymore as she assured you that 'Hero work pays.'

“What do you want to watch?" you asked, trying to find a comfortable position on her bright pink sofa, littered with what seemed like at least a hundred pillows.

Mina mindlessly flipped through the channels with apathetic look painted on her face.

Then, she stopped.

"Oh, 'There's Something About Mary' is on!" Mina turns to you with a smile as bright as always on her face, "Have you ever seen it?"

You nodded of course. It was one of those rom-coms that was on tv quite often that you liked. You found the story of a hopeless geek still pining after his high school crush, funny and it was a good laugh from time to time.

"Great, then let's watch it!"

You were about fifteen minutes into the movie when Mina began to wriggle closer to you.

"Mind me?" she asked, as she delicately laid her head on your lap.

You felt your breath hitch again in your throat, swallowing, to not let your voice waver.

"No, no," you stuttered out, "Not at all."

She flashed you one of those dazzling smiles and went back to watching the movie.

You tried not to be so tense, but it was as if your body didn't want to listen to your commands.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even realise the ending credits playing.

"You know, I really don't like that plot about many guys pinning after one girl," Mina began, mindessly playing with the hem of your shirt, "But there's one quote in there that is basically my life motto, 'Who needs him? I’ve got a vibrator!'" she said those words with such enthusiasm, that you couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah."

You could almost ignore her slender fingers flushed against your hot skin. God, was it always so hot in this room?

It was so silent for a moment. You could hear your own heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Then she leaned closer. It seemed that she wanted to tell you something, a secret that was so sacred, that only you were allowed to know. As if curiosity got the better of you, you leaned in, forgetting the quote 'curiosity killed the cat', and then realised hat you were fully ready to endure that secret, as one would endure the pleasure of cold ice cream on a cold summer day.

Lips danced plush against each other, teeth clacking at the raw, sudden contact. You cought Mina's eyes widening, as if she wasn't expecting your response to this kiss.

All you could taste was mint gum. The smell of vanilla was so close, too. Not close enough.

Pushed by blinding desire and alcohol, your hands cupped her soft face, one running down her soft cheeks, not believing the texture as silky as that could be of someone's face and another found its way to her hair, pulling her even closer.

Colors and hues of emotions danced inside you, blue for the color of her dress and the sadness of your own mixed thoughts, yellow for the lingering smell of vanilla and your worry and red for the passion and that dangerous neon hue. That was her — stunning and absolutely deathly.

The need of oxygen made you pull away, only for a moment to catch a few deep breaths. Then you were grabbing her face again, pulling her in, feeling her already bruised lips with her own.

Mina moaned into the kiss, and after hesitating for a moment but getting assurance by the sudden soft pull at her hair, she let her hand travel under your shirt.

You let her do that as your own hands were lingering on her defined waist, hugged by the midnight blue mini-dress.

A soft bite to her lip before pulling away and then before you realised it, it turned into a full make out session.

It was perfect at that moment — like a shot out of a movie but then the bubble you were in broke. And you fell.

Mina pulled away, not letting you lean in again as her hands finding their way to her sides, almost shamefully.

A questioning look painted your features. You were confused. It all felt so good, why did you have to stop?

"...This is wrong," she managed to speak out, pushing you away.

You felt something sting inside.

"I don't follow, what do you mean?"

Mina sighed, standing up. It seemed that she wanted to add more distance between the two of you.

"Have you ever dated a girl, Y/N?"

"...No."

"Well, I have. I dated too many straight girls, who were just experimenting for fun. Enough of them. Enough of tearing my own heart out,"

The volume of her voice gradually grew and her hands crossed against her chest.

"But, Mina-"

"You're drunk, Y/N," she answered, not looking at you, "It'll be best if you pick your stuff up and leave."

Your hands were clutched against your chest, heart beating as if it wanted to leave your body.

"Mina..."

You stepped closer and she stepped back, still not looking at you.

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

"I always felt as if we were connected more than friends and then you started dating guy, after guy, after guy," Mina murmured, almost too quiet to hear, "And my high hopes were stomped. I realised there's no happy endings for girls who fall for straight girls, Y/N. No happy ending for girls like myself."

"It's not like that-"

Tears fell down her face when she finally looked up. Somehow, it hurt more than when she screamed at you.

"Go home, Y/N!"

"We can-"

"Go home, for fuck's sake! You're drunk, go home!"

Everything went fast after that when you let your clouded mind lead you back to your place, back to your bed. You didn't get any sleep that night.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

Ring. Ring. You bit your lip, praying that she would just pick up.

Ring. Ring.

Ring.

You sighed, moving the phone away from your ear, ready to press the red button until you heard a groggy voice.

"Y/N?"

You breathed.

"...Yeah."

You heard her sigh, as you felt your own body tense up.

"What do you want?"

You bit your lip harder, almost drawing blood.

"Come over," your voice almost broke, "Please."

"And then what?.. You want me to tell you that I fell for another straight girl, right into your face? Wanna make tell me that ‘We can still be friends after that make-out session?’ Wanna-"

You didn't let her finish.

"None of that. You'll see."

"Y/N."

"Come over. Would be a pity to ruin a surprise I have for you."

There was silence for a second too long and you wondered if she ended the call.

"...'Kay."

You said your goodbye and threw the phone on the couch. You hoped she liked red roses, chocolate cake and one nervous girl, who thought she was definitely straight, but fell for so strongly for a girl.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

A.n: Sorry for not posting anything in so long. Things have been pretty bad for me lately, but I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. Imma just dedicate it to the girl I have this stupid crush on ^^ 

As always, thanks @velvet-kissesss​ for editing and thank you all for reading!

[1zashreena1]

I Am Having a Snuggle -10

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess doesn’t sleep much after her long distance meltdown. Soft Murder Panther to the rescue! Well, except for that one hard part.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

FEELS. SMUT (aka The Good Stuff), the L word, plus size woman+fit man, soft!Diego (srsly disgusting and if you bring it up later he will stab you), coddled Princess, mentions of... The Belt*tm,  is a relationship happening?? apparently. Leftover high school Spanish.

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

Special thanks to @chelsfic for the shared Diego headcanons re: coffee preferences. ILY Mommy

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

You snap awake with a gasp. What woke you up? You lay there for a second, holding your breath and listening. With your vision being so horrible your hearing is a much more reliable sense. Its pitch black tonight, no moonlight breaking through the cloud cover. You don't keep any ambient lighting on while you sleep so you couldn't see anything if you tried.

There. A soft bang outside somewhere. Then another. It almost sounds like car doors. I wonder if the baby is sick again and First Floor Mark is taking her to the hospital?

Your worry is cut short when you jolt to full awareness because your apartment door is opening. You flip over to your back and dive for the nightstand. Glasses first, Smithfield 911 second. You sit up to brace yourself against the wall and hold the gun in your lap, fingering the safety. 

The door closes and you hear it being locked. 

With a heaved sigh you make sure the safety is on and wait. Heavy footsteps come ever closer to your bedroom and you can see the light of his phone before he appears in your doorway.

Diego freezes when he sees you sitting up in bed. Then he smiles. Wide and sparkling in the low light, you can't see them but you know the dimples are there.

"Princess, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He greets you warmly, voice like liquid velvet, wrapping you in heated comfort. You can tell he is wearing most of a suit, the jacket is gone, but you have no idea what color. His collar is unbuttoned. That's not distracting at all.

You arch one brow and struggle not to smirk. "Damnit Diego, you almost got shot." You display the gun, barrel pointed to the ceiling.

He rumbles lowly at you, purring in pleasure, as he spreads his arms open. "Princess, that is hot. Come here, now!"

With a bark of laughter you drop the gun to the bed and launch yourself at him. He staggers back a step but catches you securely. You wrap all your limbs around him and squeeze. His hands cup your ass and he returns the gesture with enthusiasm. Diego turns his face into yours, you know exactly what he wants and you give it to him with no hesitation. 

His lips are soft but his beard is all scratchy tickles. You delight in the contrasting textures, moaning softly as you try to merge your bodies into one entity. His left hand climbs up your back to squeeze your neck right where you always carry all of your tension. 

"Ohhhhhh..." Your mouth drops open and you go boneless in his grip. He gives no quarter and shuts you up with his tongue while his groan vibrates against your chest. Your nipples respond with alacrity. 

He tastes like coffee and chocolate, maybe a hint of cinnamon. What the hell did he eat? You can't get enough of it. 

You never favored long bouts of kissing, makeout sessions were too intimate and your previous partners were more than happy to skip right to the main event. But its different with Diego. He doesn't drool on you and his mouth is consistently at least ten degrees hotter than your own. He always tastes like coffee and some outlandishly ridiculous flavored creamer. The instant a new variety of non-dairy creamer is released he has to try it. His child-like excitement over it is incredibly endearing to witness.

You sink both hands into his hair to pull him back. His eyes are huge and you watch with rapt attention as he licks his bottom lip. "Princess. Bed. Now." He croaks, nodding his own head like he's trying to peer pressure you into consenting. 

Completely unnecessary, baby. 

"Yeah." Your soft whimper is stupidly needy. Only Diego does this to you. Has this effect on you. You feel like the cover of a really bad romance novel. A strumpet. The ludicrous term makes you giggle. You gaspingly add another request, "But naked!"

Diego jumps into motion and takes two huge steps to the bed. You're already fighting with the buttons on his shirt and you don't quit as he lays you down on your back. There is only absolute faith that he won't drop you. 

The moment you're down his hands go to your cami, fingers sliding under the elastic band of the shelf bra and gathering the whole thing up to go over your head. You have to let go of him for a split second so he can fully remove it and that makes you whine unhappily. Diego tosses the shirt over his shoulder carelessly and smushes both of your breasts together to attempt a self-smothering. You laugh breathlessly until he latches onto a nipple.

"Ohhhhhh. Fuck. Yeah. Yeahhh." Nice porn moan, only practicing self-affirmation here. You still can't believe this works. The strong suckling sensations go straight to your cunt. No wonder other women always said they liked it. This is unique to Diego, too. He is the only person that your body has ever responded to in this. Sure, you liked your breasts fondled, squeezed, compressed utterly flat. But your nipples? No, they had some kind of epiphany the first time Diego sealed his lips around one and sucked.

You pet over his hair and he rumbles into your skin, the vibrations make your back arch. Your hands push on his shirt collar. You wanted bare skin earlier, now you need it. His hands disappear, then so does his shirt, but the attention to your nipple never falters. His sneaky fingers snake down over your stomach, he pauses to squeeze the squishy middle, then continue to your pants.

"No!" You yelp and Diego freezes. He releases your harried nipple to look up at you in puzzlement. 

With his brows drawn together he questions you, "Princess. What is--"

You don't let him finish. "Take your damn pants off right fucking now! I missed you, not your clothes!" You even sound frantic to yourself. Desperate. And you don't care.

He growls at you but straightens up and reaches for his belt. 

Oh god. His belt. Your gulp is audible. Its the same belt from that time he detained you on the jet. Spanked you delirious with it and then fucked you over a seat. All as punishment, of course, for sending a booty pic to Julio. You spent the next day on your belly while Diego torturously worshiped your ass. It was amazing.

His slow, evil smile confirms that he witnessed the entire memory play out across your face. That predatory stare never leaves yours as he opens the buckle and whips the soft leather free of the pant loops. He holds the belt up in the air, then drops it to the floor off the side of the bed. "Next time, Princess. We have the whole flight together. Maybe this time I'll make you keep count of how many times you come."

The threatening promise (promising threat??) makes you keen, high and piercing. Diego laughs at your obvious need, but he resumes stripping at a faster pace. You pop upright to get your pants off and complete the maneuver just in time to witness his cock achieve freedom. Before either one of you realizes it your hand is wrapped around him.

Diego collapses forward into you but catches himself on his hands before you get crushed. Not a bad way to go. You think. Crushed by hottest criminal sugar daddy with a heart of gold just for her. A beautiful obituary. 

You tighten your fingers around him; each one individually and in consecutive order, creating a rippling effect. He drops his forehead to your shoulder with a purr. You turn into his face to nuzzle up along his jawline. "Baby," you breathe, punctuating it with a long lick up the shell of his ear. "I missed you. So. Much."

His answering growl triggers violent shivers. He uses those wide shoulders to force you down onto your back. Planting one knee on the bed between your legs, he insinuates both hands under your ribcage and shoulders to slide you up the bed. His hands are so massive that they span the entire width of your back. That fact should scare you, instead you feel secure, even treasured, with how gently he handles you. He can be delightfully rough, you've been on the receiving end of that before. But right now is Soft Murder Panther hours.

He has to move up with you because you are not relinquishing that magnificent erection. 

"Princess," he rumbles directly into your ear, "Let go now or you will be disappointed later. I spent the entire flight thinking about every soft inch of you. Need to be inside you. Nowww." His confession ends in a breathy sigh as he begins pressing kisses over your entire face. 

You reach up to take off your glasses but he's already there, holding them by the frame around the lenses and not the easily bent arms. You blink back tears as you watch him stretch over to set them on your nightstand exactly how you do it. 

When he comes back you cradle his face with your hands, holding him still so you can just take this all in. His eyes search your face, looking for any hint of discomfort as he rests more of weight onto you. You nod gently and he gingerly, deliberately gives you the rest of his bulk. His presence drowns out everything else. All you know is Diego. Everything you ever wanted.

With minimal effort you guide him down until his forehead meets yours. He whimpers softly for you and your hands pet down his stubbled cheeks. This kiss is no less passionate than the wild ones earlier but somehow sweeter. You open your eyes to find him watching you, gaze unguarded and face completely open.

You stroke over his cheeks again, one thumb gliding along his plush lower lip. Diego nips your thumb, then engulfs it in his mouth to suck. Your moan is pure need, "Please, baby."

His hips roll and you feel the underside of his shaft rub the entire length of your labia. You arch and move with him this next time. The third pass lands the perfect angle and his thick heat spreads you wide. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as you press your head back into the bed. He keeps pushing until you're completely filled. And then he pushes a little more. Just enough. 

You gasp in a shuddering breath and your back arches off the bed while you clench down around him in waves. He groans long and low as he watches you come on him. "Ohh, Bonita. Good girl."

Your quiet huff of laughter dissolves into a moan as he sets a steady pace. Long, solid strokes so you can feel every glorious inch, an inexorable push on your cervix every time he bottoms out. Your fingers claw into his shoulders, clinging like your life depends on it.

He burrows into your neck to sear your skin with his beard, soothing the burn with soft licks and velvet kisses. "Princess. Diego's perfect little princess. Its good? Tell me." He pants, open-mouthed and greedy.

You nod into his hair. "Perfect. Is perfect. You're perfect." He shakes his head 'no', rubbing his face on you. His right hand reaches down, gripping your thigh with purpose. He pulls your leg up, wrapping it around his waist, the other follows of its own accord. His knees spread, widening his stance and shifting the angle of his thrusts. Incredibly, he manages to get deeper inside you. Without a conscious command your mouth opens to spill out pure desperation and mangled ecstasy. "Yes, baby. All of you. Give me everything…"

He drops frenzied kisses all over your face while you two share the same air. His tone turns emotional, raspier, "Want to. Please. Please, please, please let me. Take care of my princess, be better. Just for you. Please, mi amor." 

That's new. New and heart-wrenching. You can't decide if its being used as a pet name or a declaration. It doesn't matter, the agonizing emotion behind it still makes you seize up with pleasure. He moans in approval, moving continuously throughout your entire climax. Just as your back begins to loosen he accelerates his thrusts, driving you right back up into another orgasm. You realize the ringing in your ears is actually a noise being made by your mouth.

"Yes, Princess. Come for me. Let Diego please this pretty little pussy." I am never going to regret admitting that I love his dirty talk. You congratulate yourself for that moment of successful communication. Diego hasn't shut up since then and you are so very grateful. 

He sweeps hands down your sides to grasp your hips. Even at your current size 16 his fingers still curve around both your front and back. He makes you feel small and delicate, vulnerable and fiercely protected. Cherished. Loved.

He half kneels under you, pulling your pelvis into his lap. Every intense, short thrust hits your g-spot and makes your vision swim. Your trembling never stops, its just constant rolling pleasure. You reach up for him, needing to be joined together endlessly. The muscles in his arms ripple and contract as he scoops you up. 

He has you sitting upright in his lap, legs around his waist and your arms tight behind his neck. Your entire weight rests on his left arm under your butt, holding you steady while he thrusts up into you with abandon. The right arm climbs up your back for him to thread fingers into your curls and press your forehead to his. Your mouth hangs open while you sob in bliss. 

"Si, Princess. Dame uno mas, come for your Diego. Be mine." You have no defense for his fierce begging whispered directly into your face. 

"Diego. Diego, baby, yes I-I-" Your voice cuts out as your orgasm sends you into convulsions. He presses your hips down fast to his so he can pump his own climax deep with a gravelly moan. 

He collapses forward, both of you dropping to the bed like a stone, then proceeds to just lay on you and pant. After an undefinable amount of time, Diego rubs his cheek against yours. He is purring again, the deep vibrations rumble through your chest. You pet over his hair, scratching his scalp with your short, practical nails. His back arches and his hips roll; he's still buried deep inside you. "Princessss. Bicki. Mi amor." His sigh is content.

You kiss his temple. Murmuring breathlessly to him, "Love you too, Murder Panther." You nuzzle into his beard, relishing all the textures. His breath catches, then his chest heaves. He pulls back from you, extricating his limbs so he can flop onto his side next to you. Your head turns for a kiss and he is already there, sealing his mouth to your own languidly.

 With one last fleeting peck to your chin, he rolls you onto your side and pulls you back against him in one fluid movement. Your head is pillowed on his left bicep and you wrap his right arm up tight to your chest. The entire length of his body is spooned up behind you. Instead of being suffocating you find it soothing. His soft little snuffling snores lull you back to sleep.

I am having a snuggle.

[thesaltyace]

big rant/ramble below, you can safely ignore and move on to the next post in your feed.

Urgh

I shared the results of that autism screener with a quasi-friend who I thought would be "safe" (we used to work together and we connected over his being gay and me being visibly queer) but his response was blergh

Everyone has hints of autism.

okay yeah but this isn't just *hints* of autism. I'm answered yes to symptoms I've had since I was a kid that I've learned to mask or work around as an adult. But I still struggle with them.

He pointed out that he sees me as more ADHD than ASD.

Yeah, fair, and I'd need to see a professional to try to distinguish if my symptoms are ADHD, ASD, or both.

You don't hit the three prongs needed for a diagnosis.

But.... but I do. And the stuff I dealt with as a kid is still stuff I deal with today. I just mask it better. A short and not exhaustive list:

As I kid I had trouble interacting with peers. I didn't have friends, really. I didn't know how to make friends and I didn't try terribly hard to. I acquire friends when someone else "adopts" me and decides that we are friends. And once I became an adult, I have almost never had friends of my own - I share a friend group with my spouse who we're primary connected to through him. I'm okay with that. Maintaining a friendship entirely on my own power sounds impossible and exhausting.

I was okay with not having friends, I liked being alone, but my mom insisted on me being social. She made me join things so that I would have a list of people to invite to parties. I'd honestly have preferred a day of doing stuff I like or just a couple friends. As an adult, I want to be alone on my birthday. I will celebrate with certain friends, separately, usually over a quiet meal. That's it.

I had trouble understanding sarcasm and figurative speech. Like, I understand it now but I still think most figurative speech is annoying. I've been told the way I deliver sarcasm is weird, too.

I liked memorizing movies and quoting them start to finish, I thought it was fun but everyone else thought it was weird. I continued to do this into adulthood but I only quote aloud when I'm alone. Alamo Drafthouse quote-alongs are the BEST. I don't do this with every movie, either, just ones I really like.

Okay actually I also liked to listen to the same album or, in some cases, the same song over and over until I was sick of it (and sometimes even after that point). I mean, just endlessly looping on repeat. Not interspersed with other songs. I do this as an adult a LOT because it's easier with headphones to do this without annoying everyone else around you. Like, often it's fine for me to just put a playlist on shuffle, but I get into Moods where I just want the one album/song over and over. Yesterday I listened to Wellerman about 50 times in a row and only stopped because I had to get up and do something else and that song wasn't "good" for whatever I got up to do.

My special interest as a kid was cats. Literally everything cats, all the time - I sought out obscure facts and could tell you the difference between similar species, and wanted cats involved in literally everything I did. Adults laughed it off as childhood obsession. I was also pretty obsessed with the solar system. I thought asking my peers, as a trivia question, which of Jupiter's moons had its own asteroid (Io, in case you were wondering) was appropriate and interesting and was confused that they didn't know that. That was in fifth grade.

I watched the weather channel for fun. I would watch it for hours and absorb the weekly forecast info just... for fun? I never used it, could never tell you if you should dress a certain way or bring an umbrella or whatever. Everyone thought it was weird.

I was a know-it-all and literally could not stop myself from bluntly correcting people who were wrong. Didn't know or care that it was "rude". I'm still that way but I've learned how to sometimes swallow the urge long enough to find a more tactful way to point it out (but often fail).

I could read on my own before kindergarten, used vocabulary beyond what one would expect for my age, and had a special interest in spelling and grammar throughout my school years. I did not understand how other people weren't interested in learning about it and getting it right. I read at an undergrad level by 4th grade.

I hated loud noises and often covered my ears to block out irritating sounds. I could also hear high pitched noises that even other kids didn't seem to hear (or at least weren't bothered by them). Too much noise sent me into an internal meltdown, I'd just kinda shut down because I couldn't deal with it.

Textures and pressure on my skin bothered the absolute fuck out of me - sock seams, certain fabric materials, socks that weren't equally elastic, one shoe tighter than the other, tags.... all of that. (Also, fun anecdote I just unlocked - when I was 4 or 5 my grandmother started letting me use the soft silk sleep shirt she had as a young woman because I preferred it to anything else. Soft, smooth, no irritating qualities. Bliss. I wanted to wear it all the time.)

Don't get me started on food. Until I was in COLLEGE I mostly subsisted on pasta with either butter or alfredo sauce and chicken. I would eat other things, but pasta and/or chicken was (and still is) my biggest safe/comfort food. I'd eat other stuff mostly if I could control the balance of ingredients, get it made plain, or could confirm the texture wouldn't be offensive (so, like... plain burgers, plain cheese pizza, grilled cheese, mashed potatoes, etc.) I cannot stress this enough - from childhood through COLLEGE I did this. As a kid my mom had to make me a completely separate dish most nights to get me to eat something. My spouse was horrified at what little variety I ate. The only reason I eat so much variety now is that he knows what I do/don't like and tells me in advance if I'll find a texture or taste offensive. Of course, rather than wanting consistent texture like I did when I was younger, I now seek as much texture as possible (so long as they aren't Bad textures) so.... that's fun. But yeah most of my objections to Yucky foods is due to T E X T U R E. Even if I like the taste, the texture overrides it all.

I prefer animals to people. I will seek out animals and interact with them instead of people in the same room. And will pointedly focus on the animal to avoid interacting with people.

I'm perfectly happy with only myself for company. Being with just my spouse counts as me being "alone" though. Always has. I just realized last night that it's because I do minimal to no masking around him because he's a safe person to unmask with and always has been. Never batted an eye at the weird shit I do beyond asking questions about what I was doing or why. And then just "Okay."

Okay honestly just the fact that I want to vent into the void of tumblr instead of actually discussing this with a person - even my spouse! - pretty effectively shows how little it occurs to me to interact with other people directly. o_0

And there are so many more things that I won't list here because I could just go on and on. And like, sure, some of this may certainly overlap with ADHD but my point is that I have enough to point to ASD that it doesn't feel like having a "hint" of autism. And who knows - maybe it is mostly just ADHD and CPTSD stuff interacting in weird ways. Could be!

But just because I can make small talk and make eye contact and do the "normal" shit and I can interact "normally" doesn't mean I LIKE it. I had to LEARN to do those things to avoid having bad social interactions. When I'm by myself or with my spouse, I behave very differently than I do around anyone else. ANYONE. It's not just slightly changing my behavior depending on who I'm with - it's completely suppressing how I naturally would do things if left to my own devices.

Like, the things we recommended to our autistic students who wanted to know how to interact in ways that would help them blend in/be accepted by others ARE THE EXACT THINGS I ALREADY DO. Like, it did not occur to me at the time that neurotypicals literally do not have to think about doing those things. I thought, ah, these students just need to be told what the tricks are. Other people figure these tricks out on their own. It did not occur to me that other people, in fact, do not learn these tricks because they naturally do that behavior. They do not have to actively think about learning the trick, period. I literally thought other people also have to think as hard as I do about interactions. Evidently not.

So yeah, I'm feeling a little upset about the reaction I got from him because I'm like.... honestly, a diagnosis of ASD wouldn't change a lot about how I do things or think of things. But it would make me feel better about interacting with and participating in autism-related stuff if I am actually autistic. I realize I can use the resources and supports meant for ASD regardless, and for formal supports anything I can access due to my ADHD diagnosis likely covers anything I'd need for ASD. But having a diagnosis opens up more community. Right now I'm like yeah I'm ADHD but I totally relate to this ASD content. But I'm not going to interact much because I feel like I don't have the right to join in since idk if I do have ASD.

idk I have a lot of feelings. I had a bad email about the trans insurance coverage thing yesterday and I'm not in a great headspace, but finding out me and my spouse both scored very high on the autism screening stuff was honestly a high point because we ended up sharing a lot of how we view and interact with the world that was very eye-opening about why we interact the way we do, how we relate to others (and how other people think we're weird for how we relate to others), and just...everything. And having someone be skeptical after I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I DON'T have ASD only to conclude that at the very least, I should probably be evaluated because I can't reasonably rule it out. Like, most people do not wonder if they have autism. The fact that I am spending this much time looking into it and trying to find examples to disprove it only to find I overwhelmingly can't in virtually every single diagnostic category.... just..... dismissing it outright is kinda hurtful.

Like, I recognize that ADHD symptoms overlap a fair bit, but seriously. My spouse (who definitively does not have ADHD) scored almost identically to me and we vibed on almost everything when we compared answers. We see most things similarly. We have similar areas of confusion about other people and for fundamentally similar reasons. I can't imagine all of the stuff that points to ASD for me is just ADHD in disguise, not when I vibe THAT HARD with someone else. Spouse does not vibe with me on ADHD content. At all. He can appreciate it since he does live with me, after all, and observes whatever's being discussed. But he doesn't vibe with it. He vibes with autism content, though. And I vibe with both.

idk this rant ended in rambling and I'm just going to go listen to Inside on repeat for a couple hours while I try to calm down a bit. o_0