#thank u show for not waxing his chest lol

[lynne-monstr]

Tiger and Crane ep 17 | Jiang Long main character shirtless era

Bonus:

[narrators-journal]

katsuko 25 and 13 'w'

Yet another oc ask! Honestly, kinda surprising it took so long for these to start showing up on the wheel, bc I got, like, six of em. So, don’t be surprised if the next few include ocs, just take em as idea fodder for your own ship asks! Whether u wanna see senku getting a strip tease instead of Katsuya, or you want Baofu to be the one torturing Katsuya with hot wax. Go ham! And thank you to my boyfriend for asking for this! It was actually quite fun to write, lol.

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: temperature play, hot wax, masochism for sure, as well as some stripping that I tried to make good and sexy. Otherwise, that should be it. Nothing suuuper spicy this time outside of the free teratophilia.

Soft, sexy music filled the living room along with the soft scent of lilacs and lavender. The rhythm and beat a comfortable salve to the anxiety that sat like a knot in Katsuya Suou’s belly, while, for his girlfriend, Keiko Yamada, it was a hypnotic siren’s song that called her to move. To sway along and swing her tail seductively. And, when she turned around, that seduction carried through despite the fact that her outfit wasn’t at all sexy, and she carried an ominously wax-filled candle.

It was nothing but Katsuya Suou’s button-up shirt and her pajama shorts, her usual, everyday pajama set. Yet, as the werecat swayed and moved in rhythm with the beat of the music, and while Katsuya didn’t have anything like a stripper’s pole for the woman to dance on, those details didn’t stop how sensual and hot her dance was, even if Katsuya tried not to fall prey to the distraction of the sway of her tabby tail.

Yet, it didn’t do much when she slithered her way over to the couch, her emerald eyes alight with sexual desire. When she began to slowly unbutton his shirt to reveal more of her cleavage. More of her beautiful, fair skin, the plump curve of her breasts, and a sheer, lacey black bra that the brunette let his warm brown eyes get lost into the details of. “You sure you’re comfortable, Katsudon? This isn’t too much too soon?” She purred, Katsuya’s attention drug back to her emerald eyes by the tender way she tilted his head back up to her face with the hand that she didn’t hold a candle in. “Um...n-no. I’m fine with this, I promise. I just, uh, you’re- I’m…” She giggled at his mumbled attempt to explain, the soft sound another log for the fire beneath the man’s skin. “You’re just really pretty. "Thank you, hon.” She hummed, her lips against his for a brief moment before she straightened again to let the now-open shirt slip from her shoulders.

Which, was a simple movement, Katsuya had seen her disrobe multiple times, he’d seen her soft, chubby belly, her full thighs, and plump, heavy breasts. But, something about the way that she danced and swished her tail hypnotically in front of him, just barely out of reach, was a whole different thrill in the blood that quickly went south. Which, didn’t fade when she finally let her shorts slip down onto the living room carpet and crawled onto the couch to straddle him.

So, Katsuya had to swallow down the teenage excitement that bubbled up when the barely-dressed werecat lowered her head to let her lips dance over his throat. Though, the way that she straddled his hips, with her tail coiled around his calf, and a small candle held in one hand, did little to help him keep those over-eager thoughts from being boiled into a fine mist of carnal desire.

But, there was no doubt that his girlfriend could sense the effect her nearly bare body had on the cop. No matter how he tried to stamp down the thrill, all she had to do was push herself onto his boxer-clad groin to feel how hard he was, and pull out low moans from him. “You trust me, right?” She purred into his ear, her trail of kisses retraced back up, her warm breath able to tickle his heated skin the same way her words tickled just enough fear in his chest to make the brunette stumble over his words, “Y-yes, of course I trust you, dear.” “And you’re sure you can handle the wax? It’s not gonna be easy to get off.” She pointed out, which did make the cop pause a bit. So, the brunette leaned back to watch him chew on the thought for a long moment before he let out a slow breath, “I’m sure. Wax doesn’t stay hot that long, it cools pretty quickly, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” He hummed. So, Keiko nodded quietly and tipped the candle over to let the first, small drop of the melted wax fall onto his arm. And…

It hurt like a bitch.

The wax clung to his arm hairs, it sluggishly crawled over his flesh like molten lava, it brought the first signs of tears to his eyes. Even as the wax cooled back into a solid state, the ache of the burn still lingered. Until, it lessened into an ache that...didn’t feel too bad. It actually ebbed down to match the throb of pleasure that already sent even more blood south. “Are you okay, Katsudon?” Keiko asked gently, her emerald eyes alight with concern until she scanned the brunette’s dark eyes and smiled.

Without another word, she dripped more of the soft, lilac wax onto him, this time a bit below his clavical to earn a hissed moan and a twitch from the cock she sat on. Which, she ground against to earn another, louder moan from her boyfriend. “I-I’m fine, by the way.” Katsuya offered, his brain far foggier than he expected it to be and his voice slurred with the desire that he tried so hard to escape. Yet, like the scent of the candle, and Keiko’s buttery, vanilla perfume, he couldn’t shake the rush of the blood that pooled in his groin. A rush that...much to the man’s surprise, seemed to come from the throb of the burning wax, the way that the cooled substance clung to his tanned skin.

Especially not when Keiko let the remainder of the melted wax pour out of the candle holder and onto Katsuya’s belly. The fresh sting of agony like gas on the internal bonfire until Katsuya threw his head back to curse and barely restrained the urge to thrash and buck up into her. “Fuck! K-Keiko!” He hissed, bliss mixed with the irritation of pain in his voice, which, made the werecat dig her claws into the back of the couch, her tabby tail uncoiled from his leg to swish once again. “What? You agreed to this, it doesn’t burn too bad, does it?” She asked, partially in a tease, and partially with concern. But, he could still tell that she cared, which was enough of a balm to the burns to steady his heaving breaths and let him grit out through his teeth, “I know...It doesn’t feel bad bad, it just...fucking hurts. In a good way.” He panted, which, earned him a sugary sweet smile from the scantily clad werecat. Before, she got to her feet once again.

“Good! Come on then, let’s go have a bath!” She chirped, a smile still on her beautiful face while Katsuya stared dumbly up at her while his thoughts pieced themselves back together through the fog of breathless need. “Huh?…” “Come on!” She sang, his hand suddenly in hers so she could pull him to his feet and drag him off to the bathroom. “We’ve gotta get you washed up before your brother returns.” “Are...are we not going to fuck?…” Katsuya asked dumbly, but his girlfriend only giggled mischievously as she pulled him along.

[freckledbeom]

I’ll request any type of changkyun smut u wanna give I’m such a WHORE for him

me too bestie he can have me any way he wants

wine drunk sex with changkyun [19+]

something about fucking while being lowkey tipsy and tasting the alcohol on each other’s tongues is such a turn on to me omg. also im writing this smut in the pretense that you & kyun are just friends lol.

warnings; 19+ scenes, general smut

playing the vapors by jhene aiko ♪

you only wanted one glass.

that’s what you told yourself when kyun had texted you about tasting a bottle a wine he’d been gifted.

but 12 o’clock was nearing and you found yourself on your third glass, as well as changkyun. your legs were pulled to your chest, across from you a hooded eyed changkyun. although you both were dressed in nothing but tees and sweats, that didn’t stop you from finding the man across from you incredibly attractive.

the couch seemed to pull you in and soon you didn’t know if it was your hormones or the wine making you puddle in front of him.

quickly, you drew your eyes away from changkyun so you could gather yourself. seeing the sweet burning liquid come to its end, sadness grew in your chest. time had flown by so quickly you didn’t even realize how much moments like these had to be savored.

“it’s kind of late, you wanna bring this to a close?” you asked, slightly desperate for an alternate response.

licking his plump red stained lips, changkyun ran a hand through his slick black hair. god you loved when he did that.

“not really.” he retorted bluntly. “i don’t want you going home drunk, anyways.”

you scrunched your nose. “im not drunk.”

“you’ve drank right?”

“several glasses, thank you very much.” you said, leaning towards the coffee table to but your glass down.

“so you’re drunk but you just don’t wanna stay here with me.” he smiled, only enough to see his protruding dimple.

hearing him say that was enough to make you break down and tell him how badly you wanted to stay and let him have his way with you.

“how bad do you want me to stay?” unfortunately, words were not on your side when you were intoxicated. you were internally hitting yourself for how carelessly you let your desperation spill out of you.

you regret was beginning to take ahold and you found yourself wanting to take your leave. however, you failed to realize changkyun was also stunted by his many glasses.

it shouldn’t have been shocking when he retorted a very changkyun-like response.

“so bad i want you to come over here and show me you taste as good as you look.”

it only took a simple glance down at his hardening member for you to understand you weren’t the only one growing aroused.

crawling over to his side of the sofa, you found seating on changkyun’s lap, his lower half slouching forward. you could feel his erection poking under you, instinctively drawing more arousal out of you.

leaning down, your lips met, crashing hard and slow. with every taste of his tongue, the flavor set fire to your body making you feel warm and hot all over. kyun sucked on your tongue a little, letting a moan fall back into his throat. your body made candle wax, as a palm came colliding into your round backside, holding grip.

that would hurt later, you thought. but that pain you felt on your rear would soon dissipate into a sharp sting of pleasure.

pulling away panting with lips wet and swollen, changkyun dipped a hand under your backside so he could lay you flat on your back.

this view with him above you, nearly out of breath, was something you wished you could take a picture of and frame.

kyun tugged at your shirt, doing his due diligence to get it off. it was to his surprise that you didn’t have a bra on and reacted not with words but with a subtle lip bite.

one by one he would take each nipple in his mouth and devour them until your core grew impatient.

“kyun please...” your middle ached, dripping with pure lust.

it seemed as if begging fueled a competitive spirit in him because every time you did his self control would defy itself. it didn’t take much you get you completely bare, neither for him. you could only look in admiration as he ran his manhood over your slick, flaunting flexed, thick muscles.

free hand on your thigh, changkyun gripped your legs so he could angle himself correctly while pushing in you.

at this angle you couldn’t control what sounds came it, being attested by how loud you squealed when kyun entered you. the sounds from the skin slapping together and your wetness was enough to make you orgasm already.

“baby...right there.” you kept a grip on changkyun’s arm, throwing your head back in pure pleasure.

changkyun kept at a rhythmic pace, pulling back to the tip then filling you back up again. he bit his bottom lip in an effort to mask his semi-loud groaning.

“fuck....” his moans were long and drawn out.

suddenly coming to halt, changkyun took a breath pulling out completely.

“fuck you almost made me come. turn over for me baby.”

you obliged, kyun helping you flip over before positioning himself over your arched back.

he leaned on your back, pushing you down until your chest and face pressed the couch. “right here.” he whispered, his voice slightly trembling. “this is where i want you.”

it’s like this position was made for the two of you, feeling the heated burn everytime changkyun slammed into you. you were starting to lose count of the amount of times you called out his name and begun to feel coils in your stomach.

“kyun baby im so close.” your hands grappled at the couch trying to stabilize your orgasm.

“fuck, go ahead baby.” changkyun said not slowing his pace for one second.

“come all over me.” he gripped at your hair as he watched you crumble beneath him.

it only took a few more strokes for you to reach your high, leg shaking while you let out an outstretched moan.

not until he reached his peak as well, pulling out to spill himself on your back, did he stop.

this time, you were both in shambles, breathing hard to recover.

the bitter taste of wine still stinging your throat a little, you huffed. this was definitely going on the list of things to do more often, better yet with changkyun.

[moonlady9]

How about GenSaku, "why are you in my bed?" Congrats on your milestone love 💙

I finally reached 300!!

I appreciate all of you so much, for all ur kind words and love! ♥️ ♥️

@mrssakurahatake Thanks love for all ur support. You have been a wonderful and constant friend to me since I started the fandom. I honestly don’t think i would be as active without you. 

Here is this drabble that was longer than I expect lol

Cuz u know.... Genma 

(Explicit)

Sakura rolled over, trying to run away from the morning light. The inside of her head felt like a jackhammer was demolishing everything inside. She got comfortable on her side, her arm curling around a torso. With a groan, she snuggled into the warm body in front of her. The body shifted, pulling her in, nuzzling into each other in sleepy mutters.

This was nice. He smelled nice, like a summer day. His warmth radiating through her. His lips grazed the top of her head. She sighed contently.

Wait.

Her sluggish mind was starting to put things together.

There was a man in her bed.

She didn’t remember bringing a man home. She remembered flirting with some cute redhead, but not if she went home with him. Gods, did she bring him home and not have any recollection of last night?

Fuck.

Her head was throbbing again.

Opening her eyes slowly, like it was the most difficult task in the world, she was met with a golden muscular bare torso.

Now she was really confused. The guy she had been flirting with had been as pale as lilies and slim. This guy was tanned, broad shouldered, muscular. Moving her eyes up, it wasn’t red hair, but a brunet shaggy mane.

Oh gods.

She sat up abruptly, her head spinning with a shooting pain.

He muttered sleepily, groaning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Whazzit,” His voice raspy.

“Why are you in my bed, Genma?” her own voice hoarse.

“Hmm? Your couch isn’t comfortable. Too small.” He explained slowly, throwing his arm around her waist hoping to tempt her back into bed.

Her hand went to her forehead, trying to calm the hammering in her skull. “I mean, why are you here, in my apartment.”

“I brought you home. You were plastered and didn’t think it was good to leave you alone.” Cracking an eye open to look at her. Sitting up slowly, he ran his hands through his hair trying to tame it.

Looking down at herself, she finally realized she was in just her panties. Pulling up the blanket to cover her chest. “Did you take off my clothes?” She looked around and saw the short little dress that she had been wearing the night before.

He shook his head, “No, you did that yourself. You were already in bed when I came in.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Her eyes wandered down his naked torso. It was no secret Genma was a well-built man and seeing it so up close was doing things to her.

“You run hot.” A flirtatious smirk settled on his lips.

“So, what happened last night?” She was trying to piece things together. “Last I remember, I was talking to some guy with red hair.”

Stretching out the kinks of his neck, he made a sound of affirmation, “Yeah, he kept buying you drinks until he tried to walk you out of the bar. While I know you can take care of yourself, you didn’t look to be in the best position when you could barely stand. So, I told the guy to get lost and brought you home.”

“Oh gods,” she bemoaned, embarrassed, it had been a very long time since she had let herself go that far. Sinking her head into her hands to hide her scarlet face, “I’m so sorry,” lifting her lashes to meet his chocolate eyes, “And thank you.”

“No worries. I have your back like I’m sure you would have mine.” Giving her a comforting smile as she relaxed. Her hair was still tousled from sleep, he restrained himself from reaching over to brush it out with his fingers.

Feeling a heat between them, she cleared her throat. Water. Water sounded good. She got up, not bothering to cover up. Maybe she could still have a good morning. “I need to get water and freshen up.”

His eyes followed her back hungrily. All she was wearing was a black thong, the thin straps cradling her hips enticingly. She was teasing him. He knew the sway of a woman’s hips when they wanted him.

Sakura brushed her teeth and gulped down water, bringing some back to him. The way his gaze ate her up made her heady. She handed the glass to him.

Genma did his best to not stare at her perky breasts, but the way she leaned forward, there was nowhere else he could look. “Thanks.” He took the glass and finished it in a few swallows setting it down on the bedside table.

The look of raw lust in his eyes as he turned back to her was contagious. It was unconscious, the signal between them, she just knew that suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her into his lap as she curled her fingers around his hair pulling him to her in frantic kisses.

She was intoxicating, even past the smell of stale alcohol, her sweet spring and berry scent came through. The night had been—difficult for him. She was a horny drunk. The real reason she had taken off her clothes was because of a drunken strip tease she had done for him trying to prove she wasn’t that drunk. It had taken a lot of coaxing to get her into bed and sleep. He had slept with her because she had refused to release him. His shirt was off because she had basically ripped it off him. Maybe someday he would tell her all this, but for now, he just wanted to eat her up.

“Genma, how about you show me what all the girls talk about?” Her eyes teasing as she nipped at his lips.

With a devilish smirk he flipped her on her back, hooking his fingers into the straps of her thong. “Gladly.”

“Oooh!” his mouth was as sinful as the rumors.

Twice, he made her cum twice with just his mouth and fingers. She already felt like melted wax when he aligned himself to her entrance.

He lifted a leg to his shoulder and leaned down to kiss her, impressed by her flexibility, he sunk into her tight heat in a swift motion. “Ah fuck, Sakura!”

“Genma! Yes! Fuck me, hard!” Her nails clawed at his back and arms. His cock felt like it was splitting her open and putting her back together with each thrust.

Three more times. She came three more times before he finally climaxed with a broken cry of her name.

He had her on her knees for the end. He bent down to kiss between her shoulders as he spilled everything into her begging pussy. “Gods you’re amazing.”

Slumping down, she chuckled weakly. “That was wonderful.”

He fell back on the mattress, letting out a heavy breath. He turned to her, her face completely sated. He pulled her to him, nuzzling into her neck.

Sakura giggled at his tickles.

“So, did I meet expectations?” he nibbled her ear teasingly.

“Mmmm… didn’t think you were the man that needed his ego stroked.”

“You can stroke something else.” He wiggled his eyebrow at her.

She smacked his shoulder. They both fell into a fit of laughter.

“Well thanks for taking care of me last night,” she grinned, “And this morning.”

“Anytime, Beautiful.”

[meat-husband]

SFW Vincent and a fem so that he’s kidnapped??? Does he have to hide her or how does she react to him?

Thank u for requesting my wax boy!! This is sort of the original version of this post, but I liked it enough to finish them both apparently Vincent gives off stalker vibes lol

Your eyes open slowly, still heavy with sleep and fatigue, but there’s not much to see once you do. The room is dimly lit, only vague shapes somewhere in the distance that you can’t make out, and what you can see is blurry, filtered through your unfocused eyes. The rest of your body is still numb with sleep and so far all you can feel is the heavy weight of your eyelids, drooping back down as you contemplate closing them and drifting off again.

Each time you woke up, groggy and confused, you didn’t stay that way for long. These brief glimpses of consciousness were dizzying and your head already hurt, so you allowed your eyes to close again. You didn’t know what you had been hit with, but the pain hadn’t gone away yet, a deep, swollen throbbing over your temple and behind your eyes. There is a tender spot there and you suspect that it’s covered in a nasty bruise, but there is no way to see if you’re correct.

You’ve been here for days. Maybe even weeks, but the first few days were a blur, and even now you have no reliable way to know what time of day it is. There are no windows here, no natural light, but you can guess that it has been around two weeks spent on a little cot in the corner of a dark basement. They feed you once a day, or at least you think so, and you have counted eleven meals, plus however long it was before you woke up for the first time. Thinking of food only reminds you of the dry weight of your tongue, heavy in your mouth - it has been hours since your last taste of water, perhaps longer.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you try to focus your vision. Even with clear eyes, the room is dark, but it looks empty, flickering light showing you only shelves and tables, a worn chair pushed up next to a pile of loose papers. That’s where your captor had been before, but the glimpses you took now didn’t show him anywhere. He was lingering nearby, he always was, so you breathe carefully, stealing short peeks through your lashes. The room is dim enough that you can’t see clearly to the other side, so you remain still, waiting.

You are getting tired, though. The small amount of food and water you’ve been given hasn’t been enough to sate you - they’re just keeping you alive, giving you the bare minimum and each day only makes you weaker. There were no solid memories of your first few hours here, but you must have fought, the aches and bruises you had woken to told you that much. You wanted to keep fighting, but the tremble in your arms and spinning of your head when you sat up made you think that submission was the best option for now. Not forever, you told yourself, you were just going to bide your time, and one day you would have the opportunity you needed to get out.

There is a noise, a quiet shuffling from somewhere across the room. You stiffen in place, closing your eyes to keep up the facade of sleep even as the sounds grow closer. His steps are heavy, muffled in a way that makes you think he’s trying to be quiet, trying to step softly. A throbbing pulse starts up in your veins, heart beating faster in apprehension, and you hope he won’t notice the tension in your body. It’s probably meal time, the hunger in your stomach tells you, and you waver between fear and need. You’re afraid of him, of both of them, but they’re your only source of food and water.

You nearly jump when you risk the next peek through your lashes. The dim golden light of the room is behind him, a figure looming over the little corner you occupy made into a silhouette by the flickering candles. The darkness hides his features, but you know which one it is - only one of them ever comes down here, tending to you in between long vigils spent hunched over the tables, working at some task that you hadn’t yet figured out.

A hand hovers over you, as if he’s thinking of shaking you awake, but it never descends. Instead, he pulls it back, curling long fingers into the fabric over his chest.

“Wake up.”

His voice is quiet, raspy and unused, and you’ve never heard him say more than a word or two at a time. It sounds labored, like it takes some effort to get out the words he does say, but they’re perfectly clear despite the shortness.

You don’t try to keep pretending. The pain in your stomach can’t be ignored, you desperately want something to eat, so you open your eyes fully, looking straight ahead rather than up at the man standing over you. Your arms still shake when you push yourself up, and his hand is back, hovering over your shoulder as if to help, but you make it up on your own with only a little trouble.

A thick chain pools in your lap as you sit up, the padlock at your neck bouncing against the protruding bones at your collar. You wince and the weight of it is uncomfortable, but your hands are tied at your waist, so you can’t adjust the makeshift leash and collar. The length of it follows your legs down to the end of the cot, the metal cold against your skin, wrapping around the leg of the bed.

You wobble a little bit but stay upright, looking up expectantly, but a swoop of fear rolls through your stomach when you notice that there is no food. He’s holding a bottle, the same one he’s always brought you water in, but this change in the routine unsettles you. You’ve never been offered water outside of mealtimes, and unless they’re going to start withholding food now, you’ve never had a meal that was only water.

He holds up the bottle, shaking it back and forth, and although you’re uneasy, the slosh of liquid makes your dry mouth ache. You watch him unscrew the plastic lid, but you don’t open your mouth when he tries to press the bottle to your lips. Something is going on and you don’t want to be caught off guard.

“Thirsty?”

Your heart skips at the unexpected question and you look up, away from the water, meeting his gaze for half a second. You don’t hold it for long, forcing your eyes back to the floor and shaking your head. You’re dehydrated and tired, but you aren’t drinking that water no matter how much you want it.

He presses it to your mouth again, prying your bottom lip open with the rim of the bottle, but you jerk away. A small splash of water hits your chin, dripping into your lap, but you fight against the urge to lick the wetness from your lips.

“Drink.”

“I don’t want it.”

Your own voice is nearly as broken as his, dry and coarse. It hurts to speak, your throat seizing up and a cough builds, but you choke it back down.

He seems confused by your refusal. You’ve never turned down water before, and clearly you need it, but you keep your mouth shut and eyes down. He prods you with the mouth of the bottle a few more times, making insistent little noises, but you turn your head away.

A big hand grasps your face and you jolt, fighting to pull out of his grasp. Strong fingers dig into the flesh of your jaw, biting into you, and the bruised side of your face throbs again. He pulls at your bottom lip with a thumb, held still while he tilts the bottle to your mouth again. Soft noises, coos and shushes, come from him in an attempt to calm you, but the hard grip on your face makes you panic. Your hands, tied at your waist and unable to reach out of your lap, twist and pull at their bonds, rattling the chain.

“I’ll drink,” you gasp out, twisting your neck to get away. “Let me go, I’ll drink it, just don’t make me.”

You’re surprised when he does let go, and your head tilts and turns for a moment longer to escape the hand that isn’t there anymore. It throws you off balance, your chained hands too slow, and you go down, laying on your side and propped up on a wobbly elbow. You breathe heavily for a moment, watching him loom over you, but he makes no move to force the bottle back to your mouth.

You look at the bottle, and the brief taste of water you had gotten earlier makes you crave it all the more. The taste is always strange, more earthy and metallic than you expected, but it was a natural taste, not something tampered with. Maybe he’s trying to drug you, maybe not, but either way you know you’ve got to get it over with.

“I’ll drink it.” You repeat.

You’re too tired to sit back up so you stay where you are, watching with half lidded eyes as he offers the water again. Despite your protests earlier, you drink eagerly, gulping down the metallic taste and relishing the feeling of it soothing your throat. It drips down your chin, sliding down your neck and soaking into the dirty collar of your shirt, but you don’t care.

You watch the bottle in front of you empty, much faster than you want it to, but it feels so good to finally get something to drink. Food would have been good too, something heavier to push away the hunger in your belly, but you’re not going to complain.

Your eyes open when the bottle is pulled away from you, though you don’t remember closing them. Maybe it was drugged after all, because you’re feeling the exhaustion hit you now, making your limbs heavy. A hand on the back of your head pushes you gently down until your head lays on the mattress, long fingers digging into your hair and staying there. He doesn’t move even once you’ve settled down, bent at the waist to keep his palm pressed to your skull.

Your eyes are heavy again, but you keep them half open, peeking at him from the corners. You aren’t sure what he looks like, besides the long hair and messy clothes, but you supposed there was probably a reason he wore the ugly mask. It was just lifelike enough to give you an uncanny feeling of unease, and the right eye was always ominously dark and blank. He was tall, much taller than you, and bulky. You wouldn’t have been able to stand up to him even if you weren’t half starved.

“Better? Good?”

“Yeah,” you mutter in reply, feeling the weight of his hand shift as he slowly strokes your hair. “Good.”

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 9

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 6,538 for this chapter (41,509 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Dan wakes up alone. He's stretched out on Phil's sheets, mostly on his stomach, and he buries his face in a pillow to hide from the afternoon sunlight streaming through Phil's small windows. He listens carefully, but he can't hear Phil shuffling around the room or anything.

He's not overly worried, really. This is Phil's place. It would be next level weird for him to cut and run.

Sure enough, when Dan blinks away the spots in his vision and looks around the flat, he sees a sticky note on Phil's headboard. Had to go to work! Won't say your name on the radio lol, it says, and Dan feels a surge of fondness and embarrassment.

He rolls onto his back and rubs at his face, trying to wipe the stupid grin off even though nobody's here to see it. He grins wider when he remembers that someone else is here, actually.

"Thor," he calls out, not bothering to sit up. "C'mere, buddy!"

The jangling of Thor's collar and the rapid taps of his claws on the hardwood floor let him know that the dog is approaching.

Dan looks over and sees Thor sitting at the side of the bed, head cocked and ears perked. He might actually start to cry; he is obsessed with this dog.

"Hey there," he coos, patting the bed next to him in invitation. Thor just keeps looking at him. If Dan were to assign a human emotion to Thor's vibe right now, he'd say the dog looked dubious. "C'mon up, little guy, I won't bite."

Thor jumps up with his stumpy legs and Dan laughs delightedly at the height he can manage when he's got a running start. He snuffles into Dan's borrowed shirt and gives him a bunch of sloppy kisses.

Truly, there is no better way to wake up. Dan is in heaven right now.

He gives Thor a bunch of pats and coos nonsense at him for a little while. He's not really in a hurry to go anywhere. In fact, he wouldn't get out of bed at all if it weren't for his bladder starting to get angry with him. Dan sighs and gives Thor a kiss on his tiny forehead.

"I gotta get up," he laments. He blinks at Thor.

Thor blinks back.

"You need to get up, too," he informs the dog very solemnly.

Thor puts his front paws down like he's getting ready to play and lolls his tongue out, smiling at Dan.

Dan clutches at his chest dramatically and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to capture this moment. He notices that he's got missed texts, missed calls, but he shoves the spike of anxiety to the side in order to focus on getting cute photos and videos of Thor. He takes a bunch of the corgi alone, giggling to himself the whole time, and then pulls Thor close to him to take a few selfies as well.

After brushing his teeth and taking a quick piss, Dan lies back down and looks through the camera roll. He's smiling at his phone and petting one of Thor's soft ears. They're all super cute pictures, good enough to post if they weren't so laden in implications.

Two photos - one of them grinning wide at the camera and a follow-up where Dan's face is scrunched in laughter as Thor gives him a surprise kiss to his nose - get messaged to Phil instead of posted.

It's almost as good, really. After a beat, he sends the photos to Jaime and Patrick as well. He's already talked to them about everything, more or less, and he just wants to share the joy he's feeling right now to people who get it. His thumb hesitates. After a moment of consideration, he sends just the silly picture to Adrian.

Adrian responds with a knife emoji, followed by a heart eyes emoji.

They're never going to be like Phil and his brother, working together and razzing each other over dinner, but that's okay. Dan feels a little bit of softness in his chest, easing some of that decades-old guilt. Maybe they can, at least, be more than the strangers they are now.

Spurred on by something as simple as his brother replying immediately, Dan holds his breath and opens the text chain with his mum.

Blimey dear that must be a load off after all this time! Of course I still want to see you on Saturday... I love you with my whole heart and always will xx.

Fuck. He's not going to cry. He won't cry. Not here. Dan inhales lungfuls of air in gasps, trying not to let them turn into raspy sobs. Thor makes an inquisitive noise and noses at Dan's hand.

"I'm okay," he whispers, even if he isn't quite sure that's true. He makes a bunch of typos as he replies to her, just a short love you too that takes him an entire minute to get right. He doesn't want to make a big deal over this, even though it is a big deal, so he just adds a heart emoji and buries his face in Thor's soft fur.

His phone buzzes a few times, but Dan ignores it for a little while. He feels safe in Phil's bed, Thor in his arms, and he doesn't want to face the world again until he feels a bit less fragile. Eventually, though, Thor wiggles out of his grasp and bounds off the bed in search of a toy.

Jaime and Patrick have both responded to the dog selfies, Jaime with a string of barely-comprehensible emotional texts and Patrick with a single exclamation point iMessage reaction.

Phil has sent him a selfie in return, wearing radio headphones and a pout. Hate that I'm at work!!!!!!!!, he captions it. Dan hates that, too. He sends a quick shot of Thor on the other side of the flat with the caption, abandoned by both of u.

By the time he circles back to his mum, he isn't really sure what to expect. She isn't the type to wax poetic about her feelings, none of them are, so he doesn't anticipate another round of affection and love and pride right this second. Maybe in her goodbye text when he heads to the continent. Not right away.

Sure enough, she's said, Why don't you & I grab lunch in the city on Saturday? I've been meaning to try this new sushi bar... xx. Dan's heart sinks.

It's okay, he reminds himself. His mum loves him. Adrian loves him. They both said so.

His mum not wanting him to come to the house anymore speaks volumes to Dan. He expected this, anyway - his dad barely wanted to see him before this, Dan's always been nothing but a physical reminder of his wasted youth, and it isn't shocking that he doesn't want to see Dan now.

Dan lies back down and covers his head with Phil's duvet. He'll let himself be sad, just for a minute, for the loss. This is the first relationship he has to cut off if he wants to live authentically, move forward as a gay man who doesn't hate himself, and it hits hard. Maybe he'll let himself be angry, after this. Then, he'll get out of bed and start living the authentic, quietly proud life that he's only ever dreamed of.

It's okay. But, right now, it stings a bit.

--

By the time Thor's ears perk up and he runs to the door, a clear indication that Phil is home, Dan has well and truly gone through some stages of grief and landed on repression. He's been playing Guild Wars and idly tidying Phil's flat throughout the day, lazy with the impromptu day off as he is. Thor follows him around and Dan plies him with more treats than he thinks Phil would approve of.

Dan feels a little sheepish when Phil comes in and he's just lounging on the sofa with his laptop and a pair of Phil's ridiculous slippers on his feet. The flat looks better than it had last night, but Dan has done fuck all with himself. He could have at least showered, he supposes.

"Hey," he says, tugging an earphone out and giving Phil a quick glance. "Sorry, I'm raiding, I'll give you attention in a second."

"Hi, Dan, my day was good," Phil says dryly. "Thanks for asking."

"You signed up for this," Dan informs him, not taking his eyes off the screen again. He can hear Phil enthusiastically greeting Thor, which makes him smile. "I did make dinner, 's in the oven."

"You cook?" Phil sounds far too surprised, in Dan's opinion.

Dan's character gets murked, and he shuts his laptop with a little huff of a noise. Normally he'd wait out the respawn and keep playing, but he's got more important things to focus on. "No, not really. I know how to throw a bunch of stuff in a pot or dish until it's food."

He gets a proper look at Phil while he peeks in the oven and feels even more like maybe he should have gotten dressed.

It's not like he's dressed up nicely or anything - he's wearing the corgi jumper that he interviewed Dan in and a pair of Vans that are surely on their last legs - but the fact that he is dressed gives him a head start on Dan. He looks a little tired, and Dan wonders if it's comfort or a distinct lack of it that has Phil's shoulders hunched forward more than usual.

"It smells good," Phil informs him, smiling a bit. "You didn't have to do that, y'know."

"Shut up, I wanted to," says Dan.

"I don't think I've come home to food cooking since I lived with my parents," Phil says, his hands inside out in his jean pockets. "I, uh, better not get used to it, huh?"

That definitely is a problem. The elephant in the room, that Dan can't just stay here forever. Dan sighs and stands, carefully stepping around the sofa so he doesn't trip on Thor. He comes close to wrap his arms around Phil's shoulders, smiling when Phil immediately takes hold of his waist like they're dancing.

"Hi, Phil," Dan mocks softly. "Good to see you, how was your day?"

Phil laughs. "Alright. Better now."

"Good," says Dan, and then he kisses Phil. It hasn't even been a full day since he did it last, but he hums and arches into it like it's been months.

They're making up for preemptive lost time. Dan is distracted, though, even when Phil licks into his mouth and pulls him closer. He can't stop thinking about the call he'd made to Amy earlier, the things his agent had said to him.

Netflix announces renewals and cancellations whenever it pleases, not on any sort of set schedule, so Dan will have to live in limbo for a little while. Amy doesn't know how long, exactly, but she promised him to at least find him a British film or series to do in the space between seasons. She called him an idiot, but she agreed to it.

Dan is wondering if he should tell Phil about that conversation. He spends half a minute tossing the possibilities around in his head while Phil sucks on his tongue, his lip.

This is so stupid. Dan pulls back from the kiss. He laughs a bit and puts a palm on Phil's chest to stop him from coming back for more. It warms Dan, knowing that Phil doesn't want to stop kissing him.

"Down, boy," he jokes, and Phil rolls his eyes.

"I don't like this habit you have of interrupting us," says Phil. His cool hands slip under Dan's borrowed Friends shirt. His thumbs trace mirroring shapes just under Dan's ribcage. Now that is distracting. "You could just let me keep kissing you."

"I could," Dan agrees. "But I've got shit to say, y'know?"

Phil grins at him, exasperated in a way that Dan thinks he could get used to. "I've noticed, Dan, that you always have shit to say. And I'd love to listen. Any other time."

"Rude," says Dan. There's no real heat to it, since Phil is right. "It's just that I almost didn't tell you something important because I didn't want to get your hopes up or sound like a freak, and then I remembered the disaster that not talking became last time, so, fuck it."

Even though he's already had experience with watching Phil's eyes go neutral and guarded, it's still a bit of a weird thing to watch happen up close.

It's not even that Phil is a particularly good actor, it's just that he's clearly so practiced in hiding his reactions to things that he can switch it on in an instant. Dan huffs a bit and pokes at Phil's cheek.

"None of that," he scolds.

"None of what?" Phil asks. He's smiling now, though. "What's so important?"

"I talked to my agent," says Dan. "Things are up in the air until we know if we're getting a fourth season, but. I'm thinking about moving to London if we aren't."

Phil's smile goes absolutely blinding, but he sounds suspicious when he says, "Really? That's something you want?"

"I always wanted to live here," Dan says with a little shrug. "Just got lucky in America and ended up staying. Nothing specific was really drawing me back here, I just knew London was always a 'someday' thing. Every time I come back for Christmas I remember how much I like it here." Dan pauses, then jokes, "It's not all about you, y'know."

It kind of is. The timing of it, at least, but Phil doesn't have to know that.

"Yeah, alright," Phil says, outright beaming at Dan now. "Makes sense to me, it's a way better place to live than Atlanta."

Dan laughs. "Atlanta is fine, you jealous bitch."

"I guess," says Phil. He presses a couple of soft kisses to Dan's jaw. Dan is ready to get carried away again before he adds, "It must be hard being so far from your family, as well. You'll get to see them more."

He knows that Phil is only trying to motivate him into staying without actively using himself as a reason, but Dan still grimaces.

"I'll probably see them about the same amount, honestly," he says. "Except my grandma, I'm sure I'll have tea with her every once in a while."

"Don't be silly, I'm sure they'd be excited," says Phil.

That's a very easy thing for Phil to say. Dan can't help the face he pulls at the idea of his family being excited that he's nearby. "They really won't. My parents aren't like yours, Phil, and my brother definitely isn't."

Phil cocks his head and blinks. Dan almost laughs at how eerily similar the action looks to Thor's confusion.

"Well, I know nobody's family is perfect," Phil says, squeezing Dan's waist. "I just figured you'd like to be closer to them."

"No," Dan says honestly. "I mean, it's not like it's a reason not to live in London. Where I am in relation to my family doesn't really affect my decision either way, TBH."

He kind of expects Phil to keep arguing with him about it. Dan only reached out to his mum about getting together in the first place after Phil got all disapproving about how little Dan sees them. Maybe he just takes Dan's word for it this time, though, because all he says is an easy, "Okay."

That's all it takes, really. Phil's agreement, even if he doesn't understand. Dan has already told this guy more about himself than anyone else he knows, and he can feel the words bubbling uncomfortably in his throat.

"I don't actually want to talk about this," says Dan, "but, like, okay, I came out to my family and only some of them are handling it well."

Actual understanding dawns on Phil's face, and he just nods.

"We won't talk about it, then," he says. Like it's that simple. "Let's eat. I'm gonna take Thor to the park afterwards if you want to come with us."

Dan leans in for a grateful kiss that lingers a bit too long. Phil's hands travel further up his shirt, tracing along Dan's ribs and making him shiver. "Thanks," he murmurs into the barely-there space between their mouths. "I'll come with you guys."

For as long as Dan has known about commitment issues, he's known that he has them. With personal projects, with schoolwork, with his own sense of self. It's hard for him to settle on something, harder still to follow through. He's felt it with the women he's dated, too, but he'd already known there was an underlying issue that made it impossible for him to say, 'yeah, okay, this could be something I do long-term'.

Now he's making out with a man who he's pretty sure is his boyfriend, even if they hadn't actually said that word, talking about sharing dinner and dog walks and clothes, and Dan has never done this before, and he knows that he's committing to something just by being here right now.

He waits for that moment of panic so he can whack it aside with some logic, but. It never comes.

Huh.

--

When they head to bed later that night, it isn't because Phil has almost passed out on the sofa again. They'd been ignoring a film for about an hour to snog, and Phil's perpetually cold hands had started wandering about five minutes into that.

Dan had managed to handle Phil's hands under his shirt, in his hair, on his thighs, even brushing the side of his neck, all without major issues. When Phil had decided to outright grope his ass through his too-tight jeans, though, Dan's brain had short circuited. So he'd dragged Phil across the room and pulled him down in a tangle of limbs and laughter as they accidentally elbowed and kneed at each other.

They're not exactly graceful people, but Dan can't complain much with Phil's hands in his back pockets and Phil's mouth on his jaw.

Dan's breathing already feels too loud in the softly lit room, small windows not letting much background noise through at all, and Phil isn't even doing much of anything to him yet.

The part of Dan's brain that exists only to remind him that he's attracted to men has literally never been so loud. He'd foolishly assumed that admitting it to himself and other people would shut it the fuck up, but instead it is outright screaming at him.

You're so fucking gay! it reminds him, as if it's yodeling from the top of a mountain.

Yeah, Dan thinks, he is, he's aware, he's currently straddling a guy he really likes and mouthing at his neck to try and get his breathing as ragged as Dan's is. He doesn't need the commentary.

Still, it keeps shouting, and it only gets louder when Phil tangles one hand in his hair and tugs him back up for an open-mouthed kiss.

He's kissing you! AmazingPhil is kissing you! that part of his mind is chanting, and in the short break between their lips meeting, Dan can't help but murmur a, "Shut up."

Phil pauses. Dan realises he's said that out loud and promptly wants to die.

"I didn't say anything," says Phil. His voice is low and amused, and Dan feels a renewed spark of heat up his spine.

"Not you," Dan says.

Raising his eyebrows, Phil makes a point to look around the flat as best he can without dislodging Dan from his hips. "Uh huh. Y'know, I always knew this place was haunted. I just figured I'd be the one to make friends with the ghosts."

"You're ridiculous," says Dan, but he can't stop himself from smiling.

"I'm not the one talking to ghosts," says Phil.

"I'm not taking to ghosts, Phil, I'm talking to myself. My brain won't shut off, it's so fucking loud right now."

Phil laughs, but he doesn't seem like he's making fun of Dan. He twirls his finger around one of Dan's curls and grins up at him. "I can help with that," he says. In case there were any doubt about what he means, Phil squeezes Dan's ass. "Bet I could make your brain be quiet."

"Yeah?" Dan grins and noses at Phil's jaw. "Yeah, alright, do your worst."

"What do you want?" Phil asks, using his light grip on Dan's hair to make Dan look at him. Dan personally thinks he could tug harder, but they can talk about that when Dan has to pull up a PowerPoint presentation on his kinks.

That's not an easy question. Dan wants everything, whatever Phil's got on offer. He shrugs.

"Honestly," says Dan, "I'm even easier about sex than I am about food."

"This has not been easy," Phil grumbles, good-natured about it. Dan cackles in response. Not a very attractive sound, but Phil doesn't seem to mind. He just smiles.

"Okay, yeah, fair enough," says Dan. "You know what I mean. You can make that call, I believe in you. Although, for you to make an informed decision, you should know I haven't showered since..." He trails off, frowning.

"Not a good sign that you can't remember," Phil laughs. He doesn't seem anxious the way he has when Dan pushes him in the past, but maybe he's just feeling the same loose vulnerability that's making Dan go mad with it. Phil hums and toys with Dan's hair. "Uh, alright, you wanna maybe fuck me?"

The suggestion being somehow both unsure and totally blunt makes Dan laugh, and then Phil is ducking giggles into Dan's collarbone, too.

"How is that a question?" Dan grins. "Sure I do."

Phil is grinning back at him, bright and beautiful, and Dan has to lean in and connect their lips again for a long moment. "Mm, you wanna grab the stuff from the loo, then? And put Thor in there while you're at it."

"Why do I have to?"

"You're on top of me."

"I don't have to be. You go put the dog away."

"No, you should - okay," Phil cuts himself off with a laugh and takes his hand off Dan's ass to hold it up between them in a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors you for it?"

As Dan proceeds to lose two of three - and then three of five, and then five of seven when he keeps complaining about not being in the Zone - it occurs to him that this whole thing feels ridiculous.

It's not a bad thing. Dan hasn't had silly sex in a very, very long time. He's certainly never had sex with someone he trusts quite as much as he trusts Phil. He's trying not to think about that too hard when he lures Thor into the bathroom with treats and his favourite toy, because he doesn't want to accidentally activate his own fight or flight reflex.

Phil is propped up on his elbows in bed, watching Dan with an absent smile on his face, and Dan remembers seeing him like this when they were drunk together. He'd been sprawled out over Dan's sheets and smirking up at him and Dan hadn't done anything about it.

"God, I'm stupid," Dan breathes, and Phil laughs.

"Yeah," he agrees, even though he can't possibly know what Dan is thinking about. "You just gonna stand there?"

With a rude gesture, Dan tosses the bottle of lube at Phil, who yelps as it almost hits him in the face. Dan finds himself cackling again as he fights to get his ultra-skinny jeans off his legs while he's still standing. He'd put them on to go to the dog park - stayed in the Friends shirt, though, it's very comfortable - but he's regretting that now. Phil's cotton shorts would be way less awkward to shimmy out of.

"Must you watch me do this?" Dan huffs, hopping on one foot as he tries to yank his jeans down over his other ankle. "It's not exactly sexy."

"It's very funny, though," says Phil.

Dan manages to get his jeans and socks off without injury, and then he flops back into bed to help Phil with his own tight jeans.

"We need to rethink our fashion," Dan laughs. Phil is giggling, too, and lifting his hips for Dan, and this is all so fun. Dan had actually forgotten that sex could be fun. His jeans come off easier than Dan's, thank god, and Dan runs his hands over Phil's thighs with a little hum. "Damn, you're pale."

Phil makes an amused, choked-off noise and kicks out at Dan without actually trying to hit him. "Hey, fuck you, you're supposed to say nice stuff to me."

"I'm so sorry, Phil, the beauty of your alabaster legs just drive me crazy," Dan simpers, exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes. He's being a dick about it, but the sentiment behind the words are true enough. Phil's got nice legs, nice thighs, a nice semi in his nice boxers. Dan brushes his fingers in a way that's probably ticklish and laughs when Phil kicks his shin for real. "Fucking ow, do you want me to tell you how hot you are or not?"

"You're so annoying," Phil informs him, and then he's sitting up to take his shirt off and Dan's mouth goes dry for real.

"Oh," he says, shifting further up the bed so he can flick his thumb over the metal bar in Phil's left nipple. He hadn't really expected that from Phil. Dan blinks, trying to get his brain back online. "Why didn't you get both?'

Whatever Phil was expecting him to say, it wasn't that. He sits there for a moment, stumped, the pads of Dan's fingers curiously poking at his nipple. It doesn't seem like it's very sensitive. Dan wonders if that's from the piercing or if Phil just doesn't have sensitive nipples. He wonders how long this piercing has been here - it hadn't been, back when he was an avid AmazingPhil subscriber, and Phil hasn't taken his shirt off for YouTube in years.

Then, Phil shrugs. "You only get one pierced, don't you?"

"I think most people get both," Dan says, but he's talking on autopilot right now. He shakes his head, tries to clear it. "Fucking symmetry or whatever, yeah?"

"I guess," Phil says. He doesn't shrug again, but his broad, bare shoulders twitch like they want to. He's got freckles and beauty marks on his shoulders and arms and torso, and Dan wants to get his mouth on every single one.

"No offense," says Dan, "but I really didn't peg you as the piercing type."

Phil smirks a bit. "Wow, the MySpace boy I was trying so hard to be is crying right now. Yeah, I dunno, it was one of the really impulsive things I did a couple years ago. Getting Thor was one of those, I think I told you about that."

He had. Dan remembers it, vaguely, remembers wondering if Phil was hiding a tattoo under his clothes.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as I expected," says Phil. "And definitely not as much as my other ones did."

Dan narrows his eyes and looks Phil over, dubious. Phil isn't wearing anything but a pair of boxer briefs with sushi print on them, and Dan can't see any more metal or healing holes on him. Phil's little smirk only grows while Dan looks him over carefully. "Stop fucking with me, you don't have more piercings."

Phil raises an eyebrow and his hips in a synchronicity that Dan didn't know his body possessed. Dan swallows, hard, can hear his heart pounding as it rushes all the blood in his brain south and makes him a little dizzy.

The room is quiet and still and too hot for a long beat. Then, Dan pulls his borrowed shirt off and chucks it somewhere over his shoulder so that the cool air of the basement can stop him from overheating. He slides his fingers under the hem of Phil's boxers and pulls them down his long legs, unable to stop himself from dropping a kiss to one of Phil's very pale thighs as he does.

"Fuck," Dan breathes. He nips at Phil's thigh a bit, making the muscles there jerk. "Alright, so I can see how that would hurt more."

Phil's cock is pretty and thick, which Dan suspected but had no way of knowing, and it's also got two piercings in it. Dan knows the name of the one, a Prince Albert ring right at the tip of Phil's dick, but he has no idea what the other is called.

He has to touch them, of course. He wraps his hand around Phil's cock and rubs his thumb back and forth over the ring, watching Phil's face carefully as he does.

"Dan," is all Phil says, but his voice has gone low and his eyes have gone dark, so Dan figures he's doing something right.

"What the hell is this?" Dan has to ask, trailing his fingers down Phil's cock to nudge at the bar through the bottom of it, right above his balls. "Like, what is it called? Also, why did you do this? Also, also, I want to suck your dick now."

Phil laughs, throaty and dark, and that doesn't help Dan's situation at all.

"You only grabbed one condom," he points out, waving the wrapper in Dan's face. "So you can either fuck me or suck me off, your call."

"I don't need a condom to suck your dick," says Dan.

Somehow, even with Dan's hand idly stroking him and playing with the piercings, Phil manages to roll his eyes. "You do. I'm not giving you a safe sex lecture, Dan, either make up your mind or go get another condom."

Dan sulks, but he doesn't bother arguing. He hasn't actually heard Phil be so strongly opinionated about something before. There's not a hint of hesitation or anxiety in telling Dan what he wants, and Dan likes that too much to bicker over something as miniscule as a condom.

"Fine," he sighs, sitting up between Phil's legs and letting go of his dick.

"Aw, Dan," Phil lightly mocks. He reaches out and pets Dan's hair, which Dan is only a little embarrassed to lean into. "It's like you don't even know that getting tested together can be third base for gay people."

"Well, I don't know," Dan huffs. He's a little prickly and defensive about the teasing, but Phil smiles at him so softly that he melts all over again. "It's been a while, okay? And it's not like any of us were the smartest bulbs about this shit in uni."

With a sympathetic little hum of a noise, Phil pulls Dan up by the hair to kiss him. It's slow and lingering and Dan's body is pressed against Phil's with the angle, only his thin Calvins in the way of them sliding together. When Phil pulls back, Dan is the one who gets stopped from leaning in for more.

"Sorry," Phil says, quiet and sincere and still smiling. "I really will talk about why it's important to me later, but right now I just really need you to put your stupidly big hands to work."

Another request, no hesitation. Dan is only too happy to oblige.

Dan has never fingered another guy before. The rare times, back in the day, that he hadn't been craving something inside him to ease that constant tension he carried around with him, Dan's sexual partners had just done the task themselves.

Still, it's not rocket science. He's had his fingers in women and in himself before, how different could it be?

Too much lube and a wrist cramp later, Dan is getting the hang of things. He's using his right hand on Phil so his left wrist can take a break, pushing and prodding deep with his longest fingers to coax drawn-out noises from Phil's pretty lips. Dan kisses him, rocks against his hip, murmurs absolute nonsense into his ear that he'll feel embarrassed about when he isn't so fucking turned on. He hasn't managed to consistently hit Phil's prostate or anything but Phil doesn't seem to mind. He's grinding into Dan's hand, biting his lip hard, murmuring, "That's it, you've got it, c'mon, give me another."

"Yeah, alright," Dan breathes, carefully pressing another finger into him and shuddering at the way Phil's back arches into it.

This is easily the hottest thing he's ever done, and that might be pathetic if it wasn't so obvious that nothing else could even come close to this. Phil doesn't bother telling Dan when he's ready, he just shoves the condom into Dan's free palm and wraps a hand around himself.

"Not getting any younger, here," Phil says on a little pant, and Dan realises that he's just been staring.

"Right, fuck, okay."

Dan's fingers shake a bit, but he manages to get his boxers off and his cock ready without any incidents - aside from another mean twinge in his left wrist. He waits and just looks at Phil again, spread legs and long neck and all gorgeous man, and Phil's eyelashes flutter as he tugs lightly on one of his piercings, fuck.

"C'mon," Phil urges again, hooking a lanky leg over Dan's hip to pull him closer.

"It's gonna be like that, is it?" Dan laughs breathlessly. He hoists Phils body up by his thighs for a better angle and keeps a hand on Phil's ass to hold him there. "Fucking pillow princess, I should have guessed."

"Whatever, Dan," says Phil. He seems very distracted by Dan lining his cock up and slowly, so slowly, pressing inside of him. Phil groans then, the loudest noise he's made yet, and rocks his hips to take more of Dan's cock than Dan is giving him. "Not gonna fucking break, c'mon."

"Jesus, Phil," Dan half-laughs, half-moans. "So demanding. Feel so good, though, shit, I can't stay in Atlanta, I can't not have this all the - fuck - all the time."

It just kind of slips out, the way everything Dan babbles during sex slips out, but Phil is nodding along anyway, wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders to pull him down into a messy kiss.

The wet noises where they're joined should be comical, maybe, all squelching lube and skin slapping against skin as Dan starts to fuck into Phil properly, but Dan is too focused on the breathy noises escaping from their kiss to care. This is just what sex sounds like - this is what sex with Phil sounds like, and Dan could really get used to that.

Phil's heel digs into the small of Dan's back to urge him on until, presumably, his leg gets tired or cramped and he wraps them both around Dan's hips instead. They gasp into each other's mouths at the slight change in angle, and Dan's hips snap forward.

If Phil weren't sucking on his tongue right now, Dan would be prattling on and moaning loud and generally making an idiot of himself. He feels the telltale sensation of heat in his gut that means there's an orgasm at the finish line, he just needs to get there.

Dan plants a hand on the bed and lifts Phil's lower body a bit more with the other, moaning absolute nonsense into Phil's mouth as he thrusts a little harder and faster to try and get Phil where he is.

A whine reverberates through Dan's body as Phil makes the noise with his teeth on Dan's lower lip, and then Dan can feel the rhythmic nudges of Phil's knuckles against his stomach as he jacks himself off, fast, because he's close too and Dan can tell. Dan wants to wait it out, he does, but Phil feels too good around his cock for him to hold out any longer. His orgasm hits and he groans like he’s been punched in the stomach, burying his face into Phil’s neck as he does.

He hears Phil say, "Fuck, okay, just stay there," and stays deep inside of him, pressing wet kisses to his neck and grinding his hips in little circles until Phil gets his, too, toes curling against the backs of Dan's thighs with a quiet groan and one hand gripping his hair so tight that Dan sees stars.

Dan presses a soft kiss to Phil's jaw and carefully pulls out of him to flop onto his back, trying to get his breathing back to a regular rate. He's seriously unfit when he isn't filming, his personal trainer would be so furious about all the Domino's he's been eating. He laughs at the thought of his trainer's angry face and then he's just giggling, throwing an arm over his face to hide from Phil's curious eyes.

"I think you fucked me stupid," Dan tells him through the giggles, and Phil responds with a low chuckle.

Arms are wrapped around Dan's waist and a line of kisses are dropped along his collarbone. "Hey, now," says Phil, his voice low and fucked out, "I can't take credit for that. You were stupid when you got here."

"Oi," Dan laughs, shoving at him. If they had more energy, they'd probably roll around until all the mocking words are just breathless laughter, but as it is they just manage to elbow each other a few times and then curl closer. It's quiet for a few minutes, just holding each other close and letting their hands brush softly over each other's skin.

Then, Phil yawns.

"Okay," he says, like he's psyching himself up. "Contacts out. Dog out. Pants on."

"That last one seems optional," Dan says, waggling his eyebrows. Phil laughs and swats at his chest.

"You," says Phil, swatting the same spot again for good measure, "condom off, pants on."

"What is this pants agenda you're pushing on me?" Dan hums into Phil's hair. It smells sweet, like some kind of berry. "I'm not sure I'm interested in these pants you speak of."

Phil laughs and pulls away to stretch all his long limbs out. Dan takes the opportunity to shamelessly check him out again, admiring the glints of metal that the majority of the world doesn't get to see. "You will be. Thor's going to want to cuddle after we locked him up."

He watches Phil as he searches his room for clean boxers, wolf-whistling when he bends down and laughing at the finger he gets in return.

"Yeah, okay," says Dan. He feels a smile spread across his face before he even thinks about it. Yeah. This is what he wants. This is what, for some godforsaken reason, he's been allowed to have.

[imagineitup]

Terrible Things : Tom Riddle x Reader

request : Can u please write a tom riddle (when he was still freaking pretty) oneshot when he doesn't allow himself to feel anything for anything but unfortunatelly falls for a muggle, and when he sees y/n being attacked by some magical creature and being terribly hurt, he almost freak out thinking that he's gonna lose her and does some spell to make she heal faster and after she gets okay again, he starts to pretend again that he doesn't care about her?

a/n : LOL omg anon freaking pretty tom yes i would not write a noseless tom don’t worry i see you -- look how pretty he is ahhhh

masterlist

--

It wasn’t planned.  Despite everything : his mantras, his stiff-cold ambience, his striking words, he hadn’t planned for this.  He hadn’t accounted for his feelings.  In fact, he hadn’t known he’d had any. 

It was terrible nonchalance at first, the furious realization that you being muggle-born didn’t make him quite as angry as the rest of them.  And then he felt the corner of his lips barely quirk to the side as you laughed, and the emotion dripped off his face instantaneously. 

He’d developed feelings, terrible, terrible things. 

He barely pays attention in class anymore, and despite his attitude towards his peers and professors, he does well.  He’s a bright student, as said on his OWL and NEWT level exams, and he does well to flaunt the fact any moment he can. 

He’s sitting in Charms one day when he hears Henry Wilder commenting on your assets and his eyes are narrowing and he’s clenching his wand and when class ends he’s storming out of the room and shoving Wilder against the wall, threatening him with an evil, low voice and then shrinking away into the shadows, leaving Wilder with trembling arms and a fear of the corridor near the potted floral plants. 

Later he thinks he should have done more, punched the boy, hexed the boy, but then he rethinks his reputation with his professors and scowls, promising himself he will make Wilder’s sorry life hell.

He receives stares but it’s nothing new, he feels no guilt.  He’s already murdered, he’s already created the Chamber of Secrets, he knows no remorse.

It’s Care for Magical Creatures and he’s standing off to the edge of the crowd, leaning dangerously against the trunk of a tree, toying with the petals of a white flower that blossoms strikingly against the dark wood and deep evergreen leaves. 

He isn't paying attention to Kettleburn, he has much better things to do with his time, and because of this he barely notices what’s going on.  He barely notices the way you’re stepping mindlessly towards the larger dragons lounging in the space near the forest, cradling a smaller hatchling in your hands.

He looks up, eyes twitching as he hears you coo over the scaly creature that shivers in your palms and nuzzles your fingertips, black ebony eyes peering up into yours.  It gurgles, stretching out membranous wings, and you sigh in adoration, stepping backwards still.

A twig snaps, you look upwards.

And something inside of Tom is beating, stretching, making it hard to breathe. 

The dragon’s mother is rearing backwards, a screech building from her snout, teeth flashing dangerously.  And she sends a clawed hand slashing towards you, and Tom starts to run. 

You’ve turned to the side and ducked your head, frozen, and the claws dig into your back and you cry out, sheltering the baby dragon closer to your chest.

Professor Kettleburn is yelling for you to get out of the way, to drop the baby dragon, and Tom’s eyes are burning, furious.

“Subdue the dragon, Professor.”  His voice is calm, chilly, but it wavers slightly as he looks towards you.  

He’s close enough that he can see your scratches, and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.  

“(Y/N), put the dragon down.” 

Your eyes are wide, blurred with tears from the wounds on your back.  The infant dragon slides from your grasp as you lower it to the floor, your breath shaky and choked.  

He nearly drags you from the spot, wary still from the dragon that is being pushed into the cages by the Professor. 

“It hurts,” you choke out, tears finally falling from your face.  “It hurts, it hurts so much —“ you gasp, adrenaline finally wearing off, “Tom make it stop.  Make it stop!” 

He looks at you and finally feels the meaning of terror.  It’s squeezing at his heart and making it hard to think, hard to do anything but feel. 

He’s guiding you forward, but you pause, shuddering, fingers pressing to your back and returning soaked with blood.  You sink to the floor, shaking your head and eyes fluttering.

“Merlin,” he whispers, the word slipping from his lips. 

It’s impulsive, and he doesn’t care now about the students who are whispering in shock and pointing fingers and doing whatever else they do.

He bends down and wraps his arms around your form with as much gentleness as he can muster, picking you up and hurrying towards the castle.

He watches your eyes flutter shut multiple times, easing in and out of consciousness.  The tears matt your lashes and are drying against your cheek, and despite all rationality that it’s a very deep scratch but you’ll probably be fine, he can’t help but wonder if you’re about to die in his arms. 

It makes him feel something, something horrible and terrible and he pushes it away, stifling the emotion.

For a moment you look up at him, eyes flickering back and forth across his face, and you reach up to touch his cheek.  “Is that you, Tom?” 

He nods, quietly, stiffly.

“Don’t you hate muggleborns?” 

He looks at you and he knows that you’ve seen the conflict that flashes across his face for a mere second.

“Not you.”

You nod, eyes shifting and closing.  “It hurts.” 

The words are trapped in his throat, he swallows and tilts his head, trying to bury the feelings that are rising as he carries you in his arms. 

He reaches where he needs to go and sets you down on a stone bench, unlocking the Potions cabinet and searching through dusty apothecary bottles and glass jars and labels of stained calligraphy.  He pulls down jars and grabs a pinch of yellow flowers, then grass grown from the waxing moon, finally dittany, and mixes the ingredients into a poultice that he carries over to you.

He turns you aside and applies the poultice through the scratched bits of your robe, already knowing it won’t heal everything. 

He tells you to carry the rest of the poultice and he picks you up again and carries you to Madame Pomfrey, who eyes him warily and shows him to the empty part of the hospital wing.

He sets you down on the bed, pulling the cover over your frame.  

“She has a poultice for her wounds.  A dragon scratched her back, I already healed as much as I could.”

Madame Pomfrey looks at him curiously, but he doesn’t stay and he walks out of the hospital wing and towards the common room, he’s no desire to return to class. 

He can’t forget the way fear twisted him, and he shakes his head and tries to burn away exactly how it felt to hold you.

Four days later, you approach him in the corridors.  Your eyes are staring up at him, trying to determine something, trying to see through him.

He offers you no glimpse, no flash of emotion.  He simply stares at you, a haughty expression of blankness wiping across his face.

“I wanted to thank you,” you finally say.  “You helped me.”

Tom says nothing, simply turning aside.  He gives no words, and already his heart is shredding at the way your eyes downturn and the way your fingers absent-mindedly press to your back.

“Tom?” 

“Don’t speak to me,” he says quietly.  “You’re nothing to me.”  His mind is unraveling, he winces internally.

Liar.

You look at him, realization dawning across your face.  “Oh.  I see.”  

Tom looks at you once more, forcing his features to stay placid.  Nonchalant.  “You’re just a silly, pathetic mudblood.”  He turns and walks away, his heart hurting.  “And I’m no good for you.”

[thepriestthinksitsthedevil]

Tattoo

the wip i’m currently plugging away at is so young that i haven’t even fully introduced louis yet so the word tattoo has not yet come up!! but this fic involves pop punk butch fem louis so u know harry’s pov is gonna wax poetic about some tattoos real soon

i have an older wip which i have kind of put on the back burner does though, so i’ll share the paragraph it’s in for that one. shockingly, it’s another paragraph introducing louis lol

(this one is a uni theatre club au fic i started a couple years ago in which harry meets louis because he’s playing sandy in grease opposite louis as danny zuko)

In the dim lighting of the room Harry didn’t immediately recognize Louis Tomlinson. His hair was held back off his face by a black headband and he had been clean-shaven when Harry had last seen him, now sporting the scruffy beginnings of a beard. When Harry recognized him he watched him closely, sipping at his drink contemplatively. Louis Tomlinson looked good – he’d looked good last time, but this time he was absolutely stunning in very skinny jeans, so tight they looked painted on, and a loose-fitting tank top that showed off the multitude of tattoos that littered his upper chest and arms. Harry’s tipsy-ish head supplied him with a wish to get up close and personal with some of that ink, sink his teeth into the words on his inner bicep, leave marks on the cursive over his collarbones.

well folks you heard it here......that’s some gay shit

(thank you so so much for sending me this ask!!! i never get asks from people for these things unless i pm them to tell them to send me asks lol)

send me words and i’ll post a paragraph it appears in in one of my wips!!