#that almost fall time look it had when it started to the almost- almost beige mom look it has now

[madlyn5ever]

When a shows vibe changes almost solely because it’s been running for so long that the camera quality has updated significantly since it first aired

[dmitriene]

just thinking about retired!price meeting reader in the supermarket; her trying to reach the top shelf of marmalades and him catching a vase before it shatters and causes a mess.

several outdated pick-up lines and nervous scratches and tugs on the back of his boonie hat later, and barely contained chuckles from you, he asks you on a date. and it ends up being the best you've had in ages.

idk i just feel price hasn't flirted with anyone IN AGES, so he's reaallly out of practice, but the flush you try to hide with the back of your hand proves he's moving in the right direction. soon, he'll have your knees touching your chest or smth.

author's note: hi baby @feralforfrank!! your idea is so wonderful and i'm so happy to provide it to you in writing, except it's ended up being a one shot instead of drabble, i still hope i did it good!

you didn't think that your best date and at the same time acquaintance in life would be tied to such an embarrassing, funny situation, which maybe could become your ticket to the hospital, if not the charming man you met.

the week was nearing the end, and it was that time to which the need for a trip to the grocery shop was added to fill the fridge, which stood dullly and empty at home in the kitchen, so with an almost fully filled basket of groceries, you were currently reaching for the highest shelf with sweets in the shop.

an easy task, it would seem, if you didn't have to reach on tiptoes to a small pack of marmalades, bordering with the shelf on which household goods began, and there was a small vase that hurried to fall down when you accidentally hooked it with your elbow, immediately turning to freeze in place, looking how it was falling on you.

— “bloody hell, that' was almost' a goal to the hospital, yau alright' ther', darling?„ a rumbling, smoky voice, whose owner pulled you out of your little fright, making you blink quickly, lifting your head further to focus on the tall, bulky man carefully holding the vase that almost shattered on your head in his thick hands, the look in his vivid blue eyes worried, thick brown brows furrowed.

you nod stupidly, silent like a mouse, while your hand automatically takes the package of marmalades that you grabbed and press to your chest, the gears begin to work in your head with a creak, noticing how timely and quickly the man was near you and lend a helping hand, worthy of gratitude.

— “y.. yeah, thank you, sir, you were here at the right time„ you say a little meekly, a little shyly by what happened, but you notice how your words make him smile, making his eyes to crinkle, his mutton chops stretching along the corners of his lips, chest puffing behind a halfly zipped jacket with hoarse chuckle.

— “military instincts, i suppos'„ he answers briefly, turns away to put the vase back on the shelf, wide biceps flexing before he turns back to you, the same warm smile on his lips, but this time he reaches out a wide palm in your direction and adjusts the silly beige boonie hat on his head — “glad to know yau're fin' darling, call me john„

you accept the outstretched hand and smile charmingly, radiantly, uttering your name in response fleetingly, not noticing how his thumb fleetingly strokes your fragile hand and how he looks at you with a slight tilt of his head, when you purr even more shyly — “thank you for your service, sir — john..„ fluttering your eyelashes, john's smile becoming even wider.

— “no longuh, retired, but' i'll tak' that' to heart', luv'„ he murmurs warmly, and only now all the affectionate nicknames he was calling you past minutes catch up to you, burning flush creeping up your cheeks when you just nod, gazing at the way his cerulean eyes churn with something fiery, john's neck flushing fleetingly as he notices how long he's holding your hand in his, before letting go, yet not with another word in.

— “think i can manag' to invit' yau somewher' this evening?„ he asks so simply that you feel your palms start sweating and your face burns, stomach twisting slightly, what are considered as butterflies, and what makes you bite your lip, looking at him now only from under your fluttering eyelashes before agreeing hushedly, still more than shy — “yes, yes i do„

and you do pretty much, because when you practically flutter out of the store with his phone number in yours, there's only one picture that repeats in your head, how uncertainly john scratches the back of his head and says in half fascinated, half surprised deep voice — “hop' yau will be frei, then, sei ya, darling„

you don't remember how it all ended with current events, but you remember how it all began — a meeting in a small evening pub with good alcohol and john's company, dressed almost the same as in the morning in the shop, but this time without a boonie hat and with his jacket folded next to him, every bulging muscle and a bit of a fat hugged tightly by black shirt.

you remember the way john talked, low timbre of his hoarse voice that was accompanied by small chuckles, rumbling everytime he told you some situations from life, watching how you covered your giggles behind the palm of your hand, carefully listening to each special, exciting story from his service as a captain in the task force.

you watched as he touched you fleetingly, small brushes against your knuckles with the pads of his calloused fingers, leaving a burning feeling, something coiling in your stomach — with john's touches becoming bolder, and drinks more bitter, but there's a stroking motion against your knee that soothes and also makes you fidget.

by the time he moved closer, closing the distance between the table and sharing one leather sofa with you, all the cocktails you tried were boiling in your blood, your lips tingled from close contact with john's, as he purred something in your ear, stroking your supple thigh, to which you just nodded with barely contained giggles, catching only the edge of his words — “let' me show yau a good tim', doll„

that's how you ended up stuck beneath him, the unfamiliar bed smelled hardly of musk and light echoes of tobacco, the once clean sheets clung to your soaked back, just as wet as your squelching pussy, the one that is currently being pumped full of john's fat cock, your supple legs pressed against your chest, and you don't even feel them.

the only thing you feel is his harsh thrusts, rearranging your gooey insides as he molds your gummy walls in the shape of his thick cock, his one hand alone is enough to keep your legs pressed to your chest, while the free one is busy with cupping your cheek, watching the way your eyes threaten to roll back in your empty skull.

— “fuck, such a pretty fucking girl, knew i — it when i saw yau„ john almost growls, his voice a dull ring in your ears when his wide hips snap forward rapidly, muscular thighs slapping against your rounded ass that jiggles with each time his cock plunges deeper inside your slimy cunt, leaking tip presses against your spongy spot, and you howl.

yet, not uttering a word, tongue heavy inside your gradually drying mouth, the one john licks inside his own with fervor, you barely have time to respond to his movements, your nails digging into his back, inflicting fresh scratches on top of old scars, while you moan and practically wheeze with pleasure under him, pussy pulsing with gushing slick.

your brain screams that it's too much, but your lips part with slurred pleas of — “more, s — so close, harder, hmnn, p — please„ and john hushed you, cooes something warm and soothing against your ear, beard tickling somewhere against your thudding pulse where he sucks and bites constellations of marks, and you don't even register how you snap.

don't remember in which exactly moment your pulsing cunt clenched around his weeping cock, squeezing him for every drop his fat tip splashed against your walls, painting them with thick milky cum, his body still moving to drill you further into the mattress, into the wet sheets, when all you do is tremble, cumming uncontrollably with sobs and gurgles of moans.

that's the moment when everything cuts, and the next time your eyes flutter open, despite the ache and soreness in your body, john sits on the edge of the bed with a cup of tea in his hands, carefully stretched out in your direction as you lift yourself up, letting the dim morning sun illuminate your naked body in all it's glory, a pleased murmur is what greets you — “good morning, sweitheart'„

and it's is, a best morning in your entire life.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[jayschaconne]

LOVESICK | Kim Sunoo

summary: While on summer vacation you find yourself falling for Sunoo in just a matter of seconds.

warnings: (minors dni), heavy smut, unprotected sex, size kink (?) (idk about y’all but I LOVE Sunoo’s shoulders), swearing (excessive use of the word ‘cunt’), both reader and Sunoo are down bad (ALSO VERY FREAKY) (not proofread)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

a/n: I’ve finally written about all of enha on here omg. also this isn’t what I wanted it to be so try and enjoy it ig. sorry for making it long.

…

There were green leaves scattered across the street. The sun hitting your eyes, blocking your vision.

You carried a tote bag with books you’d just checked out from the library nearby. Coming to visit your parents’ home country wasn’t your most favourite thing to do, but getting to take in the fresh summer breeze and stroll across streets you’d grown accustomed to had soothed you in its own ways.

It was pretty out. You loved the fresh green grass and the trees that sheltered you from the harsh sunlight. The serene, ocean-blue skies that were peppered with clouds shaped like hearts and different animals, making you laugh to yourself.

All the while you’d been preoccupied, you’d forgot to take notice of things around you. This caused you to so suddenly bump into someone and land flat on the ground. You were sure you’d hurt your elbow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a soft, calming voice had called from above you. “Here, let me help you.”

The man crouched down to pick up the fallen contents out of your bag. You had no time to tend to the wound that formed on your skin. Because in a split second, all your attention was on the boy in front of you.

He seemed to be out of this world.

Your eyes locked on his, staring deeply. You couldn’t seem to look anywhere other than his face. His plump lips, the curve of his brows. His adorable nose. The way his bangs were reaching his eyes. The plain beige shirt he was adorned in paired with blue denim that sat proudly on his shoulders.

He seemed to be at a loss of words for the first few seconds. You both took each other in, a sigh coming from him, your eyes refusing to even blink, fearing he’d disappear if you had.

A smile had reached his lips and his honey-brown eyes. A shy chuckle escaped. “Forgive me for being this direct but,” he sighed, “you’re incredibly stunning.”

Sunoo was in total awe at how you were speechless when face-to-face with him. Your lips slightly parted, almost as if you hadn’t expected to see him, though it was normal given that he was a stranger.

What could it have been that made those beautiful eyes seem to have a million questions behind them at the sight of him?

And how on earth could someone be this gorgeous? He felt his heart smile when he first saw you; it started beating at a much slower, more steady pace. Making him feel like he’d been enveloped into a world where only the pretty girl carrying books, who he just bumped into existed. Your curls that flailed with the wind, the coconut scent in your hair, those long lashes that fluttered as you lifted your eyes to peer up at him. Doll-like, they gleamed in the sunlight.

You finally broke away from your train of thought.

“I’m..sorry.” You said, unsure of what to feel towards this man or how he’d just called you beautiful.

“I mean thank you.” You added while a nervous laugh had escaped your lips. You could feel the heat rising up to your cheeks. “You’re gorgeous,” you said before being able to stop yourself.

Just then, you heard him laugh. It was the most beautiful sound of laughter you’d ever gotten to hear.

“Let me help you,” he said again, this time helping you back up on your feet. Your hands were in his, feeling the soft skin of his palms and the warmth radiating from them.

“Thank you.” You let out almost in a huff. You couldn’t understand this feeling. It was in the pit of your stomach, but also latched onto your heart. The sight of this strange, beautiful boy you’d just met made it slightly harder to breathe. It made your knees weak.

You both were very, very still for a moment. His hands had kept their hold on you, eyes locking deeper into yours. A sigh left him, and he let both your arms fall.

“Is it wrong to want to know your name?”

“Please tell me your name.”

You both had spoken at the same time. This caused you two to share a moment together, laughing at the coincidence.

“You first,” he softly said. His gaze on you was so warm and welcoming. It made you melt.

“Y/n,” you said, not being able to help how you brushed your hair behind your ear at how shy he made you feel.

“That’s pretty. But it doesn’t surprise me. Pretty things have pretty names.” Sunoo confessed.

He felt like an idiot that was just going and on and on about your looks. He so badly wanted to spend the rest of his day with you.

“You are?”

“Sunoo,” his eye smile was back.

Sunoo. You felt your heart flutter at his name being just as gorgeous.

The evening had rolled around quick, but ironically slow at the same time.

You two walked into the park nearby, feeling time slowly slip away, but still being enough to let you bask in each other’s presence.

You couldn’t believe how radiant a human being could be, to not have one flaw in them. Sunoo was absolutely perfect. He was the real definition of ‘too good to be true’.

He was open, easily understood. It made you wonder if it was just how direct he was that made him want to compliment you.

But his eyes spoke for themselves. You’d stop walking at certain points, which gave him more of a reason to keep his eyes on you.

His gaze was still, subtle, but there was so much more behind those eyes than even he could comprehend.

At a certain point, Sunoo had started to carry himself in a way where he wasn’t hiding his affection for you. Stories he heard, he wanted to hear more of. “Tell me more,” he’d nod. That smile tugging at the corner of his lips made your attachment grow.

Sunoo couldn’t grasp at where it rooted from, but there was this feeling of familiarity that was slowly growing between you two. Just within a few glances and words exchanged, Sunoo felt like he’d known you a lifetime.

“I’m staying here with my aunt for the time-being. I’ll be going back in a couple months,” he explained while you two sat on a bench far near the trees in the park.

And if it weren’t for the bitter taste forming in your mouth at the thought of keeping something from him, you wouldn’t have said it.

“I’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

A gap had suddenly opened up in that one corner of his heart that felt like it had been reserved just for you. It had to have been you it belonged to, he was certain. But it was slowly emptying itself now. Your words left a scar that he wasn’t sure could now be ceased.

At his silence, you grew nervous. “Sun-

Loose strands of hair had been in your eyes then, which he brushed away with a light touch of his fingers. “Let me get those for you,” he hushed in a whisper. You felt your eyes shut momentarily, your heart racing.

He didn’t acknowledge what you’d just told him.

He retracted his hand, looking at you with such tenderness. Such adoration.

“Sunoo.”

“Yes.”

There was so much you wanted to say but the words wouldn’t leave your mouth.

“Nothing.”

And there it was. He laughed again.

“Is it okay if I…” you spoke, unsure.

“Hm,” he patiently waited for you to say whatever it was you wanted to.

Your lips were parted, but again, no words came out. You could explain it so much better if you just touched him.

Your hands reached up to his hair, picking at the loose ends. You needed to feel him. Touch him. It was the only thing you knew with him.

You weren’t big on communicating your feelings. It wasn’t anything you were used to. And while Sunoo had given you more than reason to be open with him, he was so overwhelming. Speaking was the last thing your feelings would allow you to do.

Touching him felt much more familiar. His skin underneath your palms allowed you to say things your lips couldn’t.

He watched, following only your eyes as you placed your hand around his neck, leaving traces of fingertips he saw as you engraving your mark on him.

He sat incredibly still, but relaxed underneath you. Your hand was now cupping his face. He moved suddenly, lips brushing your fingers.

“Sunoo…”

“Don’t drive me crazy like that,” he whispered, almost pleading.

The sleeve of your cardigan had rolled up, and Sunoo noticed the scrape on your elbow, brows immediately knitting together in worry. He saw how the open wound started to bleed.

“Oh no,” he wept. “That must hurt.” He took your arm into his hands, eyes searching yours to ask permission if this was okay.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t speak or budge. You just let him touch you, so used to it already. His fingertips grazed your skin, making the cut sting.

You hissed, causing him to retract his hand instantly.

“I’m so sorry,” he said worriedly.

“No, it’s not you. It just stings a little that’s all.”

“My aunt’s house is just a few blocks down. We should get you there quick before you lose too much blood.”

“I wouldn’t wanna cause any trouble, Sunoo.” You said, incapable of keeping his name out your mouth. Sunoo. It reminded you of sunshine. The way he’d suddenly walked into your life, raining his sun showers upon you with his bright and bubbly self. His name suit him perfectly.

“You expect me to listen after you say my name like that?” He was getting shy, but also very much see through in such little time. It was because you said it. You’d looked at him, and said his name in a way where it sounded like you’d said it a million times before.

“It’s just a small cut.”

It isn’t to me, he wanted to say.

“Do you have to go home right away?” He asked.

“No,” you lied.

“Then you’re coming with me.”

Sunoo managed to rummage through his pockets, finding a handkerchief. He tried his best to wrap it around somehow. But you ended up having to put pressure on it.

Despite all your protests against going to his aunt’s, deep down you were aching to be alone with him. It felt as if any moment you looked elsewhere, he’d slip away. And while your mind was boggled at the thought of that, your heart had understood. Without a second thought, you went with him. Not caring where he’d take you as long as he was still there.

The small blood stain on your cardigan made him take it from you, offering his own jacket. He carried your bag as well, looking over every two seconds to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Once you’d reached there, he paced around anxiously, looking through the drawers to try to find a first-aid kit.

You sat in his room, taking in the atmosphere of it. It was peaceful, clean, just the way you’d expected it to be.

He was so stressed over this stupid wound. It felt weird seeing this boy who had been a stranger just a few hours ago, rummaging through his drawers to find a bandaid for you.

You felt yourself unable to keep still anymore. You walked over to him, taking ahold of his arms.

Sunoo’s movements came to a halt, and he seemed more at ease.

“Why does this matter to you so much?”

He stood there, unable to speak. He blinked at you a few times, looking like he had an answer that just wasn’t reaching his lips.

“I…don’t know how to say it.”

“What could you possibly want to hide from me? You’re so obvious, Sunoo.”

His eyes had widened slightly, and he avoided looking at you in the face. “I’m not the only obvious one.”

“Sunoo, the bleeding has stopped.” You held up the handkerchief, revealing the dried stains of blood.

He looked down at your arm, examining it.

“Let me at least put a smaller bandaid on it.”

“Sunoo.” You started.

“Don’t keep saying my name like that.”

“Why?”

He pondered for a moment, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

“It makes me wanna kiss you.” He blurted out. There was defeat in his voice, like he’d admitted something he hadn’t meant to.

You felt relieved at that, feeling a little less crazy for how you were so deeply attracted to him already. “At least you admitted it.”

“You’d let me kiss you?”

“You’re too oblivious for your own good. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t want to spend every remaining second of my day with you.”

Sunoo let you go on, feeling slightly a bit more relaxed that he wasn’t crazy for having these feelings. That you were possibly implying that you liked him too.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He repeated his question.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I’d want you to.”

He was silent. His gaze remained intact. He so badly wanted to kiss you. Brush your hair away from your eyes again.

“I’ve known how you made me feel from the moment you first spoke to me. And just over a small wound you’ve been so worked up. But I get it. If I’d seen you hurt I’d go just as crazy.”

You moved closer to him, hands reaching up to touch the face you’d touched several minutes before.

Sunoo’s eyes closed shut, and he eased into the way your fingers grazed his skin. The warmth of your fingertips had kissed his skin so gently, he felt like his knees might’ve given up.

He opened his eyes to look over at you again, this time his eyes burned, speaking words you hadn’t seen in them before.

“Are you in love?” He sounded uncertain. There was something so strong that was inviting him to you, like some magnetic pull. He wasn’t sure what was next.

“That’s such a stupid question. Of course, I’m in love. It’s you, Sunoo.”

Sunoo had without blinking, pulled you closer, a delicate hand on your jaw, his lips slowly closing the gap between you two.

He’d been chasing this relief from the very first moment his eyes fell upon you. Your curls, your lips, those eyes, all crossing his mind as his lips engulfed yours in a deep, slow kiss.

You felt him guide you so your back hit his bed, feeling his smile grow against your lips, both your teeth almost clashing. “I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

This felt amazing. The way you’d felt so close to him, your heart having been so at home with his touch gliding over your skin, his kisses so impatient.

You felt unable to keep your hands off him. They traced up his arms, reaching his shoulders, making you almost gasp at how big they felt. You couldn’t help but drool at the sight.

“You like my shoulders baby?” He laughed, eyes sparkling as he towered over you.

Baby, the word rolled off his tongue like it was so used to being said to you.

You felt yourself shudder beneath him, hands remaining still, feeling him. “They’re just so…big.”

You loved the feeling of being so small compared to him. The need to feel him touch you grew more intense.

Sunoo smirked down at you. “You like touching them?”

You nodded, pulling him closer. He hovered above you, just inches away.

“Tell me how much.”

“I wanna sit…on them” you said shyly looking away, embarrassed to have admitted such a thing.

“Don’t be shy,” he laughed, taking your face into his hands. “I want you to,” he reassured you.

“Please, I need you.”

Sunoo reacted by pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his cream-coloured skin. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you again.

But this time, he nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp in his mouth. His tongue collided with yours, slurping and sucking, savouring as much as he could of you.

You were incredibly intolerant of how slow this was going. You managed to slide off your tank top by its straps, all the while making out, letting Sunoo get a good look at your bare chest.

He whimpered at the sight. “Can I suck?” He whispered, so unsure of what he’d do wrong.

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of his mouth around your sensitive nub in seconds.

Sunoo sucked on your tits like he’d been hungry for your skin, yearning to get a taste of it for a long while.

Both your heads had turned at the sound of the front door closing. You almost panicked until Sunoo grabbed his duvet cover and wrapped it around you.

He got up to lock his door.

“Sunoo, dear? Are you home?” A voice called from outside.

He looked back at you, seeing how you’d shrank inside the duvet cover, looking as beautiful as ever. He was still processing how you ended up sprawled out on his bed, waiting to get fucked by him.

He walked back to you, crawling over and placing his index finger on your lips. “Shh,” he hushed with a smile playing on his lips.

“Open for me,” he whispered as his fingers parted your lips. You obliged and felt two fingers slide inside your mouth.

“To keep you from being too loud,” he cooed at you.

He put his face in between your breasts, you taking ahold of his head, letting him lick up invisible patterns with his tongue.

“Sunoo,” you moaned around his fingers. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Let me ride you.”

He grasped at the long skirt you wore, watching it slide off your legs smoothly.

You tugged at Sunoo’s pants, unbuckling his belt yourself and sliding them down to his knees.

You pushed him flat on the bed, and crawled on top, letting his boner free from his briefs.

Sunoo grabbed a pillow to stifle the loud, deep moan that escaped his lips, causing you to get even more wet at the thought of getting to fuck him.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his precum gathering at the tip.

You straddled him, watching his eyes burn into you, his mouth hung agape. Your eyes stayed on his as you made slow, teasing strokes on him.

“Ahh, fuck,” a groan came from deep within his throat, loving the feeling of your hands on his dick.

His head rolled back into the sheets, eyes shut tight, such sweet moans being released from him.

His hands came in contact with your ass, squeezing and pulling on the soft skin; they felt huge as they worked on you. You were in love with how large every part of him was.

His dick was too tempting, too perfectly girthy for you to not put your mouth on it.

You lowered yourself down, spitting on his tip and stroking him again. You watched as Sunoo’s hand clasped on his mouth, with his back arching, stifling his moans that were getting too loud for you two not to get caught.

“Stop,” he breathed out. “Just fuck me already.”

You didn’t waste any more time, sitting on him and feeling him stretch you out in the most toe-curling ways.

He now rested on his elbows, lips connecting in a steamy kiss as your moans released into each other’s mouths at the contact.

You couldn’t help the way you impatiently bucked your hips on him, feeling him writhe underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. I could never imagine you feeling this good,” he exclaimed against your mouth. His hands kept your waist in place, guiding you through the rhythm he created.

Your skin stung with the way he smacked your ass with each thrust into your cunt. Sunoo felt heavenly buried deep inside you.

You motioned for him to lie down again, this time your heat way closer to his mouth, as you eased yourself onto his shoulder. You held the headboard for support, grinding on him gently.

You could feel how toned-up he was. Those hard muscles that you felt against your clit just making your cunt even more needy for him.

Sunoo’s lips attached to the skin of your thighs, one of his hands reaching up to your tits, wanting to feel whatever he could of you.

He loved the way you felt on him. The wet, squelching sounds your cunt made as you rode his shoulder made him want to taste you on his tongue.

Sunoo got ahold of your thighs, lifting up one of your legs to the side of his face, which gave him more access. He turned his head and lapped his tongue furiously against your clit.

You felt yourself start to lose balance as you shook with overstimulation.

“Sun,” you moaned into the back of your own hand. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet,” he said. But it was more of a plead than a demand.

He flipped you over, burying your face in his pillows. Your ass was facing him, and you felt him enter your needy, dripping walls.

You practically screamed into the pillows at the feeling. Sunoo started to wildly buck his hips into you, loving the way you felt wrapped around him.

“Sunoo, please,” you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You needed him to hear you scream for him.

“That’s right, love. You take me so well,” he panted with each hard thrust.

You felt the bed shake from its place as Sunoo fucked you senseless into the mattress.

You were sweaty, screaming until your lungs felt like giving up. You were filled to the brim with his dick, not being able to contain your high any longer.

“Sun-sunoo,” you croaked, only being able to focus on the way he sounded, every noise that filled the room as he was fucking you.

You were flipped over, facing him now. Sunoo was quick to enter you again, chasing this exhilarating feeling that you both were so close to experiencing together.

Your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his torso. Tears escaped your eyes at how overwhelming experiencing this was with him. He knew exactly how to fuck you until you couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Sunoo’s lips had found yours, groans being released into your mouth again, as you still marvelled at how he was real.

You dug your nails into his back, not knowing anything but how you were so close to coming undone.

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum,” he bit down on his hand, feeling his body go limp as both of you climaxed.

Sunoo’s lips had locked with yours in a deep kiss.

“Shit, fuck,” you cried out. “I love you,”

“I love you,” Sunoo wept as he rode out your high, nuzzling his face in your neck.

He released his load onto your stomach. He tried catching his breath, lying his head down on your chest.

Your hands came up to touch the back of his neck, his hair that was drenched in sweat. You played with his blond locks.

“Sunoo?”

“Yes, love,” he spoke tiredly.

“Nothing,” you said, laughing.

This made him laugh again. “I love you,” he whispered to you, curling further into your embrace.

…

The next few days went by fast. Sunoo had introduced you to his aunt, you’d introduced him to your parents, but that was mainly because you two had very loud, frequent sex.

It was his aunt who’d been the unfortunate one to have come home one night to the sound of bed creaking and moans and screams coming from Sunoo’s room.

You both didn’t care about including outsiders in your relationship. You had your own place, which was a 30-minute drive away, but some nights Sunoo was reluctant to leave his aunt since he was helping her run her business.

Even the customers were alarmed at a certain point when Sunoo had attended the door with a button down only thrown around his shoulders, post-make out hair and hickeys on his neck.

“How are you?” He breathed heavily.

A young couple who seemed to be around you guys’ age was at the door.

“Dude, we’re sorry…were you?” The guy asked.

“Yes, actually,” he smiled. “I’d appreciate it if you came back tomorrow.”

“But it’s only 8:30 pm?” The woman said.

“I know. Buh-bye now.”

Sunoo would risk anything to spend time with you. Whether that was helping you do your hair and makeup, taking you on library dates, taking you shopping. You name it.

You two had become inseparable, that it almost made you feel selfish at times. But time was ticking by. All you could do was spend all of it with one another before your flight would board in a week.

You sat playing a card game with Sunoo at the edge of your bed. You were losing horribly.

“Oh no, looks like you made a mistake there, love,” he teased.

You tried your best to smile, not being able to keep this sorrow inside any longer.

“Sun. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. You had never felt this helpless before. Sunoo, the boy who you’d fallen in love with so quickly, was about to be miles away from you in just a matter of days.

“Come here,” he motioned you over towards his lap.

His hands caught in your loose strands of hair. “You know, knowing how deeply I feel for you, I’m not afraid of the distance that’ll be put between us.”

“You’re not?” You pulled back to look at him.

“Nope, not one bit” he shook his head. “I fell in love with you the moment those eyes looked up at me,” his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“How can you not be scared? I’ll be so far away from you.”

“Because I know that this is very special. What we have is nothing ordinary. I fell for you first, everything else came after.”

“But I can’t leave you…”

“I know. I don’t want you to go either.”

You sat in his arms, trying to figure out how you’d deal with having to leave him behind.

The only thing that helped you two face the truth was spending as much time as you could with one another, most of which was spent with you spending the night at his.

You’d hoped it would put your feelings aside — that you’d start seeing it as nothing but a summer hookup — but it didn’t. You loved each other, and that was that. And connecting the way you did each time he made love to you, your feelings only deepened for one another.

He kissed your nose, your neck, your lips. “I love you,” he said. “You know that?”

“I love you too,” you held his jaw in a way you’d gotten used to, kissing his beautiful lips.

…

The day had come. You were extremely nauseous on the way to the airport. This was too much to take.

Your parents were originally supposed to drive you there, but you ended up going in separate cars; you were with Sunoo.

He made sure he booked a ride so he’d get to sit in the backseat with you, holding your hand, trying to soothe your nerves.

It was silent in the car. You could hear only the motor of the vehicle as it passed road after road, making you feel even more sick.

Every time his eyes looked over at you, a sudden ache formed in your heart. This couldn’t be happening. You weren’t actually leaving him, were you? It had to be a dream.

“Look at me,” he whispered. His eyes were laced with worry. His fingers played with yours, trying to distract you.

“You know those curtains in my room? The ones you hate?”

You nodded, trying to remember every single feature of his while your eyes trailed over his face.

“My aunt was planning to get new ones. I wanted to know which colour you liked.”

Sunoo seemed so oblivious to the pain you felt. But in reality, he just couldn’t let you go in a bad mood. He wanted to make your last few moments together were a good memory. Even though this day was incredibly burdening. He could feel the weight in his chest.

“Beige.” You remembered the colour of his shirt the day you’d met him.

“Beige.” He smiled.

You curled up into him, loving the feeling of his arms around you. The way he cradled you so gently, it made you want to keep him there forever.

“Thank you,” you said while tears formed in your eyes.

“For what?” He nuzzled his face against your cheek, giggling.

You would miss this.

“For being so full of love.”

Sunoo pulled away slightly, wiping the tears that were on your cheeks.

“I don’t think I was like this before,” his eyes lowered, a shy smile creeping on his lips. “So I should thank you.”

His fingers traced every detail on your face, a smile still formed on his lips as his eyes examined you.

“I don’t want to see you cry. There’s so much you have to do when you get back. You’ll see your friends again, start your new year in uni. It’s everything you’ve missed these past few months.”

What would you do when you missed him?

“Okay,” you agreed, not wanting to make it as hard for him. He still wiped your tears away, and now kissed your fingertips.

You’d reached the airport in just a few minutes. You were so close to throwing up. Your knees had started to give up on you, yet somehow you still got out the car, walking hand in hand with the one you loved. He carried your bag again, making you remember that day you’d first met.

“You’re not feeling so well, love, let me carry it.” He kissed the side of your face.

Even despite feeling how his hand was in yours, you looked over your shoulder anxiously each second, making sure he was still there.

“There are still a few minutes. I’m not leaving yet.” His hands rested on your waist, one of them coming up to brush your hair out of your eyes.

Your eyes shut once more, trying to relish as much as you could of his touch. You felt a tear slip out your eyes, and you looked away.

Sunoo was trying to avoid his own emotions from taking over, which is why he tried to get you to smile.

His hand came up to your jaw, making you look back at him. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you smiled despite the tears that escaped your eyes.

Sunoo felt himself sink deeper in his own sorrow. There was so much he wasn’t saying to prevent from making this harder for you.

“You look so pretty when you smile. That’s all I ever want you to do. How will I be able to wipe your tears when I’m this far away?”

This caused you to break down in his arms. Light sobs left you as he held you close to him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he felt his heart sink at the sight of you sobbing. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sunoo, I don’t wanna go,” you wept. “It hurts so much.”

“I know. I wish I could stop it.”

Your body went limp, you couldn’t form your words. This was suffocating you. You envied the people who had come here to take their loved ones home. It was so unfair.

Your parents had arrived shortly after. Sunoo kept you close, letting them know with a shake of his head that you still needed time. They gave him a nod, walking over to one of the benches.

He held onto you, not knowing how to fix any of this while you broke apart in his arms. All he could do was let you express your grief how you needed to, because it was something he — so badly — wanted to do as well. But Sunoo kept himself from doing so, preventing you from breaking even further.

After your eyes had felt too sore from crying, you heard him speaking to you.

“Baby, hey,” he spoke softly. You pulled away from his hold. “Your parents are here.” He pointed towards them.

As his hold had freed you from him, everything else that went on afterwards felt like a dream that seemed to never end.

You kissed his lips, repeatedly, trying to remember what he tasted like. Peck after slow peck, you could feel Sunoo start to quiver under your touch.

He was crying, and now you were saying sweet things to him to help him calm down.

“Your smile is so pretty,” you repeated his words. “It’s all I ever want you to do.” Your hands were cupping his face. Sobs ripped through him at that.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more, Sunoo.”

You gave him one last kiss, it was much longer this time, not enough to let go but still bidding goodbyes for the two of you.

Sunoo watched you walk inside, feeling like he’d been ripped into shreds. He was dreading going back home, knowing how memories of you already roamed around in his room.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you, Sunoo.” Were the last words you said while looking at him, before the two of you had disappeared in different crowds, completely out of sight.

[okwonyo]

﹙ ✉️ ﹚ ──TRACK 15 ；PASSIONATE。in which ⸝ 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝒶𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

엔하이픈 희승 ⠀ ノ⠀ female reader 1200 florist!reader fluff getting together friends to lovers⠀⎯⠀⠀awkwardness skinship lots of talking ⠀， recueil . . . ( click )

ꣀ꣒ this is stan twitter’s chapter 14 .. there is a lot of talking here. i hope it is possible to read as a stand alone and that you’ll enjoy reading it ~

it isn’t as weird as you thought it would be. the weather is nice, like a normal day this month.heeseung arrived five minutes in advance, with a huge smile on his face, you were almost scared that his teeth will fall out.

he also had flowers he bought, that weren’t made with your own two hands this time, you accepted them with an awkward laugh and a blush appearing on your cheeks. you looked less embarrassed during that moment than when he stared at you, from up to down, then down to up, sly grin creeping on his lips. you opted for a white top that paired with your white shorts ─ nothing too much but enough for him to tell you that you were breathtaking. you didn’t really know how to respond, choosing to return the compliment, he became red in the face.

he held to door for you when you entered the garden, as if he was the one who owned the shop. there is a small plate-form, in the middle of the flowers, a square in beige tiles where you dressed the table for your date. you both agreed to do that in a discreet place, and you couldn’t think of anywhere else but the places you spent the last weeks gardening together.

the lunch went smoothly. you were both sitting awkwardly in front of each other for a few minutes, as if you weren’t used to heeseung’s clingy antics already, but it went over the window pretty quickly. legs crossed under the table, your feet tap against his caf gently, he opens his palms so your fingertips can do the same on them.

during a soft and comfortable silence, you speak, “you know, you are so cool,” you start, heeseung eyes on you lingers as you keep tapping on his palm. “whenever is see you─ and i know you don’t want to talk about it but i need to elaborate my point─ whenever i see you on stage, it’s just like you are born to be here.” you take a deep breath, trying to calm the beating of your heart getting faster. stress, you hate it, “and this is why i have always liked you─you are─” too much words stumble over their feet in your brain, none of them can attain your mouth with falling. “so passionate, about your job, your music, life and” you press your lips together, finally looking up. heeseung gaze is full of understanding, yearning, pining and longing for you. “even about me.”

he opens his mouth, you continue to talk, “and for the longest time i thought that i would only see as such. as the man on stage who always gives his all, like─like a star in the sky that you admire but cannot touch” he whispers something about how he is right in front of you, you giggle, “and you are here, and i learned so much things about you─ and i find myself being passionate about you. not only because of who you are on stage but because of who you are, here, in front of me.”

“i’m so scared of what it this, passion,” you can’t say the stronger word, “will have as an impact on who you are─ even if you don’t want me to treat you as such─ that idol on stage, that i still reached somehow, with such an amazing career coming ahead. and i don’t want to ruin that for you.”

there is a long silence, when you finish your, sort of, confession monologue. heeseung watches you with his mouth slightly agape and his eyes a ta widened. his hands are gripping onto yours now, his warmth shallow your skin whole and the weather doesn’t help much.

“you─” he starts, and he smiles. “talk so much.”

you kick his leg under the table and he lets out a pained sound, “i’m being serious here,” you chuckle.

“i wanted to kiss you during that whole monologue.” he says and you roll your eyes, “i’m serious, you where talking about how amazing i was and how scared you where, which i understand. but the only thing only thing on my mind,” your breath catches when he finishes his sentence with the calling of your name. “you are the only one i want, and i will be willing to do anything to keep you safe.

“i didn’t even mention me there,” you sigh, “i was talking about you.”

heeseung huffs, his thumb rubbing your skin and smooth motion, “i know, you don’t think about your safety so i have to do it for you,” he interlock your fingers together, you watch him with a smile growing on your lips. “we’ll take care of each other, yeah?”

you only hum, focusing on his fingers between yours, the tight yet gentle grip makes you feel in a way that you can’t quite describe. heeseung eyes, however, stares are something else. not your eyes nor your hair, something that he feels has been calling him for a while now.

like a siren in the ocean, the peachy hue gently resting on your lips attracts him. soon, your mouth is the only thing occupying his mind. it gets worse when your eyes focuses on him again, wide and charming, he can’t do anything but lean in.

he wouldn’t be able to tell if it’s the sun, reflecting hard on the back of his head or just, you, but he feels dizzy─ and his only medicine is one if your kisses.

“can i?” he whispers, for only you to ear. the gape between the both if you get slowly smaller and smaller, as much as your lips are calling him, his do the same to you.

it only takes a nod of yours to finally make you both meet in between.

his lips presses softly, firmly and eagerly against yours. as if he as been waiting for this for years, which feels like the truth, his nose lets out a sigh, a desperate sigh.

he misses your hand in his, but he forgets about it quickly when it finds his hair. your taste is so addicting, he slips his hands on you cheeks, cupping them, he pulls you closer than the table in between the two of you lets him. he tilts your head to the side, the sweet tast of the soda he just drank feels your mouth when his tongue slips through your lips. he is too addicted to you to even remember to breathe, you are the one who break the kiss.

his lips are swallowed and shiny, just like yours, “i think i’m in love with you,”

you snort, “you don’t know anything about me,” as if it wasn’t a blatant lie. he tends to ask a lot of questions and you like to elaborate on your answers. which is just perfect.

still, he plays along, “i have the rest of my life to find out.”

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open ⎯⎯ previous ｜ next

[earlysunshines]

when you kiss me heaven sighs

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff ; wc: 0.9k

synopsis: bad day but warm welcome to make it instantly amazing

a/n: happy birthday to the woman who is the reason i started this account and also the love of my life and um basically my everything :p

—

the day was a nightmare, one that you couldn’t wake up from.

your girlfriend had to leave early in the morning for a special meeting at work, so you were left to wake up alone and cold in the empty bed. waking up all puffy and groggy without sana’s breath tickling your neck ruined your mood, and your day could only get worse from here on out.

it did get worse.

on the way to work your tire popped, and because of that you were late to work. your boss is a pretty laid-back person, but it seemed like something had been troubling him with the way he scolded you for coming in thirty minutes past eight. after that nerve racking reprimanding, you walk back to your desk and just when you think things can’t get any worse—ryujin runs into you at the turn of the hall and spills her matcha latte all over you, your white shirt, and beige pants.

you tried to stay positive, but eventually gave up after having to work overtime.

because you can’t drive your own car at the moment, you had to resort to public transport—which, you didn’t really mind, but today it just had to be all full and overwhelming. your bag seems ten times heavier as you carry it while exiting the bus, and as soon as you take a step on the stairs leading to your floor; the bag is thirty times heavier than ever, almost dragging you down with.

somehow, you manage to make it to the apartment without falling over and collapsing. it surprises you that you’re able to scramble for your keys and open the door without another mishap happening today.

as soon as the door opens and you’re able to step inside, a pair of soft lips collides with your own clumsily, missing your own lips at first but soon shifting over to capture them fully. the familiar scent of roses and vanilla urges you to cup the cheeks of the person kissing you and give in to their contact, smiling into the warm welcome.

you pull away just barely to mutter a short “hi lovely” before sana kisses you again, wrapping her arms around your neck and filling your senses with her.

when she pulls away to give you a breather, you get a glimpse of her overjoyed expression and flushed cheeks. she closes in and pecks your lips—short and sweet—before pulling away again. this time her nose brushes against yours, she lingers close to your tired face.

“i missed you.” she mumbles, letting her hand roam down to the base of your neck.

“i missed you way more,” you say quietly, “you left me this morning.”

sana shakes her head, then pulls you into your shared home before you close the door behind you. she lets you set your bag down before taking your hand and pulling you over to the counter of the kitchen.

“i didn’t want to honey.” she defends with a frown. “that meeting was early and boring, i wanted to stay in bed with you. i didn’t see you the whole day because you had overtime too.”

as you lean against the marble, you pull her in by the waist before placing a chaste kiss on her jawline, then pulling away to take in her bare face. you tuck her hair behind her ear and smile at how adorable she looks, there’s something about her like this—something so beautiful in her simplicity.

“well, now we’re here—together.” you assure, “let me shower so we can cuddle and make up for that time we missed.”

“okay,” sana says before leaning in closer with a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “don’t take too long.”

“i won’t, trust me.” you respond before sana locks your lips together again. she pulls away one last time, fighting the urge just to sit there and make out with you. the way she stares at your lips blatantly makes you giggle. “you just can’t keep your lips off me, can you?”

“oh, so you don’t want me to kiss you anymore, is that what i’m hearing?”

“no, no, i never said that!” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “i really, really like your lips, baby. please don’t stop, and ppleeaasssee keep kissing me first thing after work. i had a really bad day.”

she laughs and looks down at the grassy, green stain on your white shirt and fiddles with the fabric of your collar. she smiles at you when she meets your face again.

“nice design,” she teases, “pretty unique, is it designer?”

you lift yourself off the counter and reach for her, letting your fingers graze her rib area and tickle her relentlessly. she attempts to push you off while tears threaten to leak through her pretty eyes, but you don’t let her win that easily.

your lips find their way on her neck and pepper feathery, ticklish pecks all over her soft skin while you continue to wiggle your fingers all over her ribs.

“s-stop! i’m sorry—y/n!” she laughs, voice getting high and airy while she uses her manicured hands to push you away. “s-stop! that tickles!”

you smile after seeing the small tear that leaves the corner of her eye and wipe it away with your thumb, then you kiss her forehead quickly as she recovers from your antics.

“you’re so annoying.” sana lies, shoving your shoulder with her palm playfully.

“you love me.”

“yes a lot,” she admits. “now go shower, i’m not kissing you until you do that.”

[silent-stories]

Out of the castle

(Eddie Munson x F!reader) fantasy au

It's dangerous to leave the castle without any protection, without guards. This is what you had been told your whole life and yet, until that moment it was the only way you had found to have fun, relax and spend some time alone, without anyone telling you to walk with your head held higher, how to eat or what to say.

You had the opportunity to feel the grass under your feet, the sun's rays on your face and the wind in your hair, smell the scent of flowers and spices, meet new people or walk through the town market without everyone staring at you or worse, bowing.

You had never understood that stupid gesture that made you feel extremely embarrassed every time. You lived in a castle doing almost nothing every day and you were born with the privilege of getting to learn how to read and write while the common people worked hard to feed their families, sometimes giving up their daily meal for the sake of their children, and they were the ones who bowed when they saw you?

They deserved much more respect than you and your family.

However, your parents didn't seem to understand it.

You didn't know how far you had gone from the castle that morning, but that had never worried you since its towers were visible in every part of the the city, and perhaps the kingdom, from how tall they were.

The narrow path you had walked, wound through the trees and the leaves formed a green roof over your head, filtering the sun's rays. The ground was soft beneath your feet, covered in moss and some dry leaves.

You thought that if your mother found your muddy boots hidden in the closet again, she would kill you and the kingdom would be left without heirs.

The clearing you had reached was surrounded by many tall oaks and a lake, calm and serene, stretched out in front of you. The crystal clear water reflected the blue of the sky.

The frogs croaked undisturbed and some birds, hidden among the branches, were singing.

It seemed like one of those fairytale places that you only read about in books and you wondered if there were sometimes fairies there. You didn't know if they really existed or not but you had read so many legends about creatures like them, that you had started to believe them.

The "crazy" old man who preached outside the bakery a few days earlier was sure to talk to them every night.

“I thought I was the only one who knew about this place.” A voice coming from behind you almost made you fall into the lake. Luckily it didn't happen: you can't teach a princess to swim.

Turning around, you looked at the young man in front of you for a moment. He was wearing a beige shirt (buttoned the wrong way), dark pants with a seam on one knee, and a brown belt around his waist. He didn't seem to have any bad intentions and looked at you with only slight curiosity painted on his face. His curly hair was messy and his brown eyes were still staring at you.

"Since we're both here, I guess you were wrong." You finally spoke.

He softly chuckled under his breath. “How did you find this place?”

“I was just…exploring.”

"Mm." He looked at you like he thought you were lying. “Well, I often come here to fish, so as long as you don't steal my fish, you are allowed to stay.” He added with a smirk.

“Allowed” You repeated to yourself, chuckling. You almost wanted to say that that place was technically yours, considering that one day you would be queen, but you didn't.

"Wait a minute," he said, his eyes widening, "we've seen each other before."

"Oh, I don't think so." You were quick to deny. "I don't leave my house much, I like... reading and painting."

You closed your eyes for a moment, sighing. They were the richest activities anyone could mention, dammit.

"But we did!" He exclaimed as a smile formed on his face, dimples on his cheeks, "You gave me a gold coin a month ago."

He was definitely prettier than any man your father wanted you to marry.

You shrugged. "I don't remember."

So he was the boy singing sat on the sidewalk that everyone was ignoring that evening.

"That's impossible! I was playing my lute outside a shop and you left a fucking gold coin in my hat! My uncle and I got three meals a day for a week thanks to that, and I even bought new boots! I never had the chance to thank you because a moment later you were already gone and I always wondered how the hell you managed to have such a coin and why the hell you decided to give it to me but now-" his babbling suddenly stopped.

"What?" You asked.

"No way." He murmured. "God, I'm so stupid!" He added, suddenly starting to bow.

That was always the worst part.

"I'm really so stupid. I don't know how I didn't notice before, I beg you to forgive me, I never meant to disrespect you and I'm deeply sorry for any-"

"No no no. Please stop. Don't." You grabbed his arm before he could bow.

He stopped mid-action, his knee almost about to meet the ground, and looked up at you, surprised.

"I'm serious, really. There's no need" You added, helping him up.

"But you're the princess." He murmured, confused.

"I know. But it's not that important, really."

It sounded funny, you had to admit that.

When he stood up and you realized you were still holding his arm, you let your hand fall to your side.

“So I won't have my head chopped off in public?”

You laughed.

"I'm serious!"

"I'm sorry. No, your head will be on your shoulders for a while longer."

"Okay, in that case." He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss that barely touched your fingers. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess of Hawkins. My name is Edward, Eddie to my friends, at your service."

“Call me Y/N, please.” A smile was on your lips caused by his theatrical ways.

"Wow." He murmured then, looking at you.

"What?"

"It's just... really weird. Seeing you here. Alone. Without twenty men ready to rip in two anyone who comes near you. Why aren't you...?" He raised an arm, pointing to the castle towers visible despite the tall trees. "I won't take 'I was exploring' for an answer."

"I ran away."

Eddie looked at you in surprise.

"I'll come back. I always come back. I have to. But sometimes I need time outside that castle. I can't spend my life locked inside those walls when there's a world to explore outside. So... I was really just exploring, actually."

"You have any idea how many people could like- kidnap you and return you to your family in exchange for chests full of gold? Assassins, pirates, hitmen..."

“Oh god, you sound like my family!”

He chuckled. "Sorry."

You never thought you'd find a friend outside the castle walls, someone you could talk to as if you weren't the heir to the throne and yet that morning, you spent it all talking to Eddie on the shore of the lake that only you seemed to know.

You realized that maybe Eddie could become your first friend ever.

You liked the way he laughed at your jokes and how he rolled his eyes, apologizing every time you scolded him when he called you “princess.”

"Do you know that your shirt is buttoned in the wrong way?"

"Princess, you live in a castle. You don't know the latest fashion trends."

You loved the way his brown eyes had so many shades of gold when they were hit by the sun's rays filtering through the leaves.

You liked the way he could weave fantasy with reality and confuse you, leading you to believe that the magic he claimed to be true actually existed.

"Of course fairies exist! They are small shiny beings and are only kind to those who are kind to them. A bit like all of us, isn't it?"

You liked his humor, sometimes you wondered if he did it on purpose or was he was just like that.

"What about dragons?"

"You telling me you've never seen a dragon?"

"You telling me you saw a fucking dragon?"

"Hey, you know that for a princess you talk a lot like the people who work at the port, sometimes?"

And after hours, when you realized that if you were gone too long, they would find out about your absence, you had to say goodbye to him.

"Do you... do you think I'll see you again?" You asked then.

"Hey, I told you. I come fishing here often. And you can find me sitting on some sidewalk playing my lute."

You laughed. "Of course. See you then."

"See you."

You laughed when he gave an awkward bow.

The moment you started to walk away, you remembered something.

"Hey, Eddie!" You called out to him, before pulling a gold coin out of a pocket in your dress and tossing it to him.

He caught it.

And like the time before, before he could thank you, you were already gone.

[softinkshadows]

Overworking

Disclaimer: explicit sex

Fem! reader x Nanami Kento

----

Ding! You press the doorbell to room 703, grumbling under your breath. It's already day 3 of the tech conference and your ankles feel almost bruised from all the walking in heels. You can already feel your body straining against a week of consecutive 3 hours of sleep, in between lunchtime meetings, speeches, networking sessions and too many cups of coffee (and occasionally champagne). You glance briefly at your watch. 11pm. To make matters worse, there's a mid-event assessment report due by noon tomorrow. And your colleague still has not answered the door, leaving you to muck pathetically about the expensive carpet and ostentatious perfume of the hotel corridor.

"Hey!!" you rap on the door, impatient. "We haven't got all day-"

The door swings open abruptly.

You're a little taken aback at the suddenness, but also at the newfound proximity. Your colleague was dressed in a laidback t shirt and sweatpants, a white towel draped casually across shoulder.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I was in the shower. Let's get to the report," he said, turning back towards the room and motioning for you to enter.

You kick off your heels near the doorway, shutting the door with a click. Maybe it's the fact that it has been long day, or the fact that you've never seen your colleague outside of his perfectly pressed beige suit and slacks. But you feel disoriented, and nervous, as if you stumbled upon a scene you shouldn't have. When did Nanami Kento, of all people, actually look kind of attractive?

You spread out the printed documents on the coffee table and pull up the slides and excel sheets on your laptop. Your eyes can't help but slide, every now and then, over to the man seated next to you on the couch.

Nanami had always gotten on your nerves. If it was not an early promotion, then it was a compliment from Director Yamazaki, or a client lunch only he was invited to. You'd both graduated from ivy leagues with top grades, started at JJK Corp at the same time, and yet it always seemed he was just a step ahead of you. And while he was competent, there was just something about it that seemed quite unfair. It made you bitter and him stoic, filling your working relationships with barbed back-and-forths. Somehow it was Nanami that always knew how to rile you up the most.

You watch as a glistening drop of water falls from his damp hair, darkening a spot on his grey shirt. You could feel the slight warmth of his body, radiating from his proximity. Also, he smelt good.

"Uhm okay," you clear your throat to redirect your focus. "So about the report, it seems like we have pretty good sentiment around the CTO's remarks."

"Yes, and I think with this it will be good to introduce some, uh, some new messaging around our core product," Nanami said. It was only when he stuttered slightly that you realised his face was very lightly flushed. Was he drunk?

He caught you looking quizzically before quipping quietly. "Yeah sorry, I was dragged for some drinks with clients after the dinner."

"Oh, with Director Yamazaki?"

"Yeah."

You fight the feeling of frustration wanting to claw its way out of your chest.

"Well anyway, I don't think that's the right call. The downsides around the technology is too sensitive to broach now, it'll invite unnecessary criticism," you shot back a little too fast, irked from exhaustion as well as to compensate from how oddly riled up you are. "We should just stick to what the CTO discussed, and double down from there."

"You don't like me, do you?" Nanami said, his teeth lightly clenched.

There was a rather long silent pause.

You met his gaze and tried hard not to squirm under its intensity. There was something in his eyes which showed annoyance, provoking, yet somehow tinged with a little remorse, as if he regretted what he just said. It was only now that you realise he was in fact very drunk.

Angry, haughty, stoic, bratty Nanami you could deal with. But drunk Nanami? It was a whole new animal.

"Er I..." you trail off in growing discomfort, at a loss of what to say. Your eyes subconsciously dipping to his neck, still streaked with a little water from his shower, and the broad curve of his shoulders. Somehow the sight made your mouth dry, stomach knotting in a newfound intimacy. You look back up and see his brown eyes still on you, piercing. Immediately, you flush up to your cheeks.

"I-I mean, the report.." you begin to say, stammering. Flailing. Saying anything possible to distract him from this embarrassing moment.

"Screw the report," Nanami breathes. Then he pulls you into him, his hand cupping your chin. Your lips almost touching

Then he pauses, observing your reaction, waiting for permission. His cheeks are pinker now, and the tips of his ears are lightly flushed. You feel your heartbeat in your ears, the tension in your chest about to burst. He always knew how to rile you up.

"Ugh, screw you," you moaned as you gave in, leaning in to smash your lips against his.

With a new hunger, Nanami grabbed your waist and pulled your legs around his, pressing your body hard against him as he sloppy kissed his way into your mouth, his fingers stroking up and down the length of your thigh. You moaned at the feeling, the taste of alcohol on his tongue egging you on. You felt even more giddy at how unrestrained he was, how strong his arms were around you. Before you knew it, you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs, desperate for friction.

As if on cue, his nimble fingers found its way to your waistband, unbuckling your pants, and pulling them down around you. You're too caught up with his tongue stroking the inside of your heated mouth, of both your spit trickling down the side of your lips to feel self conscious. He moves his hand up your your blouse, stroking your spine lightly before removing your top as well.

Nanami pauses for a moment, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His brown eyes burning with lust.

Your bra straps have fallen off your shoulders, your hair messy and tousled, lips wet and legs parted. Your lace underwear has a spot darkening with slick. He's never seen you like this.

"Oh fuck," Nanami breathes, pulling you to straddle him such that your back is to him. He nibbles on your neck, fingers dancing a trail from your collarbone, to your breasts, where he plays with your hardened nipple through your lace bra. His hands travel down to your underwear, where he massages your clit lightly from the outside.

"Stop teasing, Nanami, ah-" you cry out, your body quivering with want.

You're on edge, spreading your legs wide as possible and arching back into him to just feel anything. Wanting to push yourself into his touch.

Nanami relents. He pushes aside the fabric and strokes his digits lightly along your drenched folds. "You're wet," he chuckled, before inserting one thick finger into your cunt and biting lightly on your neck at the same time.

The sensation is enough to make you gasp out loud in pleasure, as you spread your legs wider to, thrusting up into his palm.

"Shhhh.. you really have to be a little more patient," he whispered into your ear, before adding a second finger to stretch you out.

Your eyes widen at the feeling, moaning as his large fingers already fill you.

"Did you know I've always wanted to have you like his, quivering over me with my fingers inside you?" Nanami lulled, adding his third finger into your quivering pussy. Already, from the sound of them thrusting in and out of you, you're obscenely wet, and he hasn't even taken off his clothes.

"But not, you had to be a little minx. Always all about work, and the competition," Nanami emphasised the last word while reaching his thumb up to press against your swollen nub.

"Ahhh fuck me, Nanami, please, I need to.." you gasp in between heavy breaths, on the verge of falling off the edge of pleasure. His fingers going in and out of you fast, squelching and hitting your g spot with every movement, your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the couch. At that moment, he speeds up, his fingers drilling into you relentlessly and his thumb massaging your clit in circles. His other hand clasps lightly around your neck as he whispers into your ear, "Come for me, sweetheart."

"Ahhh Nanami, fuck-" You moan as you come undone, hitting your climax. Your mind goes blank as you convulse around his hand, feeling your juices coating his palm. Thighs shaking, you arch into his kiss and frenziedly rub your ass against his crotch to ride out the high, gasping for air as fingers continue to pummel in and out of you.

When you come down, he pulls his fingers out, stringy with all your fluids. He licks them off with his tongue before pulling you in for another kiss.

"I would have liked to do this in the bedroom first, but I don't think I can wait," Nanami murmured darkly. He lifts you easily and turns you around, so that you're facing him, legs spread out on either side of him and ready.

He unclasps your bra and throws it unceremoniously to the side, out of sight. "Oh god, you're beautiful," he whispers, trailing his fingers around your nipples before his bites onto one of them hard. You moan, grasping his hair with your fingers and finding your legs unconsciously spreading wider. You can feel him hot and hard beneath the sweatpants, and suddenly this animalistic hunger overtakes you and you absolutely need to be completely filled up by him.

You almost tear off his shirt, licking and biting your way down his neck, while your hands fiddle with his sweats to set him free. His cock is already huge and hard against his abs, throbbing with a little precum at the tip.

"Nanami I need you in me, now, please" you beg, pawing at his chest, messily kissing around his mouth. Nanami chuckles into the kiss, before lifting you and slowly lowering you onto his cock.

You wince slightly at his girth and how big he is. He's barely past the tip and you can feel him stretching you so much it stings. But you're already so wet and needy that your juices are coating him, making it easier for his cock to bury itself into you.

"Such a good girl," Nanami murmurs, stroking your hair as he lowers you all the way up to the hilt, you body trembling to accommodate his size. You feel so indecently splayed out in front of him, nipples wet and sore from being bitten, sweat speckling across your body and his entire cock sheathed inside you, that you felt yourself getting wetter despite the stinging stretch. You begin to grind against him, feeling his whole length stroke your insides, hitting the spot deep inside you.

"Oh! Nanami! Fuck, you feel so good," you cry out at the pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something about Nanami, about the way he gazes at you with such feral hunger, the way his fingers are pinching your nipples and holding the small of your waist, ignites a new thirst in you.

Without warning, you feel a new escalating pleasure build in your stomach as you hit another climax, moaning and rolling your hips around his cock, hearing your pussy squelch around his length, which continues to throb and brush against your g spot.

"Oh fuck," Nanami groans, "You're needy for my cock? What a little slut." He starts to bounce you up and down his length, coating the base to the tip of his cock with your cum before slamming you down again. You cry out at the rough and new sensation, pleasure starting to build again as the room fills with the sound of wet skin against wet skin.

He reaches around to slap your ass, hard and unforgiving. It's certain to leave a mark and you love it, crying out and moaning and egging him on, begging for him to go faster and harder.

"Nanami- oh fuck - feels so good!" you moan as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you, your nipples sliding against his now-sweaty chest, your clit rubbing against his torso and getting even wetter by the second.

"You're such a desperate minx, have you been waiting for me to ruin you all this time?" Nanami grunts between heavy breaths. You can feel the strain, the vein in his forehead that shows how desperate he also feels, rutting into you like his life depends on it.

"Fuck - yes!" You cried out, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks from the intensity, as you feel yourself completely emptied, then gaped wide and filled so entirely, as Nanami's cock goes in and out of you. You breath catching in your throat, you feel the knot of tension in your stomach growing larger, wider, your limbs beginning to quiver with pleasure and pain.

"Nanami, I'm going to-" you're unable to finish your sentence, as Nanami quickens his pace, pinching your nipples hard and using his hands to spread your ass cheeks even wider so he can bury his cock even deeper. His throbbing length hits the wall of your cervix rhythmically. HIs tongue laps around your nipples and your neck and earlobes, all the sensations tipping you over the edge as you come, loud and hard, moaning and whimpering against him. Your pussy clenching and convulsing around him unbearably tight, juices dripping across his thighs and onto the couch. His fingers around your ass also drenched, pushing and prodding against your hole, making you eyes blow out in pleasure as you ride out your longest ever orgasm.

The erotic sight and sensation sends Nanami over the edge as he thrusts wildly inside you and ruts into you one more time, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum inside you. "Fuck.." Nanami moans, emptying out and holding your waist so he coats all of your walls. You curse at the feeling, moaning so good against him as your orgasm doubles, driven by lust and the depravity of his want. Your slick now mixed with white cum seeps out from you, coating his balls, trickling sticky down to the sofa.

You've never felt this good in a long time.

Nanami pulls you in to him, breathing hard.

"I don't hate you," you finally said, your face flushes, legs trembling from the high.

"Seems like you don't," he laughed, reaching to give you a kiss on the cheek. He eyes settle on open door to the bedroom, before looking back at you.

"Ready for round two?"

[roturo]

☆ SACRIFICE — incubus!gojo satoru 15.10.23

⟣ ──┈ · · · + summary ➢ “I now dedicate to you my life, devour me whole.” He said, never expecting an individual full of brightness and light could call for someone full of darkness like a criminal. “The darkness spilled by fate, it gave yours and to you, our sacrifice.”

⟣ ──┈ · · · + warnings ➢ mentions of killing, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, toxic attachment, curse spelling, overstimulation, breeding, marking, pussy slapping, manipulation… reblogs are super appreciated :)!

Have you ever had a dream where you find the love of your life? Perfect looks, perfect personality, the perfect boyfriend. But once you wake up, you feel that black hole full of… nothing.

He appears to you in a dream, just like he’s done every other night this week. Not one to remember your dreams, you found multiple things about these dreams odd: they featured the same man. You couldn’t explain it or why they felt so real, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy every minute of them.

They started like any other fantasy of yours, having the perfect boyfriend, perfect dates, perfect relationship. You swear his face is clearly visible in the dreams but once you wake up, he doesn’t only disappear but the memory of him too. 

The man is beautiful. Comparable to a marble statue with pouty lips to match. His skin, the color of pure milk but not as white compared to his snowy hair– so smooth and silky, you relish the thought of running your hands up and down his bare back. The happy trail you could gaze at sometimes and lead you to his eyes– which hold enough sin in them for 15 men, even when just looking at you full of love.

He didn’t intend to fall in love, you were one of his other victims, just to kill some time and get his frustrations out of him. 

But once he saw you in real life for the first time he knew he had to have you not only in his arms, but in his bed too. He’s sin incarnate, and you’re more than willing to fall into his trap.

But when he started seeing you going out with other men he swore he had to punish them– a punishment that defied fate. His arrogant oblivion and illusion takes out the worst of him. He knows he shouldn’t be this attached to a ‘useless monkey’ who was nothing to him and his species, but you got him trapped with just a small glance.

You didn’t even question it when he was in the first two or three dreams, but now that dream five is starting, your mind is definitely trying to figure out what’s going on. This time, you plan on asking him yourself.

Just like every other dream, you wake up from a deep slumber in your own bed. The only differences being the blood-red silk sheets and the matching empty walls that accompany them. No more beige cotton sheets and photos framed of your loved ones. They’re long gone. There’s no windows that showed the busy city you lived in, the park where you always went with him, where you learned things about him, and met him for the first time.

A soft, classical tune plays in the background somewhere, but the sound is anything but light. It’s deep, thrumming, touched with a darkness that seems to follow your pulse. It’s erotic, if you’re to find the correct word.

A hand caresses your lower calf, and you look toward the end of the bed. You find the blue eyed man staring at you with a sensuous gaze. There’s something about that look that is so… twisted?... so distant. You just want to throw all your inhibitions into the wind.

“Satoru..Who are you?” Or the question should be, what are you? You quietly ask him, and he cocks a brow at you.

“I’m your deepest desires. The ones that bury themselves in your subconscious.”

His voice is musical, melodic, and it almost makes you forget everything you want to say to him. Who cares about questions when this gorgeous being is standing in front of you, ready to fulfill your every desire?

His hand travels up your shin to your thigh with a light pressure as he crawls up the bed toward you. Your mouth slightly parts as you take in the divine sight, but questions still vaguely swim through your mind.

“Why do you feel so real?”

“Because I am real.” His hand travels up your thigh to your hip. A caress as soft as a breeze. “My touch is as real as yours.” He slowly leans down to kiss your stomach above your underwear you were wearing, your pajamas mysteriously disappeared. “My lips are as real as yours… and so is much, much more.”

“Where have I seen you before?” Your eyes fall closed as he slowly pulls your underwear down your body.

He takes his time to answer you, dropping the underwear somewhere behind him. “You haven’t, but I’ve seen you… Now, do you really want to waste time talking when I can do this?”

His hands reach under your knees and push your legs apart and up, and then his face sinks into your core. “Seriously— Like if I haven’t seen your deepest thoughts about me in that dirty brain of yours princess” He wastes no time as his tongue draws figures against your clit. He hums and lets his spit coat you, using it, along with your wetness, to glide two fingers inside of you.

“Let me live forever in you. You don’t need someone else, no other man will treat you like I do.”

You whimper and pant as his tongue does things against your body that you’ve never experienced before. His fingers curl up inside of you, rubbing against your g-spot with delicious friction. Your legs threaten to close against his head as the sensations take over your body but he was faster and slapped your sensitive lips– and he allows you to bury him there, so he can dine on your pussy even longer.

“I dedicate my life to you… You can devour me whole, I dedicate to you my life, consume my flesh and blood bae, c’mon”

Strange words came out of him, sometimes understandable and sometimes you swear is a language you have never heard before. A tingly feeling coming to your neck, the burning sensation was too sudden you couldn’t realize what it was.

Your orgasm approaches with quickness and you let it consume you because you know he’s far from done. You float on the blissful sensations that grab ahold of your mind, and when you come back down, you find him buried in the exact same spot.

He continues to eat you out like a man starved, ignoring your squirms when you become sensitive. He laps at your pussy like he’s got all the time in the world, and just when the tingling goes away, and it starts to feel amazing again, he pulls away.

He takes his fingers out of you and brings them up to his mouth, sticking them in and sucking your juices off. When his eyes roll into the back of his head at the taste, you swear you could cum again at the sight.

“You taste so divine,” he says as he pulls his fingers out. “Like a forbidden fruit I’m not supposed to have.” And he’s making a sacrifice– sacrificing his own life for you.

His words cause you to purr, and the sound only gets louder as he scooches up and kneels in between your legs– putting you into a mating press. His arms hook underneath your thighs, and he places you so that your calves rest on his shoulders. He leans forward, and you feel the tip of his cock pushing at your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, making sure you feel every thick, delicious inch of him until he’s fully buried in you. “Mmhh- B-Baby, it’s like your pussy was made f’me and only me” He fills you up so full and deeply that you swear you can feel him in your gut. Slowly, he begins thrusting into you, using your legs as leverage, so he can really snap his hips.

You moan as the sound of skin slapping fills the air and sends a thrill through you. You love the naughty sound, and all it does is spur you on more. Twisting your hands into the silky sheets below you, you fist them until your fingers cramp and let out all the words flowing through your mind.

“F–Ffffuck yes. Right there, baby.” He smirks at your words, and you feel an almost animalistic instinct take over you. You want hard. You want fast. You want to be so fused together, you’re almost inside of each other. “Oh Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

“‘m ‘gonna fill you up s’good so you stay with me, dedicate you my life” The words come out almost as a growl, and his smirk only deepens, almost like he’s proud of himself for making you turn into this near-sex-craved being. He pays attention to your words, slamming into you harder, moving against you faster. It’s almost inhuman, but you have zero complaints.

His movements cause your orgasm to sneak up on you, and you climax so hard you forget your existence. Your mind attempts to pull itself back together, and the only thing that helps is the man’s grunts and groans of bliss.

You open your eyes to see his shining a bright crimson. They glow as he finishes inside of you and diminish as he calms down.You swear you could feel your closed eyelids fluster– Like lights going on and off outside this… dream? – He blinks a couple times as he stares at you, but you’re not afraid of what you’ve witnessed. You’re only more intrigued than you were before, and you can tell he senses that.

He slowly pulls out of you and lets your legs down with caution. A smirk adorns his face as he moves to hover over you, and you feel yourself innocently smile back.

“Tomorrow night. I’ll be waiting.” He leans down and softly kisses your lips.

Your eyes fall closed. When you open them again, you find things are back to normal. The man is gone with his red silks and walls, and your beige sheets and friendly faces greet you instead.

Turning your body to look at the time, you feel a strong ache in your core and the familiar soreness that often comes with sex. You furrow your brows, having no idea how this is possible, but close your eyes to fall back asleep. A smile graces your face as you think about tomorrow night.

[furybymoonlight]

See Me (Now) - Part I

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

Warning/Genre: Age Gap (3 years), Angst, Suggestive Theme, Smut (not yet on this chapter tho’), friends to lovers

Part II

Part III (final)

***

“You’re not my sister.”

“Pfft how dare you? I’ve known you since forever. The least I deserve is to be your honorary si-”

“No, you’re not.”

He cut her off, his stare was sharp, but then it softened as he cupped one side of her face.

“You can’t be…in order for me to be able to do…this.”

Then his mouth was on hers and her mind short circuited.

***

She didn’t know exactly when things started to change.

Their parents had been friends since a long time, so they had known each other for almost as long as she could remember. She first met him when she was nearing six, and he was barely three. His parents were visiting her house for a brunch with him in tow.

She remembered his beautiful doe eyes, in the shade of dark coffee, gazing up at her with a shy smile tugged on his lips.

“Hi Trent, do you want to play with me?”

She smiled and asked the small boy. Her mom had told her the boy’s name that morning and that she should make friends with him.

“Sure!”

His eyes twinkled as she grabbed his smaller hand and led him to her corner at the living room, where she stored her toys and games. Trent ended up as her first living guest in her royal tea party. He refused to wear a crown, but she reckoned he was a much better guest since he was way more interactive than her plush dolls.

They played together almost every weekend. Being older than Trent, she viewed him then as a little brother. They had less playing time when he joined the local football academy but still saw each other often since his parents often invited her family to his football matches, among other things.

She was close to his other brothers as well, but her bond with Trent was tighter. As they got older, they saw less of each other but kept in touch through texts and social media. She went abroad for university as he continued to rise as a football prodigy. Still, they spoke frequently about anything. She told him about her challenges being away from home. She shared his laughter and his heartbreak as he surfed on the top league.

It was almost Christmas, and she was back home for the first time in almost two years, finding her cozy yet modest-sized home filled with people. Her parents had thrown a welcome back party for her in conjunction with friends and family Christmas gathering.

She was swarmed by hugs and questions from all sides. She hugged them back and talked with them, finding the need to take a breather after a while. Her parents were high on the extrovert scale. Her? She was not a recluse by any means, but she found that she needed some quiet moments when dealing with crowds.

Slipping away from the crowds, she had just taken a few steps up the stairs when she slipped, unaware of several car toys scattered around. A yelp left her mouth as she braced for her fall, but it never came. She felt a broad chest cushioned her back as a pair of strong arms enveloping her.

“Careful…”

The masculine voice was so familiar, and she turned around straight away to hug her savior, who also wrapped his arms around her.

“Trent! Oh my God, I missed you! How – whoa, you’re way taller than me now. Do you not stop growing?”

She said as she took in his height. The man just chuckled, looking effortlessly good in a pair of dark jeans and beige sweater.

“Can’t be shorter than you forever, can I?”

His warm chocolate eyes looked at her teasingly. She shook her head, smiling.

“Guess not, and look at yourself now, our very own world-famous footballer. I am such a proud sister!”

Just like that, amusement left his eyes, and he took a step away from her. Tension radiated from his handsome face.

“Trent? What’s wrong?”

“You’re not my sister.”

“Pfft how dare you? I’ve known you since forever. The least I deserve is to be your honorary si-”

“No, you’re not.”

He cut her off, his stare was sharp, but then it softened as he cupped one side of her face.

“You can’t be…in order for me to be able to do…this.”

Then his mouth was on hers and her mind short circuited. Because Trent was kissing her, plump lips moving against her frozen ones. Trent.was.kissing.her and she would have to plead for temporary insanity because at some point of time, she closed her eyes and found herself kissing him back.

Her lips parted slowly to welcome him then he drowned her even more. He tasted like a mixture of coffee, cinnamon, and a hint of spiciness that she couldn’t quite put a name on. He whispered her name between kisses, then pressed her smaller frame against the side wall, carrying on wreaking havoc on her senses. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t have the will to take a breath. All she wanted was more, perhaps so much more.

The sound of muffled yet loud laughter brought her back to reality, reminding her where she was and she pushed him back, or rather he also stepped away. Breathless, she just stared at the younger man, eyes rounded in shock of what just transpired between them.

She opened her mouth, but the fire in his eyes made her lost her words. Then she heard footsteps coming towards them and without even thinking, she ran to her room in a speed that would make even an Olympic athlete proud.

Leaning on the back side of the door, she sighed and closed her eyes, body temperature still running high.

What in the hell just happened?

Author's Note I've been holding myself back not to get sucked into what I called a Trentnado because God knows I have so much to do, but after he posted those summer pics, just had to write..something. Anyway, first ever Trent story. Apology for errors as I’m not a native.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5EyqjvSs_h/?igsh=MTV5dmt0OWUyYmVneg==

(I'm sending this to all ghost writers I can find because I want everybody to see this)

Bestie. You have no idea what you just started.

THIS is my favorite thing ever now.

I couldn't resist writing something!!

Just imagine attending a ball, and this mysterious man shows up with that skull mask?? It's giving phantom of the opera, and I live for it!!!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Phantom of the Ball

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The large, shining chandeliers almost blinded you, the bright sparkle emitted from them making you keep your head lower. The ball had been dragging on for hours and, as fun as it looked, actually dancing for 4 hours without having anyone to converse with was more a curse than a blessing.

You swore your corset had tightened over the course of the evening and the many alcoholic beverages were doing little to refresh you. Your feet were starting to hurt, not only from dancing but from more than one clumsy man stepping on them, with no chair in sight.

The small crystals embroidered on your skirt had all your attention now as your gloved fingers fiddled with them.

At least it would pass the time faster, you supposed.

Unfortunately, your peace was quickly disturbed when someone ran into you, making you stumble forward. With a scoff on your lips you were swiftly pulled into the dance circle, your head spinning as you were hastily swirled around and passed off to the next man.

There were no pleasantries exchanged as you merely had time to catch your breath, trying to keep up with the pace, before the spiel repeated itself and you were meet with another unfamiliar face.

You were spun around like a dreidl, blinking to stop yourself from becoming too dizzy and falling.

Within the flash of a moment, there was a black wall in front of you. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, and the music slowly died down as all eyes were curiously set on the tall stranger.

He was dressed in the finest silks and velvets, all in black, setting a strong contrast to the creams, beiges, and whites everyone else sported. You craned your neck to take a better look at him, only to be met with an elegant mask, resembling a skull.

He peered down on you in an intimidating manner, sending a, surprisingly, pleasant shiver up your spine. You stared in amazement at the fringe at the bottom of his mask, making up the teeth of the skull.

They were still for now, but you wondered how they'd behave once he'd move. A quick glance around the room made you aware how many couples had taken a few steps back from the dance floor, leaving you and the mysterious man, quite literally, at the center of attention.

"May I?"

He broke the suffocating silence. Despite the roughness of his voice, there was no ill intent to be found towards you, only gentle words.

He held out his hand for you to take, wearing gloves that mimicked skeletal hands made up of various beads, embroidery and pearls.

There was a breath stuck in your throat, you only managed to nod, taking his offered hand. You gasped softly when he pulled you close to him, a firm hand on your waist as he gently cupped your hand in his large one.

He began moving, quite gracefully for someone his size. The music picked back up and, although hesitant, more and more couples joined in on the dance.

You were positively enchanted by this man, watching intently as the fringe at the bottom of his mask moved like a chime in the wind. You managed to make out a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes behind the mask. They made you feel hot and cold at the same time, adding to the exciting feeling in your chest.

He guided you with ease, almost making you float as he twirled you around like a delicate porcelain doll in a music box. Your hand fit into his so perfectly.

You wondered if the soft and rich fabrics he wore felt as pleasant underneath your fingertips as they looked, your hand resting on his shoulder. The outside world started to bleed and fade away as your thoughts were only occupied with him.

There were so many questions and mysteries surrounding the man. It made your heart swell with curiosity.

Before you could inquire more information about your strange suitor, he vanished. His hand slipped from your waist, and although his hand lingered in yours just a moment longer, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

He'd left you alone in the center of the ruckus of obnoxiously large skirts and clacking heels. You turned in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he went.

The mass made you feel suffocated as they seemed to close in on you. You whipped around like a whirlwind, your eyes flitting over every possible exit.

You managed to see an all too familiar skeleton hand slipping from the doorframe, and determination boiled up inside of you like never before.

You hiked up your many skirts, swiftly ducking under swinging arms and spinning around dancing couples. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths when you managed to escape, but there was no time to rest.

You continued on, rushing through the door you saw him last. Your skirts rustled, your shoes clacked against the floor, and your breaths were labored as you ran down the long and empty hallway, keeping an eye out for the mysterious skeleton man.

Maybe you should be scared, running from him and not after him.

But there was something so intoxicating about his presence. His gentle touch, the deep, rough voice that you wanted to soothe with honey. And those intriguing brown eyes that held more secrets for you to uncover.

He was like an opioid, making you addicted after the first taste, to have you coming back until the end of time.

Your chase brought you to the moonlit courtyard of the estate.

You leaned forward, hoping to get more air into your lungs.

Damned corset.

Taking a rest on a stone bench, you looked around the blooming courtyard, admiring the many varieties of beautiful flowers. It smelled sweet, a tense fragrance having in the air like a heavy fog.

You were burning up from running, but the chilly evening breeze made you shiver. It was eerily quiet, only a few cicadas and crickets singing their songs for the summer.

You listened closely, hoping the stranger had tried to find some peace here.

You perked up when the crunching of grass under heavy footsteps reached your ears. You quickly rose from your seat and rounded the large hedge.

Your breath for caught in your throat when you spotted his broad back, calmly admiring the red roses, it seemed.

Unfortunately, the man had noticed you and made an effort to swiftly disappear into the night.

"Wait!" You reached out your hand, making him stop in his tracks.

"At least tell me your name." You pleaded, carefully stepping closer, as if not to scare away a wild animal.

You saw his shoulders drop slightly before he turned to face you, looming over you once again.

"They call me Ghost." He answered lowly, looking down on you with caution.

"Will I see you again?" You urged, stepping even closer.

His entire presence was pulling you in. You truly had no control.

You could've sworn you saw an amused glint in his eyes.

"I'll come back to you." He sounded sincere and soft as he spoke.

"Do you promise?" Your brows were pulled together as you swallowed, the urge to touch him twitching in your fingertips.

He glanced to the side before expertly plucking one of the deep red roses off the bush. He offered it you, and you gladly took it, being careful of any thorns.

"I promise." He said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

In an unexpected move, he gently took your unoccupied hand and slipped off your glove, making you gasp.

He proceeded to gently take your hand and guide it under his mask, the pearly fringe brushing your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Your face was burning up, your heart pounding inside your ribcage.

He slipped his hand from yours again, making yours twitch in an attempt to keep his touch. He chuckled deeply, a fondness in his eyes you would never expect from someone like him.

You swallowed thickly as you glanced down towards the rose he'd gifted you. The aroma was strong. It made your head spin.

When you looked up again, though, he was gone, only the dark sky adorned by twinkling stars staring back at you.

Like a phantom, he disappeared into the night, only leaving you clutching your glove, the flower in the other hand, and a promise you hoped he'd keep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I am in love with this!!! Tootin' my own horn, I know...

Anyway, let me know what you think! 👀

🩷

More of my works -> 💫

[angeljeonjk97]

Body Work || Bell #4

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol

Jeon Jungkook is not the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways than one.

“You already know how I like it baby”

A knock at the door makes your head shoot up from the ramyeon bowl you were lost in that sat on the small marble island in the middle of your small kitchen.

When you put your left eye up to the peephole, a blonde-haired, slim man and an excited Kiri stood there, beaming a huge smile, waiting for your face to appear from behind the door. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering why two of your best friends are knocking on your door...you glance at the small, silver clock on the wall beside you... 9:24 pm.

You reach for the lock, turning it to open your door to the people who are standing on your doorstep looking like two frantic little, wide-eyed puppies.

"Hey?" you chuckle, confused as your eyebrows remain in the same furrowed expression, "why are you guys here?"

"Are we not allowed to visit our good friend to check on her?" Jimin acts offended.

Before you can respond, the two of them are already pushing their way past you. You sigh in defeat, clicking the door behind you as they both slide off their shoes and strip their coats from around their shoulders.

"You're both obviously not here just to see me" you chuckle, watching them both rush to hang their coats up, "you look like a pair of kids who've just been told they're going to Disneyland"

"Okay okay okay, come sit" Kiri spits out, a smile still plastered on her face, as she grabs your wrist pulling you to your sofa, Jimin following closely behind.

Once all three of you were sitting, Kiri and Jimin both facing you, sitting opposite you, Kiri takes both of your hands into hers. You stare intently at them, your face still in pure confusion.

"Guess who's back in town?" She asks almost too eagerly.

As soon as you heard those words, you already had a feeling where this conversation was about to go and who Kiri is talking about, but you give both of them the benefit of the doubt. They know that you're over that whole... situation, and don't plan on getting sucked back into it again. Your face relaxes a little, hesitant to even ask.

"Who?"

"Namjoon!" Jimin exclaims, unable to keep his excitement in any longer.

Kiri flicks her head around to Jimin, giving him a disapproving expression, not expecting him to be the one to say it.

Your expression practically falls off your face, as your stare flickers between the pair, expressionless.

Kim Namjoon is your older, kind of ex-boyfriend from two years ago. You two were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend but were dating each other and no one else. You weren't ready for a committed relationship at the time and didn't want to jump into something you weren't even sure you wanted yet. He's a lot older than you, 6 years older to be exact, very intelligent, very attractive, successful, understanding, gentle, and basically everything you'd possibly want in a man. 

You met when you had a holiday job at a cafe 15 minutes away from your apartment where you used to work with both Kiri and Jimin, who still have part-time jobs there. He was a regular there, so regular that you remembered his order off by heart in the 2 and a half months you worked there, you still remember the order even now, a medium white latte with almond milk and a warm blueberry croissant every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. 

You thought he was good-looking from the minute he walked through the glass, wooden framed, cafe door wearing a beige trench coat, black suit trousers complimented by dark brown loafers and a white button up that was hardly visible with his coat and thick plaid scarf that wrapped around his neck, and he thought the same for you. 

The attraction to each other became very obvious when you two would start talking at the desk and wouldn't realise you were holding up the line with your very flirty conversations and your co-workers would push you onto the till when they would see him come in. Eventually, on a Friday morning in early December, he asked for your phone number and everything flourished from there. He was perfect, everything you could ask for, but one day after a while of seeing each other, he just left the country, not telling you why or where to, just leaving you with an "I love you" text.

 You cried for weeks after it, even in front of Jungkook a few times, not understanding what went wrong, what you did wrong or why he didn't tell you why he was leaving. He was your first love, even though you never said it to his face, you loved him, and you know that he loved you too. You got over him and the whole thing eventually though, and don't plan on ever seeing him again. Or so you thought 

"Oh." is all you can let out, the name flashing you back into all the memories.

"He came to the cafe this morning, asking for you" Jimin declares, still with those wide ecstatic eyes, as he scans your face to read your emotions, "he misses you,"

You close your eyes, relaxing your shoulders a little, slipping your hands out of Kiri's," No. No. I told you, I'm done with all that"

"I thought you still loved him?" Kiri tilts her head slightly with a worried but confused expression.

"I told you, I'm over it"

"But y/n, he was perfect. It won't hurt to try again" Jimin shrugs, unsure as to what your response will be.

"But it will Jimin, just like last time," you get up off the sofa, about to walk to the kitchen," I'm not gonna be left behind with nothing like last time"

The other two follow closely behind, Kiri's voice projecting from behind you,

"You haven't dated since though, and I think this is a great opportunity"

"yeah you think it's a great opportunity, I don't. I don't want to see him ever again." you throw a cabinet open, pulling out a bottle of wine, along with a glass.

Kiri and Jimin stand in the doorway, looking at each other, regretting bringing him up.

"Is that all you guys came here to do? remind me of him?"

"No of course not, but he gave us his new number," a ripped-off corner of a piece of paper is pulled out of Kiri's pocket and put out in front of your face, "think about it. He misses you, a lot and wants to talk to you"

You sigh in defeat, practically ripping the piece of paper from between Kiri's fingers, seeing a flash of a set of numbers inscribed on it.

'Wow the ripped corner of a notebook really shows how much you care' You think to yourself quickly scanning the scrap piece.

Kiri spreads her arms out to wrap them around your frame, embracing you in a hug, "You don't have to, but think about it"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You play with the scrumpled-up paper in your fingers, observing the numbers written on it, contemplating everything. Lost in your own thoughts, you jump at the sudden thud on the black counter caused by a tattooed hand slamming down in front of you.

You look up, tucking the paper back into your jean pocket, "Jesus Kook. You could've just said hi or something" You smile at him, letting him know you're not being serious.

"You still would've jumped, considering how in your head you just were," Jungkook takes a seat on the stool opposite you. His bare forearms resting on the surface in front of you both, "You alright?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, thinking whether you should tell Jungkook about your kind of ex coming back or not.

It was very obvious Jungkook never liked Namjoon, despite never actually meeting him, even when you were both 'dating'. You know he'll just get annoyed, angry or throw the number away, which is probably the best thing to do but you have been genuinely considering talking to him again, and you need an unbiased opinion. At the same time though, you hate lying to JK or even being a little dishonest with him. It's not how trust is kept between you two, he can also read you really well, meaning you can never really hide your actual feelings about something or someone from him.

"Namjoon's back," You blurt out, exhaustedly, as if you hadn't slept a wink the previous night, well, because you hadn't.

Jungkook just stares at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape," Please don't tell me you're actually thinking about him right now," his head tilts to the side a little, like a puppy, his brow now slightly furrowed.

Your silence and lack of eye contact in return is enough for him to know the answer.

He throws his head back, his crown almost touching his shoulder blades, as he lets out a small groan.

"I know, I know, it's probably not the best thing for me to be thinking about right now, but-"

"No, it just isn't the best thing to be thinking about. No probably, it simply isn't. You can't be seriously thinking about talking to that asshole again after he left you for absolutely no reason." Jungkook cuts you off, a stern look now plastered over his face.

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration but also regret, knowing that this would be his response, and you should've kept your mouth closed.

"Was that piece of paper something to do with it?"

"What piece of paper?" you reply defensively. You were hoping he didn't notice it or see you fiddling with it previously.

He gives you an expression full of disappointment and knowing, causing you to roll your eyes and give in, "It's his number new number"

"Oh, so he changed his number after leaving too? proves how much he wanted to keep in contact with you," the snarky remark doesn't phase you as you know it's just him trying to make a point to you. You hate that he's right.

"I know but Kiri said he wants to talk about it, I just want closure," you softly admit to him, a slight bit of guilt in your body language, even though you're telling the truth, and aren't actually thinking of seeing Namjoon romantically again, or even talking to him ever again after getting closure.

The doe-eyed man stares at you with a shocked expression before loudly exclaiming, "Kiri? How does Kiri know?"

You realise you fucked up again by mentioning Kiri unintentionally.

"He came by the cafe asking for me" the regret on your face grows continuously, "Please just let me think about this"

Jungkook sighs again in defeat, deciding to just trust you and your word, "Alright but if you meet with him, I'm taking you there and picking you up."

You almost go to argue with him, but know that really he's just doing this for your own safety, and because he cares about you. He knows if it goes wrong and you get upset you'll cry and run back to your place, and not come out for days, so if he's there to see you up afterwards, he knows you won't have to suffer alone. He just wants to be there for you. You know that, even though neither of you have verbally said to each other how much you care about one another, you both know that these little acts are out of care.

"What about your training though?" You query, thinking about his career before he even considered it as an obstacle 

"I'll take a rest day that day," he says it like it's nothing, giving you a little shrug. Like it won't probably take him a week to convince his trainer for a potential extra rest day.

After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, you give into Jungkook's stubbornness and his charms allowing him to come with you if you even meet Namjoon again. 

You truly have been thinking about it too much and don't actually know what you want. You're head knows that seeing him again probably isn't the best for your emotions considering it took you so long to get over him and seeing his dimples when he flashes sweet smiles at you, might just send you into a spiral again, but your emotions are basically screaming at you to get closure, and to just be in his presence again. Even though you've grown slight resentment for him, you can't bring yourself to fully hate him. Afterall, its not like you ended on bad terms, or good terms really. 

I mean getting closure won't hurt you. 

<-prev-index-next->

------------------------------

a/n: A late happy holidays to everyone, but I hope you all had a really good time with whatever you celebrate. I can't wait for what 2024 has in store for us all. CANT WAIT FOR JIN AND HOBI TO BE BACK IN 2024 TOO!!!! Anyways thank you again for reading, I hope you're enjoying the series so far. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope its received positively

Taglist: @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @tatamicc @idkijustlovebts @00frenchfries00 @yoonbicoolest @junecat18

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Happy Birthday

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song Inspiration: I Like Me Better by Lauv)

It’s my birthday month! So here’s a birthday special.

Quickly, the alarm was turned off. Nanami slowly turned to face you and smiled with relief and adoration. Relief that you didn’t wake up at 5:00 in the morning. And how much he adores looking at you when you sleep. You are perfect in his eyes. His heart skipped beats the longer he stared at you. Slowly and carefully, he kissed your forehead before getting to the shower to start his morning.

He carefully fixed his hair in the bathroom. He put on his tie and fixed the cuffs of his blue long sleeve button up before exiting the bathroom. He walked over to you again and smiled. Nanami leaned in and kissed your forehead before leaving.

“H-Honey?” Your tired voice had his body freeze at the bedroom door. He slowly turned around to face you. Quietly, he chuckled. You were still asleep. He watched you grab his pillow and hugged it tightly to your chest. You took a deep breath and smiled contently.

“I love you,” sweetheart,” he said softly and left the room.

You were frantic. You woke up late for class. You faintly heard your alarm and when you saw the time at 10:15, you jumped out of bed to get ready. You quickly showered, put together a cute outfit, and applied makeup before heading out the door.

You took a quick look in the mirror. You made sure your tights weren’t ripped, your boot socks matched your beige sweater dress and your boots were tied. You grabbed a beanie off the hook from the wall and your dark brown peacoat. With your key in hand, you threw your backpack in the passenger seat and drove off.

With your phone connected via Bluetooth to the car, you smiled widely to see your boyfriend’s name pop up on your screen.

“Honey!” you greeted happily, forgetting about the rush you just endured this morning.

“Good morning, my love,” Nanami said softly. “How was your morning? You’re almost at school?” You blushed.

“I woke up late and rushed to get ready,” you answered sheepishly. “I left five minutes ago.”

“Okay, my love,” he said. “Get there safely. I’ll make sure I get back home at 6PM.”

“Okay, honey. Did you leave early?”

“I did. I wanted to make sure I get things done so I can leave at a good time at work. I’ll see if Gojo-san can do last minute missions for me.”

“Since you’re trying to come home early, maybe we can stay in and watch a movie? It’s supposed to snow pretty bad in the afternoon. You’ll let me know when you leave right?” you asked worriedly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Nanami replied. “You’ll do the same?”

“I always do.” He chuckled softly, making your heart flutter with happiness.

“What else do you want to do today?” he asked curiously. You thoughtfully pondered on the question.

“I don’t know,” you answered. “Besides a movie. Or maybe we can read together. Or play a game?”

“Sweetheart, I love you. We’ll play it by ear then.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that.”

You were lucky the snow started to fall when you left class. You quickly stopped at the grocery store and bought some needed fruits and vegetables along with a bottle of red wine. The snowfall became heavier.

You: I just stopped at the store. I’m going home now. I love you❤️ Please be home soon🥺

Nanami: I think I left a bag in the trunk of your car.

By the time you arrived home, the snow covered the ground. Large snowflakes fell through the sky. As annoying the drive was, watching the snowfall was peaceful. Now that you were out of the car, you smiled widely.

You opened the trunk, checking for the bag that your boyfriend left. Your eyes widened to see a large leopard plushie and a bouquet of flowers. A card sat in front of the plushie. With a large smile on your face, you picked up the card.

Happy Birthday, My Love.

I’ll see you at home. I love you so much. You deserve everything.

Love,

Kento

You took a quick picture of the presents Nanami left before carrying them in your arms. You laughed to yourself as you unlocked the door.

“I can’t believe I forgot that it was my birthday,” you said to yourself. You kicked the snow off of your boots before stepping inside your shared apartment. You walked inside the kitchen and you gasped. Candle lights were lit up. Bags of gifts covered the countertop, leaving room for a small birthday cake in the middle. “Kento?”

“Happy birthday, my love.” You turned around and watched Nanami walked over to you with a smile on his face. Nanami hugged you tightly in his arms before kissing you passionately. “You forgot.”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Didn’t realize in school?” You shook your head. “Not even when you looked at your phone? The date is right in front of you.” You lightly chuckled.

“Not at all.” Nanami laughed and kissed your forehead. “W-When did you do all of this, honey?”

“I left early to put the plushie, flowers, and card in the trunk. But you didn’t say anything so I text you about a ‘bag’. I took the day off today to buy you presents, your cake, and dinner. I made your favorite dish. And—“

“You bought me a strawberry cake?” you asked excitedly. Nanami nodded and you cheered happily. Nanami took the plushie and flowers from your arms and put them by the bags of presents. You looked over at the counter. “You bought me so much. You didn’t have to do that.”

“You tell me that every year for the past five years,” he said. You blushed.

“And every year the presents increase.” Nanami lightly laughed and kissed your pouty lips.

“Like I said, you deserve everything.” You smiled softly and nodded. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, honey. Can I open my presents now?” you immediately asked with excitement.

“Go ahead, love.”

[viceofdionysus]

Of Beachgrass and Seafoam

Alfred Pennyworth x F!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Rating: 18+

When Alfred takes a vacation at Bruce's insistence, he expects to get some rest and relaxation. He doesn't expect you.

Contains: Flirting, Dirty talk, Soft Dom!Alfred, PiV, Mutiple orgasms, Cock Riding, Fingering, Oral (f!receiving), Semi-public sex, Cum filled, Cum covered, nicknames (sweet, dear heart, pearl)

Banner from @saradika-graphics

A/N: I just wanted to write beach smut with Alfred, so there's very little actual plot in this fic. Please enjoy the smutty summer vibes!

“You've been working too hard lately, Alfred. I'm worried about you.” And hadn't that been a kick, he thinks. Bruce worried about him this time. “Take a vacation. A couple weeks. A month. As long as you need.”

He'd insisted he couldn't possibly leave, especially not with everything happening in Gotham. But Bruce had just looked at him with those big, dark eyes, unrelenting and finally he'd sighed. Bruce had reached out and grasped his forearm in a show of affection.

“Pick the place, wherever you want to go. I'll cover all of it, no arguments.” And he'd swept out to do patrol before Alfred could argue.

Now, here he is, pulling his rented car onto the short drive next to a cheerful beach cottage. Shaking his head at himself, he shuts the car off and takes a moment to take in the almost quiet. Even with the windows rolled up, he can hear the crash of the waves down at the beach. Bruce's words echoing in time with the waves.

With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the car door and lets the sounds of the beach roll over him. He sits for a moment, just taking it in. Then he reaches into the passenger seat and grabs his cane before stepping out of the car. He pauses for barely a moment, before he shuts the door and makes his way to the little fence and the stairs beyond it. Carefully he navigates the stairs, his leg protesting the whole time. He finally reaches the bottom, pausing to massage the aching muscle.

The waves are louder here, drowning out the voices in his head. Alfred turns to face the bay, his eyes falling closed. He breathes in the sea air and feels something in his chest start to settle. He takes a break to just breath in the salty air, letting the tension in his shoulders ease.

Finally he continues on, his feet sinking into the soft sand. He crosses the narrow beach and stands just out of reach of the grasping waves. They crash before him, but his gaze seeks further out. There's a flash of something amongst the waves. He narrows his eyes, trying to see better, cursing himself for leaving his glasses in the car.

“Is that…no it can't be.”

He shakes his head and looks again. This time he nearly convinces himself that he saw what he thinks he did.

“A mermaid?” He says softly and chuckles, “Maybe I'm more in need of this break than I thought. Seeing mermaids, honestly.”

But he can't help thinking of the tales his grandmother used to tell him. Beautiful women with sinuous tails that traveled the oceans. She would always show him the seashell that she swore a mermaid had given her, one side a soft beige and the other pearlescent. Alfred's pretty sure his grandfather got it on his travels, but his grandmother had always looked so delighted at the thought of a mermaid present, so he'd never tried to correct her.

“She's called the Sapphire Bay Siren. Not very original, I know, but I didn't name her.”

Alfred feels his heart skip a beat at the voice behind him. He turns slowly and feels his breath catch. “Oh.”

You smile at him, “Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling. He offers his hand, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

Electricity sparks up his arm when you take his hand. With his ears ringing, he almost misses your name, but manages to catch it.

“I'm renting the cottage there,” you gesture behind you, “I guess that makes us neighbors.”

“I guess it does. How long are you staying for?”

You're quiet for a moment, and he thinks maybe he's overstepped, but then your light comes back.

“The summer for sure. I'm not sure after that. Guess I'll have to see where the whim takes me. What about you?”

“The summer. My…ward was rather insistent that I take a break.”

“They must care about you a lot.”

“He does. In his own way.”

There's a loud splash behind him, water droplets splattering just short of his shoes. He whips around, but there’s not even ripples to show what happened. He turns around, a question on the tip of his tongue, and finds you laughing. He raises an eyebrow and you do your best to stifle the laughter.

“The Siren is quite the trickster sometimes.”

He hums disbelievingly. “I'm sure.”

“Well, it was great to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth…”

“Alfred,” he clears his throat, “Please, call me Alfred.”

Your smile is brighter than the sunshine, “Alfred it is. I'm sure you'd like to get settled though, so I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” He takes your hand again and gently brushes a kiss across your knuckles.

Sparks of heat shoot up your arm at the sensation. You force yourself to stay still, despite the desire to sink into the feeling.

“I'll see you around.” You say, feeling a little light headed.

“I'm looking forward to it.”

Alfred watches you walk across the beach. You pause at the base of the stairs that lead up to your cottage and turn back to him. You wave cheerfully and he raises his hand in answer. He watches you take the stairs and then disappear into your cottage. There's a sound like laughter behind him, but he forces himself not to turn and look. Instead he crosses back to his stairs, already making a To-Do list.

🐚🌊

Alfred learns quickly that mornings dawn slow and soft along the beach. It feels odd to him at first, but slowly he settles into a rhythm over the next few weeks, allowing himself the time and space to relax. He sits at his patio table and sips a cup of tea, watching the colors brush across the sky. This morning the dawn is accompanied by a jewel toned flash amongst the gentle waves. He watches for a moment and then turns his gaze away. Instead, he watches the light turn on in your cottage and then a few minutes later, you step outside, mug in hand.

You watch the bay for a few minutes, before your head turns his way. He raises a hand in greeting, the gesture starting to feel familiar. He can't see that far, but he likes to think you smile at the gesture. Like all the other mornings, you wave back and then walk down your stairs and cross the beach.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask at the base of his stairs.

“Not at all.” He smiles and gestures to the second chair.

You take the chair, tipping your head back to the sky. You breathe deeply, letting the briney air settle in your lungs. Slowly, you let the breath out, smiling.

The silence between you is a gentle, soothing space. Together you watch Mother Nature finish painting the sky. When she’s done, Alfred turns to look at you, not quite ready to break the silence.

“Are you hungry?” He asks finally.

You turn to face him and smile softly, “Starving.”

“How about some eggs?”

“Eggs sound perfect.”

It's the same conversation you've had every morning, and yet every morning it feels a little different. Alfred smiles and pushes to his feet.

“I'll be right back then.”

He pauses after closing the French doors and watches you for a moment. He commits your facial expressions to memory, feeling a soft warmth in his chest.

The stove clicks quietly as he turns the burner. While the pan heats up he gathers his ingredients, humming quietly. He holds a hand over the pan and judging it to be hot enough, drops a pad of butter into it. As it melts, he preps the cherry tomatoes and green onions.

When the butter is ready, he drops the tomatoes into the pan, smiling with satisfaction when they sizzle. As they cook, he cracks eggs into a separate bowl, one-handed. After seasoning the eggs, he whisks them briskly and sets them to the side of the stove.

The tomatoes shift around the pan as he gently grasps the handle and shakes it. When he judges the tomatoes to be ready, he pours the eggs into the pan and immediately starts pushing them around with a spatula. He hears the toaster pop behind him and a moment later he turns to pull the toast out. He butters it quickly and plates it before turning back to the eggs. A few moments later, he divides the eggs in two and adds them to the plate. Quickly he sprinkles the green onion on top.

You look up at the sound of the door and smile when he steps out, the two plates balanced on one arm. Carefully he sets them on the table and then takes his seat.

“This looks amazing. Thank you.”

You hum in pleasure at the first bite. Alfred looks up quickly and looks away just as quickly. If you’d looked up, you would have seen a soft blush on his cheeks.

When you finish the last bite, you sit back and stretch your legs out, gaze turned towards the bay. It’s still early, but you can spot white sails dotting the horizon.

“That would be fun.” You say mostly to yourself, but Alfred cocks his head.

“Sailing?” He asks, following your gaze.

“Yeah, I’ve never been, but it seems so fun! Do you know how?”

He laughs a little, “My grandfather taught me a very long time ago.” He looks up and sees the wistful expression on your face, “I’m sure if I tried it though, it would come back to me. Would you like to go out with me?” It hits him suddenly, what he’s just asked. But your expression is a happy one.

“I would love to. Just as long as you don’t dump me in the water.”

Alfred adopts a serious expression, “I solemnly swear.”

Your laughter is as bright and bold as the sun glinting off the waves.

🐚🌊

Alfred’s hand is warm and firm around yours as he helps you into the boat. The small boat rocks gently beneath you as you step into it. You take a seat as Alfred unties the boat and shoves gently away from the dock. When he sits, he smiles at you.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Alfred works the tiller, pointing the boat where he wants it to go. He guides the boat away from the dock and towards the open water of the bay. You turn your face to the sun and let the rays warm your face. Alfred watches you for a long moment, before forcing his attention back to the boat and the water.

Finally, when the beach houses are barely specks on the horizon, Alfred shifts. You turn your attention toward him, raising an eyebrow. He shoots you a cheeky grin.

“Hold on sweet.”

You grab the bench beneath you as he shifts. Above you, the white sails snap open. They swell immediately as the wind fills them. The boat rocks for a moment and then shoots forward. Laughter bubbles out of you as the boat goes skipping across the top of the water. Alfred works the ropes with firm hands, guiding the boat carefully.

He lets the boat fly for a while, keeping a steady eye on the water. He relishes in the sound of your joy, feeling his own smile start to spread. After a while, he guides the boat out of the wind and lets it settle calmly.

“Well,” He says, with a chuckle, “I can tell that you hated it.”

“Alfred!” He wants to memorialize that smile, “That was incredible! And you acted like you wouldn’t be able to sail.”

“I guess I just found the right motivation.”

You meet his gaze and then duck your head, feeling your body heat. Before you can respond, Alfred clears his throat.

“Should we find a place for our picnic?”

“You packed us a picnic?” Soft warmth curls through your chest.

“Of course.” He smiles, “It wouldn’t be a day of sailing without a beach picnic. Why don’t you pick the spot?”

“Oh. Okay.” You look over the water, spotting several possible spots, but none of them seem quite right. And then there's a vibrant blue flash out of the corner of your eye. You turn towards it and gasp. “There!”

Alfred follows your gaze and smiles, “Well chosen, sweet.”

It’s the first time you’ve let yourself register the term of endearment and it sends a pleasant jolt through you. Alfred guides the boat back into the wind and opens the sails again. He circles the small island carefully, looking for the perfect place to land. When he spots it, he guides the boat in closer before closing the sails and letting the momentum and the current do the rest of the work. He tosses the rope around the post on the beach and ties it with a quick knot. Carefully, he stands, making sure his footing is secure before offering you a hand. He helps you stand, his large hard wrapped around your forearm. He guides you out of the boat and makes sure that you land steadily before handing you the basket. You resist the urge to peak inside, instead watching Alfred swing himself out of the boat. The way his soft cotton pants pull tight across his thighs as he maneuvers has you fanning yourself.

“Are you okay?” He asks, noticing the movement, “You haven’t gotten too much sun have you?”

“No! I’m good. Just…enjoying the sea air.” You internally wince, hoping that wasn’t a lame excuse.

Alfred just smiles though, “I enjoy the sea air too. It’s different in Gotham, more industrial.”

He offers his arm and you take it with a smile. Arm in arm, you cross the beach, asking him questions about Gotham.

“I’ve actually never been.” You admit, “I’ve always wanted to though. I've heard so much about it, I think it would be fun to go and see which sordid rumors are actually true.”

Alfred laughs, “Very few of them, I imagine. Though we do have our fair share of true ones.”

The conversation stills as you cross into the shadow of the lighthouse above. You and Alfred pause, looking up at the faded structure.

“It’s almost sad, isn’t it?” You ask quietly.

“Melancholy.” Alfred answers. “Like it’s waiting for something that will never come back.”

There’s a loud splash behind you, breaking the tension. You turn to look, but just catch a glimpse of her tail as she slides between the waves. When you turn back, you expect to find Alfred looking out at the water, but he’s watching you, Heat courses through you as you meet his gaze.

“Shall we?”

You manage a nod and take his arm again.

Alfred leads you around the small island to a nicely shaded area. He takes a blanket out of the basket, gently grazing your arm in the process. You stifle a gasp at the touch, swallowing hard. When Alfred pauses, looking at you in concern, you nod at him.

“Maybe a bit too much sea air.” Mentally, you roll your eyes at yourself.

He just chuckles though and snaps the blanket open. He guides it to the sand, daring it to rumple itself. It lands in a near perfect square. He smooths the wayward corner out and then takes the basket from you.

“What did you bring?” You ask, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He smiles, “A bit of this and a bit of that.”

You find a comfortable spot on the blanket as he unloads the basket. He spreads containers of various foods, a delightful rainbow of colors and textures. Then he pulls a bottle and two glasses out of the basket.

“Non-alcoholic,” he answers your unasked question, “Drinking and sailing is ill-advised.”

He pours a glass of the soft pink liquid and passes it over. You accept, taking care to keep your fingers to yourself. He watches you sniff the glass before taking a small sip. Flavors burst on your tongue, a delightful melody of fruits.

“Do you like it?” He asks, and you realize that he’s nervous.

“I do.” You smile at him, “This is wonderful.”

He holds up a small plate and you consider. “Why don’t you surprise me? I trust you.”

Alfred hesitates and then nods. Carefully he considers the options he packed and starts to fill the plate. When he hands it over, you realize that he’s organized the plate by color. You swallow a laugh, feeling endeared. He fills his own plate and then settles back. You try everything he’s given you and find that he’s chosen well. As you eat, the conversation flows easily, never settling on one topic for long. A sense of joyful ease settles over you.

Alfred looks towards the sky, noting the clouds beginning to build on the far edge of the horizon. He looks over to you and raises a brow.

“You’re the captain today. Whatever you say goes.”

He takes a moment to consider that and sees the moment you realize what you’ve said. But you don’t back down. Instead you tilt your head and smile at him. He smiles back and gets to his feet. You take his offered hand, ready for the way his touch lights you up.

When you get back to the boat, he helps you step back in. But when you go to sit, he shakes his head.

“No, sweet, it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“You didn’t think I was going to do all the work, did you?”

You gape at him for a minute and then smirk, “I suppose I did.”

He catches the edge to your words and can’t help smirking in return. Keeping his eyes on you, he pushes the boat away from the sandy beach until it’s bobbing gently in the water.

“You’ll have to show me how.” You say, watching sea spray soak his shirt.

Carefully he climbs into the boat and settles by the tiller. Watching you, he spreads his legs wide and pats the bench.

“Are you sure? We’re not going to tip the boat, are we?”

“Scared?”

“Of going overboard? Absolutely.”

He laughs, “I’ll keep you safe. Now come here.” His tone doesn’t allow for any arguments.

Carefully you settle between his legs, heat rising across your body. You try to leave space between you, but Alfred loops an arm around your middle and pulls you in close. The press of him against you is intoxicating.

“Alright?” He asks, breath hot against your ear.

You swallow hard, “Yeah, I’m good.” It rings false to your ears, but he just smiles into your shoulder.

He shows you where to put your hands on the tiller and then wraps his hands around your hands. You can hear him speaking, but your brain can’t make out the words through the ringing in your ears. Alfred can feel the rapid beat of your heart where you’re pressed tightly against him and he can’t help the smug feeling that rises in him.

“Here we go, sweet.” He murmurs. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As the boat moves further away from the beach, your grip on the tiller tightens. Gently Alfred works your hands loose.

“Don’t choke it,” He says, “You want to be firm, but not too firm.”

You’re not sure if he’s still coaching you about the tiller, but you swallow and nod.

“Good,” He praises, “When we’re a little further out, I’ll show you how to work the sails.”

The rush of speed comes back to you and suddenly your nervousness increases. Alfred feels the way you tense, and he runs a soothing hand along your side.

“It’ll be okay,” He soothes, “I’ve got you.”

He lets you guide the boat back into the bay waters, only making the smallest adjustments.

“You’re doing so good.” He says softly, “Before long you’ll be a pro at working the tiller.”

True to his word, once you're far enough away from land again, he shifts and starts pointing at ropes. He explains what each one does, keeping his explanations short and to the point. You nod, trying to catalog everything he’s telling you.

“Got that?”

You nod, “Yep, just go over it about ten more times for me.”

He laughs, a deep throaty sound, “Steer the boat into the wind and we’ll open her up.”

Carefully following his instructions, you guide the boat into the wind, feeling the instant way it starts to rock. Alfred guides your hands to the ropes that you’ll need and shows you what to do.

“When you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

Mimicking the hand motions Alfred showed you, you work the ropes. The sail snaps open above you, the wind instantly filling the fabric. The boat lurches forward and then settles into a steady speed. Delighted laughter bubbles out of you.

“Good job.” Alfred says, “Keep guiding the boat where you want her to go.”

He keeps his hands hovering over yours for a bit, but slowly he lowers them to rest on your sides. You feel him relax behind you, and you can’t help smiling. The boat responds readily as you work the ropes, gently guiding her through the bay. The wind merrily rushes past you, stirring up sprays of water that leap across the boat.

Eventually though, you guide the boat out of the wind, letting the sails deflate. You lean into Alfred, letting your weight rest against him.

“That was amazing!”

“You did a good job.”

You turn your head and find how little distance there is between you and Alfred. If you tilted your head just a bit more, you could kiss him. The scent of him wraps around your senses, tempting you.

“Alfred,” You whisper.

“Sweet.” There’s a rough edge to his voice. You can see him struggling with himself.

Before you get a chance to respond, something knocks into the boat, sending it rocking.

“‘What was that?”

You and Alfred look over the edge of the boat in time to see a flash of disappearing sapphire. Alfred narrows his eyes, but you just laugh.

“She’s been very playful lately.” Alfred just hums, a sharp annoyed sound. You look over at him, “You still don’t believe she’s real, do you?”

“I don’t not believe.” He answers, “I’ve seen too much in my life to disbelieve. I just don’t like being toyed with.”

“That’s too bad.” Alfred looks over at the note in your voice and meets your heated gaze.

He feels an answering heat pulse through his veins, a wicked thought passing through his head.

“No, sweet. I don’t enjoy being toyed with. I do enjoy being the one doing the toying though.”

You bite your lip, meeting his gaze squarely. Images tumble through your head, no one staying long, but you get a good idea of what your brain is trying to tell you.

“Alfred.”

He answers by closing the distance and yanking you into him. His mouth is an inferno against yours. You cling to his shoulders, a little desperately, and kiss him back as best you can. His hands claim your hips, holding you tightly. Alfred thinks that he’d like to stay in this moment forever, tasting you for the rest of eternity.

A clap of thunder has him pulling back, his breath ragged. You press a hand to your still tingling lips as the first rain drops start to fall.

“We,” He has to swallow, “We should head back.” You can only nod.

It seems to take half the time to get back to the dock as it did to get away from it. When you look over your shoulder, you can see the outline of a feminine figure pushing the boat.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

Alfred ties the rope around the wooden post and knots it with quick efficiency. Carefully, he stands and then steps up onto the dock. He makes sure that his footing is steady before he reaches down and helps you out of the boat. The first rain drops begin falling as you reach the end of the dock. Alfred digs the blanket out of the basket and toss it over both your heads.

“Come on, sweet.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. You realize that he doesn’t have his cane with him, so you press closer to him, letting him rest more of his weight against you. He shoots you a grateful look.

The beach seems to have doubled in size since you left it. Every step starts to feel like you might be walking backwards as the wind kicks up, shoving hard against you.

“They weren’t kidding about the storms here!” You raise your voice to be heard over this wind.

Alfred laughs, trying to keep his footing. Finally, the wind relents enough and you start to feel like you’re making real progress. And then all of the sudden, the stairs to Alfred’s cottage are in front of you. Carefully, you navigate them, trying to stay under the blanket and keep supporting Alfred. At the door, he shoves it open, guiding you inside. It closes behind him with a decisive snap.

You lower the blanket, eyes never leaving his. He meets your gaze steadily, feeling the heat building between you.

“Alfred,” You whisper.

He crosses the short distance, already reaching for you. His broad hands settle on your sides, immediately tugging you into him.

“Now where did we leave off?” He asks softly.

Gently, he cups your face, his thumb resting on your chin. He tilts your head slightly, before slotting his mouth against your’s. A supernova bursts behind your eyes. You grip his shoulders tightly, trying to steady yourself against the waves of heat and lust.

“My sweet.” He murmurs, when he finally manages to pull back, “Beautiful pearl.”

“Alfred.”

“I wanted to do this properly.”

You smile, tugging him back in for another kiss. “I don’t need properly, I just need you.”

“Fuck, sweet.”

The explicative sounds so luxurious falling from his lips. Need is pressing in around you, heat pounding in your core. He kisses you, feeling the demand of his own need.

“The bed is upstairs.” He says.

“Too far.” You gasp, “Couch.”

Alfred doesn’t need to be told twice. He presses forward, walking you backwards, his mouth never leaving yours.

“How?” He asks, voice ragged.

“Let me ride you.”

Alfred turns and lets his weight fall backwards, pulling you with him. Your legs fall on either side of him, feeling his hardening cock pressing against your core. He can’t help rocking up, pressing against.

“Too many clothes.” He gasps, “We’re both wearing too many clothes.”

You fight your way back to your feet, stripping off clothes as you go. When you stumble, Alfred catches you, his hands brands against your bare skin.

“Easy, dear heart.”

When he’s sure you’re steady again, he reluctantly lets you go. Before he returns to stripping off his clothes, he watches you take yours off. Each new area of exposed skin sends delightful heat straight to his cock. Finally his brain manages to remind him what he was doing.

“Oh fuck this.” He mutters, giving up on his shirt buttons.

He undoes his pants, and shoves them and his underwear down, his cock bouncing free. You pause, eyes catching on the sight, mouth watering. You’re not done stripping, but suddenly that doesn’t matter, you're naked enough. Alfred grips your hips as you settle back on his lap. Slowly, he guides you down until you can feel the press of his cock at your opening.

“Alfred.” You moan.

“Fuck, sweet.” He chokes out.

It takes every effort for him not to thrust up into you, burying himself to the hilt. His hands remain at your hips, but he lets you take the lead for now. Your hips rock slowly over him, a tease for what’s to come. His shoulders are broad and steady beneath your hands. When you finally pause and start to sink down on his cock, Aflred mutters an oath. It’s a torment and a tease to slowly slide down his cock, feeling yourself be filled. But everytime you try to go faster, his hands hold you back.

“Want to feel every inch of you, dear heart.” He says, his eyes half lidded in pleasure.

Already you feel small quakes of pleasure through your body. Faintly you can hear the storm outside, but the pounding of your heart seems so much louder.

‘’Oh, fuck.” You gasp as you take the last few inches of him.

Alfred holds you still for a moment, reveling in the way you feel wrapped around his cock. Your hands grip his shoulders tightly, an anchor in the waves of emotion rolling over you.

Experimentally, you roll your hips, moaning at the bright punch of pleasure. Alfred loosens his grip on your hips, but his gaze remains steady on you.

“Good girl. Keep going.”

His words spur you into movement. You take your time, finding your rhythm, moaning at the feeling of him filling you so well. Every roll of your hips, presses his cock into the sweet spot in your core, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Alfred runs his fingertips over your sides before carefully cupping your breasts. He rubs his thumbs over your nipples, leaving you moaning.

“Alfred.” He’s never heard anything as sweet as the sound of you moaning his name.

“Close already pearl?” He chuckles, “Such a good girl for me.”

The orgasm crests over you slowly, and then all at once. The pleasure sweeps you away, your sense reeling. Alfred holds you as you quiver, pleased with himself and with you.

“Good,” He croons, “You’re doing so good.”

“Alfred.” You sigh as you return to yourself.

His hands slide down to your ass, kneading firmly. “Keep going, dear heart.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find your rhythm again. It takes even less time for the pleasure to begin mounting again.

“You feel so good, sweet.” He murmurs, pulling you in close.

You try to rock steadily, but the demanding need in your core drives you faster. Your breath comes in short bursts, mingling with your moans. Your second orgasm breaks fast and bright over you. Alfred groans at the feeling of you clenching around him. His head falls back as you ride out your orgasm.

“Alfred,” You chant.

As you start to come down, Alfred wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly as he thrusts up, chasing his own orgasm. You moan at the feeling of his beard as he buries his face in your neck.

“Close, sweet. So close.” He groans.

You feel his cock twitch and then he's over his edge. His cock pulses as he fills you deeply. The feeling sends you crashing into a third orgasm. He stills finally, still wrapped tightly around you. Slowly, your breath evens out and your heart rate returns to normal. As your senses return you realize Alfred is nuzzling your neck.

“Sweet?” He asks.

“I'm good.” You say, your voice heavy.

Outside you can hear the storm settling, the rain gentle against the roof.

Alfred eases his cock out of you and settles back into the couch. He takes you with him, holding you close. You settle against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He runs his hands over your back, soothing and warm.

“We may be doing this a little out of order, but would you like to stay for dinner?”

You smile and kiss his neck before shifting back just far enough to see his face.

“Let's order in and stay in bed.”

Alfred cups your face before kissing you deeply. “You pick and I'll call it in.”

🐚🌊

One early morning, Alfred leads you down the stairs to the beach, the basket hanging from your arm. He takes your hand, interlocking your fingers tightly. The sand shifts under his cane, but he finds a good balance.

“Where are we going?”

He smiles, “You’ll see.”

The houses get smaller as he leads you down the beach. You follow the curve of the beach until Alfred tugs you towards a group of felled logs. There you find the perfect spot tucked between two logs. You help Alfred spread the blanket out and settle next to him, curling into his warmth. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side. Then he grabs a second blanket from the basket and tosses it over both of you.

“This is wonderful.” You sigh, “Just perfect.”

Alfred traces his fingertips over your sides as the sun breaks over the horizon. There’s a lone figure playing in the water, her figure shadowed in the dawn.

“Hungry?” He asks softly.

You consider the basket and then the waves. “Later.”

He watches as you stand and start to strip, his mouth going dry.

“Dear heart?”

“Come on.” You smile and offer a hand.

He meets your eyes and lets his worries go. You help him to his feet, making sure that he’s steady. Your clothes end up piled together at your feet. Your smile turns mischievous as you meet his eyes. Then you turn and plunge into the water. The waves greet you cheerfully, lifting you up and away from the beach. Your laughter flows back to Alfred as he follows you.

You’re not far out before he catches you, his hands wrapping around your hips. He pulls you into him, his strong form sliding over yours. He turns, bouying you above the water. You let your weight rest against him, letting your head fall to his shoulder. Alfred turns and presses a kiss to your temple.

When you press against him, he loosens his grip, letting you slide out of his arms. You don’t go far though, just enough that you can turn and look at him. He can see your wicked smile before you slip down in the water. He catches your hands just as you’re about to wrap them around him. You look up at him, your brow furrowing.

“Forget something dear heart?” At your questioning look, he shakes his head. His voice deepens, “Good girls ask to touch.”

Lust, hot and bold, shoots through you, leaving you a little breathless.

“Can I touch you?” He narrows his eyes, “Sir?”

He lets go of your hands and nods. You wrap one hand around his hip, teasing the curls at the base of his cock with the other. He turns and guides you closer to shore, kicking gently to keep you both afloat.

“Alfred.” You sigh, something sweet building in your chest.

He groans when you wrap your hand around his hardening cock.

“You have such a pretty cock.” You murmur in his ear. “It’s so hard to keep my hands off it.”

‘Do you think about it often?”

“All the fucking time.”

He brushes a hand over your cheekbone, “All you have to do is ask, sweet.”

You stroke his cock slowly, enjoying the weight of him in your hand. Trusting him to keep you above water, you let go of his hip. His balls fit perfectly in your hand when you cup them.

“Sweet.” He groans as you massage them.

He hooks an arm around you and hauls you towards the beach.

“Alfred!” Your laughter rings across the bay.

You’ve barely made it back to the beach, feet still unsteady, before he’s dragging you down. He slides two fingers into your core, curling them up into your sweet spot.

“Hmm,” He purrs, “Handy that you’re already naked and wet for me sweet.”

You gasp as he slowly pumps his fingers. It doesn’t take long before you’re shaking and clenching around him, trembling on the edge of an orgasm. He smirks at you and slides his fingers out.

“Alfred!” You whine.

He just shakes his head though. He looks down, considering his fingers and then sucks them into his mouth. He sucks them clean and then slides them out with a pop.

“Sweet, you taste so damn good.”

He settles between your legs, lining up his cock. Slowly, he presses it, watching your face intently. When he bottoms out, he takes a moment, letting himself enjoy the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers in your ear.

He rolls his hips slowly and firmly, setting a slow, deep pace. He links hands with you, stretching your arms over your head, his weight settling over you as he continues to thrust. His blue eyes are shadowed in the early dawn, but you can tell they’re locked on you.

“Alfred.”

“Louder.” He demands.

“Alfred!”

The waves crash around your bodies, the cool waters surrounding you, but they do nothing to quench the heat in your core.

“That’s it.” He says softly, “Just like that sweet. Scream my name to the dawn.”

“Alfred!” You’re close, you can feel the heat pounding in your core, demanding to be let out.

His pace is relentless, not slowing even as he watches the orgasm rock you. As the dawn light illuminates your face, he buries his face in your neck, the scratch of his beard has you gasping. His own orgasm is building fast, the feel of you sending pleasure through him. With a deep groan, he pulls out, his seed spilling all over your thighs and stomach.

“You made a mess.” You say softly, when you’ve finally remembered how words work.

“Good thing we’re already in the water.”

He tugs you up and gently slides both of you back into the cool morning waters. The water feels glorious against your heated skin. Alfred bobs a few feet out, enough that you’re both covered. You tuck your face into your shoulder and laugh.

“Maybe we should come to the beach more often.” He muses, your laughter doubling.

He tilts his face up to the soft morning light and realizes what his heart has been telling him. He’s in love with you. He smiles at the thought and turns to kiss you.

🐚🌊

The tables are covered with white tablecloths, the silverware shined to perfection. The waitstaff moves with impeccable precision. But you don’t notice any of it, not with Alfred’s warm hand on your thigh and his gaze focused on you.

“What do you think, sweet?” He asks. “Dessert?”

You eye the dessert menu, thinking of all the wonderful things they could bring you, but your stomach protests, “How about dessert at the cottage?”

He smiles and shakes his head at the waiter, “Just the check, please.”

A few minutes later, he sets the signed receipt in the book and snaps it shut. He stands and then offers you his hand. Walking through the restaurant, he tucks you into him, a hand on your lower back.

Outside the bay air greets you warmly. You smile as it flits around you, swirling up sand on its way past. Alfred slips his hand into yours and smiles at you.

“Almost forgot something.” He leans in and kisses you.

You can’t help smiling into the kiss, a low heat simmering through you. He gently bumps his forehead against yours before pulling all the way back.

“Let’s go home.”

It’s not a long walk back to the cottages, but you find something to stop and look at every now and then. He stops every time you exclaim and watches fondly as you delightedly inspect your find. By the time you make it back to the cottage, you have a handful of seashells and pretty rocks and Alfred has tucked a small beach flower behind your ear.

As Alfred gets your drinks, you settle into the corner of the couch, the generous cushions welcoming you in. You lay your head on the back of the couch and smile at the ceiling. Alfred hums something in the kitchen and you roll your head to look at him. Your heart gives a single solid thud at the sight of him.

“Oh.” You say softly, eyes wide.

“Pearl?” He asks.

You smile at him, “Just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow, but lets it go. He sets your drink on the small table next to you and settles in the other corner of the small couch.

“Well, if you’re not going to share, I will.”

“Oh?”

He hesitates, “I know there’s a few weeks of summer left, but I’ve been thinking about what happens when it ends and I return to Gotham.”

“Sure. That makes sense.” Something sad pierces your heart.

Alfred takes your hand, tugging your attention back to him, “I know we haven’t truly known each other long, but,” He pauses, “I’d like you to come to Gotham.”

You blink at him, mouth falling open slightly.

“You don’t have to move there, of course, you could just come stay for a bit. See if you like the city.”

"I hope you like the city", you can hear the sentiment behind his words. A brilliant smile crosses your face.

“Alfred,” He pauses, swallowing hard, “I would love to come to Gotham. And,” You meet his gaze squarely, “I look forward to you convincing me to stay.”

🐚🌊

The last few weeks of summer pass in a slow burn and on one of the last mornings, Alfred wakes to the quiet dark. He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You make a soft noise and slip back into sleep. He slowly disentangles himself, from you and the sheets, careful not to wake you. He pulls on a pair of soft cotton pants and quietly leaves the room.

He steps out onto the beach and lifts his face to the predawn sky. He lets the sense of peace settle over him as he walks down to the water line.

“I wanted to let you know that summer is coming to an end for us.” He says, watching the waves, “We’re both going to be heading out soon. She’s going to come home with me. I,” He hesitates, “I just wanted to let you know. That way you’d know we didn’t just disappear.”

The bay does’t answer, but he sees the flash of something a little ways out. He sighs and nods.

“Anyway, we’ll be around for a few more days.”

He turns away from the water, starting back to the cottage. There’s a splash behind him and when he turns, there’s a small box sitting on the beach. His brow wrinkles, but he steps towards it. Carefully he kneels and scoops the small box up, his fingers running over the carved driftwood. When he opens it, his brain stutters for a moment. A beautiful ring winks at him from the soft interior and he’s sure that somehow it will fit perfectly on your finger.

“Ah, well,” He coughs, “It might be a little early still for that.” But something in him knows it’s you.

“For when you’re both ready,” Her voice is soft, “So you’ll remember this summer.”

He looks up and meets the Siren’s steady gaze. “Somehow, I don’t think either of us will ever forget this summer. But she’ll love this. Thank you.”

“It makes my heart happy.” She smiles at him, “Go, go to your love, make her heart happy.”

She winks at him and then slips back into the waves. Aflred watches for a moment and then turns and walks back to the cottage, the ring box in his pocket.

You shift as he slips back into bed. He wraps an arm around you as you nuzzle into his chest.

“Where’d you go?”

“Just saying some goodbyes. Go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

You nod, sleep already tugging you back into its embrace. Alfred kisses the top of your head, his thoughts on the box he tucked into his briefcase.

When you finally wake up, it’s still early, just less so, You’re tucked against Alfred, his arms hold you tightly. You smile and shift, you hand trailing over his back. Your fingers trace the lines of the faint scares that he carries, wondering at all the stories he must have.

“What are you thinking about sweet?” He asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“You.”

“oh really?” He smiles, “Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

You can feel his laughter rumble through you. You press a soft kiss to his chest as he kisses the top of your head.

“What’s on the schedule today?” You ask.

“I thought we might walk down to Main Street and get breakfast at the cafe on the corner, and after that, I suppose, the world is our oyster.”

🐚🌊

Your last few days seem to be endless, and yet, over all too soon. You light the candles on the little deck table and take a moment to look out over the bay. The night is rolling in fast tonight, but it’s still soft around the edges. At the sound of the door behind you, you shift so that Alfred can slide in behind you. He kisses your shoulder as he sets the plates on the table.

“As requested, dear heart.”

You look over the table and smile, “All my favorites, and yet something is missing.”

Alfred frowns, running over his mental list, You laugh softly and lean into his space, kissing him.

“Oh, there it is,” You say with a laugh, “My favorite of all.”

“Cheeky,” He admonishes, but he’s smiling.

He shifts away from you and pulls out your chair. After you sit, he pushes you in, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of your head. He rounds the table and takes a seat across from you. He picks up his glass and then hesitates.

“A toast,” he says.

You pick up your glass, smiling at him, “What are we toasting to?”

His gaze falls on the bay, “To our Siren.”

“To our Siren.”

You clink glasses and take a sip of the cool liquid. Alfred serves you little portions from all the dishes.

“Tell me your favorite thing about Gotham.” You say as he hands your plate over.

He pauses, his face considering, “Its people. Some of them are terrible, but most of them are the most resilient, interesting people you’ll ever meet.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment. Will you,” Suddenly you feel a little shy, “Will you tell me more about Bruce?”

Alfred smiles, “Where to begin with him? Ah, have I told you about his Robin Hood escapades?”

“Not yet. Did he dress up as Robin Hood?”

“He did, bow and all. Mrs. Wayne lost a few art pieces, but she quickly learned to put replicas on display at home.”

You laugh as he talks, sharing stories of Bruce’s childhood. He clears dinner, sharing more recent stories, and brings you dessert as he talks about Bruce’s plans for the city.

“It’s nice to see him more involved.” He admits, “I was worried about him.”

You reach across the table and take his hand, “Any one would be lucky to have you worrying about them.”

He smiles across the table at you, the light highlighting his features.

“Why don’t you tell me about what you’d like to do in Gotham?”

“Oh, I have lists.”

After he clears the dessert plates, he returns, offering you his hand. You accept and he helps you to your feet. He draws you into his arms and tilts his head to meet your lips in a soft kiss.

“Would you like to go upstairs with me?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather go.”

Alfred keeps your hands interlaced as he guides you through the house and the stairs. In the bedroom, he lets go of his hand, so he can step back, eyes still locked on you. You tilt your head, considering him.

“Strip for me, pearl.”

You smile at him, feeling the heat in his gaze like a caress. Slowly you take your clothes off, letting him have ample looks at your exposed skin. When your last piece of clothing falls to the floor, he steps forward and pulls you into him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You say.

“Mine come off later.” He says and spins so that you land on the bed with a bounce.

“Alfred!”

He smirks and follows you to the bed. Moonlight filters through the thin cotton drapes, sending dappled light dancing across the room. He traces the spots that scatter across your body, sending thrills shooting through you. The soft calluses on his hands rub against your skin, sparking electricity. You gasp when he brushes against your nipple. And then he catches the sensitive bud in his mouth. He drinks in the noises you make for him, feeling his cock start to ache for you. He presses his hips against you and rocks gently. His cock weeps when you moan.

“Dear heart, you're going to be the death of me.”

“And you'll love every moment of it.”

He presses his laugh into your skin with his kiss.

“There's nothing I've ever wanted more.” He prays into your chest.

“Alfred.”

“Let me worship you.”

His words leave you speechless and he takes the opportunity to move further down your body. He drags his hands down your form, his mouth following. At the peak of your legs, he gently slides his hands between your thighs, parting them slowly.

“I always did enjoy unwrapping a present.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you.

Then he dips his head low and your whole world goes wet and warm.

“Oh. Fuck.” Your brain stutters.

Alfred drags his tongue slowly through your folds, tasting every inch of you. He hums in satisfaction and pleasure. Carefully, he draws his tongue near your clit, but stops just short. Your whine is music to his ears. Instead of indulging you, and himself, he drags his tongue back down.

Gently, he prods your opening, tasting the sweet heat there. Your body arches of its own volition, pulling your muscles tight. The motion grinds your clit against his nose, hot sparks flying through you.

“Alfred!”

“Needy thing, aren't you.” he says, but you can tell that he's amused.

He grips your hips tightly and forces you down against the bed. Hunger snaps through him, driving his head down and into your welcome warmth. He laps at your core like a man starved, his tongue pressing in as deep as he can go. He listens to you chanting his name, feeling the way you're clenching around him. Slowly, he forces himself to slow down and pull back.

“Alfred.” You cry out when you realize.

“Shoo, it's okay. I've got you, my pearl.” He coos.

He flicks his gaze up to watch you as he dips his head again. Gently he seals his lip around your clit and sucks. Your cry of pleasure has him flicking his tongue over your bud, slowly at first. He flicks faster at your soft gasps.

Your hand sinks into his hair, fingers weaving through his curls, pressing him closer. You can feel the heat tightening in your core.

“Alfred.” You chant desperately.

He hums around your clit. The vibration sends you crashing over the edge with a cry.

Alfred gentles his tongue as you quiver beneath him, but he doesn't stop. As you come down from your first orgasm, you can already feel the next one building.

Alfred’s mouth is ceaseless, his tongue always finding the right spot. So slowly that you don’t realize he’s moving, he slides his hand down to cup your heated core. With a quick movement, he presses two fingers into you, curling them up into the sweet spot. Your vision goes hazy as you gasp loudly. Alfred picks his rhythm up again, flicking his tongue in tandem with the press of his fingers. Your grip in his hair tightens, a life line in the waves of ecstasy rolling over you. Your second orgasm hits you like the perfect wave. Your core tightens around Alfred’s fingers and you rock your hips gently against his hand.

When you finally start to come down, you hear his voice and you follow it back to your body.

“That’s it,” He says and kisses your hip, “That’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

When you can feel your fingers again, you slowly release your grip on his hair. You can feel him smile against your thigh before he kisses it. Then he shifts and presses his body up until he can meet your eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

Good, so good.” You answer, your brain is still a touch mushy.

He kisses your forehead, “I’ll go get you some water.”

You feel him shift out of bed and watch him go with confusion coloring your expression. When he comes back, you accept the glass of water, but tilt your head to look at him. He meets your questioning gaze and smiles.

“Oh don’t worry, pearl.” He says, correctly interpreting the question in your eyes, “But I want to make sure you’re taken care of first.”

He watches you drink deeply as he strips out of his clothes. He takes the glass when you hand it back to him and sets it on the nightstand. Then he takes your hand, letting you draw him back down to the bed, pressing tightly against him.

“Alfred.” You murmur, kissing every part of him you can get to. You can feel the press of his cock against your thigh. Gently you nudge your thigh against it and hear his quiet hiss. You smirk into his shoulder at the sound.

“Now you’re playing dirty, sweet.”

“Can’t have that, can we?”

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s a mischievous glint in them. “Maybe I should tie you up and make you watch.”

You pout at him, “Now who's playing dirty.”

He just laughs, “Maybe another time then. Tonight, I’m going to fuck you slow and deep, sweet, until the only thing you can feel is me.”

You look at him, words abandoning you. He smirks slowly.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He hums, “Something's missing. Again.”

“Please, fuck me.”

He considers and then shakes his head, “Still missing something. Again.”

“Alfred, please fuck me until I forget my own name.”

“Now, that's a pretty request.”

He presses down and kisses you softly, slowly, drawing you in. Still kissing you, he shifts and nudges your legs apart. Carefully he settles between them. He nudges his cock head against your opening, drinking in your answering moan. Slowly, he presses forward, reveling in the way your walls grip him. He breaks the kiss as he bottoms out, cutting off a soft oath.

“You feel so good around my cock, sweet.”

“Alfred!” You whine, trying to grind your hips.

He chuckles, “So greedy.”

When you try to lift your hands, he pins them to the pillows. He shakes his head at you.

“Not until I say so.”

He feels your pussy clench at that and nearly groans.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Alfred!”

“Try again.”

“Yes…sir?” At his stern look, you swallow hard, “Yes, sir! I'll be a good girl.”

He smiles, “You're fucking perfect, you know?”

He nuzzles into your neck as he starts rolling his hips. He fucks into you with long, slow strokes that has heat simmering in your core. Alfred releases one of your wrists and runs his hand down your body. At your thigh, he slides his hand under and lifts. The change in angle has you seeing stars.

“Alfred!”

“Come on, sweet, make a mess on my cock.”

You’re helpless against the unrelenting waves of pleasure and you let yourself get swept away. Alfred groans as you tighten around his cock, his own resolve rapidly dissolving. You open your eyes, biting your lip.

“Are you going to fill me up, sir?” You ask, your voice breathy.

“Fuck, sweet.” He gasps.

His cock twitches and then he's filling you.

When he comes back to his senses, he's braced on his elbows, hovering over you. Your hands gently trace over his body, his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“Sweet,” he says softly, “look at me.”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze. You smile up at him sleepily.

“Sweet, I love you.”

Your mouth rounds in shock even as delight dances in your eyes.

“Well, I guess it's a good thing I love you too Alfred.”

🐚🌊

Alfred closes the car's trunk as you close the front door of the cottage. You slide into the passenger’s seat as he opens the driver's door. He pauses, taking one last look over the bay.

“Alfred?”

“Just taking it in one last time, sweet.”

After one more deep breath, he slides into the driver's seat. The car starts with a gentle rumble and he backs out carefully. At the end of the drive, he takes your hand, and kisses it.

“Ready?”

“I'm ready for anything as long as you're with me.”

He kisses your hand again, thinking about the ring he'll put on it one day. Then he shifts and interlocks your fingers over the center console.

The car rumbles down the road, the beach growing smaller behind it. The Siren pulls herself onto the dock, watching it disappear. Once it's nearly out of sight, she blows a kiss it's way and dives back into the bay. The waves welcoming her back.

[oh-stars]

The Wall

Polaroid

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 1167 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

“I can’t part with it,” Robin says. 

Steve stands beside her, hands on his hips. “Me either.” 

“We can’t leave it though.” 

“But we don’t have space for it at the new place.” 

“We’re not living together in the new place,” Robin points out with a sigh. 

Steve’s shoulders fall. He keeps forgetting that part. “How do we split it then?” 

“I say we don’t and just stay here,” Robin decides. She nods her head once, then claps. “Yup, that’s settled. We’re living here forever.” 

“Rob,” Steve sighs, “you know we can’t.” 

“Says who? We love this house. It’s our house. Why do we have to leave it?” Robin takes a seat on the floor and stares up at The Wall. Steve doesn’t hesitate to follow, even when his knees pop and protest at the movement. He looks up at The Wall in all its glory, eyes flickering around from one spot to another. It’s their most important wall in the house, their collective prized possession. It’s the most beautiful thing they’ve ever made. 

The Wall is the north wall of their living room that connects with the stairs. It’s a boring beige color, but that’s not the important part, it’s what’s on the wall that matters. The very first day Steve and Robin moved into the house, they commemorated the day with a picture using Robin’s brand new Polaroid camera. And since their walls were all bare, they decided to put the picture on this wall that would one day be covered. 

He doesn’t remember why they decided to take a picture every day, doesn’t know what possessed them to keep it up for over eight years, but here they are. The wall is covered with almost three thousand polaroids, some better than others, with little dates written on the bottom. The ones celebrating big milestones are the highlights, like special birthdays and graduations or the start of a new job or anniversary, with special attention taken to the doodles along the borders. They even alter the space around them so they sit in little pockets, standing out among the silly and blurred daily shots. 

No one else understood why they kept it up, but they’ve never missed a day. Even when traveling, alone or together, they make sure someone took a picture. 

And now that they’re moving out of their first home, moving in with their respective partners, the time has come to take it down. 

Steve’s more sad to see The Wall go than he is to leave this house and he loves this house. It’s just not big enough for Steve, Eddie, Chrissy, Robin, the cats, and the incoming baby that Chrissy’s carrying for Steve and Eddie. He almost wishes Robin and Chrissy would just stay here, keep the wall up even if they stop taking pictures every day, but Robin didn’t think that was fair. “There’s no way I’m living in this house without you, dingus,” she said, “who would fight the ghost on my behalf?” 

The ghost is actually their neighbor’s outdoor cat, Sally, who likes to sneak into their home to play with their cat, Tassel. At first, they thought it was some territory dispute, but it turns out the cats are just star-crossed lovers. So much so that their neighbor’s trying to figure out how Sally can still see Tassel. Steve didn’t peg the old man to be supportive of two lesbian cats, but then again he’s never had a problem with the big rainbow flag hanging in their living room or the fact he’s had to ask Steve and Eddie to keep the noise down a time or two. 

Damn, he’s going to miss Nathaniel, too. 

“We have to take it down,” Steve says. 

“No.” 

“Rob.” 

“Steve.” 

“Would you rather someone else does it?” Steve raises an eyebrow at her. 

She rolls her eyes and huffs. “No.” 

“Then we have to.” 

“Why’d you have to go and make your family bigger, dingus,” Robin whines, leaning into him. “I’m happy to be Aunt Robin and all, and like I know this is what you were meant to do, but it’s really throwing a wrench in our growing old together plan.” 

Steve kisses her forehead then rests his cheek against the top of her head. “You’re the one who introduced Eddie and I.” 

“And I regret it everyday for him stealing you away from me.” 

“Chrissy stole you first.” 

“She’s perfect, she can do no wrong,” Robin says. “Eddie’s a gremlin man and took you from me.” 

“I resent that,” Eddie says as he and Jonathan walk into the room. The house is pretty bare, minus the big furniture that still needs to be moved tomorrow, but the whole point of today was to take boxes out, yet they’re bringing boxes in. Eddie sets down a box in front of them and opens it to reveal several photo albums. 

Jonathan does the same, but he takes out a machine that he plugs into the wall and starts fiddling with. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asks. 

“We’re here to rescue The Wall,” Eddie says.” 

“This is a scanner,” Jonathan explains, “I borrowed it from work. We can take each picture and scan it to make another one and then you both have a copy.” 

“And you two can decide who gets the originals but this way neither of you have to cry over losing it anymore.” Eddie holds out identical albums to each of them. “They’re prepped and ready for you to do your thing. But we need to finish this before we call it a day if we want to stay on schedule,” he says. 

Steve looks down at the hefty photo album. They’re ornate with little doodles engraved in the leather of ice cream and anchors and VHS tapes and music notes and every other little icon Eddie could come up with to represent the last decade of his and Robin’s friendship. In the center, in what he’s sure is Chrissy’s script, it says “The Wonder Twins Years, Vol. 1” with a blank section to write what dates they can fit into the album. 

“Eds,” he whispers. 

Eddie darts forward to kiss his cheek. “No more tears, baby.” 

Robin sniffles beside him. “Fine,” she huffs, “I guess he can stick around.” 

“Was that up for debate?” 

“It always was,” Robin says as she heaves herself up. “Dingus, go get the ladder out of the office.” 

“On it,” Steve says. He gets up and sets the album on the coffee table. As he passes Jonathan, he squeezes his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

Jonathan nods and smiles. “It’s too impressive to destroy,” he says. 

Steve’s not sure why he’s surprised that Jonathan, their resident photographer, understands The Wall like he and Robin do, but it still fills him with so much warmth. He excuses himself before he can cry some more. Better to save those tears for when Robin’s decided to go down memory lane with every other picture. 

He can’t wait.  

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[frenchoravocadotoast]

Cogito, ergo sum

from Latin "I think, therefore I am"

Basim Ibn Ishaq x GN!reader

Prompt: Basim survives the temple

Warnings: Implied NSFW at the end

Word count: around 4k (big boi)

The cliff is his safe space.

It has been ever since he first arrived at Alamut. You remember meeting the young man he used to be, a clumsy thief with a shy stubble that paled in comparison to the beard he’d grown throughout his training. It made him look wiser, you supposed. And wise he was, for he was educated by none other than the silence of the mountains and the sword of Roshan.

He was a smart man, but going into the temple was not a smart choice at all. Roshan had tried to stop him and failed. She walked out of the temple with a limp, holding her shoulder and her side as her head hung low in shame – defeated by her own student, her son, in a way. She couldn’t bear to look you and the other novices in the eye. 

But that was okay, because you couldn’t look at her either. You couldn’t look away from the mountain that stood tall before you all, the grinning cave that held Basim’s life over your heads.

He wasn’t coming back, Roshan said. You didn’t listen. Didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the novice who tried to pull you away from the cave. You heard your mentor’s footsteps grow distant as the murmurs of the hidden ones mourned a new loss. You’d almost joined in their whispered prayer when you saw it – a wheezing figure stepping out of the cavern, hand pressed against the rock as they kept their gaze low. You rushed to meet them halfway.

It was him. Basim. The matted jet black hair was hard to miss, along with his beige and blue robes. His brown doe eyes flickered and met yours, but before you could reach him, he put his hand up and yelled at you to stay away. His stance had become defensive, a shaky hand resting on the handle of his sword, as his eyes watched you and your friends with wariness.

You frowned; called out his name and watched as the grip on his sword tightened. Those eyes of his didn’t regard you with the same warmth they used to. They were scared, angry, and untrusting. His lips that would smile so often were pulled down into a snarl and his brows were etched into a scowl. His body, once so sure and confident in his walk, trembled under your gaze. 

Before you could say anything, he ran. He climbed up the cliff with the expertise of a man who had endured years of training, or with the velocity of a lizard who feared for his life. The tails of his robes whipped in the wind when he reached the summit and disappeared from your view.

But he hadn’t run away. He lingered in his trusted spot by the cliffside. Rayhan would watch him from his tent and study his behavior. In the mornings, Basim would sit to meditate. It wouldn’t last long before he’d start to pace, hands in his hair before he’d yell up at the sky, fall to his knees, and throw rocks against the floor. After his fit, he’d try to sit still again, fail, and do it all over again.

When night fell, he’d crawl down the cliffside and rummage through the baskets of food you and the other novices had purposely prepared for him. He avoided you like the plague – whatever had happened inside that temple, whatever he’d seen, had shook him to his core. It was enough to haunt his mind even when one of his old friends attempted a conversation with him during one of his nightly visits, and he’d only granted them a glare. You kept your distance, watching from your seat near the fire, when he looked at you, frowned, and left to return to his cliff again.

It broke your heart. He loved that cliff, he’d found peace there during his troubled past, but now it only seemed to isolate him. But that was the point of meditation, wasn’t it? Keeping the world out, silencing your mind? If it worked for him then, why couldn’t it work now?

He needs time, Rayhan told you one day. You both watched from his tent as Basim had finally settled down after pacing for hours – he sat criss-crossed, hands resting on his lap as he breathed out. He lasted 3 hours like that. You found yourself smiling at the sight.

Maybe meditation did work.

Months go by. Winter greets Alamut with a snowstorm that would put the Gods to shame, but the canyon protects your stalls, tents, and beds from the howling wind above. You think the harsh temperatures will lure Basim down from his lair, but you grow concerned when the snow starts to pelt down on you and there is no sign of him anywhere. The spare pelts and blankets in your tent call out to you, and without thinking it much, you strap them to your back and go look for him.

You find him halfway through your climb. He was smart enough to flee from the icy winds in the mountains, and found shelter in a little panhole on the side of the cliff. He’s setting up his own tent when you call out his name. He turns to face you with a bewildered look, like it’s his first time seeing another human in his life, when you give him the folded blankets and pelts.

“You’re going to need these.”

He takes them from you, eyes flickering over your face, and whispers a soft thank you.

You give him a small smile, because those two words are enough to make your heart soar and jump around – but you don’t want to scare him. You’re about to leave when he says your name.

“How are you still here?”

You shrug.

“I never left.”

He frowns at that, although it’s not the same frown he wore when he first came out of the cave. It’s the kind of frown that tells you he’s thinking, mulling over your words, wanting to believe them. You believe them, because you know the Hidden Ones would never leave him behind like that; and without saying much more, you part ways again.

The snow melts and gives way to the blooming flowers. You’re helping Rebekah fix the handle of a sword when someone taps your shoulder – Basim stands behind you, giving you a quick smile that barely peeks out of his blue scarf. It disappears just as quick as it comes, but it leaves you breathless nonetheless.

He asks about Rayhan’s whereabouts, and you can only point him in the right direction as words fail you. It’s the first time you see him talking to others of his own volition; and when he leaves after voicing his gratitude, you turn to look at your blacksmith friend. She’s looking at you slack-jawed.

Basim starts coming down more often since then. Just a month ago, he’d joined you by the campfire while Nur told a story. You’d patted the empty seat next to you, and when his lips stretched into his usual warm smile, your heart squeezed.

You’d missed him.

Speaking of Nur, you saw him talking to Basim on the cliff just this morning. They were rekindling their friendship as Nur showed him the tapestry he’d been working on all winter. If he’d gone up there unannounced, maybe you could try talking to Basim too, right?

That’s exactly what you do. I’m in control of the story.

He’s sitting close to the edge, looking at the setting sun, when you stop behind him. He spares you a glance, as if he’d been expecting you, before patting the empty spot next to him, just like you had done with him. You carefully sit down when he speaks.

“It looks beautiful from here, does it not?”

You hum and nod. “I  can see why you like it so much.”

“It is very freeing to experience life from these heights. Down there, we’re so small.”

Your lips stretch into a smile – he’s starting to sound like himself again, with his wise and philosophical words. It itches at the thorn that’s been stuck in your heart since he grew distant from you all, and you find your words leaving you before you can register them.

“I missed you.”

His expression falters at that, and a saddened tint floods his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I was not myself when I left that cave.” he whispers, grimacing. “I was never myself, it seems.”

You stretch your legs out, nudging his boot with yours. He smiles wryly at your attempt to comfort him.

“What makes you think that?”

“What was revealed to me at the temple…” he gestures with his hand, but no words come out, and he promptly drops it. “My life was not meant for me to live.”

“I do not understand.”

“You must think me mad. Even now, I do not quite believe it myself.” he scoffs, eyes glazing over. “I was just a vessel, a fool fighting against nature.”

There is not much you can do for him, you think. Not much you can understand, either. Until Basim doesn’t fully capture what troubles his mind, you doubt you’ll be able to get through his defenses. But with him, it’s different. Basim sows and reaps, builds and destroys – the walls he’s built around himself stand tall before you, but they’re no match for him. They’re like overgrown weeds he needs to pull out. In his novice years, he used to speak of the power and danger of one’s own mind; and he seemed to be heeding his advice even after all this time, for he continued to speak despite your silence.

“There was this… machinery inside the temple. Nehal told me to open it, and when I did–” he swallows. “It was pain after pain, memories that threatened to claim me, fears that broke my very soul. And then, when I was begging for it all to end, praying to be let out– Nehal wasn’t there anymore.”

You frown. “Your friend?” he nods in response.

“She was never there.”

“She was gone?”

“She wasn’t real.”

He rakes his hand through his hair as he hisses through his teeth, like the revelation itself burdens his heart soul. You watch in awe at the raw display of emotions as he frowns and his hoarse voice speaks up once more.

“I lived a lie. It was all my fault. I killed the Caliph, I dug my own grave, led myself into the very trap fate had woven for me.” 

A tentative hand rests on his forearm, and you squeeze to break him out of his trance. Basim turns to look at you, bearing the look of a man drowning in despair and needing it all without knowing what he yearns for. 

“And yet, you live.” you whisper.

He sighs in return. “I live.”

“I understand why you were so defensive when you left the cave.”

He shakes his head, looking at the setting sun that paints the sky in a purple hue.

“I thought I was imagining you all. Sometimes, I fear I still do.” he looks at you, frowning. “If I believed Nehal was real my entire life, what was stopping me from believing you were real, too?”

“I don’t recall ever meeting your friend.” you think out loud. “Did she ever interact with anyone other than you?”

“She was a very private person.” he speaks like he misses her. “Nehal didn’t like meeting new people.”

You give him a sad smile. Even in the face of reality, it’s hard letting go of a beautiful lie.

“But you see us talking to other people. I talk to you, but also to Fuladh, or the merchants in Baghdad. They’re real - and I’m real too.”

“For the longest time, I thought maybe I was imagining it all. That you were all a fragment of my imagination.” he shakes his head. “I failed to see the line that separated reality from fiction. When I was in that temple, I thought my entire life was a lie. I was trapped in a void, but then I saw this light - and I ran and ran, thinking I could escape from it all.”

Basim is ranting now as the words come more naturally to him. His gestures become more frantic as he turns to look at you, eyes wide like the day you saw him stumble out of the cave.

“But then I saw you, and I thought I was still trapped. Eventually with time, I came to think you would all disappear.” he stops, and his gaze softens. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You whisper. “I’m here.”

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he nods and looks at the horizon again. The sky is dark by now, and you smile at the memory of Basim teaching you and your friends about astronomy. He’d learnt it all when he taught himself to read in the House of Wisdom, but unlike the scholars that demanded an audience to witness their greatness, Basim taught for the pleasure of teaching. Whatever he’d read during his time in Baghdad or witnessed in his past lives had definitely made him wiser beyond his years. If there is a God, he’s been generous with Basim – all that knowledge has fallen into the right hands.

But his usual passion for the stars is dormant now. You glance at him, taking note of his silence as he resumes his meditation, and take that as your sign to give him some space again. You’re sitting up when you feel his hand grasping your forearm, but when you look at him again, he doesn’t react. But the hand doesn’t relent either, and so, you decide to settle down again.

It’s quiet between you, and it makes his whispered words so much louder. They’re a promise of a better future.

I missed you, too.

Summer comes and goes, and trees start to shed their yellowed cloaks again when Basim decides to move out of the cliff. It’s a misty morning, courtesy of the rainy weather in autumn, when you see him walking down the slope towards your tent. He’s carrying his rolled-up mattress and tent with him, sparing you a smile when you approach him with a big grin of your own. Perhaps your excitement is a bit too palpable, because his brows raise in amusement when you ask to help him carry his things – but you’re too distracted to notice, ranting about an oh-so convenient spot right next to your tent, and he promptly follows after you.

But the muddy slope demands a sacrifice, and your foot slips in front of you. Years of training abandon you as you reach for the slippery boulder next to you, but you miss once more. A hand holds you by your cloak, but it’s too late, you’re falling forward and hoping the mattress in your arms will break your fall, and then – the mattress grunts?

You look up, feeling the familiar fabric of robes under your cheek. Basim has taken the brunt of the fall, cupping the back of your head with his hand as his other arm wraps around you. It’s almost comical when you both look at each other, slowly sliding down the last inches of the slope as your robes get caked with mud. And then, he laughs.

It’s a low chuckle, but it makes his chest shake nonetheless – you can feel it reverberating beneath you, and you find yourself grinning at the sound. You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard it in over a year.

So much for a Hidden One, he says. You huff in response, shifting in his embrace when you feel the hoop of your belt digging into you, but not leaning too far away from him either.

His eyes are lidded now, and his smile has softened. You can’t look away. Basim’s hand reaches up and his thumb brushes the corner of your brow, removing dirt from your face, you assume – but all he manages to do is smear it even more.

You don’t really care about the mud, anyway. Something has changed between you two, and you’re sure he can feel it, too. It’s obvious in the way he refuses to let go of you, the way he looks at you. You tell yourself that the mud is heavy on your back, that it weighs you down and pulls you closer to him – and he doesn’t resist it either, especially not when his lips barely brush against yours. You’re about to press closer when Rebekah’s voice speaks behind you two.

“Is the floor comfortable?”

Winter is relentless once more. You’ve all hitched your tents closer to one another to preserve warmth, even knitted some more scarves to protect yourselves from the chilling bite of the wind. The bonfire is bigger than ever, it could easily give your location away to your enemies, but only fools would venture all the way to Alamut during wintertime and expect to survive – both the weather and a clan of trained assassins. 

You’re more than safe, both from outsiders and the elements. Your hidden blade is always strapped to your forearm, and as for the elements? There 's Basim.

He makes sure to save you a spot by the fire, and has a woolen blanket for those particularly colder nights. Sometimes, when he’s feeling extra nice, he offers you a cup of tea, too.

His tent is right next to yours and you always catch him reading a book late at night or early in the morning, swaddled under the bundle of blankets. He can always tell someone is watching him, and when he makes eye contact with you, he never fails to give you a wink.

It’s an ongoing thing. You really don’t know what’s happening – but you get your answers soon enough.

The fire that keeps Alamut warm needs to be fed, and Rayhan refuses to have people venturing out into the snowstorm alone to collect firewood. Thus, he sends you in pairs, for two people can look out for each other and carry more wood back to the tents. 

You’re used to the ruthless weather in Alamut – sandstorms are no match for you, nor the heaviest of rains. But there is something about snow that weakens and tires your body without even trying. You’re shoving the wood into your robes and arms before the cold catches up to you, but your movements become slower with each second, and Basim notices. He grabs your bicep and raises his voice over the hissing gale, signaling that it’s time to go back.

You don’t remember how much time you’ve spent outside, but when you return to the shelter, your damp robes are weighing down on you. The cold has seeped in, stiffening your limbs, and you promptly drop the wood close to the fire to dry for tomorrow.

The warmth in your tent has never been so inviting. The small torch lit by your mattress is the only source of light, bathing the space in a dim orange hue as you change out of your robes and put on some dry ones. It’s still cold, and the goosebumps on your skin make you hiss when the sensation of a hundred needles pricks your skin.

Someone clears their throat outside your tent before the tent flap is lifted – Basim is standing there, now wearing dry robes too. He smiles at you when you greet him and he nods at your damp clothes.

“I put mine by the fire to dry. Do you want to give me yours?”

You nod and he leaves with your robes in hand, but returns soon after with a bronze cauldron in hand and a towel on his shoulder. You eye him, confused, and it’s only when he sets it down before you that you notice the steam coming from the water inside.

“Nur thought we could use it to get warm.” he explains as he sits down next to you. He grabs the towel and dips it into the cauldron before wringing it out, getting rid of the excess water. 

“That’s nice of him.” you smile.

“It certainly is.”

He holds the damp towel out to you, but you frown.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You don’t have a towel?”

He huffs out a laugh at that, shrugging.

“He only gave me one. You take it.”

“No, no – you take it, Basim.”

“I have not come here to argue with you.” he whispers, and presses the towel closer. “Besides, you need to get warm more than I do. You seemed to be struggling out there.”

He 's right. The needles on your skin dig deeper when the hot steam dances before your eyes, so close yet so far away. You’re about to take the towel from him when you feel a soft warmth blooming on your temple.

Basim gently presses the towel onto your skin, eyeing your locks, now damp from the melted snow. Your body immediately reacts to the touch – the needles ease, your fingertips tingle, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. 

The cotton moves down your face, where Basim softly caresses your cold cheeks. Warm droplets roll down, but they soothe and feed the bumps on your skin, like flowers craving water after a dry summer day.

This isn’t something that the other paired novices did for each other when they went out looking for wood. 

But Basim isn't like the others, is he? He stands out from them in the way he thinks, speaks, cares for others, looks at you, touches you. 

The heat from the towel tickles your skin, or perhaps it’s your own cheeks burning at the revelation. He moves down to carefully rub the silky cotton around your neck, easing the cold that has nestled there and weakened your voice. His body leans slightly closer to gain better access, and his other hand rests on your knee for support. Without thinking it twice, you nestle his hand between yours.

It’s cold, much colder than you expected, but you feel it relax in your hold when your fingers intertwine with his. He continues to bathe your skin with the warm towel, eyes following every motion as your gaze is trained in your conjoined hands. It’s been minutes now, and you can’t feel him warming up yet, but your body is burning under his touch and attention. Your mind is foggy, your tongue loose, and your words tumble out before you can stop them.

“You should get warm, too.”

The towel pauses, but then you hear him hum. His eyes are on you now, lidded, you notice – and they slowly trail down the peak of your nose, down the cupid’s bow, all the way to your lips. They remain fixed there, fluttering when he notices you lean closer, and he whispers back.

“Maybe I should.”

Your lips brush against each other, just like that day at the muddy slope. But there is no one around to interrupt the two of you, no storm to keep you apart; and with a shaky exhale, Basim’s lips lock with yours.

He is a patient man by nature, but this kiss – it cries of overdue affection. You’re kissing like this is the only thing that can satiate your hunger, a hunger beyond the carnal dimension. It’s the kind of need that has been boiling up to this point for months, years, even – long before he’d stepped foot in that cave. It was always there, dormant.

The towel drops to the ground with a thump. His hands find your hips and cup your cheek as your breathing quickens, and he only spares you a second to breathe before he starts to pepper kisses along your jaw. Your hands find his scalp and you gently massage it with your nails, making him groan against your skin; and when his hand sneaks under your blouse, you smile at the warmth his touch now radiates.

The next time he kisses you, he tastes like glass. Like there are broken shards that cut his tongue and make his words bleed while he sings you praises. The illusion is broken, the mirror destroyed; for his touch is real, he is real, and so are you, and so are the kisses that you keep stealing from each other.

Your arms wrap together and bring you closer to each other as he pushes you back against your mattress. The cauldron is long forgotten, the warm water no longer needed as you both breathe the same hot air and look at each other like you’re drunk on wine. Soon, your clothes come off, strewn somewhere on the floor. You lose yourself in the embrace of love, lips swollen and unrelenting; and in the privacy of a flimsy tent, you and Basim become whole again.

[according2thelore]

Does LS/ES Sam or Dean have conversations with their respective selfs about their partner like, "So, Sammy *still* does that thing in his sleep?" or "Please tell me LS!Dean grew out of that WildWest fixation".

GAHHHH ANON AHHHHH!!!!!!!!

LS!Dean sits at the library table, and ES!Sam & LS!Sam are sitting at the table in the corner, helping translate some more obscure lore. LS!Dean is tapping his pen on the table, and they can both tell it gets on their nerves as the incessant taptaptaptaptaptap of whatever metal song dean has stuck in his head echoes in the room.

"so discouraging to know he still does that," ES!Sam says, mouth twisted down in disgust, and LS!Sam hides his snort behind his palm. ES!Sam turns to LS!Sam, and sees the familiar judgemental, gleeful glint in his eye, and asks,

"does he still insist on keeping all his socks that are way past their expiry date?"

ES!Dean has a nasty habit of keeping his socks from the fruit of the loom six packs that are now grey or beige with age and have so many holes they could be used as leg warmers. they're perfectly good, sammy, dean insists, even as he wears blisters into his toes from his boots.

"turns out he doesn't just do it with his socks," LS!Sam says, somber, "it's his boxers, too."

ES!Sam recoils, but realizes unless dean put them in the laundry pile, he'd have no idea. LS!Sam gestures for him to get closer, and ES!Sam bends closer to hear him.

"i've had to start sneaking them out of his dresser. i found boxers last week that was just a square of fabric held to a triangle of fabric with one string. it was basically just a thong at that point."

ES!Sam bursts into laughter, shocking them both, and they talk for an hour about the dumb thing that their brother did, still does, and will in all likelihood continue to do.

yes, unfortunately, dean still has his wild west obsession. sam has found it is most productive if he can get dean to vent all his obsession for it into sam wearing a cowboy hat and/or assless chaps during sex once a month and let him spit-fuck him, and ES!Sam's jaw drops comically. no, actually, dean doesn't put that much sugar in his coffee anymore. he drinks it black. they both look a little uncomfortable about it before they confirm that indeed, dean still sneezes without covering his mouth--it's gross.

and yes--the tips of LS!Sam's ears flush when he says it--dean still flirts with people using that facial dumb expression of his but uh...he mostly uses it on sam, now. unfortunately, it usually works.

a week later, ES!Dean shuffles into the kitchen clearly exhausted, and when LS!Dean asks him what pissed in his cheerios, ES!Dean tells him ES!Sam was snuffling and muttering in his sleep again and the noise from the bed over kept waking him up.

"ugh!" LS!Dean says, "what's he stressed about?"

ES!Dean is kinda taken aback but yeah, it makes sense that he also picked up on the pattern, i mean, hell, it's him. ES!Dean shrugs.

"ionknow. but i'm two seconds away from taping his mouth shut. he keeps smacking his lips and it drives me nuts."

"two words," LS!Dean says, going to pour himself another cup of coffee, "oral fixation."

ES!Dean almost falls out of his stool. "fucking pardon??"

"yeah." LS!Dean shrugs. "he just wants stuff in his mouth. for a while he'd sleep with his face pressed against my shoulder, i think just to feel something on his mouth. he sleeps better when you start sharing a bed, though, so..."

ES!Dean looks like someone just hit him over the head, dazed.

"whenever he starts mutterin, i just roll over and throw an arm over him and he sleeps like a baby." LS!Dean takes a long, satisfying sip of his coffee, too pleased by the gobsmacked look on ES!Dean's face to care that it scorches his tongue.

"does..." ES!Dean clears his throat, shaking his head. he almost wants to say Stop Talking About Him Like That but stops himself in time. he forgets it's him he's talkin to. "does he still do that thing where he pushes his mouth up when he's concentrated."

LS!Dean softens. "oh yeah, he does. and he looks like a toddler every time." a pause. "i...uh, keep expecting look up and see him sitting there with bunky."

ES!Dean lights up. "oh shit!! bunky! i forgot about that raggedy thing."

bunky, of course, being a stuffed rabbit that pastor jim gave sam, and with which sam was obsessed for a few years. their talk is a bit more nostalgic, talking about things baby sam used to do that they notice adult sam doing now, including rub his eye with the back of his fingers when he gets tired.

"does sam ever get that stick outta his ass?" ES!Dean asks, and they're both grinning so big, high off being able to talk about sammy with someone who gets it, who knows him.

"nope." LS!Dean beams. "he stays our little pain in the ass forever."

they both kinda freeze, then turn to look at each other. our.

huh.

i had so much fun with this one omg your mind is so HUGE ANON AGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! thank you so much for sending it in mwah mwah mwah

-lizzy <3

(ES/LS verse masterlist)