#the colors were sooo pretty i had to gif

[dalkyum]

youngjae ※ do it / suit dance performance

[doqt33th]

SINGULARITY

MIRAGE/READER

SUMMARY: You and Mirage have been pining for each other for a while now. A nasty summer storm drives you straight into his arms. Shenanigans ensue.

WORD COUNT: 18k. Sorry I’m insane

WARNINGS: 18+ and I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! Explicit PWP, fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mild spit kink. Reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns but is written fairly androgynous. No descriptors of appearance beyond the basics and no (y/n) used.

Familiar streets flashed by at increasing speeds, traffic and pedestrians flickering by and blurring together into a smorgasbord of color, all gilded by the setting sun. Unconsciously, you dug your fingers into the seams of the leather seat beneath you, worrying the stitches. Out of the corner of your eye, the radio blazed to life with color and that oh-so-familiar symbol.

“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, hot stuff,” Mirage crackled out of the speakers lightheartedly, and you immediately yanked your hands into yourself like they’d been burned. In your worrying, you’d seemingly forgotten about what — or rather, who — exactly was your ride.

“Oh— my bad, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, sinking your weight back and down, instead picking at your nails to give your hands something to do. God, you were so nervous, and for what? Mirage knew all these people— these bots, and knew them well. They were all friends! Or amiable towards each other, at the very least. And they were the good guys. Saved the world and all that.

So why were you so anxious?

“You’re good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. Your leg started to bounce. “Sooo… you wanna tell me what’s on your mind? Save me a trip to Noah’s repair shop? I’d hate for you to start taking your emotions out on me, y’know.”

You scoffed, eyes sliding to the radio. The grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth was one you were helpless to stop. He just had that effect on you, where around him you became a slave to your laughter and, additionally, also became one half of a terrible joke machine that Mirage happily completed.

Leather creaked as you nudged the inside of the door with your boot to chastise him. “You love when I take my emotions out on you, dick. Don’t lie.”

“Only the good ones,” he shot back, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “You nervous about meeting the others?”

His probe was successful; you fought the urge to shrink at your feelings being read so accurately and so immediately. “I— yeah. I am, and I don’t even know why. I’m sure they’re all great, I’m just working myself up over nothing.”

Red faded to green. Carried on the tide of forward-moving traffic, Mirage rolled ahead, eventually slipping over to make a turn. You watched him twist his mirrors to check his blind spot.

“Ah, c’mon. Nobody could blame you, you’re meeting a bunch of aliens for the first time. Pretty trippy for anyone. ‘specially if those aliens are, like, double your size. And robots.” A short chuckle topped off his words.

“Right. I just don’t wanna fuck it up or embarrass myself, you know how it is. I don’t wanna embarrass you, either.”

“Oh, Primus, trust me. You’re not gonna embarrass me. I don’t even think that’s possible. Prime’s seen me in a lot worse shape than bringing you in to meet him.” The world continued to roll by. Brick buildings blotted out the sunshine in intermittent flashes. “You got good marks from your favorite bot, you’ll be fine.” The dismissive tone of his voice was working, in a weird way, to assuage your fears.

“Excuse me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest pointedly. “My favorite bot?”

“What, am I not?” A downright theatrical gasp hissed out of the speaker. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Cheeks hot with a flush at even the joking insinuation of being together, you glanced away from the impassive Autobot symbol on the radio and out the window. Still, the laugh barked out of you was sudden and sharp, and quickly dissolved into giggles. “Yes. Mirage. I’m sorry. There’s another ten foot tall alien robot in Brooklyn that’s been vying for my attention. We’re done.”

“I should throw you out on the street right now,” Mirage fussed playfully, his evident pout tinging his voice. “For breakin’ my spark. Also I’m taller than that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m fragile.”

“I dunno. Noah gets his ass kicked around pretty good and he’s still kickin’ it.”

“I am not Noah,” came your tongue-in-cheek rebuttal. “And Noah just refuses to give up even when it’s good for him.”

“Thought qualities like determination were supposed to be big things with you guys.”

“In moderation.”

Mirage barked a laugh. “Ha! Should tell that to Prime. He’ll blow a gasket.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, seriously, tell it to Prime, we’re here.”

The easy confidence that your playful back-and-forth had teased out instantly chilled into a dense mass in your stomach; Mirage was rolling slowly up to a nondescript warehouse buried deep within the old industrial part of Brooklyn, and the way the worn brick loomed over you even in the car made your heart rate pick up.

Now or never.

Familiar alien whirs and clicks of shifting and setting metal filled your ears as Mirage rose into his bipedal mode, the driver’s seat gently ejecting you onto your own two legs on the pavement. Following the motion, you took a few steps forward, but still balked a little at the half open door. Inside, you heard voices of varying timbre, and you fought the urge to turn tail.

Now. Or. Never. Gritted teeth accompanied the repetition of your thought.

The displacement of air behind you — and the soft, constant mechanical noises emanating from his body — signaled Mirage’s presence before his voice.

He said your name with surprising care, using a tone that only came out when he was really being sincere. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at it as you turned, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you, uh, you want me to go in ahead of ya? Normally I’d be like ‘ladies first’ and all that, but you said you weren’t feeling too jazzed about going in—“

“Yeah, actually, if you could, that would be… great. That would be great.”

“Gotcha. Let you psych yourself up a little more before you go in, I see how it is. Let me do the talking,” he affirmed with an easy grin and a nod, bouncing on the balls of his pedes a few times before striding forward. His long legs folded easily under him as he ducked under the lowered garage door, and you traipsed after, smoothing your thumb over your knuckles repeatedly.

The warehouse yawned beyond you, orange shafts of light cutting gashes into otherwise brownish darkness. Old graffiti sprayed across the walls told you that Ramona had been there once, then Nick, then Darnell, and a million others. And you were there now, feeling impossibly small, yes, but a little more resilient with the fading sunlight at your back and Mirage, like always, at your side.

He’d become a permanent fixture in your life from the day you’d met him — when you’d strong-armed Noah into giving up his secret about his Porsche, and the mysterious car had ended up being a twelve-foot-tall robot with a literal motormouth that made a playful pass at you within the first hour of your first conversation. You’d been flustered out of your mind, but had just kept coming back out of unfettered curiosity and outright fascination. Aliens were real, and Noah was friends with one, and it— he could turn into a Porsche.

Mind-shattering observations on the surface, yes. Mirage tended to deflate the grandeur, though, because he never acted like aliens did in the movies or in books. There was no ‘We come in peace!’ bullshit. He was so easy. Everything with him was so easy. He was loudmouthed and extroverted and genuinely hilarious; you spent hours in Noah’s garage trading terrible jokes — mostly bad sexual innuendos — or buckled to Mirage’s driver’s seat as he flew down Central Avenue on the wrong side of the limit and blasted Haddaway so loud it nearly busted your eardrums.

Weird to say an alien robot was your friend, but he was. He gave you rides to work, to your lectures, to your labs, wherever; in fact, he got petulant when you dared to take the bus one day to give him a break, and made it a point to pry your routine out of you so that he could take you wherever you wanted, no fares needed. 

So infuriating. You loved it.

You loved… maybe more than just the back-and-forth. Maybe more than the bad jokes. Maybe more than the late-night drives. You were starting to think— starting to realize you loved big blue optics, and the rumble of a 260 horsepower engine when you made just the right innuendo, and broad, incredibly intricate servos that dwarfed yours in size but were so, so careful…

Man. You tried not to think about it too much. It as a concept made you laugh with its own absurdity. Poor human chick fell in love with the giant alien robot that made her laugh. It wasn’t… debilitating. You still functioned like a normal adult. Mostly. Except for that one night like two weeks ago where you’d been arguing with him about some stupid shit and he’d scooped you up, right off the ground, in both servos and held you there, digits interlaced against your back and thumbs on your front.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever held you like that — he’d done it a few times — but something was different that night… even if he’d only done it to gain an upper hand in your bickering. The air crackled with latent electricity, made your skin buzz in all the right places, especially when Mirage had gone quiet for once in his life as he stared at you in his grasp. When you’d prompted him with his name, he’d only responded by gently stroking a thumb over the swell of your chest, which had made you gasp air in so sharply that it burned in your throat. The metal left a tingling path on your skin under your shirt in its wake and immediately sent your heart rate skyrocketing past whatever the fuck was a normal BPM.

He’d snapped back to reality at the sudden expansion of your lungs and had attempted to play it all off as a joke. You remembered how you’d still stumbled when your shoes touched the ground, an absolutely insane feeling of genuine heat rocking you as your brain seized the feeling of his touch while it still sparked against your nerve endings and helpfully replayed it over and over and over again. Sure, the rhythm of banter came back after a stuttering beat, but you never really cooled the warmth on your face for the rest of that night — and when Mirage had dropped you off at your apartment, your door was shut and locked for about five minutes before your shaking hand was frantically worked beneath the waistband of your pants.

…Whew. Definitely something a little more than friendly there. Maybe even more than pure love, something a little slicker and deeper that buzzed against your bones and coiled low in your stomach. It made you feel a little weird — just objectively, because of what Mirage was — but damn if it didn’t feel good to indulge.

God, fuck, why were you thinking about that now, of all times? Escapist fantasies be damned, you were going to meet Mirage’s comrades-friends-coworkers and leave a good impression. Not drool over the worn-out memory replaying in your head for the thousandth time this week.

Out of the darkness and around corners, they emerged. The stealth wasn’t on purpose; you didn’t even think they could be stealthy. Oh, one was coming right for you now — tall was the only word your brain could muster. Tall and red and square were added to the list of adjectives as the stately bot approached, servos collected into fists at his sides and shoulders thrown back.

“Priiiime,” Mirage greeted warmly, throwing his arms out at his sides in his favorite pose. “Look, hey, I know what you said about bringing more people around, but I swear— Hey!”

Completely ignoring your friend’s (status pending) greeting, the bot— Prime, holy shit, this is THE Prime, was kneeling down, leaning forward, and he was right in your face. You fought the very biological urge to flinch. Blue optics considered you for a moment before narrowing and flicking to your right from his lowered position.

“Mirage,” Optimus started with a gravelly tone  from behind his faceguard that communicated exasperation above all else. “I explicitly stated that for our safety — and yours — that we were to come in contact with no more humans.”

“Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Kinda hard on a planet that’s got, what, five billion of ‘em? Six?” Mirage glanced at you for backup. You stared back flatly, refusing to say anything that might put you on the business end of a laser cannon.

“You were told to remain incognito so you could recover.” Optimus continued, his gaze returning to you. With a shunk of shifting metal, his faceplate slid away. His faceplates were weathered; the chipped metal around his optics gave the illusion of wrinkles and eyebags. Tired. He seemed tired. “This is not incognito. What is your name?”

You gave it after taking a beat to steady yourself. He repeated it back to you. “How did you come in contact with Mirage?”

“I, uh— Noah, Noah Diaz, he’s my friend. I basically pried it out of him,” you said with a nervous laugh. “So it’s not Mirage’s fault. I’m just nosy.”

At the mention of Noah, Optimus seemed to visibly relax; he moved back slightly, though he remained kneeling, and the narrowed, suspicious squint of his optics rounded out into something much softer.

“…I see. Then I assume you understand the… precarious nature of our existence on your planet.” he said, his tone grave and his optics searching your face.

You nodded, pressing the flesh of the inside of your cheek between your teeth for a moment as you came up with a suitably diplomatic response that still conveyed your friendliness. “I do, yeah. Noah told me most of it. What he could, anyway. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not— I’m not a threat here. Like I don’t work with the, uh, the government or anything. Whatever you guys need help with, I’m available, even if that just means keeping my mouth shut.”

Christ, you were glad this wasn’t your day job. You’d be such a shit ambassador. I’m available. What the hell did that even mean? Fuck yes, you were available, your brain guffawed, thinking of broad metal thumbs brushing over your chest.

You blinked hard, squeezing your eyelids together until the world came back in a photo negative, to scold yourself.

Although you’d stumbled through your reply, Optimus seemed to approve. He rose with a great creak of metal off of his knee and backed up to give you space, though he still regarded you with those sharp blue optics that felt as though they pinned you to the concrete below. “I see Noah chooses his company well. I should have assumed his sentiments would extend to his companions.” He shut his optics for a moment and dipped his head, as if considering deeply what to say next. “I am not sure how much Mirage — or Noah — divulged to you.”

“A fair amount— well. Any amount that won’t get them in trouble,” you called up, taking in deeper breaths to project your voice up the two stories of height to his head. To your side, Mirage snorted. “I know your name— Optimus, I know that, and I know about the Autobots. A little bit about the— fuck, what were they called—“

“Terrorcons?” Mirage supplied, and you were impressed at how quiet he’d been otherwise.

“Terrorcons, thank you. Other than that, not much. How much should I know?”

“Your knowledge is sufficient. All we fear — and all we risk—“ Optimus added with a pointed look at Mirage, who looked incredibly sheepish. “—at the moment is discovery. So long as you maintain secrecy, no harm shall come to us… or you, for that matter.”

It almost sounded like a threat, but Prime worded it very much like a warning. You decided it was best to heed his word — not that you really had another option.

“Right. Okay. Well— I mean, it was nice to meet you. People — humanity, I guess — aren’t bad. Most of us aren’t, anyway. Just, uh, let me know if there’s something Noah and I can get or do for you.”

Prime’s gaze shifted away from you. In fact, it seemed to shift away from the warehouse in general, looking somewhere far beyond the now-shut garage door. “Your generosity is admirable, but it is not humans primarily that we are concerned with.”

Brows furrowed at his vague answer, you thought it over for a second — and then decided not to push it. He probably knew best when it came to whatever foreboding nebulous space threat loomed over your collective heads; you would leave it up to the experts.

“Oh, well, golden rule and all that,” you still offered in terms of a response. That got his attention. His massive head tilted downwards to look at you once more with curiosity. “If I crash landed on someone else’s planet, I’d want them to be hospitable, y’know? Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Like he couldn’t handle the terrible punishment of silence anymore, Mirage butted in. “See, Prime? I told you she was cool.”

A short jolt shook the broad, boxy line of his shoulders, and at first you had thought he’d coughed, and then you realized he laughed. It was barely anything, a huff of a chuckle, but you glowed with the indirect affirmation. Just made Optimus Prime laugh. Maybe you weren’t such a terrible diplomat.

He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather at Mirage, and you swore from your low vantage point you could see a barely-there smile on Prime’s faceplates communicating…was that smug amusement? As the tall bot carefully made his way past you, he stopped in front of your companion, and let a heavy servo land on the headlight adorning his shoulder.

“No matter what you may feel, you chose well, Mirage.” Optimus rumbled out, before removing his servo and traipsing off into a darker section of the sprawling warehouse, ducking through a much-too-small cutout and speaking to Arcee about something indistinguishable. However, you couldn’t care less about whatever her and Prime were discussing — what the hell did he mean by Mirage choosing well?

You turned your head towards said bot, mouth open for inquiry and one brow raised. Mirage looked mortified, in every sense of the word; he stood shell-shocked, lips slightly parted and servos up and open as if to defend himself. His head was whipped around to follow Prime’s departure from the room. A whir started, bouncing off the walls — Mirage’s fans came on and off intermittently to keep his ambient internal temperature at safe levels, but the steady hum of this fan let you infer that he was flushing something fierce.

“Mirage? What—“

Interrupting you by breaking, nearly jumping, out of his trance, he clapped his servos together and started talking at a million miles a minute. “Well, damn, look at that, haha, it’s late, ain’t it? You got work in the morning, right? C’mon, hop in, I’ll drive you home—“

“No, Mirage, hold on, what was he talking about—“

“Seriously, c’mon, he was just messing around—“

“You’re telling me Optimus Prime was joking? Is he even capable of that?”

He said your name with a finality that nearly made you flinch. “Look, I can’t really— Just drop it, please?” It wasn’t angry, nor was it even commanding; in fact, his eyes were wide and pleading with you out of embarrassment. You knew the feeling all too well, and in the interest of sparing his feelings, decided to let it go, despite your intense curiosity.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay. Dropped.” A few beats of silence passed while Mirage was still tamping down his fluster. “You wanna take me home now or are we waiting for Prime to come embarrass you more?”

“Please, let’s get outta here,” he affirmed, dropping into his alt-mode and popping the driver door for you. As you slid in, you couldn’t help the little mischievous smile that grew on your face as your brain cooked up some other joke to take the edge off.

The garage door opened on its own. Mirage rolled into the noticeably darker alleyway. The burnt umber glow of the sunset-stained sky was only visible overhead; otherwise you were boxed in on the sides by blacked-out buildings.

Stifling silence was broken by a joke. Your joke, actually. “…Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me.”

The noise Mirage made was only comparable to a squawk. But obviously much more masculine, clearly. Still, his tires jerked on the road, betraying his surprise. “Hey— Prime is not my sire— or dad, or whatever you wanna call ‘em. He wishes.”

“I dunno,” you mused, arms crossed over your chest and back sunk deep into the seat. Brooklyn in transition blurred by in messy constellations of lit windows. “He got you pretty good there. Pretty standard dad behavior.”

“Hey, I don’t know what suddenly inspired him to go for comedy, but I do not appreciate it. That’s my thing. He’s stealin’ my thunder!”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on him.”

Silence.

The radio crackled. “Ew.”

Accompanied by the loudest eyeroll you could muster, you whacked the dashboard with an open palm, though you couldn’t stop your bubbling laughter. “Oh my god, you are so gross, Mirage! I hate you!”

“Ahh, don’t say that, c’mon! You love it here!”

“You wish.”

The rest of the ride home was spent that way, bickering like normal, and although you couldn’t let go of what Prime had said, nor his knowing look while he said it, you appreciated the return to baseline. When you got home, Mirage parked directly in front of your apartment building, and you lingered on the sidewalk for several minutes after you got out of the car. With the passenger door opened so it looked like you were talking to the ‘driver’ and not completely insane, you leaned on the doorframe and traded jabs with your ride until the humidity of the night air got a little too persistent to ignore. Damn you, Brooklyn. 

“See you tomorrow?” Mirage never said goodnight. He only ever asked when he could see you again, corny bastard.

“Tomorrow. My roommate’ll take me to work, don’t worry about it. I’ll just stick my head in the garage when I get home.”

“I thought we had a thing goin’, man!” His faux petulance returned. “You movin’ on already? You just met my folks!”

Your jaw dropped for a second at the fact he’d turned the damn bit around on you. “I met one folk, and you literally said he wasn’t your dad.”

“Maybe I was warmin’ up to the idea!”

Another lethal eyeroll. Your smile still remained locked on your face. “Whatever. Get the hell out of here, asshole,” you said, playfully shutting the door just a little harder than you needed to and slapping the roof like a horse you were trying to send off into the desert.

Even as you turned to walk into your building, you could hear the way his window shot down, far faster than a normal roll. “Ay! Merchandise!”

You stuck a middle finger over your shoulder, thumb out and all, to give him an idea of what he could do with his merchandise. Tires peeled against pavement as he screeched out of his spot and down the otherwise quiet street, letting you know in return how he felt about that.

Smiling like an idiot as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you felt… airy. You were always smiling after hanging around Mirage, you couldn’t help it — especially as of late. But still, you were dying to know what Prime was talking about when he was messing with Mirage earlier. You chose well. Chose what? Your brain briefly entertained the thought of Mirage returning what you felt, and it made blood rush to your face.

It couldn’t really… work. You had made peace with your physical differences weeks ago. The both of you got along just fine despite the size difference, and it never impeded your normal interactions. But you doubted Mirage felt the same; no matter how familiar, how friendly you were with him, you could never shake the feeling of being just a little too alien. Your greatest similarities were in personality. The closest resemblance you held physically was the fact you were both humanoid in shape.

That didn’t stop you. No, not at all. It didn’t stop you from dropping into bed after a quick shower with a heavy sigh, your hand inevitably sinking beneath the covers as you thought of digits — Mirage’s digits, so well articulated for their size and so careful — playing with the hem of your underwear instead of your own fingers, pushing the fabric aside just a little roughly to explore your alien anatomy. It took very little time for you to grind yourself to climax; in fact, it was embarrassingly quick, and it left your face hot with some special kind of shame as you slunk out of bed to wash your hands. The entire time, you avoided your reflection in the mirror.

Even with the ancient AC cranked on and chugging away, it took you a long while to fall asleep.

Off in the industrial district of Brooklyn, meanwhile, Mirage was burning rubber as he took ninety-degree turns at sixty miles per hour. His processor was thrumming at max capacity, and his engine felt like it was about to either stall or explode.

Primus, it was all too much. Your teasing always got him some kind of hot and bothered, tight under his interface paneling, but the acidic rush of embarrassment still prickled at his cabling. Prime, come on, man. Mirage was still floored at the fact that Prime of all bots had embarrassed him like that, in front of you, no less!

He had it bad for you, and he knew it, but apparently every other bot in that warehouse knew it too. Ever since he’d met you, you’d stuck in his processor, the way the light glinted off your eyes and your all-teeth smile and the way he could get you to laugh. Sure, his flirts were only playful at first — and he only did them to mess with Noah, who’d harbored an on-and-off crush on you for a while — but the more he did them and the more you returned them, the more he started really… considering it.

It was so shameful. Primus, it was shameful. He’d barely ever interfaced in his life — there was just no time, especially not on Cybertron — and never with organics. After that one night where he’d hefted you up with ease in both servos and completely blanked when confronted with your soft, warm weight in his hold, he’d been on a spiral. It wasn’t just enough to be friendly with you; he was plenty friendly with Noah (though with the amount of stupid passes Mirage made at him, Noah would probably say too friendly) and he wanted something more with you.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled into some long-abandoned warehouse or pitch-black deserted alley and scrabbled at his interface panel to pressurize his spike before he feverishly, frantically humped his fisted servo for relief, mental processors supplying increasingly filthy fantasies of your soft skin against his chassis and your mouth, Primus, your mouth on his own, on his spike, wherever, he didn’t care. Every single time, though, after coming down from his high with steam pouring off his lax frame, he felt just a little more discouraged than the last — because he knew that his fantasies would have to stay that way. Fantasies. Your friendship was enough, had to be, no matter how bad he wanted you, because he’d be damned to the Pit before he scared you off by being stupid and admitting his feelings.

Ugh. Ugh. He took another corner too hard and felt his tires shriek, let the burn travel upward and reverberate in his frame. The chaos in his mental processors quieted as he neared HQ. All he knew was that it was late, and he couldn’t be too loud or Prime would get on his ass for interrupting his stasis.

Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me. Your voice played, unbidden, from some file that popped open in his memory bank. He willed it away with a vengeance as he rolled into the warehouse-turned-headquarters as quietly as he could, transforming as soon as the door was shut and stretching out his back. Clicking echoed off the walls as his spinal struts reset, and the residual burn in his scraped tires tingled.

Mirage turned, and—

Yelped. Bumblebee was standing right there, shoulder against the wall and fiddling with some holographic projection from his forearm. Mirage coughed into his clenched servo to preserve what was left of his dignity.

“‘Sup,” he greeted through gritted denta. “I, uh, didn’t see you there, man. How’s it hangin’?”

Bee gave him a flatly unamused look that communicated ‘No shit, you didn’t see me.’ very well. The projection phased out of existence and left the two of them in the dimmed space in some kind of standoff.

“Well, y’know, beauty stasis and everything, I’m just gonna—“

“I wanna know, what you’re feeling! Tell me what’s your mind!” burbled Bee’s radio in place of his voice. Mirage jerked back for a second, not expecting Information Society at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk about—“

“There are some things you can’t hide!” insisted the same song. Bee gestured for Mirage to talk. Clearly he wanted to know.

This was as good a time as ever to spill, he guessed.

Mirage groaned and clasped both of his servos over his face after explaining the bones of it, his head tilted upwards, optics fruitlessly searching the water-stained warehouse ceiling for a solution to his problem. His… very human, very embarrassing problem.

Not that he thought you were embarrassing— not at all, never. But Prime would have his head over falling for a human. Okay, well, maybe not his head; it was more like Mirage would be in for a lengthy disapproving speech about responsibilities and goals and distractions, and Primus, just thinking about it made the former option of decapitation the preferable one. Even though he seemed to approve of his choice, considering what he’d said earlier, the ‘Bots were still at war, and there wasn’t time for human distractions. Literal human distractions.

It wasn’t like he could help it. You were funny, okay? And smart. And you teased him in just the right way that made his cooling fans sputter, and you were so curious about… everything about him, he thought, remembering your impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lesson with a hot flash in his processor. He couldn’t help but be flattered by your attention.

“Ugh, Bee, I don’t know what to do, man,” he said despairingly after a moment, pacing in circles in front of said squat yellow bot leaned against the nearby concrete wall. “I mean, look at this, she’d be missin’ out if she said no,” he added, arrogance staining his words in an attempt to console himself. It didn’t work; insecurity eviscerated his bravado moments after he said it. “Or… I guess we’d both be, huh.” A short, self-deprecating laugh left him.

Mirage wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to Bee of all bots for advice, but he was sure as shit not going to Optimus after today, and Arcee would have just told him anyway. Plus, considering that Wheeljack wasn’t even in the country at the moment, his options were slim. Besides, Bee had… experience with this sort of thing. Dealing with humans and all. Just… not in this way. But it was close enough, and Mirage was totally lost; if he thought about it by himself for any longer, his processors were going to fry.

Speaking of, Bee tittered through his gutted voice synthesizer to get Mirage’s attention. Expression drawn into a very human grimace, Mirage turned to face his friend, servos planted firmly on his hips.

“Well, you gotta tell her— wanna know what love is— want you to show me,” Bee’s radio clipped, first from a talk show, then from a nearby station, and Mirage felt energon surge to his face in a hot rush at a very personal song being blared back at him.

He had the words memorized at this point. The shape of them was practically burned into his memory files, considering how much he played it for you. It was reserved for days on both ends of the spectrum, bad and good; Mirage would pick you up in his alt-mode and take you for joyrides across the city, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge at daredevil speeds, all the while blaring music loud enough to make your head pound.

The two of you had discovered a few favorites, but the Foreigner song was at the top of the list, right next to Careless Whisper, of course. The sound of your voice belting at the top of your lungs, softened with that specific human accent, thrumming and reverberating through your chest— you sounded so alive, but so different from what he was accustomed to.

“Dude—” Mirage nearly barked, voice up a full octave before clearing his synthesizer into his fist and repeating himself. “Dude. I can’t just do that. Aliens— we’re aliens. Well. She’s an alien, too, I guess, but we,” he paused to gesture frantically between himself and Bee, “are the aliens here. I don’t really think humans are into the whole giant robot thing.”

“Noah?” Bee played a clip of Mirage’s own voice back at him questioningly.

“Yeah, well, Noah’s a different story.”

With a whir of his actuators, Bee shook his head and looked away for a moment, big blue optics considering the floor. With a soft clunk, he crossed his arms over his chassis.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Mirage urged, tilting his head to follow the other bot’s motions. “Should I just leave it? I mean, I don’t want it to be weird, I just—“

Bee straightened up off the wall, clearly done thinking. His arms opened out in a shrug and his optics squinted, communicating I don’t know what you want me to say, dude, far better than his vocal synthesizer ever could have.

His radio clipped again, this time a few seconds of a Beatles song and then Noah’s voice. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah— right?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mirage groaned, rolling his head back with a pained expression and letting his body follow the motion as he paced another tight circle. His faceplates felt hot at the insinuation. “And if I ask, it’s gonna be weird. And if I make it weird, I’m never gonna—“

He stopped rambling when a four-digit servo thumped on the headlight atop his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. Bee’s optics stared him down, wide and bright blue, and it made Mirage press his lips together firmly as he awaited whatever sage advice he was about to impart.

ABBA filtered through the radio first. “Should walk right up to her and say—“ What came next made Mirage’s brow ridges shoot up so high he thought they were going to fly off his helmet. “—when I get that feeling, I want sexual healin’!”

Mirage’s jaw dropped. Immensely flustered and ten times more frustrated at his friend’s useless advice, he shoved the other bot off. “Are you serious, dude? Primus, I never shoulda asked you. Thanks, I’ll go walk right up to her and ask to interface on the warehouse floor, that’ll go super well.”

Bee nodded quickly and gave him a double thumbs up with a series of approving beeps and chirps, the bottoms of his optics flattening into an amused look. Mirage dragged his servo down his faceplates in mortification, although his cooling fans kicked on a click higher than normal.

Sometimes he wished he’d been left on Cybertron with Soundwave and all his other goons. This was one of those times. As he dropped back into his alt-mode with an embarrassed mumble about ‘going on patrol,’ Bee whooped behind him, and the last thing Mirage heard before peeling out of the warehouse was “There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, baby, no, no!”

Whoever gave Bee access to Marvin Gaye needed to be whacked upside the helm.

Knowing Mirage’s luck, it was probably you.

He stayed out for the rest of the night in his alt-mode, wandering the streets and staying away from your apartment, no matter how bad he wanted to go. The pool of people with any useful advice to offer for his predicament was steadily shrinking; after the disaster with Bee, Mirage just needed to stay away from that warehouse and let his processors cool.

Sometime in the morning he returned, though not to the warehouse. He almost immediately crashed into stasis as soon as he rolled into Noah’s garage, his simultaneously pent-up and exhausted processors eager for a chance to refresh themselves and defrag.

Ha, he thought blearily as he sank into stasis. Defrag.

You were waking as he was crashing, though you weren’t happy about it. The eight hour shift that loomed ahead of you on top of the bullshit from last night was a pretty potent combination for a headache of a day, especially when you couldn’t have your morning jam sesh with Mirage on your way to work. Thankfully, though, your roommate was a kind soul, and there was an extra cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter when you stumbled out of your bedroom.

As you sipped it, you wondered just how long you could keep the front up. By some small grace of God, your roommate’s schedule didn’t align very well with yours; you barely saw them in your daily life even before you met Mirage. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. It just happened that way. But on a few occasions, they’d been home when Mirage had dropped you off, and you’d been just calling him a ‘friend with places to be’ to excuse the fact that he never walked you to your door. Being somewhat prescient, they’d nudged you a couple times about this ‘friend’ turning into a boyfriend, but had never pushed it.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, though you traded a few jokes back and forth that had the both of you giggling into your food. The ride to your job was similar, and your roommate wished you a good shift before driving off leisurely — such a stark difference compared to Mirage’s affinity for peeling off into the street at Mach-fucking-10. Thinking of him made your face burn and your mind race. You tried not to.

Time was an especially cruel mistress today, though. You swore that people were actively winding the clocks back every time you looked up at them, and your shift felt like a thick slog, knee-deep, that you had no choice but to wade through. The worst part about slow shifts was that your mind wandered with nothing else to do, and like a moth to a flame— or rather, like metal to a magnet, your brain circled around to Mirage again and again and again.

Damn that bot. Damn it all. Every time you thought of him, it was some stupid joke he’d cracked or silly offhand comment he’d made or ridiculous flirt he’d lobbed your way — always accompanied by memories of his body, surprisingly lithe considering what he was made of, all legs and a dramatic waist topped with wide shoulders that made your own engine purr.

“Mirage, did you go upstate or something? You’re disgusting,” you’d laughed as you raked your gaze over his pecs, pretending to eye the dirt smeared there and not something else.

“Disgusting?! You gotta be kidding me, I’m not half as bad as the rest of ‘em. You should see Bee, dude!” He’d gestured out the door of the warehouse, where you assumed the other bot was lurking in dirt-covered shame.

“What the hell were you two even doing?”

“Pfft. Practicin’.”

“Practicing body-slamming each other?”

“Yeah, want me to show you?”

“Mirage,” you’d groaned, laughing despite yourself.

“C’mon, I know a few good ways to pin a bot down,” he grinned, winking at you. You fixed him with the most dead stare you could muster before breaking into a half-smile of your own.

“I’ll pass on the whole getting crushed thing, but I could be persuaded to spray you down by hand,” you flirted back, just for fun. 

No, not for fun. Real flirt. It was real, all of it was, and you couldn’t shake the memory of his optics widening, brightening, with eagerness and the way he’d pleaded. Playfully. Playfully?

“Please,” he begged dramatically, clasping his servos together, optics enormous. “I’ll be good! Maybe even stay still!”

You pinched your nose bridge between your fingers and tried to think about something else, because you were starting to press your thighs together a little and you were still at work, damn it. Professionalism was something you were aiming to maintain.

Hot. It was hot. That’s what you were thinking about. You’d glanced at the weather report earlier in the morning, and seeing a row of little sun icons clued you in on an insufferable heatwave that didn’t have any intention of breaking any time soon. Even now you felt sweat collect under your shirt and dot your hairline; all you could do was wipe your face with the back of your hand and keep working.

And working.

And working.

And. Working.

And then, eventually, you watched the clock tick over the last minute of your shift, and you heard angels sing a holy choir as you all but slammed your things down and sprinted to clock out. Well. You didn’t sprint, but you did speed walk, which counted for something.

Such was your haste to leave your workplace and talk to Mirage that you speed-walked headfirst into the lashing rain outside without a second thought. Genuinely caught by surprise, you stumbled back into the safety of the entryway, eyes wide as you watched the storm front swallow the last dregs of the golden evening sky and pour rain on the streets outside. Ink blots bleeding across paper. Rorschach tests. Some other poetic fluff came to mind over the supremely annoying realization that you were going to have to walk to the garage in wet clothes.

At least it was a quick walk.

Patience waning, you nearly considered calling Mirage — or even Noah — to come get you, but at the last second your roommate swooped in, pulling up outside and honking the horn a few times to let you know your knight in shining Prius was here to rescue you.

They cracked a few jokes at your expense when they saw your wet clothes, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not after the trials and tribulations of Mirage. With a few clicks, the rest of your ride home was filled with Boyz II Men and intermittent conversation as you watched raindrops race each other down the window and considered what the hell you were going to say to Mirage tonight. 

Mostly, you were dying of curiosity to know what Prime had meant to get him so flustered. Thinking about that, though, just made you go down a spiral of what-ifs… especially considering that one of them was ‘What if he feels the same way?’

You could handle rejection. You were an adult who paid taxes. But just this one time, you weren’t sure if you could handle reciprocation. Especially full reciprocation.

Mirage’s friendship was something you felt privileged to have. You were just quite scared to fuck it all up and lose out on all the things that made being his friend worth it — including him. Jaw tightening, you blinked and looked away from the window. No use stewing in it.

At home, your dinner was quick and light — something in a Tupperware that you didn’t look at too hard after microwaving. When your roommate asked about your rush, you came up with some lame excuse about hanging out with Noah, waving your hand dismissively.

Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go break Hynek’s scale of close encounters. Don’t worry about it though.

“In this weather? You’ll be soaked thirty seconds out the door. You were soaked thirty seconds out the door.”

“I’ll bring an umbrella,” you said, barely listening to them over the cacophony of your own thoughts. Mirage. Mirage. Mirage. I’m seeing him tonight. I’m talking to him tonight. I’m not going to pussy out of anything tonight. Now or never. “The place is like two blocks up the street, I’ll live.”

“If you’re so inclined to catch a cold, I’m not gonna stop you. Not making you chicken soup, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarked affectionately, and the last thing you heard before exiting your apartment was their familiar laughter. That bolstered you somewhat.

Even if the rain whipping at your face made you reconsider your stupid horny stubbornness.

Only two blocks felt more like two dozen as you tucked your chin to your chest and gripped your hood to keep the wind from snatching it off your head; in your other hand you white-knuckled your umbrella to keep it from tilting the wrong angle and washing water down your back. Thunder rattled your bones more than once and made you think offhandedly of Kris, the poor kid. He hated storms but refused to admit it out of pride; he was probably curled up in a ball under his covers right now trying to block out the worst of the noise. And you thought of Noah alongside him just out of pure association, and you weren’t sure what made your stomach turn, but it did.

God, you hoped Noah wasn’t with Mirage right now. You didn’t want to slam the door open to the garage soaking wet and wrestle Mirage’s true feelings out of him while Noah spectated. Wrestle. Soaking wet.

Fuck my life.

The side door to the garage was jammed like it always was, even after you unlocked it, and you huddled against it to stay under the mediocre cover of the awning as you shoved your shoulder into it to force it open. Old metal hinges wailed as you ground them open, and the blessed dry warmth of the garage — the temperature always heightened with Mirage’s presence — sighed against your freezing skin as you wormed your way inside. 

“Mirage?” you called tentatively as you leaned back against the door to get it to shut and latch. A beat passed before your senses came to you and your hand fumbled behind you to lock it. Not for sordid reasons, honestly. You just didn’t want anyone to even have the chance of walking in on Mirage when he wasn’t folded into a Porsche.

Speaking of, you saw him then, pacing around the garage and seemingly very involved in a conversation with himself. Although the rain outside provided a dull roar of background noise, the whirs and clicks of his actuators and soft whooms of his pedes against the concrete filled your ears with their familiarity. It was Mirage, and you knew Mirage, and it helped dull the edge of abject nervousness in your gut.

He cut a sharp figure under the hanging ceiling lights, making sure to duck and avoid smacking his helm on them. When those bright blue optics registered your existence, you swore they flared with delight; he said your name with such enthusiasm it almost made you excited. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. “Hey, sugar, what’s k— Primus, you, uh, swim on your way here? Or do I just make you that wet? Cuz I appreciate the compliment.” He grinned wolfishly at you. Sparks flew off your rubbed-raw nerves.

The unimpressed stare you gave him was lethal. “That is not how that works,” you said, shaking your umbrella off on the floor and setting it against the wall to drip dry. “All the wetness is— would be in one place, dumbass.”

��Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention during my anatomy lessons. Wanna reteach ‘em to me? I’ll behave, swear on my spark.”

A scoff. “When have you ever behaved in your life?”

“When it counts! C’mon, you know you like it,” he said, gesturing down the length of his body with a flourish of his servo. “I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

“If I answer that question, I’ll hurt your feelings.” Excess rainwater dripped off your jacket as you peeled it off. Mirage’s optics followed the motion intently.

Amber lighting nearly glowed against the sleek metal of his torso. So what if your own eyes had wandered down it at his emphasis? He’d invited it. Expressly. He loved your attention, loved flaunting everything about himself just for a glance his way from you, for anything you’d give him.

It took him a second to register your words. He gasped and clasped a servo over his chassis— his spark, you remembered that from your own anatomy lesson a few weeks ago. “Gonna break my spark talkin’ like that. I hurt your feelings or something, sugar? What’s got you so bent?” With his question, he sank into a deep squat, draping his forearm over his thigh and leaning close to you.

A deep exhale left you. Your shoulders deflated. “It’s not you. Just the weather.” A short huff of a laugh, barely humorous, left you. “I mean, look at me.” You held your arms out and spun in a slow circle, errant droplets flying in every direction. “I look like a drowned rat.”

The lightbulb over his head was nearly visible. “You, uh, want a hand drying off?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hands fell to your sides. Something akin to lightning danced up your spine.

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, I got an idea,” he said,  holding his hand out at you to tell you to wait, excitement ramping up in his voice. What the hell was he planning? Nothing good, you figured. Or hoped.

Otherwise harsh sounds of metal against metal were softened by the alien chirrs and trills of the mechanical viscera working in his chassis as he settled on the ground in a sitting position. His back was leaned against the wall, carefully adjusted so his darling paint job was away from the rough concrete. To keep his balance, he rested against his tires and scooched his hips away from the wall, kicking his long legs out with a flourish and gesturing at his lap.

Although he was shorter this way, it was still a climb you didn't want to make while you were damp and the general slip hazard was high. “Can you give me a lift so I can see whatever shit you’re planning?”

“I got you, sugar, don’t even worry about it. Just hang on,” came the reply, and your brain blanked just a little at the feeling of his servos on you again, picking you up just like they had done on that night two weeks ago. With zero effort — seriously, you didn’t even hear any mechanical creaking — you were scooped upwards.

Your damp clothes clung to your body, a fact both you and Mirage were painfully aware of; the chill of the soaked fabric contrasted against that fascinating living heat of your skin nearly made the sensors in his servos short-circuit. He’d thought about this, exactly this, so much that it had probably worn a path into his neural processors. So soft. You were so soft.

A shudder ran up his spinal strut and he prayed you didn’t notice.

You were set down with your feet firmly on the flat tops of his thighs, ignoring the slight wobble in your knees. Arms raised a bit for balance, you looked down at the living machinery beneath you. The flight paths of the butterflies in your stomach grew more frantic. Broad servos released you from their hold, but they didn’t leave; no, they skated down, down, down until they settled on the flare of your hips and stayed. They were so heavy.

A breath caught in your throat like a wild animal in a trap. “If I fall, I’m gonna be so pissed off. You know that, right?” Anything to make this more normal. You had no idea how you kept the shake out of your voice.

“Relaaax, hot stuff, I’m on it. I got it, I got it,” he replied, his voice a full octave lower than what you were used to. “‘sides, I’m Mirage, remember? Protecting humans is kinda my thing.”

You scoffed. “Not with the way you drive.”

“Hey, I drive perfectly fine! You’re the one who’s scared of fun.” His servos left your hips to brace themselves on the floor. “Mirage, don’t drive so fast! Mirage, that’s a red light! Mirage, there are cops behind us!” His voice pitched up into something high and nasally to poorly, poorly mimic yours.

It was your turn to be affronted, though your mouth was open in a disbelieving sort of smile. “I don’t even sound like that, you fucker! And sorry for trying to keep us from getting arrested!”

“I dunno, you all sorta sound the same to our audio processors.” He was lying, and blatantly so. He had the distinct tone and pitch of your voice memorized down to the wavelength. “And besides, we wouldn’t get arrested.” His own voice took on a smug, self-satisfied edge, accompanied by the raise of his brow ridges.

“Oh, really? Why’s that? Please, enlighten me,” you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down. In response, he leaned his head in, closer to you, closer than you expected, and an insufferable smirk crawled across his faceplates.

“Cuz cop cars can’t drive that fast,” he whispered conspiratorially, like it was a clever response.

What should have been a minute movement — just a shift of the head — actually became very noticeable on a twelve-foot-frame; his hips repositioned of their own accord to account for the redistribution of weight, and the change was enough to trip you up. Especially when you had been leaning in already to match his movement.

The world tilted as you started to fall forward; fearing injury or worse by tumbling off your semi-precarious perch, you jammed your hands out in front of you—

And slammed your palms directly on his chassis. It was all very fast after that. Mortified, you stared down at the planes of metal beneath you, feeling heat creep up, up, up your neck and seep into your face. Mirage had cursed above you out of surprise, and you felt the displacement of air as his servo shot up behind your back and hovered. Right there. He was right there, and he always would be.

You raised your head and made eye contact, and you knew it was over. His optics were wide with surprise, and they searched your face for any expression of pain or discontent. They cycled once, seeing none, and then flickered down to your lips.

He was so done for. Something in his expression sagged at your proximity; in his field of view, he saw an alert stating that his internal temperature was rising beyond ideal levels, and he would have laughed if not for you. Finally. Finally. Finally. He was half-expecting this to be a dream, something cooked up by his fried processors that he would wake up from any minute now. 

His servo was still hovering over your back.

“Can I—“

“Yes,” you said immediately in a sharp exhale — before he could even get the question out — and there it all went.

He surged forward like a flood from a dam, closing the distance between the both of you with a hungry rev of his engine. Explaining the logistics of it would sound silly; all you could do was go with the flow, just like every other time you’d ever kissed someone. All you knew was that it was satisfying, supremely so, and completely encompassing. Every sense was filled by him, and you realized with a kick of your heart that you never wanted it any other way.

Though your hand shook, you shoved past the fear and indulged in everything you had wanted for weeks, let yourself sink deep into that pit of want and refused to come up for air. Your fingers skated his curves and edges; you brought your palm up to the sharp angles of his jaw and smoothed it upward until it ran over the curve of his cheek.

He reacted to your touch like it was a live wire. Minute jerks of excitement ran through his frame, and when your hand rested on the side of his face, he tilted his helm into the kiss with barely restrained excitement. He was so careful, it made something inside you purr. That kind of caution was only reserved for something precious. You were precious. He couldn’t ever risk hurting you. Especially not by his own hand.

First impression was that his lips were far softer than you’d ever assumed. Pliable, hot metal pressed greedily against your mouth — more, more, more was a mantra echoed wordlessly between the both of you. The hovering servo came to rest on your back, pushing your front against his chassis as you shifted up on your toes to keep the angle of the kiss correct. Digits splayed against the planes of skin they found there, pressing down to feel your warmth — your heart slammed against your ribs so hard that Mirage could probably feel it against his palm.

With a hot flash, you wondered if the metal of his lips would bear the dent of your teeth from a bite. So you bit. It was more of a playful nip than anything, but the reaction you got was so instantaneous it was like Mirage had been waiting for it. Again, his engine throttled, the powerful rumble surging through you as his servo pinned you to his chassis. Against your mouth, his lips ticked up into a smile.

Air. You needed air. He let you pull away with no resistance, though his head did trail after your mouth for a moment.

You let your forehead sink down and rest against the top of his chassis for a moment; the condensation from your breath fogged the metal. Out of nowhere, manic giggles erupted from you. They shook your body incessantly as you rose and fell in time with Mirage’s heavy vents, your knees feeling weak and mind frazzled. From one kiss. One.

Laughter rocked his frame too, short chuckles of disbelief as his thumb rubbed circles into your back.

“Oh my god,” you murmured into the warm metal beneath you through shocks of giggles.

“Not exactly, but, eh, I’ll take it,” Mirage replied above you, and while he laughed at his own joke, you groaned and whacked him lightly with a palm. It wasn’t like he was unaffected though — far from it, in fact, judging from the steadily heating chassis beneath you and the tinge of static fringing his words.

“Bring me up,” you said hoarsely, twisting an arm behind you to paw at the servo on your back.

Without question, his other servo came up and curled under your thighs, hoisting you up so that his face was easier to reach. With most of your body now resting on his chassis and very much secured in his grip, you grasped his face in both your palms; he leaned so far into your touch with a shaky ex-vent that your noses almost brushed.

“Again?”

“Yeah, again,” he agreed, and this time you pulled him in, fingers hooking in some unseen seam behind his jaw as you crushed your mouth against his. Hunger, latent and now finally triggered, drove you closer, as close as you physically could, until your skin was starting to hurt from the random edges being pressed into it.

Curious above all else, you licked your tongue into the front of his mouth. The searing heat inside surprised you; it teetered on the edge of uncomfortable and reminded you very much of your computer at home when it ran for too long, with that special kind of mechanical stress and burning warmth that only came with overworked processors.

“‘S like that, is it?” he murmured into your mouth with a grin, his engine kicking up a notch and the vibration of his chassis hitting you very nicely right where you needed it most. You made some soft noise, half-gasp, half-groan, and hiked one of your legs up so it was bent at the knee, flattening your hips against his chest and fuck, there it was. The consistent rumble of his motor pressed a steady vibration right into your cunt over the seam of your jeans; a particular grind made you gasp and falter as you rolled your clit against the line of denim and held it there.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Heyyy, hot stuff, something feel good down there?” His voice was bursting at the seams with some rich kind of excitement; you breathed into his neck cabling as your hips jerked a little against his chassis. One servo pawed at your ass, clumsy with its eagerness, gripping and massaging the soft flesh it found there with intent.

Experimentally, his servo pressed down, pushing your pelvis down with it, and the pressure on your clit pulled a groan of satisfaction out of you that had his cooling fans sputter.

“Fuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and before he could say something stupid, you leaned your head down and pressed kisses to the delicate cabling of his neck.

A delighted noise rattled out of him, and his helm rolled back against the wall to allow you more access. Impatient, your kisses soon turned to bites, playful nips that tugged at the sensitive wiring and made his body jolt beneath yours like he’d been shocked. To your utter delight, you found that Mirage’s proclivity for talking extended to situations like these, too — noises streamed from his mouth as your curious teeth and hands worked over such a fragile part of his anatomy in ways that only a human could.

“Oh, Primus, babe, babe—“ he stammered out, and you lifted your head for just long enough of a window to allow him to swoop down and kiss you again, feverishly now.

Something thick and wet prodded past your teeth experimentally. For just a second you balked— and then remembered it was his glossa. His tongue. Yeah, you remembered that from your anatomy lesson; he’d stuck it out and pointed at it in a dumb way then, but fuck if it didn’t have your thighs tightening now. The hot biomesh probed your mouth, and it was so big you inadvertently drooled around it — but Mirage didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you were pretty sure the spit dripping from your mouth around him was getting him even more worked up, judged by the way his digits tightened their grip on your ass.

You had been cold when you’d walked in that garage. Keyword there was had. Now your skin seared with a deep flush and steadily increasing heat; mindlessly, your hips started a slow, staccato rhythm that kept your breathing heavy. The servo on your back slid upwards to the point where it encompassed the back of both your neck and head. He could not get enough of your taste. He wanted it burned into the sensors on his glossa, for all he cared. Spit and lubricant swapped between the both of your mouths — you found that the metallic taste that seeped into your tongue did nothing but turn you on further.

Pulling away again for a deep inhale of air, you propped yourself semi-awkwardly on an elbow to look at him. Open adoration was written across his faceplates, along with blatant want that made his optics cycle frantically.

“I thought you were— fuck, I thought you were supposed to be drying me off,” you said, breaking in the middle of your sentence as his servo carefully started to move you. Just barely — just enough pressure to keep your hips working against him and chasing your pleasure.

“You really wanna?” He grinned at you, spit shiny on his chin. “I dunno about you, but I think I’m likin’ you being wet more.”

“You’re awful. That was terrible,” you laughed, brain foggy with arousal and general swelling affection for the bot underneath you.

“How many more of those you got left in you before you start admitting the truth that I’m the funniest bot you’ll ever meet?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly have stiff competition.”

“Aaand the best-looking.”

“I dunno… Optimus is kind of—“

“Hey!” he interrupted, bringing you up for another kiss to silence your thought before you could finish it. You happily complied, laughing into the heat of his mouth and then moaning in the same breath as his servo ground you down against his rumbling chassis again.

Hot. You were getting really hot. The damp clothes sticking to your skin were not helping; in fact, they felt as though they were going to start steaming being pressed against your skin like this. Against your wishes, you pulled backwards again, bracing yourself against the warm vents that substituted for his collarbones. They cycled hot, dry air against your fingertips, though it didn’t burn. Not yet, at least.

“Mirage,” you breathed, and that got his attention immediately. “…Are we fucking?”

“Please,” he instantly replied, so eager that it made your cunt throb. His enormous blue optics watched you with such intent that it almost made you want to shrink away from the scrutiny — but you steeled your resolve. You had him, and you had him right where you wanted. Opportunity of a fucking lifetime. You were not about to waste it.

You glanced down for a reprieve from the eye contact. “Fuck,” you swore softly, staring at the metalwork beneath you for a few heartbeats before shaking your head and glancing back upwards at him. “Okay, well— I— Okay. Let me just— do this—“

Hands shaking slightly, you balled your fists in the hem of your work shirt and wrestled it up and off you; the damp fabric lingered and peeled off of you, which made Mirage’s motor throttle powerfully underneath you. Other than that, though, you got no reaction, which made all that heat in your abdomen cool rapidly into a dense ball of abject horror.

Oh, you made a mistake. This was too much, you were too alien, too different—

The servo not supporting you against his chassis slid around from the planes of your back to your front, and you gasped sharply as he did the same fucking thing that drove you insane the first time, however many days ago. His thumb, warm on the palm-side, gently passed over the peak of your chest. His optics narrowed in on the indent in your soft flesh his digit created. Nerve endings in the trail it left behind sparked.

“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he said reverently, voice steeped in a combination of awe and victory.

Oh-kay! You sucked a deep breath in, a litany of responses running through your head. The boost to your ego was very much appreciated, and it helped lighten the sinking mass of worry that had formed in the pit of your stomach.

Mirage nearly groaned when you placed your soft palm atop the junction of his digit and the heel of his servo. “Do it again,” you decided on, and that worked damn well.

As his servo groped at your chest, he leaned in, tucking his face under your jaw. To accommodate, you tilted your head up and away—

Only to swear into negative space as he very much returned the favor from earlier and began carefully sucking the world’s biggest hickeys into the skin of your neck. Breaths came harsh and choppy as the expanse of his glossa, hot and spit-slick, laved over the gentle bites he worried into your skin with his denta. 

“Ah, Mirage, Mirage,” you breathed; every mention of his name spilling from your bruised lips made his circuitry heat just a little more. It was so much all at once — his servos were so broad that their expanse covered huge swaths of skin at once, and his mouth on such a sensitive part of your anatomy wasn’t helping either. Your hands clawed for purchase against his helm and the back of his neck. One palm flattened as much as it could on the back of his head, trying with all of your laughable human strength to bring him as close as possible. The other ended up cradling the side of his head, your thumb brushing over the audial disk there. With no small amount of wonder, you watched the plates of his back ruffle at your touch.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be weird, but he could die happy so long as he had the taste of your skin still registering on his glossa. It was more addictive than any high-grade he’d had back home by leagues. That human flavor of salt and skin and some kind of sweetness had his processors thrumming at maximum capacity; you made his mouth flood with lubricant, a fact you could corroborate by the amount that spilled over your bare sternum. The feeling of his own spit sliding down your front between your bruised breasts made the muscles of your abdomen twitch. Fingers shaped like claws now, you pressed weak kisses against the smooth curves of his helm wherever you could reach.

Your jeans were just getting in the way at this point. The minute shocks of pleasure you derived from grinding your clit against the inseam were just that — minute. You needed something more now or you were going to get frustrated, and you’d dealt with enough sexual frustration over the past weeks to be very sick of that feeling.

“Oh, fuck, okay— Mirage,” you said breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the side of his helm to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your chest, optics dimmed with pleasure. They cycled once and returned to their full brightness as he cleared the fog of arousal — barely — away from his processors.

“All systems go, sugar?” Static hissed underneath his words.

You tried and failed to stifle a snort of a laugh. “Corny ass,” you mumbled, although you were absolutely close enough for his audial sensors to pick up on it. He made a sound of indignation, but you pushed forward regardless. “I, um, I need to get these off.” Hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your jeans to emphasize your point, you glanced up at his optics again.

Blankness for a second. Then it registered. “Oh, right, right, of course, haha! You, uh, want help? Or you got it?”

“I think I can manage taking my pants off,” you laughed. “Just— let me sit on like— the top of your chest, there we go,” you instructed, and the hand under your ass pushed you up until you were turned around and seated on the lip of the top of his chassis. For a second, you wrestled with the denim — still not fully dried — but you managed to kick both your jeans and your shoes off. They were thrown somewhere in the direction of the door. God, you were so glad you locked it.

Underwear went next. There was a beat of hesitation — for what, you weren’t sure — but like you’d done so often as of late, you just ignored your trepidation and worked the elastic down your legs. A laugh barked out of you when you lifted the fabric up and saw the downright ridiculous wet spot that stained the gusset.

“Jesus Christ, look what you did to me,” you said with a faux accusatory tone, holding your panties out for Mirage to inspect. Two digits delicately took them from you; he held them up to his face, so close that it made you blush from sheer embarrassment.

“Wow. You weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout all the wet being in one spot, huh?” He examined them with no small amount of fascination, much to your mortification.

“Mirage! Put those down, oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth with a choked noise.

“What, I can’t admire my work?”

“No you can not.”

Mirage pouted at your denial, and mumbled something about you being no fun, but he still lifted you off his chassis regardless. Like he was helpless to your draw, he pulled you in for another kiss, though he couldn’t stop his mouth from wandering. Down, down, down, until his nose was nestled in your chest and he spoke into the soft flesh of your stomach. Shaky ex-vents tickled the damp skin there.

“Shit, baby, tastes so good,” he mumbled, and you were impressed by his ability to sound completely sex-drunk without even having done anything yet.

Your hips rolled against nothing; they bumped into his neck cabling and the top of his chassis fruitlessly, and a noise of frustration eked out of you. Mirage seemed to get the memo and pulled you away. Your body was brought down until your ass was sat firmly on his hips — his interface panel nestled right in front of your dripping cunt — and your back was leaned up against the flat support of his thighs; his knees were tucked up and his pedes placed firm and flat on the floor to give you the most stability. Fumbling for a second before you found somewhere to place your own feet, the enormity and absurdity of the situation brought more of those breathless giggles to your mouth that seized your chest and shook your shoulders.

Toootally breaking Hynek’s scale here. So beyond abduction. Way beyond abduction.

A few careful digits slipped around your knee, wormed their way between your legs. “Can I—“ 

Your thighs fell open without a word.

What had made you fall for Mirage the hardest was his motormouth. He never stopped talking; he always had something stupid to add, something to pitch in with, some silly joke to crack. There was a lightness he teased out of you that even you didn’t expect. But now? Now, for once, he was speechless. It made uncharacteristic shyness flare in your gut and heat your face as he studied your very bare, very human form with slightly parted lips and enormous optics.

His body caught up before his mouth did. The servo on your knee slid over it until it gripped your bare thigh; he watched the flesh shift back and forth under his touch with no small amount of fascination.

“Is it— it’s okay?” Your voice sounded very small. It was a special kind of insecurity to be faced with.

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. It’s cool, you’re just— just different. A lot different.” He jiggled your thigh again playfully.

“Good kind of different though, right?”

“Very good.” To punctuate it, his engine snarled again, seemingly in response to the drool of your cunt on the hot metal of his interface panel. “Primus, you look good, babe. Shit.”

Ego boost! You smiled. Any other partner — any person — and this would be too much, this position too unflattering, your everything too open… With Mirage, though, it just felt like it always did. Easy.

One of your hands rested atop the servo still holding onto the meat of your thigh. The other slid down over your shining chest, passed over your stomach and pubic mound, and brushed past wiry hair, shiny with slick, in order to slide a finger up your folds. A whine ripped its way out of you at direct contact with your clit after mere heavy petting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing tight circles with your fingers and twitching your hips forward to eke out more of that delicious pressure.

The servo on your thigh dug into your skin. Mirage’s vents became far heavier at the open display of your arousal; it has always been him vying for your attention. Now that it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Transfluid was seeping between the seams of his interface panel, joining your own fluids in a shiny pool that sent sparks up his struts. He made you like this, made you so wet you dripped, made your clit swollen enough to be visible, made your cunt tight with heat and Primus, he needed you on his spike so bad, he thought he might die without it.

He verbalized these thoughts with an unintelligible noise of adoration.

It was enough encouragement for you to slide down from your clit and venture two fingers into yourself. Zero friction. They glided. Christ, when was the last time you were this wet? You’d slept with a handful of people, especially in your first couple years of college, but you’d never been soaked like this. Mirage’s cooling fans choked at the sight of your fingers vanishing into you. His thumb dug into the crease of your thigh and hip as he leaned just a little closer to watch.

Very little time passed before it devolved into your fingers working inside your walls, crooking against that one spot that made your breath hitch and hips jump. Mindlessly, you ground against your palm, catching your clit on the heel of your hand with a sweet moan that nearly shorted out his processors. He had to hear that again. Without thinking, he moved his servo over, resting the digits on your lower stomach and gently, gently nudging the heel of your hand out of the way to replace it with his thumb.

“Ah!” spilled from your lips at the insistent, broad pressure of his thumb, and your hips jerked against it, working your fingers that much deeper. Tears pricked at your eyes from pure sensation. “Mirage, mmm, just— just rub, up and down— or circles, just move, I don’t ca—are,” you floundered, the last word breaking as he did as he was told, carefully sliding his thumb up and down on the bead of your clit and sending twinges of searing pleasure up your spine.

You found quickly that just your fingers weren’t enough. Not when the reminder of his servo lay heavily on your lower stomach, tips of his digits digging into the soft fat there insistently. Although you were loath to part with your hand, you pulled your fingers out with a sigh. Mirage froze, optics flicking to your shiny hand as you spread your fingers, examining the strings of fluid that connected them with a far-off feeling of pride.

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, and you saw, for one endearing second, a puff of actual steam rise from the vents near his shoulders as he ex-vented harshly.

“Okay, well, here,” you said, unable to come up with anything clever with the purr of arousal in your cunt fanned by the heat of his interface plate and consistent, maddening rumble of his engine. Your hand, still shiny and wet with your fluids, grasped the top of his servo and gently pushed it downwards, until the tips of his digits rested against your drooling entrance. To fight the whimper that threatened to claw its way out of your throat, you nearly chewed a gash into the inside of your cheek. A gasp of an in-vent jolted his frame in awe.

“You sure? I mean— it’s cool?” His flustered stammering was so damn endearing; supreme affection for him swelled in your chest. 

“I’m sure. Just— just go slow.” His adoration was fueling your bravery. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you; if he did, it would never be intentional, and it would never be something he couldn’t fix.

He paused for a second before remembering the position of your own hand and flipping his servo so it was palm side up; you dragged a large enough breath in to balloon your lungs fully at the sight. Anticipation danced in the burn of your spread thighs. For a few seconds, it was just exploration; his digits slid over your silky folds, collecting the gathered slick with minute trembles. One delicious slide all the way up from entrance to clit had you gasping. Mirage silently thanked Primus above that your whole set-up was similar enough to his valve to know at least some of his way around it. It was just hotter. Wetter. Softer. So much softer.

“‘Raj, just— fuuuck,” you groaned out, your head rolling back as the tip of one digit sank into you, soon followed by the rest as it slid all the way to the base. Stars flickered behind your eyelids. The width matched the two fingers put together you’d just pulled out of yourself, though the texture was so wildly different to anything you’d ever put up there that it made your brain stutter for several moments as your nerve endings processed the feeling. The individual ridges and articulations of his knuckles dragged against the silk of your walls in a way that pulled the breath right out of you; your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths as your thighs twitched.

You were a mess. Mirage was in love. “Holy shit, baby, I get you this bad?” It was only partly teasing. “l— fuck, a second one good?”

“Good, yes, please.”

All thoughts were wiped clean from the forefront of your brain with the addition of a second digit. Slick noises and the sound of dripping fluids landing on metal and concrete filled your ears over the steadily climbing racket that Mirage’s entire body was making — his cooling fans competed with his engine to make the most noise, over top of the typical whirs and clicks that came with his motion. You couldn’t look, could only feel with your eyes squeezed shut as Mirage pumped both digits in and out, in and out, in and out. One arm was thrown up behind you, hooking loosely around his knee to ground you somewhere. The other was occupied: your hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline, white-knuckling it even as your sweaty palm slipped over the metal cuff. When his thumb returned to your clit, swirling clumsy but eager circles on top of it, that only contributed to the tight, hot coil building in your gut.

Mirage had half a mind to pop his interface panel right then and service himself, because the sight of you, shining with sweat and slick with his spit as you rode his digits, was almost too much to bear. The plush folds of your cunt, tight with arousal, were so soft against the hard planes of metal that comprised his servos; the contrast was short-circuiting him. Under his paneling, his spike was already pressurized. Had been for what felt like hours. Your ass was beginning to slide back and forth just a little due to the transfluid collecting underneath you; the rippling motion of your flesh was driving him insane. As were your walls, Primus, your walls that sucked greedily around his digits as they glided in and out of the tight ring of muscle that made up your entrance.

Your name left his lips in a groan that was an octave too high to be suave. The thought of your cunt clamping down on his spike — so soft, so hot, so wet — like it was doing on his digit had his hips rolling against nothing, working fruitlessly for friction they weren’t getting.

Sweat collected wherever skin touched skin. Condensation fogged wherever skin touched metal. The combination of his digits stretching you, curling in you when he realized what a dramatic reaction it incurred, and his thumb working your clit was getting to be too much. Heartbeat roaring in your ears like the rain outside, you clawed a grip into a seam in his leg and jerked your hips against his servo with breathy noises and gasps that you certainly wouldn’t be proud of later. For now, though, all it did was fuel Mirage’s ego and go straight to his spike.

Almost there. You were almost there, grinding your way towards it, sweat beading on your hot skin—

He pulled out. He pulled his digits out. A keen tore out of you at the loss of feeling, tears springing to your eyes as the hot edge you were so fucking close to fell away, your hips working unconsciously against a servo no longer there. With a gasp of a breath, you wrenched your eyes open, blinking away the collected tears and nearly baring your teeth at the bot beneath you — until you saw what he was doing.

In utter astonishment, you watched as the digits that were just inside you slid into his mouth, peeks of his glossa flashing as it worked them clean.

“Oh fuck,” you said before you could stop yourself. One of your hands slapped over your mouth; you tasted sweat and metal. His optics slid to you, lidded and cycling frantically as he processed your taste. A harsh ex-vent slumped his shoulders — the servo not preoccupied with his mouth clutched your hip like you were something precious.

“Sugar,” he breathed, static grating on the word. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Servos hefted you up, and you clutched onto them out of instinct as he helped you up to his face. Without thinking, you lunged forward to kiss, your tongue seeking out his glossa and tasting yourself with a resurging thrum of arousal. He cut it short, though, ignoring your protests as he cupped your ass in one servo and held you aloft. 

For a second, you stared at him in confusion. “What are you—“ Then it hit you. “Oh.” Your heart rate skyrocketed.

The grin stretching his faceplates was downright devious. “Hang onto something, wouldja? Not that you’re gonna fall. Just want you to enjoy the ride.” A short, heady chuckle rounded out his words.

“You’re insane— oh!” Your lighthearted scold was immediately interrupted by the press of your hips against his face and the slide of his slick glossa over the entirety of your sex. “Oh my fuck!” sobbed out of you as your upper body jackknifed over his helm. One arm curled around it with clawing fingers; the other slammed, palm flat, against the concrete wall.

A groan of satisfaction rumbled into your cunt as the taste of salt and sweat and girl bloomed on his glossa — just like earlier but so much stronger now. The proud line of his nose bumped your clit for a second before his glossa followed, narrowing so he could flick at it experimentally. Lubricant spilling from his mouth mixed with your own slick and ran down his chin; his cooling fans sputtered and spun weakly for a second as he pushed up further against your hips, malleable mesh drawing shapes between your clit and your hole.

Your fingernails scraped against the wall as your hips jerked of their own accord; the edge stolen from you earlier had very much returned, and the feeling of his faceplates sliding over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs was doing something terrible to you.

“Mirage, ah, ah— I’m— fuck, fuck!” Broken syllables and curses streamed from your lips as a substitute for real words. When he closed his lips around your clit and sucked, it was over. It was so quick, embarrassingly quick. The orgasm that had been building suddenly snapped free and tore through you like a fucking hurricane, leaving spasming muscles and a wonderful endorphin afterglow in its wake. As you sobbed out his name, he slid two digits of his free servo back into you just to give you something to clamp down on, and it made tears spill down your burning cheeks from pure stimulus. Mirage drank you; he wanted nothing more than this, to swallow you down and leave your taste buzzing on his glossa like high-grade. Several thundering heartbeats later found you hunched over his helm as his glossa continued to work lazily against you, forcing twitches out of your thighs from pure overstimulation.

“Okay, okay,” you managed to croak, voice hoarse from weeping moans and boneless from what was probably one of the most insane finishes of your life. You tapped out weakly on the side of his helmet. Reluctantly, he pulled your pussy away from his face and cradled you in both servos, one noticeably damper than the other, in front of him.

His chin was shiny with you, his grin wide and completely self satisfied, and his optics dimmed with pleasure. If you were being honest, he’d never looked better, but in your frazzled state you weren’t sure if you had the capacity to string together enough words to form a compliment.

“I gotta say, compliments to the chef,” he hummed, and you stared at him, words not processing.

“Did you seriously— you just gave me head and that’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Uhh, yeah, babe. And I meant it.”

A genuine laugh shook you. “Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Okay. Well, put me back down there, you corny fuck,” you said with a gesture back at his hips.

“Oooh, keep sayin’ that. I’ll start thinkin’ you mean it.” Your body, errant trembles still running through it, was set carefully down back near its original position. This time, you sat in something closer to a straddle, back straight instead of leaning.

The garage air had gone from temperate and warm to fucking scorching. Outside, the rain droned on, occasional rumbles of thunder sounding so far away that they may as well have not been real. Your entire world had been compressed down to one point — a gravitational singularity in this garage, crushing space and time down until only bricks and concrete stood between you and the oblivion outside. All you knew was living metal and Mirage’s voice, trembling with excitement and fuzzy with static, and that was all you wanted to know. His chassis was making so much noise that you probably, under any other circumstance, would have been concerned; if he blew a gasket fucking you, though, you would wear that with pride.

Pure adoration reflected right back at you from his optics as his servos settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking your slick skin. Any concerns he had about Prime’s reaction to you, or to this — well, maybe not to this specifically, but to the both of you being together — were completely null and void in your presence; the reality of your soft weight in his lap was enough to short out his circuits.

Your hands slid down from the cooling fan in his abdomen spinning at maximum speed towards his soaked interface panel; glancing up at him demurely through your lashes, you spoke.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

“Huh?” He broke out of his reverie. “Oh, right, um— yeah. Yeah, please.”

A smile crawled over your face at the reminder that despite all the poetic words you could come up with in your head, Mirage was still, and always would be, Mirage. Dazed already, he ran the subroutines to open his interface panel. Machinery shifted with a few clicks, and there was a hiss and an outpour of steam as his spike swung up before you, clearly aching for some kind of touch.

You heard more plates shifting lower, too, and out of curiosity peeked downward; something slick glowed lower down, but the nervous shifting of Mirage’s hips and his closed thighs obscured it from view.

Probably better to just focus on what’s in front of you. Your eyes roamed the length of his array first, your mouth going dry just at the size of it. It was bigger than any toy you owned, anyone you’d slept with, and bigger than his digits, too. Still, though… what were humans if not persevering?

And flexible?

You wrapped a hand around it right below the tip, and a full shudder lanced up Mirage’s frame; it was so thick that there was still space between your fingers and thumb left over. Transfluid, milky in consistency but pearlescent pink in color, spilled from the flared head. Curiosity overtook you, and you swiped a thumb up to catch an errant bead of it as it trailed down the side. The fluid was semi-oily, and smelled… fairly innocuous. Metallic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The array itself was as impressive as it was pretty. Like everything else about Mirage, it was fancy, mostly chrome with blue striping up the sides that led to a fully blue head. The biomesh it was made of — similar to his glossa — gently throbbed with alien pulses as you stared at it. Oh, that was hot. Why was that so hot?

Exploration in full was rewarded with soft noises spilling unbidden from Mirage’s lips, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you carefully slid your hand down from the tip to the base in one fluid motion, feeling the transfluid slick under your fingers. “Mmph, I— ah,” he choked out through gritted denta as you observed him.

Oh. Oh. The realization of the power you held over the big mech made a special kind of arousal thrum through you. Another slow pump had his hips jerk up once and a servo clamp over his mouth.

“This was not included in your anatomy lesson,” you said pointedly, a cheshire grin on your face as you hovered dangerously close to his spike. It throbbed in your grip, working another bead of transfluid out of the tip.

“Oh shit, babe,” he groaned, rolling his helm back against the wall. “Uh— hands— hands-on learning?” he offered weakly, unable to focus on anything other than the soft, damp skin of your palm around his spike.

He made the mistake of looking down as you let spit drool out of your bruised lips and spill over his spike for additional lube, and he snapped his optics shut to avoid from a spontaneous overload right there. The noises he made as you slid your tongue over the head were pitiful.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, spinal struts clicking as they arched. Primus, was he seriously about to overload in your mouth? Your lips closed around the head and sucked lightly, and he yelped. A servo shot out and carefully grabbed your shoulder, though the tremors running through his digits told you of the restraint he was barely employing. A string of spit and transfluid connected your mouth to his spike as you lifted your head, and he had to force himself to look away for a second with that same servo clutched over his mouth to keep steady. “‘m not gonna last like that, you— can we just—“

“Fuck?”

“Primus, yes.”

“Yeah, we can. I guess.” Despite the leap of excitement in your stomach, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even start with that, c’mon,” he said fondly, one servo supporting you as you lifted yourself above his spike and stared down at it with no small amount of trepidation.

It looked a little more manageable from above, but working with something the size of your forearm would cool anyone’s heels, even if there was slick drooling down your inner thighs. Mirage’s servos settled heavy on your hips and you braced yourself on first his knees behind you, then his wrists as you tilted your pelvis to align your entrance as best you could. You sank. The head pressed insistently against your hole. Relax. Relax. Relax.

A deep breath filled your lungs, then whooshed out, deflating your shoulders. Unable to help himself, Mirage inched one of his servos over and ran his thumb through your folds, rolling over your clit and jolting your hips enough to slip the head inside. A long sigh of  “Fuuuuck.” was all that managed to come out of your mouth, your toes curling at the stretch and then the pop of the flared head sliding past your entrance.

Mirage’s entire frame trembled. His vents became shallow and sharp, and the tips of his digits clamped onto the soft meat of your hips desperately as the sensors on his spike reckoned with the realization of just how wet and warm humans really were. “Babe, babe, babe, shit,” he stammered out. “That’s— um, fuck, that’s good!” A weak laugh escaped him as his chin sank down to his chassis, cooling fans hiccuping from stress.

“Hold on, just hold on, I can… shit.” Sweat-dampened palms slid off his wrists for a second before you resituated yourself and leaned back a little, letting your upper back rest against his tucked up thighs. Whatever you were doing worked, because you sank further, and you thanked whatever god was listening that you’d already finished once, making your body quite boneless and that much easier to maneuver.

Mirage, on the other hand, was as taut as a fucking bowstring, made helpless to his own pleasure and completely powerless to you. His optics first scrunched shut, unable to look at you for fear of overloading at the sight of you finally on his spike; then they flew open at the realization that he wanted this burned into his visual processors forever.

Your skin shone with sweat and lubricant; rivulets trailed down your body like a visual pointer to your slick sex, nestled within wiry hair and stretching so beautifully around his spike that it tore an honest-to-Primus whimper out of his vocal synthesizer.

“Mirage, I need you to— mmnh, fuck, I need you to just touch— please,” you gasped, his spike punching the air right out of your lungs. Although your words were broken, he seemed to get the memo, and despite his minute tremors, brought his thumb back to your clit and pressed down. Just the surface area alone made you sigh and roll your head back in pleasure, and it loosened you enough to take him right up until the head nestled against your cervix and your ass brushed his hip plating. There was maybe an inch or two left, but you felt immense pride at managing to work most of his spike in — and immense pleasure, too. If he moved his thumb at all, you were done; you were so fucking full you could barely breathe, and you felt the slow, rhythmic pulses of his biomesh throb through you.

Mirage had never been one for restraint. He did things all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, all with a flourish to top it off; the feeling of the hot silk of your walls flexing around his spike just sitting there was enough to quite literally kill his cooling fans via a micro-short in an attempt to divert more power towards keeping his hips still. Senseless praises streamed from his lips, voice whining and roughened by static fuzz. “Yes, yes, yes, sugar, Primus, that’s good— feels so good, please, can I move, please,” he fumbled, jaw slack and optics flickering with the power surges cascading throughout his frame.

“Just— let me start,” was your response, tears pricking at your eyes, and although Mirage groaned pitifully underneath you, he listened.

You had a fair amount of experience with riding toys, and you knew what felt good; the lightbulb above your head became apparent. A shift in your position pushed further weight to the back so that the ridges and nodes of his spike pressed insistently toward the front — though, to be fair, it pressed everywhere — and oh, fuck, right there. Now shoved against that sweet spot inside you, the pleasure teetered on the edge of pain, and you dragged yourself up with a vicious grip on the seams of his thighs behind you. Mirage whined and shifted his hips just slightly; it was enough to pull a moan from your lips as you slid upward. Thick, sluggish droplets of slick swirled with transfluid oozed down his spike. He watched — it was all he could do — with an open mouth and rapidly cycling optics.

The flared head caught against your entrance; a spike (ha!) of pleasure lanced through you. “Okay, now, you can— help me, please,” you stammered out, dizzy with pleasure already and feeling a loopy kind of open-mouthed grin situate itself on your face. 

Your words were all he needed. Although he desperately, desperately wanted to snap his hips up and chase the vice-grip of your slick walls, he’d rather take on Megatron alone with his servos tied behind his back than risk hurting you. Especially while interfacing. He did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

Thumb slowly working your clit, his servos gripped your hips just a little too tight and assisted; you could feel the tremors lancing up and down his arms as he helped you establish a rhythm. At a word, the dam would break, but for now, you maintained tenuous control over the mech and over yourself as you rode him with his help.

Well. Rode was a strong word for it; he all but dragged you up and down the length of his spike, earning each of you luxurious groans from the other, but your quivering thigh muscles assisted as best they could. Heat surged through your body at the drag of his nodes against your walls, and you realized with a hot flash that Mirage was going to fucking ruin you for anybody else, and you liked that. Which was good, because he could have stayed buried in your cunt for the rest of his life and offlined happily just like that.

It was good. It was really good. But even the overwhelming stretch wasn’t enough. Just like earlier — it seemed like light years away now — when you’d still had pants on and hadn’t been completely lost to metal-on-skin debauchery, the grind of your clit on the seam of your jeans had been good, but not enough. Your fingers clawed at his wrists. The burn of your thighs from exertion seared through you, mixing with the jolts of pleasure from your clit to create some new, terrible monster that had you twitching with shameless ecstasy.

“Mirage, Mirage,” you croaked, as he slid you down his spike again and pushed it into your lungs, “I’m— fuck, please, faster, please, please.” In any other scenario, your begging would have immensely embarrassed you; now, though, it seemed like the only viable option to get him to fuck you like you needed him to.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, and you gasped as he kept moving you, legs jerking uselessly. “You— fuck, you sure?”

“Yes, please, just— oh, fuck!” The cry — and the air in your lungs — was knocked right out of you by a single desperate snap of his hips upward, his spike driven straight home. Your entire upper body crumpled forward, kept upright only by a tenuous grip on his wrists, and then he really started fucking you, and you were gone.

His cooling fans surged back to life as he slammed into you, power no longer diverted towards holding the actuators of his hips back. No, now he was fucking jackhammering into you, and you were barely moving as his spike pistoned in and out of you, slick drooling from your cunt. Like he remembered himself, his thumb began to work furiously against your clit, and you rewarded him with a gasp and more than a few uncontrollable moans of his name, which only served to fuel him more.

Not like he was being quiet, either. You were glad that the building was solid brick and the rain continued to pour outside, because the amount of noise coming from his chassis and spilling from his lips was worrying. Praises and broken mentions of your name streamed from him; he tossed his helm back against the wall with his optics squeezed shut to keep from overloading prematurely. It was too much— it was way too fucking much. Your poor overworked cunt was nearly bruised with sensitivity, barely able to keep up with the stretch of his spike as the nodes pulsing along it raked that sweet spot inside of you mercilessly. Neither of you were going to last long; not your fragile human body nor his torqued-up frame could handle much more of this.

Every sharp thrust paired with the frantic, messy circles he pressed into your clit brought you viciously closer and spilled tears from your eyes. All you could really do was hold on as Mirage wrung pleasure from both your body and his. Impossibly, his thumb worked faster, his pace got even more brutal, and you were almost seizing from pleasure as your nerve endings were frayed raw. That peak was building in your gut, that familiar tight coil of heat, for the second time that night, and you knew it was going to completely destroy you, and you wanted it to.

Without warning, Mirage spread his knees apart, slammed his pedes flat on the floor, and thrusted up. His spinal struts arched again to get his spike that much further inside of your yielding body, his overload imminent and warning signs flashing in his optics’ periphery. “Fuck, yes— yes, baby, yes, yes, ah, shit!” His frenzied whine rang in your ears as steam from his vents heated the air around you; the only thing that rang in your ears besides your thunderous heartbeat was the heady slap of skin against metal, everything slick with your combined fluids.

You responded in kind at the new angle with a cry of his name and some noises that resembled words, but the way he sheathed his spike inside you — fuck, was it all the way in? — and ground his thumb against your clit was too much— too much— you couldn’t—

You shattered. Doubling over from pleasure, you sobbed incoherently as your climax slammed into you. Pleasure crackled through your veins like lightning; a fog of pleasure dulled your senses until the only thing you could focus on was his spike pulsing in your cunt and his thumb still grinding against your clit. Tears pricked at your eyes, joining the ones already wetting your cheeks, as jolts of pleasure lanced up your spine. Maybe you moaned his name, maybe you didn’t. You couldn’t tell.

Mirage went soon after you, because the feeling of your walls clamping around his spike as if trying to suck him in impossibly further did him in instantly. His optics snapped open wide before slamming shut and he cried your name as the best overload of his life wracked his frame; the actuators of his hips trembled violently, along with his servos, as transfluid gushed into you and was immediately forced out by the pure lack of room inside your cunt. Engine snarling, cooling fans nearly spinning off their axles, he held your hips as flush to his as possible while the both of you rode out your respective climaxes, twitching around each other violently. Minute jerks of his hips attempted to work more transfluid inside of you. Brain still wiped blank with pleasure, all you could do was make soft noises and let the aftershocks spasm through you.

Consciousness eventually came back to you in gritty waves. Mirage had set your body down, leaned back against his thighs, his spike still seated within you but depressurizing slowly. Transfluid seeped out of your puffy folds, and you lifted a shaking hand to collect some of it and taste it. Metallic. Like you’d expected.

Enormous vents whooshed through his frame as he attempted to cool his chassis; coolant dripped from him, some of it turned to steam by the pure heat of his internal mechanisms. Body shaking and feeling very small and human, you stroked a thumb over his wrist where you held it, feeling both its ambient warmth and a surge of affection. And satisfaction.

You were absolutely going to feel this in the morning, holy shit. Thank God you didn’t have work tomorrow.

Mirage eventually came back down to earth, his optics cracking open and cycling a few times before they flared to their usual brightness. Lids heavy and a dopey grin on his face, he carefully lifted you off his spike — it slid out of you with a slick noise that made you flush — and brought you up to face-level. With one servo, he held you tight against his torso; he planted the other flat on the floor and resituated his hips so he could slump down further against the wall, his entire frame lax.

Self-satisfaction beamed at you from his faceplates. “Oh, that was good, huh?”

You scoffed, too tired to get riled up at his teasing; you knew he was feeling the same as you. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, to be totally honest.” An exhausted laugh left you.

“Gonna count that as a win.”

“You… do whatever you want.” You waved a limp hand at him dismissively, letting the rise and fall of his chassis with his vents rock you.

“Well, then, I wanna do this,” he purred, and brought you in for a kiss that communicated all his smug affection without any of his stupid jokes. You returned it gratefully, a smile on each of your mouths as you basked in that pleasant post-sex glow.

The rain still droned outside. A boom of thunder rolled through the building; the lights flickered. Both you and Mirage glanced upward. His optics slid back down to you first.

“You thinkin’ about going anywhere in this weather?” he asked, raising a brow ridge.

“I dunno, do I have a ride?”

“Nah,” he replied playfully, kissing you again, and you found that it could storm for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t really care. So long as you had your favorite — yes, your favorite, not that you could ever admit around him — to keep you company.

[justliketoreadsowhat]

Favorite Color ❤︎︎

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫❤︎︎

_________________________________

“𝐒𝐨, 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐈’𝐦 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐀 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧“ 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐱𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝟓 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬.

"The hostility coming from you right now is crazyy, just hold on a second" Paige huffed, the sound of rustling grew louder in the background, as your suspicions heightened.

The day started off pretty normal, you went to work for a couple hours while Paige was out and about doing her side quests for the summer. Spending a few days apart wasn't the easiest thing to do, but the daily Facetime calls always made it a little better.

Except for today, Your phone buzzed promptly at 2pm during your break as always, since she had memorized your break schedule like the back of her hand, a day was never missed.

You were met with a black screen and a very ecstatic Paige on the other hand, for reasons you were unaware of.

"I just wanna see your face and we have less than an hour left before I have to go" A frown planted on your face, there was no use in trying to hide it. Hearing her voice was one vice, but seeing her face healed something inside of you, she was just so perfect. In your eyes, she could do no wrong, except for right now.

"Baby don't look at me like that" she pleaded "There's no need to be sad when I'm wearing your favorite color"

The screen lit up nearly on cue, her face filled your screen brightly as she cheesed from ear to ear. You wanted to laugh but your eyes soon halted your movements as you realized there was something daringly different.

She did not.

Did She?

"Paige! you- your hair!!" you yelped in shock, fighting the urge to fall out of your seat. "It's PINK!"

PInk

The color of sunsets flowers, and love.

The shade was perfect against her skin tone, her eyes became more of an ocean blue in contrast with the color.

"Mhmm, you like it?" she asked getting dangerously close to the camera, rubbing her chin slightly while her eyes squint dramatically. "I did it jus for you pretty girl"

"Yeah right, what advertisement is this for?" you questioned trying to find any clues from her background.

"Don't! Worry about that" her hand flying up to screen in defense "You're always doubting me like I wouldn't dye my hair for you"

You couldn't help but laugh, she didn't even like the color pink but, when she met you she had learned to gain a small liking for it through other aspects, such as shoes, decor, and candy of course.

"I would never doubt you P, you look beautiful with pink hair"

"Thank you" her tone softer than before, the tint in her cheeks now matched her hair. "but don't worry the blonde will be back soon" she stated confidently.

"I think both colors fit you really well, not a lot of people can pull off the things that you do y'know.."

"Yeah well, you're not one of those people sooo" she asked taking in all your features "Wanna dye your hair purple next?"

"Abosutely not"

"Why not?! You can be the purple care bear and I'll be the pink one"

"You're terrible at flirting, did anybody ever tell you that?" Ice's voice echoed from afar. "You can't even name the care bears!'

A groan fell from Paige's lips "Here you go again, minding my business instead of yours"

"My bad Shortcake, I'm just telling you the truth"

Before you could intervene, the timer you had set went off, signaling that you had to go back to work.

Unfortunately

[stawberrypimpsimp]

Alastor x Reader: The Radio Demon Enjoys a Treat

Word Count: 2,321

You were sick of working for Valentino. He was an asshole, a terrible demon. He has you working non stop but at least you aren't his favorite toy like Angel. You didn't have it as rough as him, he had it bad, but you two formed a quick bond. The mutual hate and restraints Valentino had brought you closer. Angel was able to escape Vals grasp just a bit. He moved out to a hotel, called the Happy Hotel, he said. You envied him. How you wish to escape the clutches of that monster.

Angle cared for you deeply. You wanted to ask him if there was room for you in this hotel. If you could have the temporary escape he gets. You decided to meet up with him at Consent, a sex club.

“Hey there sweet tits!” Said Angle walking up to you at the bar.

“Angle! How’s being a dick sucking slave going for you?” You said laughing

”Oh its great.. Vals got me doing gang bangs back to back. Fuck Im tired!!” Angle said, waving the bartender over for a drink.

“Two twink cosmos”

Next thing you know your 8 shots in and grinding on some random ass sinner. You forgot to talk to Angle about the hotel, to drunk to even remember what the night was about. Out of the corner of your eye you see Val. What the absolute fuck?! Can’t I get away from this sex fiend pimp. You dance your way over to Angel nudging him and slyly pointing out towards Val.

”Ugh.. I don't want to deal with this right now.. Let’s fucking go.” Angel says

You nod in agreement following his lead out, luckily you both sneak past without being seen.

“See ya tomorrow Angel!” You say walking away waving you hand and stumbling into a pole.

”Look youre way too drunk to get home and I'm pretty drunk as well. The hotel is right around the corner. You can stay the night there! I mean Charlie would be happy to meet ya.” Angel says grabbing your hand.

“Thanks Angel I owe ya one.” You say stumbling along his side.

He wasn’t nearly as drunk as you but hey at least you were able to let go for a bit and enjoy yourself.

You both walked up to the hotel, and oh boy was it a bad stay. Extremely disheveled and musty. Angel opened the doors for you and you both walked in. Inside wasn’t as bad as outside you guess but absolutely not what you were expecting when Angel talked about residing in a hotel.

A blonde girl in a red suit comes up to you grabbing your hand and shaking it profusely.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, welcome to the Happy Hotel!” She gets all sentimental and teary all of a sudden. “Angel, I can't believe you brought someone here!”

She was loud, a lot to take in but hey it helped you sober the fuck up but obviously still head ache inducing.

“Uhhhh Hello?” You said with confusion.

“Okay Okay let me show you around! Here we work on rehabilitation and bettering yourself. Let me Introduce you to everyone!!” Charlie said, overly excited.

”Okay sooo you already know Angel! So that introduction is off the list.. Hmm.. OH OH THIS THIS RIGHT HERE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN ALL OF HELL! VAGGIE! She is my girlfriend and here to help” The blonde demon said with pure excitement and love. She grabbed the hands of a girl with gray skin and hair that resembles moth wings.

”Hi.. Uh yes I’m Vaggie nice to meet you.” She says with an awkward smile.

Once Charlie stops looking and admiring Vaggie for a little longer she takes my hand dragging me over to what you can describe as a bar. It most certainly does not fit in with the color and decor of the place but you kept you mouth closed.

“This is Husker he is the bartender! He comes off all grumbly and grumpy but I swear he has a soft spot!!”

Husk who appears to be a cat like creature with a theme of playing cards to him. He looks up from the glass he is pouring then looks back down grumbling to himself. Oh well guess grumbly was the perfect word to describe him.

“Hello…?” You say hesitantly. He only gives you a look up again and a nod taking a swig of the glass of booze he just poured.

You look over and see a small little creature running with a knife stabbing bugs. You cant take your eyes off her as she takes the knife and impales a bug. Ew but at least keeping the place.. clean..?

”That over there is Nifty. She is the maid and in charge of keeping the place tip top shape.” Charlie says smiling avoiding watching her stab a few more bugs.

”Do you know any bad boys? You're just a girl.” The short girl said, wide eyed in excitement.

“Sadly yeah, work with a whole bunch of them but thats a topic for another time..” You say looking down trailing off your sentence.

Thankfully that stopped the conversation between you and her and she went back to stabbing bugs. Out of nowhere a black shadow witha green smile appears next to you forming into the shape of a demon. A handsome one at that. Tall and lanky in a striped red suit, a cane resembling a microphone right at his side.

“Well hello dear, I am Alastor the host of the hotel, an absolute pleasure to meet you!.” The demon says charmingly with a grin so wide it almost reaches his eyes, but his voice was off. It sounded like his voice was being broadcasted over a radio.

“Oh, hello?” You say a bit nervously as this man just came out of nowhere.

He grabs your hand bending down giving it a soft kiss. Everyone stopped and looked mouth open and shocked.

”What the fuck freaky face?! You ain’t never done that before.” Said Angel with a surprised look and then a laugh.

Charlie clasped her hands together and gave a long aweeee. You had no idea what was going on why everyone was acting so weird.

“Heh?” You say loudly looking confused and into Alastor glowing red eyes as you try to study what the schlock is about over him.

”Well I've never seen him be so… so gentle?” Charlie said still in awe with hearts in her eyes.

“Charlie my dear, I am simply just being a good host!” Alastor says keeping his smile wide and letting out a chuckle.

“Suuuureeeeee…!” Charlie says teasingly as if she could convince Alastor that she believed him.

“Now let me show our new guest around the hotel. Shall we?” He says in his static voice putting his arm out for you to hold onto.

You look at Angel and he gives you a wink and big grin. Looking at Alastors arm you grab it and begin to walk with him. Using his other hand holding his cane he starts to point out where everything is giving you a tour.

“..and hear darling we have my room!” Alastor says with a smirk.

You feel your face go a bit red. Why is he showing me HIS room?! You deal with horny men all day but this demon is getting you flustered. He opens the door letting you walk in first. There was a dark forest at the hall way point leading to who knows how far. Although it was beautiful. You stand here admiring it till you feel something behind you.

Alastor has his hand on your waist the other on your thigh. Slowly he slides his hand to your upper thigh, leaning into the crook of your neck.

”Well yes it's quite true I put everyone in awe over my affection, but I just simply couldn't stop myself. You are quite a cat my dear. Let me show you how a lady like you should be treated.” Alastor said with his radio voice but in a cooing tone.

Your face goes absolutely red. Shivers go up your spine all the way to the tip of your head. You could melt in his arms with how gently he is touching you. Shaking your head slowly you give a soft nod not even able to get out a word.

He glides his hand up your thigh to your crotch, he takes his hand and slowly starts rubbing it back and forth applying just enough pressure to have a decent amount of friction. The hand on your waist turns into him gliding his finger tips up your stomach making you do a soft gasp. He then reaches your chest and cups your breast. He slowly massages it in the same pace that his hand is going at. His face now buried in your neck kissing it softly. Then you feel a sharp pain letting out a small yelp. He lifts up his head slightly and whispers in your ear with a low radio tone.

”My apologies dear, I couldn’t help myself with how tender your skin is.”

He goes back to your neck licking it softly tending to the wound he left you. You didnt mind, it felt good and exciting. He moved his hand now to the rim of your pants.

“May I show you a good time darling?” He says in a static coo well running his fingers around the rim of your pants playing with them.

You give a simple nod. How does he have you in his clutches so easily? He takes his hand and slips it in your pants.

“Oh my, look how soaked you’ve become.”

He takes his hand and begins to feel your pussy. Running his fingers around your lips then pressing a finger on your slit going up and down slowly well his thumb rubs your clit.

God damn what the hell. You could hardly think, just focusing on all the sensations Alastor is causing you to feel. Your body entranced by the places he’s touching.

“Bed..?” Is all you managed to get out with a moan. You've been holding the moans in your throat as if they were trapped and couldn’t escape but that wasn’t because you weren’t feeling good it was because you were feeling so good. He raises his head to your ear once again.

”As you please my dear.” He says in a deep tone that broadcasted through your ears.

He removes his hands and swoops you off your feet. Holding you in his arms bridal style then setting you gently on his bed. You keep your eye on him, staring into his deep glowing stare.

“Let’s get these off of you shall we?” He says witch a chuckle.

Taking his finger he rips the seem of your pants making them fall off, now on to your panties. You look at him with lust as he returns the same look.

“Now be quite we dont want the other curious of the noise my sweet doe.” He says in his charming radio voice.

He gets on his knees and sets your legs on his shoulders. Alastor begins to kiss your inner thighs. Softly sucking on your skin then gliding his tongue up a bit to the next piece of flesh he is going to tend to. Unspoiled another sharp pain is felt. You knew what it was of course, but oh did it feel good. Between the bites, kisses, and licks he makes his wary up to your pussy. Extremely wet all ready for him to dine on. He wrapped his arms around your thighs digging his hands into them and leans his face in your aching wet crotch, not licking it just yet. He lets out a few heavy breaths causing you to shiver in delight, finally he takes a lick of your slit. His nose nuzzling your clit. He takes his tongue from the back of your pussy gliding it between your lips then finishing it off with a flick of his tongue on your clit. Quickly you took your hands covering your mouth choking back a moan you so desperately want to let out.

“Oh dear.. it appears you may need some help staying silent.”

Next to you a black hole appears on the bed and a tentacle slithers its way out. Black and slick it wraps around your mouth muffling the sounds you cant help but let out.

“Back to business..”

He thrust his head back between your legs licking your increasingly wet slit. Moans attempt to leave your lips but they cant. Arching your back indicating your about to cum he pulls away just barely enough to where you can only feel the tip of his lips.

”Not yet dear” He says smirking.

Damn that smile never leaving his face, that old times radio voice, he is driving you crazy.

Once he knows you won’t reach your peak just yet he wraps his lips around your clit. He starts sucking on it softly, nibbling on it unlike his hard bites, using his tongue sliding back and forth providing flicks. As he does so he slips two fingers inside of you. Dear god. Yes god, this is pure bliss. Alastor begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, now adding a curl to his fingers touching your sweet spot. He continues to pull them in and out. You arch your back and feel sweet realese. You cum on his fingers, him still sucking your clit and slowing down his pumps letting you ride out your orgasm. He pulls out his fingers and licks them clean.

”Im not usually one for sweets but this was a dessert I deeply enjoyed.” Alastor said standing back up looking over you taking in what he will now claim as his darling doe.

[freyaphoria]

I see the request is back to open AAAAA!

lately I've been imagining if mingi is good at sewing and it's his soft side (because I saw the FIX ON stuffs and wondering if he produces the stuff by himself), so he had a crush with yn but he is to shy to say it. when he saw yn kissed by his best friend yunho he became so madly jealous and feel guilty because he can't blame his best friend and got mad to yn instead.

by the next day he saw yn and yn is smiling at mingi as if nothing happened.... he wonders if those pretty lips could smile only at him, by sewing yn's lips.

Broken Doll

tw: dark fic!!!! Yan!Mingi, kidnapping, stitches, fainting, blood, kissing, obsessive behaviors, mingi is sooo delulu loll, restriction with handcuffs (let me know if I missed something)

wc: 2.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto @hwxbibi (dm me if you want to join the taglist)

Mingi stood in the dim light of his room, taking in the sight of his latest creation one final time. His fingers carefully traced the last knots and ties of the thread he had worked so diligently to secure. He let his eyes linger on the hoodie he had meticulously sewn just for you, its fabric soft and inviting, featuring his signature stitched phrase "fix on" that had become a signature of his work – it was the 47th item he had lovingly sewn with you in mind. With a careful motion, he folded the hoodie and placed it gently into the wardrobe he had designated exclusively for your clothes. Inside the closet, various dresses, t-shirts, skirts, coats, hoodies, and many other clothes were waiting, all sewn by him to fit your body and style perfectly. Mingi often daydreamed about the moment he would summon the courage to present these lovingly made items to you, to see you adorned in the clothes he had crafted with his own hands.

His eyes scanned the collection, trying to find which piece stood out as the most exquisite. If he were to gift you one tomorrow, which would be worthy of such an honor? Mingi's hand glided along the hangers, his fingertips brushing against the various fabrics. Despite the perfection he strived for in each garment, his eyes found minute imperfections in every piece. After careful consideration, he decided that the hoodie he had just completed would be the ideal first gift. It represented his most recent work, showcasing the refinement of his skills over time. The choice of your favorite color for the fabric and the elaborate embroidery of his "fix on" signature – a signature he had been incorporating into his creations for years – made it particularly special. The timing seemed perfect as well. With the weather turning cooler, gifting you the hoodie would allow him the pleasure of seeing you wear it. The thought of you wrapped in his handiwork sent a shiver of excitement through him.

This hoodie was not just a piece of clothing; it was a lasting impression of his feelings for you. He resolved that he wouldn’t postpone any longer; the next day would be the day he would finally tell you how he felt and present the hoodie to you. He had to stop his growing admiration for you from reaching a dangerous level, and the best way to do that was to tell you that he loved you.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The following day, Mingi arrived on campus, his nerves frayed with anticipation. In his hands, he clutched the carefully wrapped gift, a physical manifestation of his affection. His body betrayed his anxiety – hands trembling, breath coming in short gasps, eyes heavy from a sleepless night spent rehearsing what he would say to you. As he scanned the familiar surroundings, he noticed something unusual: Yunho, his best friend and constant companion, was nowhere to be seen. This absence struck Mingi as odd. He and Yunho were practically inseparable, and it was unlike his friend not to check in with a simple "where are you?" message. As he walked, Mingi pulled out his phone and attempted to call Yunho, but there was no answer. His heart lowered slightly, as he could have used his friend's support and advice in this moment. Approaching the cafeteria, a familiar spot where they often met, he felt a surge of anticipation mixed with anxiety. He called Yunho again, hoping for a response, but what happened before him made his heart drop.

There, right in front of him, was Yunho, completely engrossed in a passionate kiss with you. You both looked so lost and passionate; Yunho’s hands were on your waist and your hands were tangled in Yunho’s hair. It took a moment, but when you caught sight of him standing there, your surprise registered on your face, and you instinctively pulled away from him; confusion clouded Yunho's face as he turned, suddenly locking gazes with his stunned friend.

In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged through Mingi – shock, betrayal, anger, and heartbreak collided within him. Despite the turmoil, Mingi didn't blame Yunho; after all, he had never told Yunho about his love for you. Yes, Yunho knew he was in love with someone, but Mingi had never said it was you. He didn't blame Yunho; if Yunho had known that Mingi was in love with you, he would never have done such a thing, Mingi was sure of that. All of Mingi's hurt and anger, therefore, became focused solely on you. Hadn't he made it clear before that he liked you? In his mind, he had made his feelings abundantly clear – the smiles, the shared class notes, the daily greetings. He believed his actions had spoken louder than words, making a formal confession almost unnecessary. But you, like a whore, had kissed his best friend, Yunho. Slut. How could you do this to Mingi? Despite all the clothes he had specially sewn for you, despite the masterpieces he had spent hours on, you had chosen his friend. Mingi could never forgive this.

You pulled away from Yunho's lips and smiled at Mingi. You fucking smiled. This had to be a joke, or Mingi must be having a terrible nightmare. Like a slut, you had cheated on him with his friend and then smiled to his face. That smile, which he had once found so endearing, now seemed to mock him. Mingi immediately left the cafeteria with growing anger and disappointment inside him and locked himself in the bathroom.

Of course, you and Yunho didn't understand what had happened. Mingi was just a friend to you, you had liked Yunho for weeks, and it was obvious that Yunho liked you too. Why had Mingi suddenly gotten angry and left? "Baby, let me check on Mingi." After Yunho kissed you one last time, you nodded, and with Yunho's leaving, you were left alone in the cafeteria.

Mingi's phone kept ringing with Yunho's missed calls, but Mingi didn't answer any of them. He wasn't angry at him; he just didn't know what to say to him. Mingi valued their friendship too much to risk saying something in the heat of the moment that he might later regret. You were the only one to blame here. You had gotten close to Yunho while Mingi was around, and on top of that, you had smiled at Mingi as if nothing had happened. A dark thought began to take root in his mind – you needed to be punished for the pain you had caused him.

Normally, Mingi wouldn't have kidnapped you; he had thought about it before and wanted you to fall in love with him on your own and live with him willingly, but after this, Mingi was going to kidnap you and punish you.

He stuffed the gift he had carefully prepared and wrapped for you into his bag and headed towards the parking lot, where the cameras had broken down long ago but no one had fixed it.

Yunho searched for Mingi everywhere in the college, called him countless times on the phone, but there was no sound from Mingi. When he realized that his class was about to start, he gave up and decided to stop by Mingi's house after class.

Mingi waited for your class to end, like a lion lying in ambush, beside your car, waiting for you without being seen by anyone. When he finally spotted you walking alone towards the parking lot, a momentary pang of guilt struck him. You looked so vulnerable, so unaware of the turmoil raging within him. But in his twisted logic, he pushed aside these feelings, convincing himself that his actions were justified.

Mingi's pent-up emotions exploded in a moment of brutal force as he ambushed you from behind. The sound of your head repeatedly hitting the car echoed in his ears, but he couldn't stop. He was hitting so fast that you were sure you would die there. Before you could even process what was happening, darkness engulfed you, and Mingi took your car key that had fallen from your hand, opened your car, seized the opportunity to bundle you into your own car. After making sure he hadn't left any traces behind, he got into the driver's seat. "I did this because you made me angry. You have to pay for what you've done." Mingi? This name flashed in your mind. The voice belonged to Mingi. But why would Mingi do this to you? Mingi's voice sounded very distant, as if you were in a glass jar and hearing the outside muffled. You tried to move your hands, but they were very heavy. When he started your car, you stopped resisting and closed your eyes.

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When your eyes fluttered open, a wave of numbness enveloped your entire body, leaving you disoriented and struggling to piece together your surroundings. You racked your brain for any memory of what had transpired, but found only a disconcerting void. There was an echo of a sound that faintly resonated in your ears, reminiscent of an engine's hum, yet softer and more persistent, like a background murmur that wouldn't fade away.

Your hands were tied firmly to something on either side, and as you tried to shift them, a feeling of helplessness washed over you. The bright white light that flooded your vision was blinding, making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open for more than a fleeting moment. Attempts to speak or scream were futile; your mouth felt as if it were encased in a thick fog of numbness. You couldn't even muster the strength to part your lips or form the words that desperately wanted to escape.

As your vision slowly clears, you make out the silhouette of someone, a man hunched over a desk. And that annoying sound that was constantly piercing your brain was coming from there. You wanted to open your mouth and tell him to stop that, but both your mind was very tired, and your mouth was numb; you couldn't feel your lips, tongue, or teeth. The figure paused their work, momentarily silencing the continuous sound, and you watched as he picked up a pair of scissors from the cluttered desk, his movements deliberate yet mysterious. When he lifted his head, revealing a piece of fabric that lay in his hands, clarity began to creep in—you realized he was sewing something with a sewing machine. But confusion clouded your thoughts.

But why? Why were you here, and why was he sewing something here? Did you know him? Your mind was very foggy; you tried to come to your senses, but it was very difficult. A flicker of recognition stirred within you. You felt a sense of familiarity toward the person, although his name eluded you. Min... It started with an 'M.'

"So you're awake, doll," the figure spoke, getting up from the chair and making his way towards you. As he approached, a sense of dread settled in your stomach. "I didn't think you'd sleep for such a long time; I thought you were dead." He crouched down to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker. "How do you feel?" he asked, his hand brushing softly against your head, yet the touch felt unsettling. You wanted to say you felt disgusting, but your lips didn't move. He got up from where he was crouching and sat next to you on the soft bed you were lying on. "It's silly of me to ask you questions and expect you to answer," you didn't understand what he was talking about. You were getting more and more silent, and the pain in your head had reached a noticeable level. You wanted to moved your arms, but cold metal handcuffs on both sides prevented you. Panic was progressively spreading through your veins, and your irregular breathing was the only sound filling the silent room.

He gazed at you for what felt like an eternity, allowing a heavy sigh to escape his lips. "You look very beautiful," he said, a statement that should have brought warmth but instead sent a chill down your spine. As he reached out toward you, an instinctual urge to pull back surged within you, but the energy to do so eluded you. His fingers brushed against what you thought were your lips, a gentle caress that you couldn’t feel, leaving you in an unsettling state of numbness. "First, let me remind you why you're here," he continued, his voice smooth yet sinister. "I've loved you for a long time, I admire you, but you, like a whore, went and kissed my best friend. That's why I kidnapped you."

Mingi.

The name jolted your memory back to fragmented moments; flashes of laughter, stolen glances, and the painful realization that he harbored feelings for you. Confusion wrestled with disbelief as he spoke, all while a smile danced on his lips, his fingers still trailing along your face. The smile was disarming, but it contrasted sharply with the surreal horror of the moment. You suddenly felt a wave of panic when his hands moved down to your clothes. You were even more confused when you noticed that your outfit had completely changed. The new clothes were made of a fabric you didn't recognize, and a deep sense of dread set in as you looked down at them in shock. As you were trying to look at yourself in surprise, Mingi spoke. "Ah, do you like your new clothes? I sewed them. I made them all carefully to fit your body perfectly." Due to the increasing panic, your head was starting to spin, and you were slowly regaining consciousness.

You wanted to shout at him, curse at him; you wanted to ask why you were here, tell him to let you go, but you couldn't open your mouth and speak, as if your mouth was numb like in a nightmare. "I also sewed something else; would you like to see it?" His question hung in the air, and you could only manage a slow shake of your head, a silent plea for him to stop. The handcuffs biting into your wrists were relentless, the tightness a stark reminder of your captivity, and a numbness was beginning to creep into your fingers.

Mingi excitedly stood up, walked a bit in the room, and took a large mirror in his hand and approached you again. As you were about to try to pull back in fear, you saw your own reflection in the mirror.

Was that thing you saw really you? It was as if you were seeing a film frame from a banned torture movie. What you saw was so foreign to you that you couldn't even react at first. Your lips were sewn together, meticulously stitched up like a doll, swollen and bloodied, thick threads crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern that held them shut, and gave a smiling expression.

This couldn’t be real. You felt the numbness in your lips, yet the sight before you defied all comprehension. Your mind raced; how could this be happening? Surely you would feel something if your lips were truly sewn shut. But right now you felt nothing.

"How is it? Do you like it?" Mingi's voice sliced through your panicked thoughts, his expression filled with a sickening delight. You tried to respond, to express the intense horror consuming you, but your voice betrayed you, silenced in this waking nightmare. "I sewed your lips because you smiled at someone other than me, because you talked to him, and because you kissed him. You belong to me, only me." A small sound escaped from your throat, a pathetic echo of your horror. Mingi’s smile broadened, but it was devoid of warmth, a chilling reminder of the depths of his obsession.

"Broken toys need to be repaired, don’t they? You were broken too, doll, very broken." He lowered the mirror, closing the distance between you, leaning in with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "So I repaired my most beautiful toy by sewing it.” You started to shake and felt like you couldn't breathe. “You can just smile at me." Just as Mingi was about to approach your lips and kiss you, he was interrupted by the familiar ringing of his doorbell.

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a/n: Hello! If you read this far, thank you, you were not bored lolll. I would be very happy if you could give me feedbacks!❤️❤️❤️

[cheolhub]

TRY ME — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ࿐

summary. you push your sweet boyfriend a little too far when you threaten to fuck his business partner at dinner. he decides to show both you and mingyu who you belong to.

wc. 4.3k

warnings. [PLEASE READ] established relationship. subby brat!reader, hard dom/brat tamer!cheol, car s2x. heavy degradation (use of bitch), sir kink, light choking, jealousy & possessiveness, dumb!fication, praise, heavy pet name use, unprotected s2x, edging, phone call w/ gyu during s2x, mentions of fucking mingyu several times (oops), male masturbation (mingyu is kind of a voyeur?), creamp!e — MINORS DNI 18+

note. mingyu is always at the scene of the crime, i fear. he kinda got fucked over in this tho, i apologize </3 i’ll make it up to him soon. ANYWAY @jeonghantis i love u, thank u for reading this over and being my biggest supporter 🩵

your feedback is sooo important to me, so comments and rbs are greatly appreciated <3333 mwah, enjoy :p

“did you have a good time acting like a needy little whore?” seungcheol grits, hands gripping the steering wheel of his car harshly. you can practically see the skin of his knuckles losing color thanks to the dim street lights shining through his car. 

you sigh, shrugging, “could’ve had more fun if you’d fucked me like i asked.” your words were nothing if not nonchalant. you kept a cool front, but he knew you were acting like this to purposefully push his buttons. 

“and you could’ve waited till we got home, but you’re incapable of being good, aren’t you?” you could tell he was getting angrier by the second. he wouldn’t look at you, the tips of his ears were burning red, and he was huffing out nearly every breath. “you just had to embarrass me in front of all of my colleagues?”

you laugh humorlessly, “i would barely consider that as embarrassing. besides, it’s not my fault you couldn’t handle it.”

he scoffs incredulously, finally turning his head to look at you. “handle what? your hand rubbing my dick at the dinner table or slobbering all over my business partner like some bitch in heat when i denied you?” his question makes you bite your lip because, of course, it’s rhetorical. he knows you well enough to recognize you were doing both for his undivided attention. 

you flash a smile at him and he shakes his head, averting his attention back to the road. admittedly, he loves it when you get like this, all bratty and overly confident– but, god, you could be such a piece of work. 

but you’re almost positive that you love his possessiveness more than he loves when you’re a brat. your usually-cute boyfriend can be so fucking sexy when he wants to be. 

“mingyu could’ve fucked me in the bathroom, cheollie, you didn’t need to make us all leave early ‘cus of that.” your lips turn down in a faux pout. “bet he would’ve had a blast and you would’ve gotten all your little clients to make deals with you– could’ve been a win for all of us, no?”

you speak with a substantial amount of confidence laced in your words that it has him throbbing in his slacks out of jealousy and anger and burning desire to make you eat your words. he’s just about had it, ready to pull over and fuck you on the roof of his car. “better shut that pretty little mouth of yours.” he spits. “i’m not fucking playing with you, baby.”

you giggle at the warning, stomach churning with excitement and ruined panties soaking further. “or what? gonna pull over? fuck me like you own me?” you tease, hands gripping the ends of your dress as you shift in the excruciating puddle you’re sitting in. 

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he holds back a groan, cock twitching because he knows he would. he’d honestly love to. he’d love to fuck you like you’re his little slut– make you cry and apologize for nearly ruining his night.

you shrug, “maybe… but i know you won’t though. maybe i should call gyu, i’m sure he’d fuck me anywhere i wanted. i mean, did you see him? he was so ready to just take me on the table in front of everyone when i asked him.” you feign sadness with a sigh and frown. “you’d never do that– you’re so cruel sometimes, cheollie.”

“mingyu couldn’t handle you.”

“so? it’s obvious you can’t either…” you lie because you know damn well it was you who couldn’t handle seungcheol. not the other way around. “you proved that at dinner.”

he scoffs. “is that so?” you’ve finally set him off. so much so that he’s deterring from his original route home. instead, you notice that he’s pulling into the next deserted lot he sees and parking his car. 

he turns off the engine, snapping his head to see you under the harsh lamp post lighting with your pupils blown out and your thighs squeezed together. “get in the back.” he demands, voice hard and stern. 

you realize you have him right where you want him, yet you tease anyway. he always fucks you the best when you’re on your absolute worst behavior.

when you don’t move, sitting there staring at him with a small smile on your face and thighs rubbing together slightly, his voice drops an octave. “pretty girl, you better do what i said and get in the back. told you i’m not fucking playing around anymore.” 

you shiver, pussy flooding at his voice. you undo your seatbelt but you don’t move any further than that. you’re having a hard time keeping the bratty facade when all your body wants is to submit to him, but you get your next words out somehow. “make me.” you grin, eyes dark with lust and desire.

his jaw ticks at your reply, evidently unhappy with your lack of manners. surely, he didn’t hear you correctly so he cocks his head and utters out, “excuse me?”

you lean in over the center console, hand on his thigh much like it was a couple hours prior at the dinner table. “i said, make me.”

and he did. make you, that is. everything after that was a blur that had your head spinning– you remember some things like how he wrapped his large hand around your throat and how he practically forced you into the backseat as you smiled cheekily at him. you remember how he pressed his lips to your ear while he had your face down and ass up, sweetly whispering ‘cherry’ against it to remind you of your safe word. you couldn’t forget how he ripped your favorite lace panties in half before pushing his fat cock into you.

now he’s fucking you stupid, slamming into you with brute force from behind with one hand holding your wrists against your back and the other on your head, pushing your hot face deeper into the more cool leather.

“this what you wanted? wanted me to be mean to you? wanted me to fuck you and treat you like some cheap whore?” he spits. “it is, isn’t it? pissing me off turns you on?”

you choke on a whine at his words and when you don’t give him a verbal response, he topples over you, drilling himself deeper into your tight cunt, hot breath fanning against your face. “i’m getting a bit tired of you not answering when i ask you a question, baby.” he growls and you swear your eyes roll back at his animalistic-like energy. 

“yes,” you get out, choked and breathy. 

he shakes his head, gritting, “yes what?”

“y-yes, sir… i wanted this.” you submit whimpering out your words as you’re on the brink of ecstasy. you even think you’re starting to drool on his seats, and cheol notices, of course, but he doesn’t have it in him to reprimand you. especially not when you look this fucked out all for him. 

he coos, lips brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder blade. “good girl,” he praises condescendingly. “so pretty when you’re being good f’me.”

cheol has learned, after months of being with you, that his cock always puts you back in your place. it always turns you into his sweetest, respectful, all-around good girl even though sometimes, like tonight, you don’t deserve it.

“and what about mingyu, hmm? what would he think if he saw you taking my cock like a slut in the backseat of my car?” his cock twitches at his own question because, yeah, he’d love for people to see you crying– drooling– for him and his dick. 

you can’t be bothered to think about mingyu when all you can think about is his cock filling you to the brim, hitting all the spots that make you weak. you moan out something incomprehensible about how you ‘don’t care,’ and how you ‘wanna cum.’  

seungcheol lets out an airy chuckle, head spinning from the way your gummy walls always hug him so tight. “no? you don’t wanna fuck him now?” 

“n-never did! just you!” you pant, clenching around him as you grow closer and closer with every thrust. 

an animalistic noise bubbles up in the back of his throat before he spits, “that’s ‘cuz you’re just my pretty little bitch, right?”

your eyes roll and your jaw goes slack as you try to nod your head in agreement. “god, yes. ‘m yours.”

“that’s right.” he lets out a soft moan when you tighten around him, “ is my baby close?” 

“yes! yes, sir, ‘m so close!” you sob, desperately pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “gonna cum,” your warning makes cheol stop as he bites back a groan. 

“hold it.” he demands and when you let out a miserable cry, he simply shushes you. “‘m sorry, princess, but i can’t always give you what you want, especially not when you’ve been a slutty brat all night– you know that.” 

“‘m sorry! ‘m so so so sorry. please keep fucking me. please, please let me cum– i’ll do anything!” you desperately weep, tears free falling, soon to mix with the puddle of drool you’ve left on the seat. you have no pride or shame left as you attempt to push yourself back on to him. 

seungcheol smiles triumphantly at the mess he’s reduced you to. he almost feels like his actions are sadistic and, usually, he’d feel bad. usually.

he would never deliberately prolong your orgasm especially after you beg like that, but fuck, you’ve really got him in a mood tonight. acting the way you did tonight… that definitely accounts for some type of punishment. 

so his long arm reaches to grab his phone from the center console of his car all the while he’s still fully sheathed inside of your pulsing cunt. his voice drops another octave when his question comes out, “how bad do you wanna cum?”

you’re startled by his deep voice that seems to hold even more dominance than it did moments prior. a shiver runs its way through your body and you stutter out your response. “s-so bad, sir, wanna cum for you so bad.”

“mmm, and you’ll do anything to do so, yeah?” 

“yes! anything… please.”

the desperation in your voice evokes a shaky breath from him. he loves you when you’re a menace, but when you’re like this? all fucked out, drooling, and begging for his cock? it nearly turns him into a mess. regardless, no matter how much of a bratty front you put up– no matter how bent out of shape your attitude gets– he’ll always fuck you back into place. you’re at his mercy. you both know it. 

“alright, baby,” he starts gently, releasing his grip on your wrist using the free hand to ghost over the skin of your ass before grabbing a handful and massaging the flesh. “can you get on your hands for me?”

you nod eagerly, clenching around him instinctively at how quickly his demeanor can change. you do as he says, weakly moving your body till you’re on all fours with his dick still enveloped in your heat.

cheol unlocks his phone with his free hand, searching for his recent contacts. he places the phone next to your hand and you furrow your eyebrows at the action. 

the words ‘kim mingyu’ read on the screen and he smirks when you crane your head to look back at him. 

“w-what… what do you want me to do?” you stutter, though you’re sure you don’t really want to hear the answer to your question. 

his heavy hands continue to knead at your ass while he responds, voice barely above a whisper, “apologize to mingyu and i’ll let you cum.”

“but… won’t he… won’t he know what we’re doing?” you try to reason, but seungcheol knows. he knows that mingyu will know the second you utter your first word to him. 

that’s why he’s dead set on doing this. he needs mingyu to hear you getting wrecked on his cock– needs mingyu to know that you are his.

“don’t worry about that, baby. you’ll call him anyway, won’t you?” he slowly pulls an inch out of you before pushing back in, just barely fucking you. 

you whimper, nodding your head, “okay, okay. i will.” 

“good girl.” he praises, reveling in the way you tighten around him. 

your hand shakily presses the call button and you watch his name reappear on the dimmed screen. you press the speaker button and the sound of rings fill the car, but it doesn’t take long before he answers, his strained voice filling the silence.

“hello?” mingyu asks, clearing his throat. 

“hey mingyu,” cheol greets and you feel your entire body heat and tense up, a sharp exhale leaving your lips. “did you get home alright?”

“cheol…” you whimper lowly to keep the man on the phone from figuring you out but end up wincing at the tightening grip on your ass. you take it as a warning, biting your lip to keep from saying anymore. 

you tune out the conversation, trying to think of anything else but the burning fire in the pit of your tummy and the fact that cheol’s on the phone with his business partner whom you threatened to call up and fuck a mere 20 minutes ago. 

it isn’t until he slowly starts moving that you push your face into the leather seats to mask a whine– though it obviously doesn’t work much because you’re sure mingyu is well aware that you’re… present. 

“yeah, she’s here,” seungcheol smiles wickedly to himself as he replies to mingyu asking the obvious. “actually that’s why i called. she wanted to talk you– apologize for what happened earlier– isn’t that right, Y/N?”

you whimper again, suddenly changing your mind and shaking your head ‘no.’ this is way too embarrassing. 

cheol can’t resist the chuckle that comes out of his mouth. you’re cute. cute in the way your body betrays you when your pussy clenches tightly around him at the offer. cute when you say you don’t want to when your body says the exact opposite. 

“gimme a sec,” he says as his hand moves to press the mute button. “c’mon, don’t you wanna cum, baby?” he coos, snapping his hips against your ass at a steady pace.

“i do!.. i do, b-but he’s gonna know if y-you keep going.” you pant. “‘n i-i can’t talk to him like this.”

“oh, well maybe you should’ve thought of that, baby,” he says and you can hear the faux pout in his words. “if you wanna finish, you’ll have to apologize to him for being such a needy little thing all night.”

you shudder and nod defeatedly as seungcheol continues to thrust in and out of you. your hand moves to unmute the phone, taking a shaky inhale before you speak.

you try your best to sound as normal as possible, but your words still come out breathy and stuttered, “h-hello,” 

“Y/N?” mingyu calls, voice lilting a bit out of surprise. 

you involuntarily clench again at how taboo this whole situation is. how is cheol so okay with this? how will he ever face mingyu again? you know for a fact you won’t be able to without thinking about cheol’s cock stretching you out, but… then again, maybe that’s exactly what seungcheol wants.

“hi, gyu,” you greet, the nickname loosely slipping past your lips. you feel seungcheol’s hands grip at your waist again. rougher this time. like he wants to tell you something– stop being so friendly– just with his actions.

your eyes screw shut and your teeth dig into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to omit the whiny sound from leaving your lips. 

it doesn’t go unheard, of course. you can practically hear your boyfriend’s smirk when mingyu asks, “are… are you okay?”

you laugh breathily, a whine dying on the tip of your tongue when seungcheol moves a bit faster. “yeah! no, i’m good! i-i’m great.” you just need to get this apology over with so you can hang up and finally get what you want. “listen, gyu, i– oh, fuck.”

clearly, seungcheol couldn’t let it be that easy, slamming into you like he was minutes earlier. the tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot and you find yourself barely holding on, seconds away from crumbling if he doesn’t let up. 

mingyu’s mouth runs dry and you know he’s finally pieced it all together when he exhales sharply, “Y/N? are you sure you’re okay?”

seungcheol rolls his eyes. he topples over you again, plush lips pressing against one of your heated ears, “answer him.”

“yes, yes…” you pant. “i-i wanted… to say sorry.” 

“tell him why you’re sorry.” cheol’s hot breath fans against your ear again. his thrusts don’t falter in this process, effectively hitting your spot over and over and over. 

it’s driving you crazy. beyond crazy, honestly. it’s driving you absolutely mad. so mad that you don’t even care about the sob that comes out of your mouth when you apologize to mingyu again. 

“‘m sorry! sorry for ruining dinner ‘n sorry for being needy and ask– fuck– asking you to fuck me to- to rile cheol up.” you cry, tears slipping down your face as the knot in your tummy gets tighter and tighter. “i’m so sorry, please. please forgive me.”

seungcheol smiles against your ear, biting back a chuckle at your desperation. he knows the apology was more for him than mingyu. 

mingyu shudders straight into the mic before stuttering, “Y/N… it’s… fine, please–”

“cheol,” you sob, cutting him off and it startles both seungcheol and the man on the phone. it’s apparent that you’ve lost the ability to be discreet and your boyfriend takes pride that he and his cock are the reason for that.

but it’s when you cry out the other man’s name– a whiny ‘gyu’– that his jaw sets and his teeth grind together. 

“so fucking dirty,” cheol spits, sitting back up. his hips snap against your ass vigorously and it’s like both of you have forgotten about poor mingyu who’s still on the line and now hearing every word– every little thing. “moaning out his name while i’m fucking you like this? you really want him to know how much of a slut you are?”

mingyu lets out a muffled groan into his phone, hand slipping to palm at his clothed cock– which has been all hard and achy since you whispered into his ear at dinner– his other clamped over his mouth. he’s trying to keep his sounds at bay, trying to fight the moan that bubbles up in the back of his dry throat, but his name falling from your pretty lips like that? it’s making it impossible. 

he knows the two of you have forgotten all about him because he can hear the vulgar words his partner spits and the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against what he presumes to be your unbelievably soaked cunt. it’s driving him nuts. you’ve been driving him nuts all fucking night. 

and it’s true. you and seungcheol pay no mind to the phone– you’re too busy losing your mind and cheol is too busy making it happen– it’s like he doesn’t even exist. 

your walls hug his cock tightly and it elicits a deep chuckle from the man behind you. “look at that. you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” he says breathily. “just like you’re made to take my cock. isn’t that right, baby? made just for me?” 

you respond with a moan, arms giving out on you as you return to your previous position– one arm limply hanging off the seat while the other grips at the door’s cup holder– your face buried into the leather seat. 

seungcheol doesn’t tolerate that response, though, hand lacing into your hair and pulling your face off the seat. “answer me,” he grits, roughly tugging at your locks. “or i’m pulling out.”

you panic at the thought of being left all high and dry, incessantly shaking your head in his tight grip. “y-yes, sir, yes! for you– made for you.” you sob in a mix of pain and pleasure, back arching while his cock finally hits your cervix. “cheol– cheol, i’m– fuck, ‘m gonna cum! p-please, can i?”

and it’s when mingyu hears seungcheol’s given name– when it’s followed by your desperate pleas for release–  that he can’t hold it in anymore, letting out a loud, drawn out moan. he’s quick when pulling his cock out of his slacks, spitting into his palm, and working himself rather aggressively. it’s like he’s chasing his own release, too.

seungcheol grunts in confusion at the deep moans, but then it comes back to him. mingyu never hung up. an evil smirk plays onto his plush lips, “oh-ho, you hear that, sweet girl? sounds like gyu stuck around to hear you cum all over my cock.” 

and mingyu moans again, a hushed, “fuck,” slipping past his lips. you can almost hear how fast his hand moves, how unbelievably eager he is. 

your boyfriend moans, giving you sharper thrusts. he pants out his next words, “that’s so dirty, mingyu… didn’t know you were into that.”

and mingyu wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he can’t form the words when all he can think about is the sound of your pornographic moans and how he’s needily bucking into his tight fist, wishing he was in seungcheol’s position. 

you, on the other hand, could care less that mingyu is on the other side of the line, truly. you’re practically at your breaking point, and if you don’t release sometime soon, you may break. 

“cheol, please– please, please, i-i can’t–” you gasp out, pussy tightening around him and squeezing him for all he’s worth. “oh, my god, i’m–”

seungcheol shushes you, “‘s alright, baby, you can cum in a sec.” 

and just as you’re about to let go, cheol’s hand grabs at his whiny phone and ends the call, sending mingyu to what you presume is his doom. 

“i’m the only one who gets to have you like this.” he grunts, hips stuttering a bit. you can tell he’s close, too. the way he huffs out his words and his movements get sloppy. “cum for me, baby, come on.” he whispers. 

and you do. your orgasm, powerful and blinding, washes over you seconds after he gives you the okay. your body convulses and your back arches as the knot finally unravels in your tummy. your eyes roll, jaw dropping and letting out the loudest cry of his name. 

“fuck, that’s it, baby. that’s my fuckin’ girl.” he coaxes, fucking you through your orgasm, though your vice-like cunt makes it nearly impossible. “gonna fill you up just like you need, yeah? just take it all for me.” 

you whine, still recovering from your euphoric high, yet you still give him a broken nod. 

he groans loudly, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he’s nestling himself deep and stilling inside of you. his cock twitches and, before you know it, warm cum floods your pussy, effectively filling you up just as he promised.

the post-orgasm haze lingers over both of you for a while, but seungcheol is the first to speak up, a twinge of guilt filling him when he sees you’re still shuddering and twitching underneath him. 

his voice hoarse, “baby, are you good? was i too rough?”

“mmm, ‘m good, i liked it. you’re so hot.” you mindlessly admit, words breathy and muffled. 

he scoffs, hand soothing over your body. he’s always so soft after he fucks you regardless of how mad or upset he is. “so you did all of it on purpose, hm?” he asks knowingly and when you give him a sleepy giggle, he rolls his eyes. “you’re annoying.”

“it was worth it… it felt so good, cheollie,” you admit. “hope you’re not too mad, you know you’re the only one for me.” the reassurance slips from your lips and seungcheol can tell it’s genuine. 

“baby, you know you can just be normal and ask if you want to be fucked like that, right?” 

“it’s more fun this way,” you tell him, shameless with your words. “i literally thought i was going to cum when you ripped my panties. i’m serious, you’re so fucking hot.”

he snickers at your blunt words, “i think you’re still cockdrunk, baby. come on, i’ll clean you up and we can go home. think i got some napkins in here.”

you sigh, nodding your head, “can we roll the windows down? smells like sex in here.” 

he laughs, taking in the fact that it is now stuffy in his precious, fogged up car, but you were right. it was so worth it. the sex was just as good for him as it was for you, if not better. 

when he pulls out, he makes sure your ass is still raised up so his seed doesn’t spill out as quickly to avoid the mess it’ll make while he scavenges for napkins in the glove box. he does eventually get you cleaned up, handling you gently and whispering about how well you did, much like he does every other time. 

once you’re clean, he gets you to turn and look at him. he smiles at your disheveled state, “well, you look like you had the time of your life.” he says sarcastically. 

“i did, actually.” you say as a matter-of-factly. “i feel kinda bad for mingyu, though… i didn’t want him to get caught in the crossfire.”

cheol rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, “he’ll be fine, i’ll text him right now.” 

when seungcheol grabs his phone that now resides on the floor of his car, he sees that there are already a few missed texts from mingyu. 

“he said he’s fine.” seungcheol assures, though you can tell by the smug smirk on his face that mingyu most definitely did not say it was fine. “don’t worry about him.”

kim mingyu

hello?!

???

dude

not cool.

choi seungcheol

sorry, man. call dropped. see you monday.

kim mingyu

??????

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

taglist 🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

[blackfemdoll]

𝒰 𝒮𝒪. . . 𝒫𝑅𝐸𝒯𝒯𝒴, ellie williams

black!fem!reader does bsf!ellie’s make up for fun. friends to lovers. yearning. i typed ‘doll’ instead of y/n, replace with ur name. wc 1.5k this is a reupload from my old account!

ellie had no idea why she even agreed to this. she tended to be much more easy-going when she was high, but still. she hated make-up. she absolutely loathed the way it felt on her skin. it felt like a mask — thick, heavy. felt like her pores were suffocating on whatever chemicals made up the composition of the products. and god… don’t get her started on cleaning it off. so much of it was meant to be waterproof or long wear, getting rid of make-up was almost as deliberate of an effort as putting it on.

but then her olive eyes flickered up to catch her face. doll. and the meaning found ellie. suddenly, it all made sense why ellie agreed to letting her make-up-loving best friend play around on her canvas.

doll only wore an absent-minded smile, holding ellie’s soft face in her fingertips as she used a weird egg-shaped sponge to press the concealer into her under eye. pleasantly oblivious. it’s like the pretty woman had blinders on. her gaze was fixed on the little space beneath ellie’s eyes and she was so deeply absorbed into the process of achieving an “airbrushed finish,” she didn’t notice ellie melting to her touch like putty. she didn’t notice those very green-colored marbled eyes drinking her in.

from doll’s beautiful sun-kissed brown complexion… to her thick, dark coils put up in a pineapple bun… to the acrylic nails ellie could feel slightly pressing into the flesh of her cheek… to that playfully delicate smile on her plump, glossy lips… to the silage of spicy sweetness enveloping the both of them. even the dreamy, watery sound of kelela playing from ellie’s bedroom bluetooth as the two of them shared the space of her bathroom — ellie sitting on the sink, doll’s waist wedged between her thighs.

it made sense now.

“i didn’t put a lot of concealer ‘cuz,” doll began, her voice as soft as her fingertips, “i wanted to show your freckles.” she continued pressing the sponge into ellie’s under eyes. “i really like them.”

ellie felt herself melting even more. she was sure doll would be able to feel and see the heat pooling in her pale cheeks — a recipe composed of three ingredients: shock, fondness, and embarrassment.

“really?” ellie cautioned. “i used to get made fun of for my freckles… i kinda didn’t like them.”

doll’s face contorted into an expression of disapproval as she pulled her hands away from ellie’s face and set the beauty blender back into her make-up box.

“they’re cute,” she affirmed and shifted through her box in search of a lip product.

ellie for sure was blushing. “thank you.”

the girl only beamed. her chestnut face radiated such a glow and warmth, it was infectious. she was like the sun. “you’re welcome, el’.” then she grabbed the product she was looking for — her nyx liner and a nyx butter gloss.

setting the gloss down, doll picked the liner up and returned her decorated fingers to ellie’s warm chin (the blushing heated her entire face). then doll brought herself closer to ellie… squeezing between her legs as she lowered the pencil onto her lip. gently, she swiped the colored tip along her skin.

“we’re almost done…” she muttered softly. “just the lips now…”

the paler girl’s entire body grew hot. doll was sooo close, ellie could see the beauty marks speckled around her eyes. her lashes were thick, long, and curly… framing those sweet irises of hers. and those irises were trained on her lips… attentively lining them with a pencil. having such a pretty girl focusing so much attention on her mouth made her a bit nervous. ellie wasn’t undisciplined around attractive women. but this was different. she was different.

“open your mouth a little…” doll instructed. and ellie found herself thoughtlessly obeying, parting her lips slightly so that doll could more easily access the corners of her lips. “good…”

oh god. ellie felt her eyebrows furrow at the hushed praise. she never really was the type of person to just obey someone else. she’s always been headstrong and a bit stubborn. but doll had powers over her that were unheard of. doll could tell ellie to move the ocean with a fork and ellie would do just that.

the coily-headed girl slightly blurred the lining of the pencil with the pad of her thumb. ellie only froze at the contact. and began imagining that the digit was instead doll’s lips — they were so plush, full, and juicy. she wondered how it felt to kiss her.

then doll set the pencil down and exchanged it for the gloss. it was peachy with a touch of red. she loosened the top and then raised her hand up to ellie’s lips. slowly, she painted them with the creamy substance.

“pretty,” doll praised with a smile beginning to spread across her face as the look finally came together. she pulled the applicator away and fastened it closed, wearing a proud expression as she marveled at her work.

it was a soft make-up look, since doll knew ellie hated make-up. “clean girl,” as they say on tiktok. no foundation, just a skin tint. some light concealer. a bit of mascara. some rosy blush and that to die for lip combo. it was worn well on ellie’s face — a nice little complement to her features without overpowering them and overwhelming her.

ellie felt like a deer in headlights. like an alien. she had never been someone’s muse before, so the praises were foreign. she only slouched as she sat on her sink, interlocked her hands together in her lap as she nervously wriggled her toes. her shoulders were high. poor baby was nervous.

“you look so cute,” doll gushed. she noticed that ellie seemed to feel a bit unnerved by the spotlight. but doll couldn’t help but profess how she felt. ellie only awkwardly half-smiled in response, to which doll rolled her eyes and wrapped her hand around ellie’s wrist, tugging it as if to pull her beside her.

“come down, ellie. turn around.”

once again, ellie mindlessly obliged and pushed herself off of the sink counter, easily towering over doll. but the shorter girl’s big spirit made ellie feel a bit… small. not in a bad way… but more like the whole world was doll, and ellie was her satellite.

doll wrapped her arms around ellie’s arm comfortingly with a beaming expression. “look at yourself. you are so cute.”

ellie hesitantly looked up into the mirror, standing awkward as ever. she held the hem of her hoodie’s sleeves in the palm of her hands and raised her gaze to her face. and the reflected image staring back at her was someone she could barely register as herself. she was so used to her bare face that such slight changes in her appearance could almost disorient her, but it wasn’t a negative experience. being so close to doll… ellie could even smell the strawberry conditioning deep mask in doll’s curly tendrils. feeling those soft hands on her face as she stood between ellie’s thighs. it was a core memory.

her rosy-painted cheeks merely imitated her actual flush. at her reflection, she could only offer an awkward little smile. like she was reluctant to admit she actually did look pretty cute. unlike herself, but cute. in a way, her head seemed like it was borrowed from another body in comparison to her hoodie, band tee shirt, and ripped jeans. but it was her.

doll’s own painted face smiled up at her. a soft glam. glitzy and doll-like. beautiful as ever. maxi dress-adorned body molded into ellie’s side. in many ways, they opposed each other. but ellie couldn’t help but love to see them side by side.

“yeah, it does look good,” ellie had to agree. then she pulled her eyes away from the mirror and looked down at her friend. “thank you.”

doll’s eyebrows cautiously furrowed. her happy smile became a bit insecure as she removed herself from ellie’s side. “do… do you like it? you don’t sound very happy.” oh god her voice sounded so small, it physically hurt.

ellie’s eyes widened. “no no no! i love it! you did amazing,” she reassured. then her expression became bashful. “i’m just not used to seeing myself like this.”

doll looked at her curiously as she walked over to the bathroom sink and began assorting her make-up products back into the little container. “like what?” she was turned away from ellie, but they could still see each other in the bathroom mirror.

ellie flushed. “you know… all pretty and stuff.”

doll halted as if she were being insulted. her eyes flicked up into the reflective surface, meeting ellie’s gaze. doll’s face was doused in a somber sincerity and her lips formed a slight pout.

then she turned around to look ellie in her face. ellie’s eyes widened in response to those big, doe-like eyes fluttering up at her like butterfly wings. but doll didn’t react to that. she only shook her head to ellie’s statement and what it implied. then candidly, she corrected her friend.

“you are pretty, ellie. really pretty.”

ellie felt like her insides turned to mush. her breath got caught in her throat as it hitched, and she felt her palms grow a bit moist as her whole body heated in response to her words.

“really?” ellie questioned, feeling her cheeks blush beneath the rare beauty applied to them.

doll nodded. “mhm.” she licked her lips. “you are.”

[jo6hny]

Guilty Pleasure - Hazel Callahan

Pairing: College student! Hazel Callahan x College student! Reader 

Contains: fluff, kissing, something more than kissing, reader and hazel being referred to as a girl, drunk sylvie, reader and hazel are in a situationship (oh no), freddy fazbear and fnaf mention

Summary: Based on this request.

Word Count: 2.18K

A/N: long time no post omg. sorry, i got caught up with work :( !! but i’ll still be writing and fulfilling requests. it'll just be very slooooow. tysm for all the support!!

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The sound of keys jingling breaks the silence of the once silent and unoccupied dorm room. 

“That was sooo fuckin’ crazy” Sylvie says. Her words are slurred as she continues to yap about the party her, Hazel, and you were previously at. After having one too many drinks, the both of you decided to let the drunk girl crash over at yours and Hazel’s shared dorm room. 

“Alright buddy, let’s get you tucked into bed.” Hazel says, letting her best friend crash on her bed on the left side of the room. The distinction between your side and hers was clear as day. No one would mistake one for the other. Hazel’s had different kinds of band posters on her wall, funko pops on her shelves, and five nights at Freddy’s plushies on her dark sheeted bed. You, on the other hand, liked keeping things clean and minimal with cream colored sheets and one rabbit plushie. 

Tension arises between the two of you once Sylvie is tucked into bed. It is here that you both realize that one of you is without a place to sleep. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind sharing with Hazel if it were any other day, but you weren’t exactly on the best of terms right now. 

The two of you had gotten into an argument at the party after Hazel wasn’t sure what to introduce you as to people she knew. She couldn’t settle between friend, roommate, or almost but not quite a girlfriend. It made you feel ashamed, if you were being honest. You didn’t want to be in this situation. Not knowing what stood between the two of you. Though, you did admit that the both of you were living in a bubble. A sweet, non committal and casual bubble. No one knows what goes on between the two of you except, well, the both of you. So a part of you understood her hesitancy when she introduced you, but a part of you also wanted her to take the reins and just shout out what she wanted you to be. 

“So…” The brunette mumbled, balancing herself between her toes and the balls of her feet. 

“It’s not like we have a choice.” You said, sighing. You’d stepped out of the way as a gesture for her to get in your bed. 

Hazel’s demeanor lightened. She must have thought that you were over the incident at the party (you were not). The brunette changes into sleepwear before making herself comfortable on your bed. She’s done this hundreds of times before so there’s no shame or second thoughts in her body as she takes up the space she believes is hers. The space that was next to you.

You do the same as her and change into something more comfortable before slipping into bed beside her. Your body betrays your soured feelings as it relaxes when your skin meets hers. It was automatic nowadays, the feeling of relief that washed over you whenever you were near Hazel. The brunette faces you and drapes her arm around you as she always does. 

“You looked really pretty tonight.” Hazel whispered, not risking waking Sylvie up. The brunette was anything but asleep and you could tell by the tone of her voice. She was gaging your reaction. 

“Just tonight?” You reply teasing her. 

A smile spreads across your lover’s dimly lit face. If it weren’t for Hazel’s night light, the room would have been pitch black. Thank god for Freddy Fazbear the night light. 

“Always.” She reassures, a dimple poking out of her cheek. Hazel looked charming under the dim lights. Her eyes sparkled and her hair ever so soft. It was no wonder that you fell for her charms. The charms which compel you to bare your heart out despite the disappointments you’ve suffered, that is. 

A visible frown forms on your face as you recall once again why you two were at odds. Hazel sees this and her eyebrows furrow in worry. She takes the arm that was draped around you and relocates her hand towards your face to caress it. 

“I’m sorry.” Hazel says apologetically. You knew that she meant it. Hazel was rarely malicious and even if she was, it was always in a teasing manner. She was the most pure hearted person you’ve ever met, which is why you felt bad about what you did next. 

“About what?” You asked, teasing. It was rare that your lover is the one apologizing, most of the time it was you. Taking on this rare opportunity, you decide to egg Hazel’s conscience further. 

“You know…” She trails off, avoiding eye contact but maintaining her hand on your cheek. Her thumb was caressing your cheek in a windshield like manner which signified that she was fidgeting. 

Fighting off a smile, you put on your best frown and puppy dog eyes. You wondered how long it would take the brunette to realize that you were joking. Most of the time, the jokes flew over her head. She had a knack of not detecting sarcasm and you found it endearing. 

“I don’t know, Hazel.” You sigh, slightly shrugging of the hand on your cheek. The blue eyed girl was visibly getting frustrated by the second. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her big blue eyes were the roundest it had ever been. 

“I’m sorry for not telling people what we are.” She admitted. You held in a gasp, you didn’t expect her to admit her fault outright. You were expecting a much whinier version of the woman beside you but right now you were faced with a visibly apologetic lover. The thought made your heart ache. 

“Hazel,” You sighed, taking the hand on your cheek with your own. “It’s okay.” 

She shakes her head in disagreement. A frown formed on her lips. She looked close to crying. 

“It’s not. I should’ve told them we were together.” She protested, squeezing your hand. 

“Are you sure?. I feel like you liked it when that sorority girl flirted with you.” Teasing, you interlock your fingers with her. No matter how guilty you felt, it was undeniably fun to tease your lover just a little bit. 

“I didn’t. I swear! I only like you.” She exclaimed, now holding both of your hands. The last part of her sentence was whispered but loud enough for you to catch on. 

A smile forms on your face and a warmth felt on your cheeks. You looked at your lover with much endearment and love.Hazel was nothing but pure. Her love for you had always shone and she’d never made you feel mad or sad or anything negative. Hazel’s was a love you’d never experienced with anyone else before. 

“I guess I only acted like that because I saw how Isabel looked at you.” Hazel said. Your heart drops at her revelation and you’re quick to dismiss her. Unbeknownst to you, Hazel was sporting a mischievous glint in her eyes. The same one she noticed that you had. She’d been able to notice whenever you were teasing nowadays. She noticed how your tone fluctuated, like it always does when you’re joking. And she noticed how you tried to stop yourself from smirking but the tips of your mouth would still turn upwards. All this she picked up because Hazel always took mental notes on you; observed you. 

“What? No-” You interjected, flailing your arms. “Isabel and I are just friends. Plus she has Josie, Haze!” 

“Are you sure? Because the hug you shared seemed a bit intimate.” She said, copying the tone you carried when you presented the same idea. She was toying with you and found it amusing how now you were the one who was panicking. 

“Hazel,” You grabbed her face gently to demand all her focus on you. “I would’ve kissed you in that sweaty house of people for everyone to see.” 

Now it was Hazel’s turn to blush. She could physically feel herself turning red, she imagined what she’d look like. Deciding to be brave and continue on flirting, Hazel encourages you further. 

“And why didn’t you?” She asked, her eyebrow raising. She looked at you with much anticipation, she wanted your lips on hers more than anything else. The desire to kiss and hold you is embedded in her person. Nothing else made her the happiest. 

“Because..I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to.” You mutter, avoiding eye contact. 

“I want to. You can do it right now.” Hazel said quickly and without hesitancy. 

Smiles form from both of you which cascade into giggles. Hazel’s blue eyes turn into crescent moons as her smile reaches her eyes. You could slightly see her countenance being tinted red, signaling to you that she had been flustered with the exchange.

The laughter dies down and all there’s left is tension between the both of you.The silence between you was palpable, the tension thick. You didn’t know why you felt shy now. Too shy to steal a kiss from your lover's lips like you always did. Your hands were still on her face, gently stroking it with your thumb. You imagined that the two of you looked like a couple of rags after a wild night out and yet, Hazel looked ethereal. You reckon that her face could launch a thousand ships as Helen did. 

“You look really beautiful, Haze.” You whisper, trying to shake off the nerves that suddenly appeared. It felt like the time you two first kissed. How the air was so thick and it felt like you were suffocating. The only solution was to put your lips on hers and kiss like her being held oxygen. You remember how you fantasized about how you would finally kiss her, running through so many situations in your head to prepare you only for it to happen on a random afternoon. 

Hazel smiled, the dimple on her cheek appearing. 

“You look beautiful too.You really always do. I mean it.” 

“That’s the alcohol talking.” You retaliate. Compliments never came easy to you, especially not from someone you adored. 

“I didn’t even drink that much. I was too busy looking out for…” She trailed, her gaze landing upon the bed next to yours. 

You laugh at this, following Hazel’s gaze to see that Sylvie had her mouth open as she slept. She also somehow found one of Hazel’s plushies and was snuggling it which earned a look of disdain from her. 

“She’s gonna deform him.” She says with concern. This makes you smile wider than you already had. 

Stroking her face, you decide to kiss her. Your heart couldn’t handle it anymore and it felt like it would burst with all the love and adoration it was holding. Hazel’s lips were sweet, which told you that she drank one of those liquor the sorority sisters made that was full of candy. You made a mental note to point it out to her later. But now, you were focused on the task at hand and that was kissing Hazel so much til your head felt dizzy. 

One of your hands loosen from her face and find their way to her hair. Hazel groans at the action, putting her hands on your neck in return. After what felt like a sweet eternity of kissing, the brunette takes it further by disconnecting her lips from yours and planting it down on your neck. You whimper at the feeling of her lips on yours and grip her hair tighter. 

“Mmmh head hurts!” 

A groaning Sylvie makes the both of you jump, fully forgetting that you had another person in the room. A smile is shared between you and your lover. You’d both silently agreed that you should sleep instead of fucking in case Sylvie actually wakes up. 

Settling back into your bed, Hazel takes it upon herself to position her body on top of yours and bury her neck on your face. You could physically feel her sniffing you. 

“Are you done sniffing me or do you need a little bit more time there?” You ask, wrapping your arms around her. She laughs at your comment and lifts her head up. 

“Can’t I smell my girlfriend? Is that too much to ask?” She asks, feigning sadness in her voice. 

You raise one of your eyebrows at Hazel’s reply, taking note of what she just called you. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” 

“Yup.” She nods, giving you a smile. “Unless you don’t want to, which is totally cool.” 

You shake your head frantically, earning another laugh from your girlfriend. Hazel situates her face back onto the crook of your neck and plants a small kiss. Your heart flutters at the gesture. This was it. You were finally officially together and it happened because Sylvie was forced to sleep on her side of the bed because of poor alcoholic decisions. You had to thank her in the morning, surely. But for now, you’d tighten your hold on Hazel and relish in her body heat. 

“Goodnight, Haze.” 

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tags: @academiareid <33

[teyums]

His Secret Admirer (Final Part) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part two | part three |bonus chapter

wc: 8.3k

a/n: ahhh you guys we’ve reached the end of the His Secret Admirer series! So bittersweet :,). Thank you for all the love on the chapters I’ve put out, it means a lot that people enjoy my writing this much. And thank you for 500 followers!! (still can’t believe that).

Here is the well awaited Part 4, the final part. I am sooo beyond happy with how this came out I honestly think it’s my best one, and it’s also the longest out of all of them! I had so much fun writing it i love these two so much it hurts. I hope you guys enjoy reading! 💗

contains: sooo much fluffff with a sprinkle of spice 🤭

The next morning came terribly fast, which was pretty much the opposite of what you had hoped for. You awoke groggy and unsettled, the night hadn’t the courtesy of blessing you with the rest you so badly needed to prepare for what was to come. Today was the day of the well awaited festival, the day you looked forward to all year, and now you were dreading in with every fiber in your body. While you tried to convince yourself you were ready to face Neteyam, you were still utterly terrified at the possibility of potentially facing rejection.

You pulled the light sheet that held warmth to your body over your face, hoping your mother would somehow forget you even existed.  You weren’t even sure you were breathing. Your body tensed when you heard footsteps nearing, shutting your eyes and making a wish for them to disappear. Perhaps it would’ve worked had you not used them all up last night, begging for at least a couple hours of continuous, undisturbed sleep.

The sheets were pulled from over your head, the bright sunlight making an abrupt reappearance and aiding in waking you up completely. “Maaaa!” You groaned, throwing an arm up to cover your eyes. “Leave me, I’m not ready.” Your whining did nothing to deter your mother from her plans.

“Up, child. There is no time like the present.” She sat beside you, grabbing your arm and gently pulling you to sit up next to her.

You sluggishly lifted your body from where you had fallen asleep last night, your shoulders slumping as you looked at her with doubting eyes. “But what if it all goes wrong?”

“No fear, everything will work out the way it is meant to in the end.” She spoke reassuringly, stroking your arm.

Your mother was always so positive all the time, and usually she was correct. You had no idea how she did it, but it’s been proven your mother knows best so you listened. You exhaled, your uncertainty leaving along with your breath and nodding your head in agreement.

“Good, now we must begin. There is no time to waste.” She grinned.

Taking your braids down took what felt like three lifetimes. In na’vi culture when a woman is looking to court a potential mate, her hair must be loose and styled differently than it is everyday. Something about impressing the male you would be promised to. You tugged at the beads that had been woven into your hair for about a month now, wincing whenever it would catch a loose strand in the process. Though the action of unloosing them was both daunting and aggravating, you couldn’t help the way your excitement grew every time you moved onto the next one.

You ran your fingers through your jet black hair, it slightly wavy from the style it had previously been in. It stopped just above your mid back, the sides pulled back and secured with a clasp adorned with beautiful crimson colored feathers. Two strands were left out in the front, the bottoms having two of each of the beads you used for Neteyam’s necklace on them.

Your mother had sewn together a gorgeous outfit for you, the top garment using the same feathers you had in your hair. They were strung together with thin beaded loops, about three small feathers coming down on each side of your chest to maintain your decency. You held it out in front of you, looking towards your mother apprehensively. The top was so tiny, you wondered if it would actually even cover anything.

Thankfully for you, it did. You still felt a bit exposed as this was much more revealing and dainty than something you would normally wear, however you knew it was only because of the occasion, so you obliged. The feathers felt soft against your skin, and you gently toyed with the intricate beading that tickled below your collarbone. You eyed yourself in the slab of glass that served as a mirror, covering your mouth in awe at the sight of yourself.  You hadn’t felt this beautiful in a while and your mom could tell, coming over to give you a tight hug and smiling back at you in the reflection.

“My child, you look stunning. I cannot believe how much you’ve grown.” Her voice was one of intense admiration, backing away and waving her hands as she started to tear up.

“Mama,” You laughed to yourself, bringing a hand up to your cheek as you quickly became embarrased. Your smile was bittersweet, approaching your very emotional mother and taking hold of her shaky hands. “Don’t cry. I’m still your little syulang.”

She sniffed and nodded in immediate agreeance, pulling you into yet another hug that you were sure would cut off your airways this time. Wiping her tears, she reached over to grab the necklace the two of you had made off the table, gently placing it in your open palm and closing it. “Go get him.” She gleamed.

~~~

Neteyam sat on a stool in front of a mirror in his family’s home, head hung in silence and hands clasped together in his lap. He eyed them closely, feigning interest while his thumbs twiddled idly. The tension in the air between him and his mother as she prepared him for the festival could easily be sliced with the knife he kept strapped to his waist. His braids were pulled back, orange feathers weaved into the strands here and there. He had a burning urge to pluck them out, grimacing at the fact that Eyiti would be wearing matching ones.

Neytiri worked on him silently, a word hadn’t been spoken between them since his outburst yesterday, and he felt the guilt eating him alive. His mother always had something to say, even if it were something as simple as correcting him on his grammar. Knowing her to be outspoken, she made sure her opinion was always heard, even if nobody wanted to listen. So the fact that he hadn’t heard her so much as scold him made him worry. Either her feelings were vastly hurt, or she was in deep contemplation about something.

“Your father and I have made a decision.” The sudden appearance of his mother’s voice caused his head to snap up in her direction, his mouth open slightly while he awaited the verdict. He searched her face for any hint towards what she would say next, but lately it’s been hard for him to read her emotions. Saying the two of them had been disconnected recently was putting it lightly.

“And?” He questioned, his voice just above a whisper. For some reason he was afraid that if he asked too eagerly, the answer he received would be opposite of the one he so badly wanted.

“And,” She sighed, placing the tool she had used to help re-braid his hair down on the table. “We have decided to let you choose your own mate.”

His eyes widened the second the words left her lips and his arms trapped her in a tight embrace before she could fully finish what she was saying. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He repeated, feeling that familiar lump return to his throat. “I’m so sorry for what I said, mother.” His voice split as her hand came down to affectionally caress his head.

“Neteyam,” She peered down at him empathetically, using her hand to turn his face towards her and keeping it on his cheek. “Do not apologize, you were right. We have no right to dictate who you love. I chose for myself, as should you.” She nodded, pulling him away gently so she could finish getting him ready. “All that’s needed from you, is to get through tonight.” Tying his songchord around his bicep, she smiled at him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. “And after that, I would love to meet the girl my son has fought so hard for.”

~~~

You watched as na’vi gleefully danced into the auburn night, singing out praises to the spirits and celebrating a year that had awarded your clan with yet another bountiful hunting season. There was a big bonfire off to the side where a circle of drunken men sat around, laughing loudly and feasting on the legs of an animal with gluttony. You clasped the necklace in your hands tightly and carefully made your way through the crowd, repeating affirmations in your head to keep yourself from puking. It was simple, really. Find Neteyam, give him the necklace, and tell him you have feelings for him and want to be his life long mate. Boom, happily ever after. Easy, right? Wrong. You kept forgetting that she-devil would probably be attached to him at the hip, making your plan even harder to go through with than it already was.

You shook the image out of your head before it burned itself into your skull, mapping out your breathing to remain calm. “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.” You mumbled to yourself, peeking your head around in the mass of people until your eyes locked on the man of the hour.

The second you saw him it felt like time came to a full stop. Neteyam looked even more breathtaking than usual, you had thought that would’ve been impossible until this very moment. You honestly had to stop thinking like that, this was the second time he had proven you wrong and it was getting kind of embarrassing seeing as your mouth would hang open in utter shock every time. Colorful beads and feathers embelished his hair and he wore a shoulder piece that made it easy to determine his status when he stood next to the other young men. You stared at him incredulously, almost forgetting what you were supposed to be doing right now.

You wished you could have stayed there forever and it was nice while it lasted, but unfortunately it was time to face reality.

A body that had been blocking your sight of who was next to him moved to the side and Eyiti came into view, her hand clasped onto Neteyam’s forearm as she stood next to him. Her grip so tight you could see the indentations in his arm, it looked like it hurt. You swallowed what felt like an impossible lump to push down, closing your eyes and repeating encouraging words to yourself.

You quickly decided it was not working like it did before.

“I can’t do this.” Your chest heaved, your lungs out of breath without even holding it. You spun around on your heels before he could notice you, prepared to accept defeat and go home.

But the unexpected sounds of blood curdling screams and shrieks caused you to gasp and quickly return to your prior position, the commotion of people frantically running to safety not allowing you to see what was going on. “What? What’s going on?” You grabbed the shoulders of some around you and spoke anxiously, but your attempts were futile. Your ears perked up attentively at the sound of a spine-chilling growl.

Oh no. Not here.

Your feet picked up speed before your mind could register where they were taking you. Ducking through the crowd, you hurriedly ushered the children who hadn’t yet found their mothers together and in the opposite direction of the growling. War cries began to ring out, and you watched as every hunter surrounding the perimeter of the common grounds raised their bows and weapons with haste.

“Wait!” You hopelessly shoved past barriers of your people, your voice not having the ability to project over the warriors shouting above you. You squeezed yourself between panicked bodies and nearly tripped over limbs, your ears letting you know you were getting closer.

Jake and Neytiri had since stood from their chairs that were positioned to look down over the people, and the expressions on their faces let you know that the situation in front of them was far from good.

Directly in front of Neteyam and Eyiti stood a blood thirsty Palulukan, it’s six strong legs aiding in it’s slow and menacing prance towards them. By the looks of its nostrils flaring in agitation, you were sure it would pounce any second. Neteyam, being the fearless warrior he is, instinctively stepped in front of Eyiti and raised his bow, stretching an arrow against the string with one swift motion.

You forced yourself into the center where others had backed up enough to make a large circle. Mothers held onto their children protectively, more terrified than ever. “Neteyam, lower your bow!” Your voice caught his attention almost instantly but his arms stayed raised in position, ready to protect whoever he needed to.

His eyes did not meet yours, instead they stayed targeted on the vicious animal in front of him and he shook his head harshly, not daring to let his attention waver. “Get back [Y/n]. Now.” He ordered.

You shoved the necklace you realized you were still clutching away and into your bag, your hands put out in front of you as you pleaded with him. “Please, you are scaring her. She will pounce.” You responded breathlessly, your eyes flickering between him and the most feared creature on Pandora who was obviously not in the best mood. You were most familiar with her than the others of her species, she was the one you often ran into when venturing through the forest and you could instantly tell by the sound of her growl. You usually had scraps to offer her but it was extremely rare that a Palulukan would come deep into the village, leaving you with nothing to utilize but your own skills.

“She?” You heard Lo’ak’s voice carry over from the top of the hill, referring to the fact that you knew the gender of the savage animal you all heard stories of when you were young. “[Y/n], are you crazy?!” He screeched.

Kiri’s head snapped in his direction and she swatted at his arm. “Lo’ak, hush! You must not distract her.” Whisper yelling at him so only he could hear, he rubbed his arm to soothe the sting and scowled at her.

Tuk peeked out from behind Kiri’s legs, tugging on her fingers to get her attention with a worried look on her face. “Is it gonna hurt her?” Kiri peered down at her younger sister, gently shushing her and shaking her head before returning her attention back to you. Her gaze was one of profound fascination and oddly enough— trusting.

Pre-occupied with trying to stop Neteyam from releasing his arrow in defense, you hadn’t noticed Eyiti slowly backing away from him, the look on her face one of great terror.

The last thing you wanted to do when face to face with an animal threatening to attack, was move.

“Do not!” You shrieked, your warning coming late when the snarling creature started towards her. She screamed in fear, tripping over her own feet and falling flat on her butt. Her eyes flooded with tears and she used her hands to crawl backwards, farther away from the snarling beast. You hate to admit it but there was a tiny part of you that wanted to let this creature sink her teeth into the girl who had made it her life’s mission to terrorize you. The elders, including Neteyam’s parents and hers, stood in attention at the top of the hill at the roots of home tree. Eyiti’s parents called out to her in distress, but they were much too far to assist and moving would only accelerate the attack. They would never make it in time.

You jumped into action, strategically positioning yourself right in the middle of the Palulukan and a defenseless Eyiti. The entire clan gasped, some even cried out prayers and shielded the eyes of their children as they were sure you would die in this very moment. Neteyam was the only one who relaxed somewhat, the string of his bow becoming less taut. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but for some reason, he felt you knew what you were doing.

“Ma Jake!” Neytiri cried out, one hand on her chest and the other grabbing his arm, begging for him to do something. “It will kill her!”

Jake stared down at the scene unfolding in front of him, completely bewildered with his mouth hanging open. “What the hell is she doing? Get out of there!” He yelled.

With your shoulders pulled back confidently, you mirrored the hunting approach of the animal in front of you and glared through your brows, stalking like a Palulukan would before ambushing its prey. You watched it take a step back once you rounded closer in attempt to force more room between it and the blubbering girl behind you, then raising a hand in the air to silence the na’vi who had many distracting comments and opposing opinions against your methods. “Mawey my people, mawey!” You shouted, not taking your eyes off the task in front of you.

Your olo’eyktan watched intently, signaling his approval to the men to lower their weapons like you instructed.

Kiri smiled from ear to ear while watching you, the expression on her face contrasting greatly from everyone else’s. “I knew it.” She whispered to herself, resulting in Lo’ak looking at her like she had lost her Eywa-loving mind.

The giant beast opened its mouth and a loud, menacing roar rumbled deep from its diaphragm. Sharp quills stood tall off its neck while its beard flared out as an intimidation tactic. You stood unfazed, tilting your head with narrowed eyes and loudly hissing in response. Your ears had fallen flat against your hair while you barred your sharp fangs right back with no fear. Neteyam blinked at you in genuine disbelief when the animal’s challenging stance faltered, its legs lowering itself into a submissive position in defeat.

You sighed in relief and rolled your eyes, steadily approaching the beast and gently stroking its head. “What is the matter with you, Yuna? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I-is she… talking to it?” The younger Sully boy questioned, looking back and forth to anyone for an answer. Nobody could respond to him, everyone stood in shock- not able to process what had just happened. “It has a name? Bro, is nobody as lost as I am right now?” He screamed, his hands holding his head as if it were about to explode.

Your eyes dropped down when you noticed one of her legs slightly raised off the ground. You quirked an eyebrow and crouched to get a better look, easily recognizing what had made her come into the village in the first place. There was a thick, sharp chunk of wood lodged between the webbing of her paw. It would have been impossible to remove on her own.

“Oh my… you poor thing. Let me help you.” Your voice was sympathetic as you lowered your head to examine how deep it had gone, deciding it was safe for you to remove it. You used all of your strength to lift the paw that was much bigger than the size of your head with assistance from the creature, gripping the large splinter and finally removing it with a grunt after a few seconds of tugging. The animal roared in pain, and with a whimper its demeanor quelled due to the instant relief, earning an accomplished smile from you. You looked around in search of food, grabbing some teylu out of a bowl from a table off to the side. You tossed the blood stained slab of lumber to the ground once you rose to your feet.

“Make a path.” You ordered, watching the crowd that was huddled around you hurriedly part like the Red Sea.

You waved the worms in front of the creature’s nose, watching her nostrils twitch with interest before you threw them into the direction of the forest. You watched the thanator gallop away, sighing and wiping your hands off onto your legs.

“Ma Jake… Who is that girl? She possesses a fine ability.” The Tsahik stared down at you, her voice seeping with pure awe. She couldn’t even blink. Neytiri had never seen such a display in her entire life. A Palulukan had not been tamed like this since… well, her. Almost two decades past. And even then, that had been an offer of assistance from Eywa to restore balance to the land during the war with the sky people. A genuine taming, such as this, was completely unheard of.

Kiri placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “That is the girl Neteyam has been trying to tell you about this entire time, mother.” She smiled. “That girl, is [Y/n].”

“My daughter.” Your mother’s voice clarified as she emerged from the crowd to address Tshaik, effectively catching Neytiri’s attention, but your mother’s eyes remained on you from afar. She had been watching closely, off to the side the entire time. You had explained your hunches with the animals of Pandora to her before, how you felt a deeper connection to them than most did. All of them, even those forbidden to interact with. Though she had never seen it for herself until now, her faith in you never wavered for a second. Her eyes filled with pride seeing her daughter prove herself in a way even better than she had imagined.

Remembering you were in the middle of the circle, you looked up to see everyone gawking at you and cleared your throat before speaking up.

“Um… I’m sorry about her. You all can go back to the party now, everything’s fine. Please, proceed.” You looked around and motioned to the tables that still had candles lit atop them, staring blankly at all the eyes that were glued to your face. You were definitely not used to having this much attention on you, or attention period. It was so quiet you could hear the crackling of the bonfire in the distance. Nobody could believe how casually you were speaking about what you had just done.

“Y-you saved my life… I- Thank you.” Eyiti was a sniffling mess, her body trembling in shock from what could’ve resulted in her death. Her cheeks were stained with tears and for once in her life, her expression matched her words. Oh how it made your heart swell with joy to see her groveling.

Looking down at her, your face twisted as if you had smelled something rotten. “No, I saved my friend’s life. You, however, just happened to get lucky.” You scoffed, making your way out of the circle.

Neteyam’s breaths were heavy as he watched you, glancing up to his father with sanguine eyes, a silent plea to go after you. As soon as Jake hurriedly gave him the okay, he was running off into the crowd. Not even taking a second to help his so called ‘date’ up from the ground that served in humbling her.

He tried his best to keep up with your strides, losing sight of you a few times and apologizing to those he bumped into. He rolled his arm, swiping off the shoulder piece that was preventing him from keeping up with you and letting it drop to the ground. He plucked the feathers out of his hair with zero regard of those watching, wanting to rid of everything that had to do with the girl who kept you two apart.

You managed to make your way out of the sea of people and faded into the forest, ducking under branches and successfully escaping from the sudden influx of attention you gained from your entire village. A relaxed breath left your lips once you were out of sight, trying to take in the fact that you had saved not only one life but two, all while in front of the boy you were preparing to confess to at that. You whipped your head around at the sound of leaves rustling, hearing a voice that never failed to make your heart jump.

“[Y/n], wait!” Neteyam called out for you, his expression softening once you finally stopped. “Jeez, you’re fast.” He breathed out.

You couldn’t help the smile that threatened to appear on your face, dissappointment quickly flooding back in once you remembered the reason the two of you hadn’t been together in the first place. “Yes?”

He searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you were just as stunned as he was, but he was unsuccessful. You stood in front of him, appearing nonchalant despite what had just occurred. “What was that back there?” He asked, reaching forward and taking hold of your arm. “It was like you knew what to do. How?”

You looked down at his hand on your skin, not even being able to think as he was touching you. You swallowed hard, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly as you tried to find an answer. “I-I don’t know. I just… I listened to her. It was like I could hear her- hear her voice.” Your tone grew faint when your eyes met his again, realizing he had never once stopped looking at you, even when you stopped looking at him. You chewed your bottom lip, lowering your head to stare at the ground with a puff of air that was supposed to be a laugh. “You think I’m crazy now, don’t you.” You mumbled.

“No, no! I believe you, I do. I promise.” He shook his head vigorously, dipping his head to catch your faltering gaze once he realized that his wide-eyed, dumbfounded look must’ve given off that impression. “Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I did not plan for any of that to happen, with Eyiti. It was my parents doing, I tried to get out of it but I couldn’t…” He sighed, his voice faltering when he spoke of her. He didn’t even want to think about her, let alone bring her up to you.  

He felt you pull away slightly, apprehensive due to you having no idea what was really going on behind the scenes other than what you had witnessed with your own eyes.

“[Y/n],” His eyebrows creased apologetically, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Follow me, please. I will explain everything, I just really, really need you to come with me.”

You could never say no to him, even with the residual feelings of betrayal that lingered in the back of your mind. The desperate look worn on his face was enough for you to give in without another thought. A small nod of your head brightened his face up immediately, though you could tell he was trying to let himself not get too excited at the small victory.

He took your hand into his, fingers intertwining and hearts racing. Your cheeks heated red as he pulled you through the forest with a firm grip, no intention of letting you go.

You followed closely behind him, looking back in the direction of the festival when you heard music resume in the distance. You felt a pang of guilt, you didn’t want to be the reason he got in trouble yet again. “Neteyam, you are the chief’s son. Are you sure you can just up and leave like this? They will surely be looking for you-”

The two of you broke out from the trees and onto a stretched path, your breath catching in your throat when you were suddenly pulled into his chest. If you had inched just a smidge closer, your noses would have been touching. You blinked sporadically, probably to keep yourself from fainting.

“I do not care what anyone thinks. Now is not about them, it’s about you.” The words flowed from his mouth smooth like silk, and with the way his amber eyes eyes were mending into yours you truly felt as if nothing else mattered to him. “Yesterday, you said you wanted to go on another Ikran ride with me, no?” You had no idea how he was able to maintain eye contact so easily, your legs felt like they were about to snap at any moment and you thanked Eywa you had his arms to hold onto.

“Yes…” You would have looked away by now, but his eyes were inviting you in. There was such a different look to them, like he was seeing into you. The sound he made to call for his banshee brought you back to reality. “O-oh, right now?” You gulped, seeing his Ikran land at the end of the trail.

“Yes, now.” He laughed at your stuttering, gently pulling your hand and leading you over. He glanced at you while he prepped the saddle, a playful smirk playing on his lips as you eyed the animal, the apprehensiveness you held for years trying to re-introduce itself. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared. This isn’t your first time.” He hopped onto its back, extending a hand out to you.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes narrowed, pretending to look offended at his teasing. “You wish.” You took his hand and grinned, allowing him to pull you up behind him. You settled into the saddle, breathing out before loosely snaking your arms around him like you remembered.

“Come on love, I don’t bite.” He chuckled, taking your arms and tightening them around him. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.” You blushed, a small shiver striking through your body when he grasped your hands and placed them over his chest just like he had done the first time.

“Shut up.” Had he not been able to hear the grin overshadowing your words he probably would have thought you were being serious.

“Ready?” He looked over his shoulder, face beaming.

Before you could even respond, a chirp to his Ikran sent it plunging into the sky at full speed. A scream left your mouth, but unlike last time, this one was oozing with exhilaration. Your grip on him tightened and you pressed your cheek against his warm back, a laugh producing from him at your thrilled squeals every time he took an unexpected dip or a turn.

Your eyes were so focused on the gorgeous display below you that when you began to ascend higher and higher into the sky, the landscape seemingly shrinking caused you to look up at his focused expression. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

After a few more minutes of flying passed, your set destination came into view. The hallelujah mountains approaching made you gasp in amazement, you had never once gotten to see them up-close due to your now squashed fear of flying. He felt your heartbeat quicken against his back, the sensation of his hand reaching back to rub your thigh instantly drawing your attention away from the scenic landscape in front of you.

The banshee came to a gradual landing on one of the larger floating platforms, its heavy wing beats slowing once its feet made contact with the ground.

Your gaze immediately locked on the faint flickering of candles in the distance, having trouble pulling your attention away from them as he dismounted. “Neteyam… What is that?” Your voice was calm and directed towards him- but your eyes remained in front of you, worried that if you expressed too much interest, whatever it was that he had set up would disappear.

“Just, come on.” He smiled diffidently and pinched the back of his neck, ignoring your question and holding his hand out to you once again.

You hurriedly grasped it and hopped off the saddle, using his arm to stabilize your landing. You could tell he was a bit nervous but you hadn’t known the exact reason why. He leisurely lead you along and you turned your head towards him, the smile on his face making your own appear as a blanket laid over the grass with a few small, lit candles became visible. You held his hand with both of yours now and squeezed gently, marveling at the set up still ahead. You couldn’t contain your excitement and skipped off without him, lowering to your knees on the soft fabric at your feet.

You brought a hand over your mouth to stifle what would’ve been your one hundredth gasp of the day, taking a glimpse around and seeing a spread of your favorite fruits and snacks positioned off to the side. “Neteyam,” You lifted your head to see he had caught up with you now, grabbing his hand and lightly pulling on it to urge him to sit down with you. “You did this for me?” The spread along with the pillowy, bioluminescent foliage around you were all very enticing, but you couldn’t look at anything else but him.

He sat beside you, blushing and nodding his head while eyeing everything like it was his first time seeing it. “Yeah. Well, I may have asked Kiri for some help cutting the fruits. And Lo’ak assisted me in bringing everything up here…” He trailed off once he saw your sudden unamused expression, most likely due to the fact that he always struggles to take credit for the sweet things he does. He cleared his throat, rephrasing his answer. “Yes, I did it for you.” He grinned.

Your hands came up to cup his flushed face, yellow orbs overflowing with adoration for the man in front of you. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever thought to do for me, I-“ Your sentence came to a halt and your hands slowly retracted from his face upon remembering something that still hadn’t been addressed.

He noticed your demeanor change, bringing his hands up to stop yours from falling completely. “I talked to my parents,” Somehow he was able to answer the question that was lingering in your mind, without you even having to say it out loud. “They’re letting me choose now. I can choose my mate.” He repeated, making sure you didn’t miss a single word he was saying.

“That’s good.” You smiled at him sadly, not being able to help your gaze falling to the side to avoid looking at him.

He rolled his eyes at you in a joking manner, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back up at him. “And I choose you, sxkawng.”

“You can’t,” You shook your head, feeling betrayed by your own mouth at the words it picked as a response. “I am not a healer, Neteyam. Or a hunter. I don’t have what it takes to be Tsahik. I can’t-“

“No,” He cut you off before you could finish, like the words angered him to even listen to. “You don’t need to be anything other than yourself, [Y/n]. Do you not remember how you single-handedly managed to save our village tonight? You have proved yourself plenty, trust me.” He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. “You are so much more than special, and you always have been. Especially to me.” His tone comforting and leaking with affection, he used his other hand to caress your cheek while he reassured you.

“Neteyam….” You melted into his touch and leaned against his hand, feeling all the uncertainty you held for yourself slip away.

He went to tuck one of your front strands behind your ear to get a better look at your face, then he paused. Watching his expression change, his eyebrows furrowed as he peered at what was woven in on the ends. “These beads,” He stared intently, deep in thought while he rolled one between his index finger and his thumb to try and spark a memory. “I feel like I have seen them before.”

Your mind instantly flashed back to when you had pushed through the circle to stop the Palulukan, remembering that you were still holding the necklace when you came into his line of sight. “Oh!” You quickly reached behind you to grab your small pouch, lifting the strap over and off your shoudlers then opening it and sifting through the contents. He watched curiously, his eyes illuminating when you revealed a necklace made of the same beads that were in your hair.

His mouth opened but you were already explaining before he could ask. “I-it’s for you. I was gonna give it to you, at the festival. But then I saw you with her and everything started happening so I-“

He delicately took it into his hands, tilting his head to the side to get a better look. His head was dropped down as he studied it and silence that weighed in the air began to worry you.

“You don’t like it?” Your voice was quiet and your sweating palms indicated how nervous you truly were.

His strong arms suddenly pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. You were shocked at his unforeseen actions but ultimately had zero complaints. “I love it.” He whispered, pulling away to look at you with one of the most genuine smiles you’ve ever seen on his face. “You made this for me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

You quickly nodded, still trying to gather your thoughts. “Well, it was my idea, but I was on a time crunch so my mom-“ You stopped yourself, seeing the same kind of look on his face you had given him earlier when he went off on a tangent to discredit his efforts. The both of you were thrown into a fit of laughter at the moment of deja-vu. “Yes, I made it for you.”

You took the necklace back into your hands, motioning it towards him as a silent offer to help him put it on. He obliged, using a hand to hold his braids up and out of the way.

You licked your bottom lip and sat up on your knees, realizing now that you had accidentally volunteered yourself to get closer to him. You moved your body in his direction, not missing the way his eyes tracked every movement you conducted. You brought your hands apart and circled them around his neck, trying your hardest not to think about the way his breath was fanning against your shoulder, his lips lightly grazing it. You felt his gaze boring into your face, the pace of your heart increasing as you fiddled with the clasp before fastening it.

“There, all done.” You mumbled, allowing your hands to trail against the skin from the back of his neck down to the front of his chest. As you pulled away it was impossible to hide from his stare, your eyes connecting with his. The both of you sat there for a beat, simply looking into each other’s eyes until he decided to make the first move. He leaned forward, stopping inches from your face. Your breath shuddered, his eyes falling from yours, to your lips, then back up again.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathed out, his fingers brushed against your sides, eager to hold you but wanting to wait until he had your permission.

God, you thought he’d never ask.

He took you falling in to close the remaining space between your lips as a prompt yes. Your eyes fluttered to a close the moment your lips met, your arms ribboning around his neck to bring him closer. His hands followed suit and grappled onto your waist, his right arm hooking around your back to pull you up and into his lap as the kiss deepened almost instantly.

You broke for air after a few seconds, raking your hands into his braids when he quickly became too impatient to wait for you to catch your breath. You held his head whilst he placed featherweight kisses along your jaw, mindlessly craning your head to the side to grant him further admittance to your sensitive skin.

You nuzzled your cheek against the top of his braids, not being able to stop yourself from inhaling deeply to take in his scent. You felt his lips latch and suck on the skin of your collarbone, gasping at the feeling and knowing it would for sure leave a mark. Biting your lip to contain your voice, you drew your body away from his.

His head snapped up to look at you, fearful that he had done something you didn’t like or made you uncomfortable in any way.

His worries were extinguished once taking in the wanting look on your face, eyeing carefully when you reached back to grab your long braid and pull it forward. He followed suit, eagerly bringing his own to present it to you. The ends of your queues unveiled from the hair that protected them once in close proximity with each other.

“[Y/n], we will be mated for life if we do this.” He started, not wanting to rush you into a decision just in case this wasn’t truly what you wanted.

You placed a reassuring kiss on his lips, pressing your forehead against his once you pulled away. “I promise, Nete’. I want this.”

The two of you brought your hands closer, your queues grasping onto each other and intertwining to make Tsaheylu. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes closed, your body trying to adjust to the new feeling that had been gifted to you. It was as if you could now feel everything he was feeling, think everything he was thinking. You felt the immense love he held for you all these years coarse through your veins. He had already told you this, but feeling it was something completely new, a foreign sensation you didn’t know you could crave this badly until now. Neteyam’s head hung below you, and based on the short, uneven breaths that could be heard from him paired with his chest rising and falling— you knew he felt it too.

He finally raised his head to look at you, his hands tenderly rubbing up and down the sides of your body. You allowed your back to be pressed against the soft blanket beneath you as he switched the position the two of you were in, meeting your lips again. His lips chased yours every time he felt you pull away, and with each kiss his lips transferred the burning desire he had onto you. Your mouth parted instinctively when his warm tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you gladly allowed it in, hands fervently grasping onto each other in attempt to be closer than you already were. You smoothed over his chiseled back, fidgeting under him slightly at the heat you felt starting to grow deep in your core while his wandering hands served as further ammunition.

You had no idea where he learned how to do all this but you were so far from a complaint that you wouldn’t even be able to hear if it yelled your name. The two of you kissed like it would be your last, lips melded together to confirm it had been a mistake that they were apart all these years.

“‘Teyam…” You softly moaned against his lips, his ears flicking in delight at the way you called his name. You trailed a hand down his torso, fingers rolling over his abs and feeling them tense at your touch. You rapidly felt yourself growing impatient, your back arching off the ground and your heaving chest coming in contact with his.

His large hand squeezed the plush area where your thigh met your hip, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist securely then dragging his hand back up to continue loving on your heated, dark blue skin. A finger finally slipped under the string of your loincloth and with one swift motion it could be lost and forgotten for the night. His heart was beating against his chest so hard he swore you could hear it. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, but simply hovered his lips over yours with enough room for you to speak.

“Do you want me to stop?” His tone was gruff and deep, tail swishing in delight as he could already feel what the answer was against his leg.

“Please don’t.” You panted out whatever would use up the least time, not wanting his lips to leave yours for more than a second and using your hand at the back of his neck to pull him right back down into you.

~~~

You were glad tonight would be a warm one, seeing as the two of you wouldn’t be moving from this spot anytime soon. Where in the world he had tossed your garments was a problem to be saved for the morning.

Even if you actually wanted to move, you couldn’t. Neteyam’s arms were wrapped so tightly around you, as if you would slip right through his fingers if he let up in the slightest. Not to mention that you were sure the minute you’d try to stand up, the stability of your legs would automatically succeed in embarrassing you.

You couldn’t exactly see just how marked up the skin surrounding your neck and chest looked, but brief flashbacks of him nipping at where he’d noticed other men ogling at before pretty much told you that you were in for a treat. Your mother would probably faint if she saw you like this, so you’d make sure to stop and get some yahlnabark in the morning to tend to the bruising before home.

Neither you or Neteyam had taken it upon yourselves to break Tsaheylu, wanting to relish in the unfamiliar feeling of comfort it brought. Enjoying your hearts beating as one, you cuddled closer to him while your queues lay connected between your exhausted bodies.

You spent your time afterwards threading your fingers through his hair and against his scalp, appreciating every part of him. The both of you took turns feeding the other pieces of fruit, easily resembling a cliche married couple on their honeymoon and giggling at yourselves for it, completely lovestruck.

“You are so beautiful… Did I tell you that already?” He twirled the strands of your hair along his fingers, his elbow propping him up and his eyes utterly mesmerized as they trailed from your head to your toes over and over again. He had said it so many times already that you were starting to forget your own name.

You cheesed, nodding your head while he continued to delve into how gorgeous you looked for the umpteenth time regardless of your answer.

The twinkling stars in the sky above begged for your attention, but all your eyes could focus on was him. The way his face lit up when he spoke of something that excited him, the sound of his voice when he laughed at his own corny jokes. You could listen to him go on and on for hours. You lived for it all and didn’t want to miss any of it.

“I won’t disappear, you know,” He chuckled at your melancholy expression, planting a prolonged kiss on your cheek that made your heart skip a beat. “Not this time.” He assured, lifting the back of your hand to kiss your knuckles.

This was definitely something to get used to. Him displaying his love for you so openly as well as literally being able to tell what was on your mind.

“I know that, but I can’t take any chances. I miss you already and you’re right here in front of me.” You pouted, not being able to stop it from transforming into a sheepish smile.

After a while of laying together he started to doze off, his slowed breathing indicating as such. He had tried to keep himself awake for as long as he could, going to sit back up every time he felt his eyes begin to close and swearing that he wasn’t tired. You had to hammer it into his head that you would remain next to him; that if he fell asleep you would still be here in his arms when he woke up. He eventually fell asleep with his head on your chest, his arms maintaining a concrete hold on your body to make sure you would keep your promise. With his tail loosely wrapped around your thigh, indistinct, quiescent snores could be heard from who you had come to love so deeply over the years.

You wished he had been awake so you could poke fun at his possessive behavior. Every time you moved so much as an inch from him, just to see what he would do, he stirred from his slumber and pulled you back flush against him with a muffled, exhausted grunt in protest. The sensation of your heated skin pressed close to his was enough for him to let his guard down and rest without worry, even if it were just for tonight. He knew he still had hardships to face, but the fact that you would be there by his side through it all helped erase all feelings concern. The man who spent his entire life protecting everyone could now bask in the same treatment. One night with you was all that was needed to heal all of his wounds. The confirmation that he now had you as his mate for the rest of his life, and in the next, aided in keeping him sound asleep.

Though it was most likely the influx of newfangled emotions washing over you, you couldn’t help but grow emotional while watching him sleep so soundly. In all your years of knowing Neteyam, you had never seen him more at peace than he was with you in this very moment. The space between his eyebrows held no weight, his shoulders no tension. His body and mind were completely relaxed for the first time in forever.

Trailing your fingers over the necklace you had made him, you chewed your lip to stop your grin from enveloping you as you remembered the way he had peppered your face with endless kisses just a bit ago, thanking you over and over again for such a thoughtful and sincere gift. He swore the only way he would take it off is if it broke, and even then he would come to you and have you fix it.

You listened to the distant sounds of the forest tucking itself in for the night, insects humming, the leaves on the trees gently swishing when the occasional breeze would pass. If someone had told you just two weeks ago that you and Neteyam would be mated for life, you would have laughed in their face. You couldn’t believe you had gone from being his secret admirer to the love of his life right before your eyes.

You vowed to always support him and love him unconditionally. You would never again allow him to feel less than he was- a beautiful, strong, humble man deserving of all the love he craved and more. You gazed down at him as you felt sleep creeping up on you, brushing the loose hairs from his forehead and seeing the corners of his mouth unconsciously turn up into a subtle smile.

“I see you, Ma Neteyam.” You whispered, eyes softly flittering to a close.

a/n: And that’s a wrap ladies and gents. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! ☺️

Please like + reblog if you can, they are greatly appreciated 💗

tag list ⬇️ (if you’re not here your blog didn’t pop up + tumblr only allows me to add 50 names!)

@eringaitskill @bwormie @fanboyluvr @ssc7514 @meivap @afro-hispwriter @hellok1ttycake @melsunshine @casuallydogobsessed @katsukiswrld @mcdonalds-playground @itscheybaby @neenieweenie @babyvinnie @laylasbunbunny @epicy0n @dreamersbelieveinus @elegantzippercashshoe @answer-the-sirens @arminsgfloll @jackiehollanderr @tejas-kris @neteyamoa @instabull @halibanana @uwu-i-purple-you @neteyamsgirll @kre3ce @philiasoul @hornknee-and-bi-myself @obsessedwithlife @llearlert @extreamlycutecuban @awkward-halfhug @heaven1oo4 @raven-the-cryptid @gracefulbumblebee @sophiaj650 @jkeluv @szchaql @alexandra-001 @camcaminhogwarts @nanaitesully @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @heesoftiefreak @chasetsummer @elissanatok @inutheangel @kaealowri

[waffawa]

Heyyy so you were asking for Charlastor ideas.

Maybe you could have a little sketchy of Alastor and Charlie being cute poring over papers/working on the hotel.

Or I don't know if its too romantic (for Alastor) but just maybe rolling around in a field (if there are fields in Hell), having fun and being cute.

I love your art so much <3 Its so pretty and it makes me so happy <33

Charlastor is so cute. These two are so cute. I'm sorry I'm just fangirling now. Byeee

Thank you sooooo much for the sweet message! I definitely had to draw something for it :)) And I am SOOO tempted to color this one! I feel like I draw them differently every time I draw haha. Hope you like it!!::

[onskepa]

Okidoki~ sooo how about Tonowari with a reader that’s like kiri? Like- they’re mates and our dear reader kind of keeps her head in the clouds yk? Like- she when she goes for a swim sometimes she forgets everything else and poor stressed ‘wari has to look for her. :333333 DAAAMMMN this is making me kick my feet under the covers!!!!

Hope you like this one! I made her a bit ditzy for this one.

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

Fwew

Tonowari is a leader, tall, patient, good sense of direction and morality. He fits all of the requirements to be a leader to his people. So, as leader, many people would assume he has everything under control.

NOPE. If anything, he freaks out on the inside.

Fwew. A name he given to the love of his life. A pet name.

Tonowari's mate, who despite having a name of her own, everyone calls her Fwew. And for one reason only.

She has a god damn talent to get lost and not know.

Its not that she doesn't have any sense of direction or doesn't know how to navigate around the island, its just that she gets distracted why too easy.

Easily, fwew can get side tracked. By anything really.

Pretty flower? she stays put to stare at it.

Pretty seashells? She stays to gather them.

Is the sky extra blue today? She will lay down at who knows where at stare at it like its a master piece.

Anything and everything just fascinates her so easily. She hardly gets bored and would appreciate the little things.

And where does her lovely mate, Tonowari leave? In a midst of panic. He tries his best to make sure his mate is with him at all times. But like a child, you look away for one second, and gone.

He has come up with so many ways. Using bright color flowers or hair décor for his mate as means so notice where she is. But the colors dulled down due to not lasting as much as he liked.

Made a sort of head band made out of shells, so that when Fwew moves, the shells make sounds. What happened do that? The twins that kept it together broke and the shells fells off.

A wrist band that tied her wrist with his, like hand cuffs, made with the strongest vines and roots. It did worked actually....until fwew's hand began to turn pale due to low blood circulation so tonowari had to cut it off.

Tonowari was so desperate as to not lose his mate, that at one point he strapped her on his chest like a parent would with a child. Fwew didn't mind, Tonowari shoved his pride aside to keep his mate close. What happened there? The straps were cut on accident when he was cutting up some fish.

Eywa forbid she enters the ocean. She tends to lose herself more in the ocean more than the forest in the island.

She would spend hours underwater. Admiring the fishes, corals and their unique designs.

Would let the waves gently sooth her to and from. Closing her eyes and feel the rhythm of the ocean.

Tonowari would often spend more time finding his mate rather than doing his duties. The people understand and are not at all upset nor annoyed. If anything, they find it amusing.

But the village does keep any eye out for the darling mate. Take notes of where she was last seen and report to tonowari so that he doesn't go in circles.

At the end of the day, Tonowari would calm himself as he finds his dear mate. He never gets mad at her. Too in love to really scold her. If anything, he would sit as his mate would tell of all the wonderful things she saw, collected, and hear her inner thoughts.

And the following day, repeat the chaos again.

I hoped ya'll liked this list! I had fun with it!

Fwew = search, look for.

[exorcqism]

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; the painter‘s hidden identity is made known. wc, 3.42K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back with this storyyyy. getting near the good part which also means the end but not just yet sooo just keep reading. hope ya enjoyyyy and reblog to support meee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART THREE

the art class was bustling with students, the scent of paint and clay wafting through the air. choso sat at his usual spot stealing glances from you. the professor announced a small project; drawing and painting your partners. but there was a twist—only two colors could be used.

choso’s heart raced as ideas began to flood his mind. everyone scattered around to their new seats and the male instantly scooted next to you. he smiled at you. it was something about that shy smile he gave you before he quietly asking if he could draw you.

“let me draw you first,” you smiled. “i don’t want you getting caught up with me and i completely forget to draw you.”

“oh, i don’t know…i’m not really good with posing or anything. and i’m not able to sit still for very long.” choso warned but you only smacked your lips as if the boy was spewing nonsense right out of his teeth.

“quit doubting yourself. you got nice style and your face would literally be perfect on a magazine cover maybe even in the art show that’s coming up.”

“art show?” choso raised a brow. for someone that loved art contests and taking trips to museums just to stare at the portrait hanging on the white walls encased in an embezzled gold frame, he seemed surprised about this information.

“yeah. don’t know how you haven’t heard about it but i was thinking of putting my painting of you in once it was finished.” you looked down at your blank canvas that was resting flat on the table just as it did when you first arrived to class.

“oh, no, you shouldn’t—i mean..you can if you want to it’s your painting but…i really don’t like being the center of attention. i don’t really like being stared at.” choso explained. he bit down on his lower lip and he sighed.

“come on, it’ll be a powerful piece.” you beamed. “i feel like it’ll really make an impact on the audience. and i promise i won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

choso hummed, his lips pursed before speaking again. “um…well if you think so highly of the piece then i guess i can’t say no. just promise you won’t tell anybody it’s me.”

“sure. now just hold still for me.” you say with a smile.

classes finally end for the day and the two of you made progress on your art pieces. you decided to ask choso to spend the rest of the day together, to which he agreed to without hesitation.

you both gathered your items and headed out into the bustling city of tokyo. the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. you and choso arrive at a cozy cafe and settled into a booth by a large window, surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

the two of you had been there for a good thirty minutes talking about whatever came to mind, bouncing from topic to topic and bookmarking whatever part of the conversation you thought was interesting for another time.

“so, choso, you’ve always been into art?”

“yeah, well, i’ve always had a creative side, but i never really pursued it until recently. art helps me express things that are hard to put into words, you know?”

you nod. you never seen his art before and you just wondered how he had done things. your eyes travel over to the tote bag that was sitting flatly beside choso’s thigh. you fixed your lips to speak but a camera flash went off. you were pretty used to his off guard photos ever since the two of you started to hang out more often.

“can i see?” you leaned your body over the polished wood table before choso lowered his camera.

“not yet.” he answered. “mmm…i’ll show you when the project is complete. until then, i’ll have to hold off on showing you.”

you pout but you could understand why choso was being a bit selfish with his crafts. instead of begging to see a photo of yourself, which you prayed you didn’t blink in, you pointed to his bag.

“why don’t you finish your sketch? i mean, we have a lot of privacy right now and we don’t have any classes tomorrow. i also wanna watch you paint. its something about watching an artist in action is just so satisfying.” you say.

choso, lost in the depths of his own world, takes a sip of his green tea when he hears your unexpected statement. he recently started drinking it a bit more since that was the only thing he actually liked besides ice water.

feeling a surge of nervousness and excitement, choso shifts in his seat. painting in front of someone, especially you, made him feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to.

“i’m not sure…” choso looks down at his cup half filled with tea, which still had smoke billowing from it because of how hot it was. “i’ve never painted with someone else in the room before. it’s a pretty personal process for me.”

“c’mon, please? just for a minute.” you pleaded, clasping your hands and intertwining your fingers to be dramatic. choso chuckled at your silly behavior and simply sighed.

“let’s head back to the school and you can watch me work in my room, fair?” choso looks at you, awaiting an answer. of course, you agree.

back at jujutsu tech, you and choso were settling in, slipping your shoes off once you entered the room and placing your bags together against the wall.

you were amazed at how much space he had and how organized he was. the books on the bookshelves were all in size and color order and so were the cute little jars of paint that were on another shelf but you noticed that there was no red paint.

the desk was neatly organized also with choso’s laptop and ipad with its stylus side by side, charging. there was a mug with a bunch of pencils and pens and another cylinder item that looked handmade and painted with brushes in them. you assumed choso made it.

there was an easel in the corner of the room by the large windows that had blinds that would be shortly opened to let in some of the remaining light as the sun set. choso grabbed a few brushes and the rolling chair that sat at his desk and pulled it over in front of the easel and sat down. the male then reached for the canvas that had the drawing of you from his bag and placed it onto the easel. he looked pretty prepared now.

“you mind filling me a cup of clean water from the faucet?”

the question snaps you out of your awe-stricken mind and you nod. you went to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup that didn’t look like it would be used any time soon and filled it with water then brought it back to choso. he directs you to place the cup on the desk before thanking you for the simple gesture.

you noticed choso had his eyes closed now, taking a few breaths before removing the bandage on his nose and trashing it. you saw how blood shot from the black mark running over the bridge of his nose and onto the palette that was in his lap.

choso picks up one of the brushes and dipped it into the crimson liquid that had also been running down his face and began to paint. once the brush hits the canvas, all his nerves seem to dissipate, replaced by the familiar focus that comes with creating.

as choso dips his brush into the blood-infused paint, the room falls silent. the only sounds are the soft scrapes of the brush against the canvas and the occasional drips of paint.

you watched as colors of red and black filled the canvas. you weren’t familiar with the meanings of specific colors but the way you were drawn on his canvas as royalty, you could see sophistication and passion. choso put the brush down and rolled up his sleeves and began to use his fingers to paint. smearing the colors together with his knuckles.

your eyes sparkled, entranced, as choso’s knuckles danced across the canvas, blending the deep reds into the black that was present. the male was aware that he was in need of a palette knife but he’s never gotten the time to buy any.

“the way you use blood for your art is actually unique.” you spoke, breaking the silence. “i guess it adds depth and richness that’s hard to describe. it looks like the painting is alive almost.”

you were seeing it with your own eyes, his art style was hauntingly beautiful. you never seen anything like it. this whole scenario made you wonder if blood was often used when he painted or was this just a perfect coincidence. you slouch in your chair, in thought once again.

“blood has always been a part of me. a part of everyone, i should say. but mine is a curse and a blessing. incorporating it into my art feels natural to me. it’s like i’m putting a part of myself into each piece.” choso murmured.

“um…you know, i never heard you talk about your parents much, only your brothers. they must be really proud of you…you being all smart and artistic and such.” you say softly.

choso’s hand freezes mid stroke, his expression darkening. he sets down his brush and turns to face you. you see how that empty expression of his appeared onto his face again.

“my parents…they’re not in the picture. my mom isn’t alive and my dad was never proud of me. he only saw me as a tool, a weapon to be wielded. i’m happy he left me behind…”

your expression softens. on the outside, choso looked like he had it all. he was attractive, smart, talented, hell if he wasn’t the smartest guy around he probably would’ve gotten in just for being attractive and talented. he seemed perfect. but in reality, he was living in a fucked up world holding on to his creations for comfort.

“i’m so sorry, choso. i probably shouldn’t have brought that up and make you relive painful memories. but despite your past, you managed to create something beautiful out of the darkness. that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

choso nods, his gaze returning to the painting. he picks up his brush once again, lost in thought. he exhaled from his nose. though the topic did hit a nerve, he felt like he could trust you.

“it’s…fine i guess. it was a while ago. my brothers were the ones who helped me escape that life. we all live for each other and nothing can make me change that narrative. they’re my family and we’ve been through a lot together.”

“they must be really important to you, huh? you see them often?” you query. choso nodded again.

“as much as i can. i don’t really have the funds to constantly take train rides back and forth from my house to here and vice versa. we try to stay in touch, the most i can do is call them each night. yuji and eso are busy with their own business and you know they have to keep kechizu close because he’s pretty childlike and clings to eso like he’s his savior.”

you noticed the small smile on his face as he spoke of his brothers. him being the eldest, you would’ve expected him to severely despise his brothers but it seemed like he couldn’t even say the word ‘hate’ when talking about them. it was actually pretty sweet.

as the evening comes to an end, you find yourself standing outside of choso’s room and he’s leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves still rolled up, revealing thin strips of stitches along his forearm.

“what happened to your arm?” you point, making choso break his gaze and follow your finger to where you had been pointing. he only shrugged.

“a stupid accident. nothing too much to worry about.” he answered, rubbing the brand new bandage he had over his nose. his cheeks were still a little red from the blood that had been running down his face earlier.

“you should keep your bandage off. that mark is a part of who you are, and you know i accept that.” you say. choso is taken aback by your words, his hand instinctively touching the bandage again.

“it’s…not easy. people have always been afraid of me because of what what i am. it’s just easier to keep it hidden.”

“but you don’t have to hide from me. i see you, choso, for who you are, not what you are. you’re a human just like any other person here. and i think your mark is pretty cool, actually.”

choso couldn’t help but smile at your words. maybe—just maybe you had a point. maybe it was time for him to change his ways. get out of his comfort zone a little.

“um…yeah, thanks. i’ll think about it. goodnight.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“and this one would be called ‘the blood painter’.” the announcer spoke as the crowd followed around. it was perfect. better than anything else being displayed. choso stood in front of the painted canvas, staring at his own face looking down at his own partially painted portrait with a crimson liquid dripping from his nose and onto the canvas. there was a white cup filled with tea, which had been leaking from the sides as if it were overfilled.

his hair flopped down into his face before lifting a hand to brush it back with his fingers. he was awestruck. how could you have painted something like this with almost no experience. he could’ve sworn you said you were horrible at this kind of thing…maybe his memory was faulty.

“it’s perfect….” you hear him mumble as he stepped closer to the portrait. he was so tempted to touch it but he abided by the rules of not touching or taking any photos of the paintings being displayed. “how did you do this? you couldn’t have—no, you did…but this is so different from your drawing.”

“it was only a sketch. a way to get your features and everything properly. but a few days ago when we hung out, i thought i’d make something more expressive.” you grinned.

“i’m impressed.” choso’s eyes sparkled. “it’s like you captured my soul onto the canvas. i mean, i’ve seen art that expresses the soul of another person but this one is—wow.”

the male looked at you and his cheeks flushed a little. “maybe i got a little too excited. you did a nice job on your painting. hopefully you got a passing grade on it.”

you smiled at choso’s excitement and love for the art you made of him. you both knew it was simply for an assignment that would be graded then tucked away forever or thrown into a nearby dumpster but this was a sentimental thing. it was like a piece that needed to be preserved.

as you both stood in the middle of the large crowds, you two could hear people praising the painting for its raw emotion and style. one patron mentioned that it gave off a bit of a edgy feeling despite the cozy looking background.

choso was a bit surprised and delighted by the positive reactions, he felt a sense of pride in his portrait and the artist that created it—you. he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“i never thought my own portrait would have an impact like this.” choso said shifting his weight onto one leg. “see, now i kinda regret not letting you reveal my name.”

“you’re okay. it’ll make you a mystery man like the mona lisa…well she’s a real person but you get it, don’t you?” you chuckle lightly and choso does just that right along with you.

“i get it. but i’ll never be as known as she is. i’ll only be a mystery man that’s occasionally seen in shibuya.” he said. you threw your arm over choso’s shoulder and waved your hand dismissively.

“sure you will. one thing will lead to another. when you start seriously pursuing art and get your name out there, people will realize that you’re this man in the picture.” you pointed to the portrait, lightly tapping your nail against it as it created a hollow sound. you knew that you weren’t supposed to touch anything but you didn’t seem to care that much. you even went out your way to take a quick picture of it—it was surprisingly clear.

“they’ll call you signore kamo.” you added.

“you know italian?” choso raised a brow, a bit surprised by your pronunciation and how casually you said that word.

“nope, i googled it.” you smile innocently. choso released a breath as if he had been holding it for a while and returned a soft smile to you.

the art show ends and you and choso found yourselves walking close by each other on the sidewalk. the streetlights and neon lights from buildings illuminating your way as you walked back to the university. choso saw that you were on the left of him, closer to the street so he stoped to trade places with you.

“what was that for?” you ask as you put your hands down into your pocket. you had a feeling on exactly why choso did what he did but you just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

“well, just in case something happens, i’ll be hit first and you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.” choso stated, glancing at the street littered with parked cars. your instincts seemed to be correct but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile anyway and you felt your face heat up a bit.

upon arriving back to the dorms, the two of you stood in the commons, your shadows stretching long in the dim light. since quiet hours were approaching, it was about time the two of you part ways once again until tomorrow. you turn to face each other, a mixture of contentment and longing in your eyes.

“i guess this is where we call it a day. thank you again for everything.” choso says and you nod.

“of course.” you beamed. “i had a really nice time with you today. and don’t forget that you don’t have to hide who you are around me. your true self is beautiful.”

“i’ll remember it.” choso replied before being caught off guard by your sudden hug. you flung your body into him and squeezed his sides a bit. his violet eyes widened as he contemplated on leaving you to cling onto him or hug you back. no one besides his brothers had ever given him a hug.

slowly and awkwardly his arms snaked around your body, finally returning a hug back to you. you both lingered there for a moment, holding on to each other before breaking away.

“hey, dinner on friday?” you ask.

“it’s a date.” choso replied, only making your smile grow. you both say your goodbyes and wave to each other before walking off in the opposite direction to head off to your rooms for the night.

but then another guy came along.

“hey, you got a second?” kashimo whispered. choso never interacted with the guy much but they’ve spoken enough to know how one another looked and each other’s names. sighing, choso obliged.

“i noticed the way you talked to that girl over there just a few seconds ago. you seriously scored.” the cyan haired male smirked at choso. “obviously, there’s something special between you two. maybe i could offer you some advice on that front?”

choso’s eyes narrowed, and as usual, his defensive walls go back up. he was never really comfortable with talking about his personal life, especially with someone he didn’t know all that well.

“i don’t need help with my love life, kashimo. i’m handling it perfectly fine.” choso crossed his arms. kashimo would put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“no pressure. i’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who isn’t directly involved, you know? sit with me at lunch tomorrow. we can discuss this later.” the other lightly punches choso’s shoulder before heading out of the entrance doors.

“he’s weird.” choso muttered.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[reidingandwriting]

Speak Now (Hotch’s Version)

Chapter Two: i can see you

“I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission”

Word Count: 2,200 words

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: Criminal Minds level of violence described, definitely Not how solving cases goes but!!, some cursing and some suggestive themes

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: SOOO sorry for the delay in posting! I was at a convention this weekend and my queued post didn’t post for whatever reason :’) Chapter 3 is still scheduled for tomorrow so I hope you enjoy the back to back update!

“We’ve got a case,” JJ said and you stood up from your desk to walk to the conference room. You had only been a part of the BAU for two months or so now, but the novelty had yet to wear off yet. Every time JJ announced a new case, you got a rush. A wave of a familiar cologne enveloped you, and you felt an arm brush against your own.

“Sorry,” Hotch’s voice filled your ears, the single word causing a chill to go down your spine.

“No problem,” Your voice came out quieter than you expected and you internally cursed. Where did you begin with Aaron Hotchner? Ever since you met at the FBI Banquet, he had occupied your mind. Your first day, you were pleased that he remembered you and since then, he’s seemed… not quite distant but not quite friendly with you either. Not like he was at the banquet. He was professional as his reputation said he would be, but you were wishing there was more to your relationship. You wanted to lean into the brushed shoulders, you wanted to initiate contact with him, but you didn’t want to jeopardize anything with him, especially being so new to the team. But you let yourself wonder, what would happen if you acted on your impulses? If you let yourself think about it long enough, you could see him waiting down the hall for you. Ideally pressed against the wall, but you digress. You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts as you walked into the conference room, and you took your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Alright, my pretties,” Penelope greeted once everyone was seated and you looked up at the screen behind her. “Houston has reached out for our help and this one is a bit of a doozy.” Pictures flashed behind Penelope and you felt your stomach turn a little at the pictures.

“Hello, overkill,” Emily muttered and you hummed in agreement.

“We’ve clearly got a very angry person on our hands. There’s been five victims over the last two weeks, and their kill rate is starting to pick up.” Penelope said.

“They’ve killed men and women, no obvious preference for gender,” JJ said and you nodded.

“Can’t say for certain if they’re victims of opportunity, though,” you said. “I don’t know the exact area they’re acting in, but the victims all seem eerily similar. Hair color, skin color, similar builds… Someone is the object of their aggression but our unsub hasn’t gotten to their target yet.”

“And the kills are getting rushed, more violent,” Derek said.

“Wheels up in twenty,” Hotch said as he started to stand.

“You know,” Spencer started and you glanced over at him, “they look similar to you, Y/N.” The room froze and you felt everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“Don’t even say that about my lovely,” Penelope gasped dramatically and you rolled your eyes playfully at her antics.

“There are some similarities,” Rossi said and you looked up at the pictures.

“Similar features, sure, but I don’t think I’ve done anything to piss off anyone to the point of murder in Houston,” you drawled and the room started to disperse. Hotch stayed in the room, his gaze locked onto you.

“If you feel uncomfortable on this case at any time,” Hotch trailed off and you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine, Hotch. I’m not worried. But I promise, I’ll let you know if I get uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nodded in dismissal and you slipped out of the conference room.

-

A week later, you held an ice pack to your head where you sat in the back of an ambulance as you waited to be cleared. Turns out, they don’t call Spencer a genius for nothing. You were a perfect victim for your unsub- Officer Josh Hann- and you found yourself ambushed by him a few hours ago. You were lucky to only get away with a concussion and a few bumps and bruises. Derek stood beside you, his phone held to your ear.

“Yes, Pen, I promise I’m fine.”

“And how is our Boss Man doing?” Penelope asked and you barely repressed a cough.

“Fine, Pen.” Said Boss Man was currently a few yards away, his gaze glued to you as Rossi talked to him.

“Sounds like the perfect excuse for him to watch over you,” Penelope teased and you felt your cheeks start to burn.

“Bye, Penelope.” Penelope cackled as she hung up and you rolled your eyes then winced. “Ow.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear any of that conversation,” Derek teased and you kicked out at him, and Derek laughed as he narrowly missed your leg.

“You're lucky my vision is still a little off or I would’ve got you,” you huffed. The paramedic chose that moment to clear you and you slowly stood, grabbing onto Derek to steady yourself.

“Easy, pretty thing. Hotch is already glaring at me,” Derek lowered his voice and this time, you made contact when you stomped your foot. “You know Penelope can’t keep her mouth closed after a little wine. You’re lucky it was just me she spilled to.”

“I would resign immediately if he knew. Just throw my badge and gun as far as I could and run,” you said and Derek laughed.

“You know there’s a wager going on when he’ll find out.” Another stomp to Derek’s foot silenced him as Hotch walked over. Derek dismissed himself when Hotch was a few feet away

“Are you ready to go?” Hotch asked and you nodded, only wincing slightly after.

“So ready. I want to sleep so bad,” you admitted and Hotch hummed in response. You both started to walk to the cars, where the rest of the team had started to load up. “Not ready to be woken up every few hours to make sure I’m still coherent. I think a little risk of brain damage is worth the uninterrupted sleep.” You huffed and the corner of Hotch’s lip turned up into a small smile.

“I’m sure you’re not much worse than Jack is waking up,” Hotch said and you turned to look at him. Sensing your questioning look, Hotch spoke again a second later. “If you’re fine with me checking on you. I just… I’d feel better if I was the one to check on you. You already got hurt on my watch.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Hotch. But thank you.”

The rest of the night was relatively calm, what bits you remember clearly. You would sleep for a little, be woken up and asked a few questions by Hotch, and he would return to his bed a few feet from your own to repeat the process throughout the night. God, his morning voice would live in your memories forever. You weren’t sure what happened that night, but something changed between the two of you. And you had to admit, you liked the changes.

You found yourself paired with Hotch more often when the team split up. Hotch’s shoulders would brush against yours more often, and when Hotch laid his hand on your shoulder one day, you swear your brain short circuited. Not that you would know because you genuinely think you blacked out briefly from the contact, but Emily and Derek would never let you forget it. As time passed, you noticed you were watched by the team more often, especially when you were near Hotch. The day Hotch sat beside you on the plane, you swore you heard a squeal come from Emily before she was shushed by JJ. And this extra time spent with Hotch was great for you, but so bad for your imagination. You found yourself lost in thought more often, like a lovesick teenager. Imagining things with Hotch you know you’d never get to do, knowing he would never reciprocate your feelings. You’d stick with daydreaming for now; pretending he was waiting at the end of the hall for you when you left work. Pretending it was his suit jacket thrown on the floor instead of your own, his want for you high enough to discard his jacket like it was nothing. You could only dream… or so you thought.

You had been working on paperwork from your last case, when Hotch dropped a folder onto your desk as he walked by. You furrowed your brows as you opened the folder, and you could barely keep your expression under control as you read the sticky note inside- Meet me in my office tonight.You had to read over the note a few times for it to really set in and you glanced up, watching as Hotch went upstairs to his office as if nothing happened.

The rest of work passed by agonizingly slow, and you busied yourself with paperwork you had put off from the week. Slowly, the rest of the BAU agents had trickled out; even if it took all your self control to not push Spencer out of the building when he finally left ten minutes ago. You took a deep breath as you stood, and you made your way upstairs towards Hotch’s office. His blinds were already closed and you knocked on his door.

“Come in.” Hotch’s voice was muffled by the shut door and you slowly opened the door. Sweet Jesus, he wanted you dead. Hotch’s jacket was off, tie slightly loosened, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and you swear your brain once again malfunctioned at the sight.

“I, uh, got your note,” You said dumbly and you fought the urge to run out of the building. “Obviously,” you added and Hotch graced you with a smile, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. The sound helped you relax a little and you smiled softly at Hotch.

“You’re nervous. You’re usually not nervous around me.” The observation was surface level, but it felt like you were being studied. “If you’d rather go-”

“No!” You blurted before you cleared your throat, and you took a seat across from Hotch’s desk. “No. I guess I’m just, I’m wondering why I’m here.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Hotch asked and you leaned forward.

“I have an idea. You could even say I have a desire for why you called me here, but,” you propped your elbows on his desk, “why don’t you clear the air, Agent Hotchner?” A few moments passed in a deafening silence, your eyes locked with Hotch’s.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” Hotch started. “I felt something different when I met you at the banquet, and I didn’t know what that feeling was. Intrigue, for sure. Then you showed up one day, and Strauss introduced you as my new agent.”

“What can I say? I like being a mysterious entity,” you said.

“And you continued to be one, and it’s gotten stronger since that case you were injured. You’re constantly preoccupying my mind,” Hotch said and you slowly stood up. You rounded his desk and sat on top of it, and you slowly reached out. Your hand found its way to his tie, and you gave it a firm tug, pulling him closer to you.

“Wanna know a secret?” You asked, leaning down closer to him. You were so close, you noticed some gold flecks in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before. “You’ve been on my mind since we first met.” You weren’t sure who closed the gap, but suddenly lips were on yours, and Hotch’s hands were on your hips and you gasped as you were yanked into his lap. You grabbed at his shirt with one hand, your other finding its home in his hair, and you felt a surge of pride when a groan slipped from Hotch’s lips. “Fuck, Aaron.”

Hotch backed away slightly and you almost whined at the loss. “What was that?”

“Aaron..?” You hesitantly repeated and Hotch pulled you closer.

“Fucking hell.” Hotch’s lips were back on yours and you lost yourself, preoccupied with him. You didn’t know how long had passed before you pulled apart, breathing heavy, and Hotch’s forehead rested against your own.

“Penelope will have a field day if she finds out about this.” You breathed out a laugh and Hotch shifted so you were looking at him.

“And what exactly do you want this to be?” Hotch seemed… nervous? Vulnerable? Something different from the confident man you had become infatuated with.

“As much as I loved making out with you, ideally?” You ran your fingers gently through Hotch’s hair. “I’d like to try getting dinner with you. Maybe spend some time together, not hidden in your office.” You smiled at Hotch. “I believe that’s what they call dating these days.”

“I haven’t dated in a while,” Hotch said and you shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” You asked and Hotch nodded. You pressed a gentle kiss to Hotch’s cheek and you let your head rest against his shoulder.

“I think I can work with that.”

[winterrrnight]

hi baby!! congrats you so deserve it!💘💘💘💘

can i request for rafe 6 or 29? whichever you like more💘

hey cami!! thank you sooo much darling 🥹🥹 i really have no words on how much your support means to me; you've been there since almost the beginning and you've never failed to shower love on my fics 🫶🏻 it really means so much to me <3 i hope you like this!! I used both the prompts :)

cherry flavoured

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you and Rafe have your first kiss, and he tastes just like cherries.

WARNINGS: fluff, kissing, the reader is a little shy and nervous, rafe is a massive softie + ignore any little grammatical/spelling mistakes!

EDITH SPEAKS: I think this came out pretty cute! This girl here hasn't had her first kiss yet (spare me please, I've had zero luck with guys or girls also I want it to be w someone special, not just anyone) so I think when I'll have it this is literally how I'll react :')

PROMPTS REQUESTED: "quit smiling at me. I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that." & "should we like, talk about it?" "aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelyhaha-" "let me see if I can jog your memory."

100 followers celebration || navigation

He looks at you, a softer look taking over his eyes as he gazes over the warmth in your cheeks and your slightly swollen lips. You find your mind going in a haze as you think about how you just kissed Rafe for the first time.

You both met each other at one of his parties, you being new to the island, had no idea about anyone at the party except your friend who dragged you there. You had just taken a cup full of your drink and were desperately trying to navigate your way all alone throughout the crowd of people, your friend long gone with some guy.

Even though you were extremely careful, it was not enough, because the exact thing you were dreading happened. You bumped into someone, and you mentally cursed yourself for wearing a white cardigan, because it seeped through the material and stained it, and not to mention how it started to stick to your skin in an ungodly manner.

The guy in front of you, which you learnt is the one who's party you're at, was totally embarrassed with what he did; apologised nothing less than a 100 times, and when his attempt of trying to wipe it off with some paper towels failed, he took you to his room upstairs to give you some of his clothes. Not to forget he kept on apologising to you, and at one point, you forgave him, because you knew it was just an honest mistake (and also because you can only hear the word 'sorry' so many times).

Oh and you were so glad you did forgive him, because his clothes were some of the most comfortable you've ever worn. He let you take any one of his crewneck, and you chose one in your favorite color. It encased you in warmth and his scent of fresh detergent, which provided you immediate comfort.

But instead of going down back, you both sat on the floor next to each other and talked. He made you laugh a lot, but also, made sure to not make you super uncomfortable with questions you may not want to answer. At the end, you had to leave, but he didn't let you go without asking you out on a date and with your number in his phone.

And now here you are, right after one of your dates, where he kisses you with all the courage he has. You knew you've been wanting this for too long now, so when he started leaning back, you pressed your lips back onto his, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeper, and harder.

When you pull back, he looks at you, and you find your cheeks heating up, red coating you everywhere. After a few moments of silence, Rafe decides to speak up.

"Should we like, talk about it?" He says, you knowing fully well he means the kiss.

A giggle escapes your lips as you start to speak. Well, speak is the wrong choice of word. You ramble.

"Aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelyhaha-" you say in one breath, as you feel your hands getting sweaty. Rafe only looks at you with a grin; you getting nervous around him and jumbling up all your words is one of the first things he found cute about you.

"Let me see if I can jog your memory," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you again. And you don't pull back. Why would you? He tastes so addictive, reminding you of cherries, and you only crave more with each passing second.

When he pulls back again, he's giggling at your expression, your face even more red than before (is that even possible?), your lips shiny and your eyes gleaming with the light of the lamp post you're both standing under.

He absolutely cannot stop smiling at you. You've made him so happy, he cannot fathom it. It's so easy for him to cheer up just the moment he spots you; you're the ray of sunshine falling onto the dark side of his moon.

You want to say something, anything, but your mind is all fuzzy and only random words leave your mouth. Rafe giggles harder as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you close to him.

You look at him, his lips still pulled in a smile, you think he hasn't stopped smiling since the date started.

"Quit smiling at me. I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that." Finally, finally a proper sentence leaves your mouth, one which isn't spoken in a single breathe or isn't just necessarily a stack of words.

Rafe presses his lips to your forehead, his laughs slowly dying and your heart rate calming down as you stand hugging under the warm light of the lamp post.

You've never felt so serene.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @vianwrites

[cup1dt3a]

Heeeeeeeeey I saw you write about wally, I was wondering if you could do one of wally the stalker? the reader watched it since he was young then he stopped watching it but still wally chased him, i think he writes right english is not my native language

Tysm for the request! Hope your day is going well or gets better!And don’t worry your English is pretty good mines also bad sometimes T_T

“ Please be a bunny Wally please!” You said crossing your fingers.

“ I think I’ll paint a bunny! What a great idea!” He cheered.

You were watching your favorite show “ Welcome Home”. The best show in your opinion! You’ve loved the show ever since your parents left you alone to put in whatever you wanted while they went somewhere else sometimes watching the show with you or to the kitchen one or the other mostly. You were too busy watching Wally and his friends. Wally was your number one favorite! Along with Julie!

This show was all that you would talk about and sit through for hours on end. Unless you had school or wanted to go outside. You loved the show and vowed to never stop watching it it was sooo amazing! Who would ever not want to watch this it’s too amazing!?

“ Yay! You’re so amazing Wally!” You exclaimed jumping up and down.

Everything was so amazing right now you’ll never stop watching this show youd rather die than stop watching this!

Everything was so horrible! Right now you are regretting so much and so many choices that led you to these horrible migraines!

You stared up at the ceiling not wanting to get out of your bed. Groaned as your alarm clock squawked at you again to get up. It’s not like you had anything to do today so you don’t know why you set an alarm. Must’ve been out of habit. That’s the second time this week when an alarm went off when you just wanted to sleep in. It’s only 10am so you decided to go back to sleep shutting the alarm off. After a few hours you finally woke up without the annoying alarm to disrupt your slumber. It was now 12:30 so you did what anyone would do. Sit in your room all day and watch TV.

That was until you suddenly got a text from your parents. They have been so paranoid since you got your own house. You agreeed either way to come over just to ease their worries and see them. You had lived at least 3 hours away from them so it’s rare you ever really saw them. You stretched out popping your back before going to get dressed.

“ Oh! How’s my baby been?” She exclaimed with opened arms to a tight hug you think she might even be picking you off the ground.

“ Very well actually a little sleep deprived but well.” You said as she rolled her eyes with an “ of course.”

You chuckled at her “ enthusiasm” just happy to see her and your father you had no idea was at the moment. As you asked she just pointed out the window with him tending to his garden. Ever since you had gotten your own house he’s done nothing but treat his garden like his own child. Good for him to have a hobby but you were convinced he literally thought of it as his baby. You literally once saw him having a full on conversation with his damn petunias.

“ So how’s it been? “ you asked her while she replied “ It’s been well just missing my baby.”

You sighed as you both chatted for a while. A few jokes here and there and just catching up. You hadn’t been at the house in two months so it was refreshing to have some familiarity. Your mother then went onto talking about your fathers “favorite child” a.k.a what you called his garden and just remenicing over what you would do as a child.

“ Oh come on _____ you used to just love Welcome home you’d make so many drawings. You even spray painted your hair blue! And made us pain your room the color of what’s his name…Walter? No Wally! Yes Wally’s pants!” She laughed as you frowned in embarrassment.

“ Uh that blue spray paint was such a dumb idea though. Blue really isn’t your color honey. Plus you turned all the bathtubs blue. ” She said looked at a picture of you with blue hair spray paint.

Now starting to remember all the cringey things you did as a dumb kid. Jeez! You were literally obsessed with that show! You wondered how you even forgot it form how much you idolized it. The your mother took a picture you had drawn out it was of you and Wally. As stick figure’s wow you were such a Picasso. An art exhibit would want this in the garbage.

“ It’s my favorite along with the pictures of you trying to hug the Tv.” She giggled.

“ Why Yes! Mother dearest it fucking fell on top of while while you laughed your ass off. Such amazing memories.” You sarcastically announced.

“ Listen just because you moved out does not mean I won’t shove a bar of soap into your mouth.” She stated upset for you using such ill language.

You apologized with a chuckled before hugging her seeing it was getting late. You went outside to try and find your dad. You went over to his garden to see him chattering with them while watering his favorite marigolds. He had waved over to you upon seeing your arrival hugging you as you came over. You both just quickly chatted for a bit due to your long trip. It wasn’t anything your mother couldn’t fill him in on so eventually after saying your goodbyes as you hugged them.

You got into the car taking off just before a pair of dark eyes watched you in though the corner of your mirror.

While you told your parents everything you hadn’t told them one thing. You had a bit of a stalker situation as you’ve been calling it. Every morning you’d receive an envelope with a heart shaped sticker keeping it together sometimes red or pink. But every time you checked them out they had the weirdest thing written on them. Things such as

“ My sweet dreamer you looked so beautiful sleeping I couldn’t help but never take my eyes off you” red meant they would be very creepy.

“ I miss you my sweet dreamer. Do you miss me? I love you so much. Do you love me?” The pink ones were sweet but just…so odd because you hadn’t been seeing anyone at the moment and they always said I miss you.

But this time when you got home it had and apple sticker on the envelope and was here a lot earlier than expected.

“ I see you went back home. Did you miss me? Do you remember me now? I love you <3.”

“ Wow another letter from my stalker how lovely.” You sighed.

You brought the letter to the police station as always.

“ This is the 7th time this week and they know I went to my parents house. Shouldn’t this be enough to have some kind of investigation?” You asked as they shook their head saying what they always did “ I’m sorry but there isn’t enough evidence for us to make it an investigation of any sort.”

You nodded before stomping off once you got outside. This was ridiculous. Everytime you were trying to get help they turned you down. It’s like you with your ex Timmy. Like seriously Timmy Turner Who? But besides that you just wanted to know if someone was either in your house or somehow got access to it. You didn’t have the money for cameras or for the power bill to run your phone all night while it charged. Sure you were a bit of a cheapskate but what if you need the money. You’d rather die than be in debt to the power company! You refuse to be their bitch!

You angrily poured plopping yourself down onto the sofa to watch Tv. As you flipped through the channels you saw a familiar logo show. You hurriedly flipped back to it. The Welcome Home logo and theme song suddenly appeared. The bright and colorfully vibrant show blinded you for a second before you eyes adjusted to it. As you watched the episode you had started to unlock old memories. Such as those being your favorite episodes and two Wally Darling.

“ Omg! I remember this!….Wow Frank is such a mood and underrated. Ha! And they say he’s the straight man? He’s done nothing it give Eddie bedroom eyes.” You chuckled chatting throughout the show.

All was going well before Wally asked what to paint.

“ Well Neighbor what should I paint today?” He asked tilting his head looking at the audience.

“ Eddie and Frank kissing!” You shouted getting super pumped up from the show like you used to.

It was relaxing really to think back to your old childhood memories. Remembering all the fun you had and innocence you once had too. But your mindset was now back onto it.

“Hmmm? Eddie and Frank kissing that such a bold thing to request but I’d rather it be me and you my sweet~.” He smoothly said while you where left speechless.

“ Damn the writers were thirsty for this episode.” You said fanning yourself wondering how it was so smooth.

“ Oh no my sweet no one had written these lines all of them were made by me. I’ve been so sad without you won’t you stay around longer neighbor.

Oh shit

Two posts on one day Yay! I’m on a roll will it be three next? Not sure but this turned into a crack fic so quickly hope @blu3n you enjoyed it and it was up to your standards! And ty all sm for supporting me! I really appreciate you all for the sweet comments you leave! Hope you are all doing well or that things get better for you <333

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a 💌

[hannieslittlerockstar]

The Spooks

Word Count: 4.5K

Genre: Lee Minho x reader, fluff, established relationship

Summary: You make a bet with Seungmin that you'll watch an entire horror movie this Halloween, the only problem is....you hate horror.

Author note: Hey guys, I'm so sorry this came out so late. I started an internship at the beginning of this year that has kept me super busy and I'm a perfectionist so it took me longer to edit this than I would have liked. Thanks for still sticking around and reading my stuff. Much love!

Your feet stomp across the kitchen tiles as you grumble, "I'm coming. I’m coming.”

Opening the microwave door, you silence the obnoxious ringing as the sweet smell of popcorn wafts into the kitchen. Grabbing the bag by the edges, you gently set it onto the counter. As you stand on your tiptoes, you open the wooden cupboard beside you and scan through the different colored bowls neatly stacked inside. Picking out your favorite one, you pull out a teal bowl painted with little susuwataries Hyunjin made for Felix’s birthday last year. 

You find yourself smiling at the fond memory. That night had definitely been a highlight of 2022 for everyone. You’d all grown a little closer while you sat around the bonfire at the beach that night. The nine of you sharing heartfelt feelings, embarrassing stories and laughter with flushed, rosy cheeks from the alcohol. You wished you could go back to the good ol days when your only worries were school assignments and monthly dance and singing evaluations. 

Tugging the bag open, you watch the steam form wispy clouds that swirl about before dispersing into thin air. A small smile tugs at your lips as you peek inside the bag. Perfectly white, crisped kernels look up at you before you dump the contents into the bowl, proudly making your way back into the living room.

You find Minho sitting on the edge of the couch leaning forward with his arms propped onto his knees. The remote practically dangles from his fingers as he lets out a dramatic sigh. Ruffling his black hair, he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he continues to scroll through the endless list of movies on Netflix.

“Sooo,” you start, throwing some popcorn into your mouth as you plop down beside him. “What are we going to watch tonight?" 

Turning to face you, the deep furrow in Minho’s eyebrows softens into a warm smile as he falls back onto the couch. Casually slinging his arm around you, his other hand grabs a handful of popcorn. In between chews he says, "I was thinking we could watch a horror movie in honor of it being Halloween."

He redirects his gaze towards the TV screen as he finds the horror section. You nearly choke on your popcorn, forcefully gulping down the popped kernel. The ends claw its way down the sides of your throat as if it were desperately trying to escape the clutches of your stomach. Just like you desperately wanted a way out of this situation. Clearing your throat, you mutter a soft, “Horror?”

"Yeah.” He turns to face you. "Is that okay?"

"Um, you know what," you place the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “I’m feeling pretty tired.” Feigning a yawn you stretch out your arms. “I think I should start heading home. Sorry Min, we'll have to anot—.”

But before you can even properly stand up, Minho grabs you by the waist and pulls you back down beside him. Curse Minho and his quick reflexes. 

"Yah," he playfully scolds, his tone sending a shiver down your spine as his hands hold your arms in place. "You can’t be tired. You were just dancing and belting the lyrics to ‘Pop!’ while you waited for the popcorn. And then you started the full ‘Super’ choreo. You said you had so much energy you didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

You blink back in surprise at Minho. So he had been paying attention to you earlier despite his nonchalance. Shaking away the swooning thoughts plaguing your mind, you redirect your attention back to the conversation. “Well,” you huff, recomposing yourself. “I figured out where to put my energy and now I’m drained.”

“What about your bet with Kim Seungmin? Weren’t you going to prove him wrong and sit through an entire horror film this Halloween?”

You were about to correct him that it was the only way to make Seungmin stop calling you a chicken but you swallow your pride as Minho’s eyes pin you in place. “Secondly,” his gaze softens as he looks between your eyes, a sharp contrast to the firm hands still securely wrapped around both your arms. “I wanted to spend this Halloween with you, not by myself."

Your heart can't help but flutter at his words before erratically beating in fear as you glance back at the screen. "Uh, well. I mean. I guess if you don’t want to be alon—.”

Minho cocks his head. ”Are you scared?" he mocks you as a teasing smile spreads across his lips.

"Me? Scared?" you scoff. "I don’t get scared that easily,” you retort before slowly sinking further into the couch, regretting what was yet to come.

"If you say so," Minho chuckles. "In that case, I'll make sure to pick the scariest movie" he adds as his eyes study yours intently.

Biting your lip, you stubbornly reply, "That’s fine. I can handle it."

His eyes twinkle in amusement as he cocks up an eyebrow. "Okay. How about…," he pauses as he continues to scroll through the list of movies.

The images start to become even more terrifying than the ones before and you find yourself looking g around the room just to avoid the screen.

"Ah! How about this one?" Minho points at the TV excitedly.

"The Medium?" you squint as you try to read the title without looking at the overall image.

He turns to face you, the skin around his eyes crinkling as a wide bunny smile emerges. "I haven't watched it yet.”

You swallow hard as you force yourself to look at the ominous woman smiling on the screen before redirecting your gaze towards Minho. If that was something he really wanted to watch, you couldn't ruin his Halloween just because you were slightly scared. Sucking up your fear, you reluctantly agree to his proposition. 

"Yeaaahhh!" Minho cheers as he stuffs his mouth with more popcorn before jumping up from the couch. "I'll go turn off the lights," he smiles with puffed cheeks as he practically skips over to the light switch.

"Yeah, let's turn off the lights too. As if the movie isn't scary enough," you mutter in annoyance as you quickly get up to grab a soft, fluffy blanket stored in a small basket near the couch.

Curling up onto the sofa, you make sure the soft blanket covers every bit of your body so that none of your limbs get left out in the open. You didn't want to risk being vulnerable to any sneak attacks of otherworldly creatures during the duration of the film. Minho comes back and sits beside you. "You look like a burrito," he comments.

"Yah!" you slap his chest, breaking free from the perfect cocoon you had created.

Letting out a lighthearted chuckle, he adds, "a cute burrito," before affectionately placing a kiss onto your forehead.

"Whatever," you playfully roll your eyes as you feel a familiar warmth spread across your cheeks. 

Snuggling up into his chest, he drapes his arm over your back as his hand comfortably rests against your waist. As soon as the opening starts, a loud clash from the orchestra playing in the background makes you jump. Cursing your jittery state, you pray Minho didn't notice. But of course, he always seemed to catch you in your most vulnerable moments.

"The movie hasn't even started yet and you're already jumpy?" he teases, pulling you closer.

"Shut up," you huff, adjusting your head onto his chest as you mentally prepare your palpitating heart for whatever else this movie was about to throw your way. The popcorn could wait. 

As the storyline progresses, you subtly begin to pull the blanket higher and higher up your chest. Once you were, what you hoped was a decent way into the film, the blanket was practically resting underneath your eyes. When you can’t handle it any longer, you pull the blanket entirely over your head. It didn’t matter if Minho never let you live this down. If staying under the blanket meant you had a chance at sleeping through half the night, then it was worth every teasing remark he’d throw your way for the next few months. 

Oddly enough, he remains silent. The only sound from outside your little safe haven is the worried voices whispering back and forth on the TV. 

You slowly peek your head out from beneath the blanket, expecting Minho to be smirking down at you. However, to your surprise, he’s completely engrossed in the film. His eyes widen at the images flashing about the screen as his lips slowly part in shock.

Momentarily forgetting why you were hiding underneath the blanket in the first place, you find it difficult to look away from Minho's cute, dazed state. You can’t help but be reminded of how handsome your boyfriend truly is. Your eyes slowly trace his features as you admire the way his bangs fall over his eyes, the way his nose cutely scrunches up in disapproval at what you could only assume was a character doing something stupid, and the adorable way his lips protrude into a slight frown. 

Feeling your gaze, his eyes slowly meet yours. You feel your breath softly hitch in your throat. An endearing smile tugs at Minho’s lips as he watches your cheeks flush a bright red. “Why aren’t you watching the movie?” he teases. “Can’t get enough of me?” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“You make me feel safe,” you blurt out honestly. 

Minho’s eyes slightly widen as he feels his ears grow warm. However, as always, he’s quick to recover his composure. His signature playful smile tugs at his lips. “If you think that’s going to get you out of watching the movie, you’ll have to try a little harder.”

“I’m not trying to—,” an unexpected scream from the film makes you jump. 

Without a second thought, you crawl onto his lap and bury your face into the crook of his neck. The thought of defending your pride flying out the window. Minho, surprised at your sudden reaction, looks down at your shaking figure as you tightly clutch onto his shirt. As the music grows even more eerie, your arms find their way around his torso begging to be held and protected from the horrifying images behind you.

"What happened to not being scared?" he whispers into your hair, a playful smile adorning his lips.

Looking up at him, you push back the sudden tears stinging your eyes as you muster up all the courage you can. "I'm not...SCARED!" your voice hitches as another loud screech emits from the TV causing you to find comfort in his chest once again.

Minho chuckles to himself as he tightly wraps his strong arms around you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he leans down, his soft lips brushing against your cheek. "I'll protect you 자기야 (baby)," he whispers. 

The unexpected deep tone of his voice sends your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies as your already alarmingly quick heart rate speeds up. And Minho is true to his word. As the film continues, his grip never loosens around your waist as he mindlessly draws shapes across your lower back. His actions lull you into a sleepy state as Minho’s steady heartbeat pats a familiar lullaby against your ear.

An hour and a half later, you don’t stir until Minho whispers in a sweet tone, “Y/N."

"Hmm," you respond, not bothering to open your eyes in fear that you might see your new nightmares within the dark shadows of the house.

“Did you enjoy your little nap?”

You let out a soft scoff. “It’s hard to fall asleep with a soundtrack like that,” you mutter bitterly. 

"Well, now that you’ve had your beauty rest, why don’t you let me turn on the lights," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

You vigorously shake your head, refusing to move. 

Minho lets out a sigh before effortlessly picking you up with him as he slowly walks around the couch. One hand fumbles about the wall in search of the light switch as the other firmly grasps your wrapped form around his waist. Flipping it on, the room is engulfed with a bright light. You finally lift your head up, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you loosen your grip and gently slide to the ground. You keep your arms loosely around Minho’s waist, refusing to give up the protection of his body. 

“You’ll have to let go of me eventually, Y/N,” Minho says with a smug grin. 

“Well, eventually is not right now,” you stubbornly reply back.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

The color immediately drains from your face as you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. “Do you actually have to go?” you meekly ask.

“What if I did?” Minho bites back a smile, an amused glint in his eyes. 

You let out a deep sigh as you reluctantly take a step back. “I guess I’ll be brave then.”

“That’s not what Kim Seungmin is going to think.”

Your eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh,” Minho leans down so that you’re both eye level with one another. “But I would,” he devilishly grins. 

Crossing your arms, you glare back at him. “I hate you.”

Straightening up, Minho gives you a knowing smile.

“What?” you grumble. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Minho teasingly shrugs. “It’s just that, that’s not what it looked like on the couch earlier,” he says, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

You bite back a smile as you roll your eyes. “Whatever. I’m not doing this anymore. Are you going to go to the bathroom or not?”

Minho dramatically taps his chin in thought. “I think I’ve changed my mind.” Pulling out his phone from his back pocket he continues, “I think I’m going to let Kim Seungmin know how it went instead.”

Before you can even protest, Minho's phone buzzes. “Speak of the devil. He’s asking for an update.”

Panic settles in as he dangles the phone in front of you. You reach out to grab it but Minho’s one step ahead of you, easily avoiding your grasp as you begin to chase him around the room. 

“Min, get back here,” you laugh as he sprints to the other side of the couch. 

“What was all that talk of ‘just you wait, Seungmin. I’m going to watch my first horror movie this year and prove you wrong’?” he mocks you as you throw a pillow his way. Dodging behind the couch, he re-emerges as he bursts into a fit of giggles. 

“Yah!” you protest. “I said I wasn’t scared!” you add, knowing full well that this was in no way helping your argument. 

“Really? ‘Cause the ‘I’m not…SCARED’,” Minho imitates you in a high-pitched voice, “was so convincing.” He bursts into laughter as your shocked expression turns into an irritated scowl.

“I wasn’t that scared,” you argue, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face. 

He had done a pretty good job imitating you, although, you’d never openly admit that. Just as Minho dodges you again, you let out a tired sigh. “Come on, Min. Please don’t tell him.”

“And why’s that?” Minho snickers. “Are you finally admitting you lost the bet?”

You close your eyes as you muster up the will to swallow your pride. “Yes. I am.”

Minho’s lips part in surprise as he leans against the wall clearly amused with the turn of events. 

“It would hurt my pride even more if he heard it from you. So let me tell Seungmin myself.”

Minho’s eyes look up as he thinks the proposition over. “콜(deal).”

You sigh in relief. 

“You think you can handle losing though?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.

His choice of words jab at your pride even more. Minho knows how competitive you are, he’s the exact same way. He’d do anything to avoid giving Seungmin the satisfaction of having bragging rights over him for a month. So he can’t help but be piqued by the way you give in so easily.

“A bet’s a bet. I lost so I’ll own up to it,” you nod, determined. 

“Oohhh, that’s my baby,” Minho winks at you.

You feel your cheeks flush at the pet name, but your expression quickly sours as Minho sing-songs, “Can’t wait for later tonight.”

You roll your eyes as Minho lets out a light-hearted chuckle. Putting his phone away, he walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. The change in demeanor completely catches you off guard as Minho leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “알았어 (Okay), 알았어 (okay),” he smiles. “I’ll stop with the teasing.”

You finally wrap your arms around him, allowing him to gently sway you back and forth.

“But genuinely, Y/N,” he says against your head. “I’m proud of you. God knows I could never swallow my pride that easily.”

You erupt into laughter against Minho’s chest and the sound is enough to bring the biggest, foolish grin onto his face. “True,” you smile. Giving Minho’s torso a playful squeeze, you finally look up at him but when your eyes meet his, you freeze.

You can feel the heat rising up to your cheeks as you watch his eyes begin to slowly trail over each of your features. Minho looks at you with such fondness, it feels like he’s embedding every little detail about you into his brain.

“What?” you shyly whisper.

Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, Minho’s hand lingers by your chin as he shakes his head. “Nothing. I just want to look at you.”

You bite your lip to hold back a nervous laugh. This was both the cutest and most mortifying interaction you’d ever shared. As much as you wish you could just be present in the moment, you can’t help but grow self-conscious. Noticing the little furrow forming between your eyebrows, Minho is quick to piece your internal dilemma together. 

“Y/N?” he softly calls.

“Hmm?” you hum as you try to calm your pounding heart.

“I know it’s hard, but…let me love you as you are.”

Your eyes widen as your cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. His words weren’t just addressing your current situation, they were hinting at the first time you’d shared with him how difficult it was for you to allow yourself to be loved. When Minho had first heard that, instead of running away, he did everything in his power to show you little by little how worthy you were of being loved.

Even now, when you wanted to laugh off his words and shy away, he gently pulled you closer. Minho wanted to show you that the lies you told yourself every day were just that, lies. He wanted to help you love all the little things that made him fall helplessly in love with you every day.

You look up at him, trying to find some hint of teasing in his eyes but there was none. “You can trust me, Y/N,” he smiles as his thumb gently caresses your cheek. 

Leaning into his touch, you look back and forth between his eyes as you process the weight of his words. Despite the small voice in the back of your head telling you it was all a lie, you muster up the courage to reply a soft, “okay.”

An endearing smile spreads across Minho’s face as he slowly leans in and plants the gentlest of kisses against your lips. You can’t help but melt into his touch as your hands bunch up his shirt by his hips. Minho slowly tilts his head to deepen the kiss as his other hand comes up to cup the other side of your cheek. Minho knows kissing is still fairly new to you so he gently guides you, his lips confidently moving across your tentative ones. As he gently pulls away, Minho can’t help but chuckle at your dazed expression as your eyes linger on his lips. Pulling you into a tight hug, Minho whispers, “I love you.”

A shy smile spreads across your lips. “I love you too,” your muffled voice responds into his shoulder.

The wide toothy grin that spreads across Minho’s face as he pull away from you and the way his eyes gaze at you with such adoration leaves you breathless. Minho really loved you. Despite your inexperience with love, despite still struggling to love yourself, and despite your insecurities, Minho was still happily and willingly choosing to love you every day.

As you look back and forth between Minho’s eyes, you can’t help but mirror the same wide smile on his face. You felt so seen and so loved by him, you hoped you made Minho feel the same.

“Come on, let’s go eat some candy,” Minho tilts his head towards the kitchen.

“You bought candy?” you ask excitedly.

“Of course I did,” Minho laughs. “What would Halloween be without it?”

Holding out his hand, you gladly take it as you practically skip beside him towards the kitchen. All your fears from the horror movie were completely forgotten. The only thing at the forefront of your mind being Minho’s sweet, little reminder of how much he loved you.

As you make your way into the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of a figure glimmering in the moonlight from the corner of your eye. Suddenly everything from the movie rushes to the forefront of your mind.

You hastily prod Minho with one hand while the other squeezes his hand tighter. "W-who’s t-that?" you quietly stammer.

Minho looks towards your pointed finger as his eyes catch sight of the mysterious form. Protectively, he stands in front of you, one hand firmly placed out in front of you while the other holds you closely behind him. Just as he's about to tackle the ominous looking figure, the lights flicker on leaving a wide eyed Seungmin and a stunned Minho.

Minho stares back at his frozen 남동생 (younger brother), a bowl full of candy tightly clutched against Seungmin’s chest. Seungmin lets out a guilty smile as he slowly hides it behind his back. "Trick or treat," he chuckles nervously, flashing them a puppy smile.

"Yah! Seungmin! You gave us a heart attack!" Minho huffs, crossing his arms. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a laugh. So you weren't the only one who was on edge.

Seungmin chuckles as he goes up to Minho, squeezing his cheeks. "Awe, was our little bunny scared?"

"No.” Minho swats his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Seungmin re-directs his attention towards you. “And you, did you keep your end of the bet?”

You look between Minho and Seungmin before finally letting out a defeated sigh. “No.”

“Ha! I told you you wouldn’t be able to sit through a whole movie!” Seungmin taunts. “And you said that–.”

“I mean technically I did…just in Minho’s arms,” you whip back quietly.

“...you’d prove me–.” Seungmin stops mid-sentence as his eyes widen. “Wait wait wait,” he says, looking between both Minho and you. “설마 (no way), you two were cuddling on the couch?” A teasing smirk pulls at Seungmin’s lips as Minho and you turn a darker shade of red. 

“We weren’t like cuddling cuddling,” Minho starts as you vigorously shake your head in support.

“Ohmygosh, you guys totally were,” Seungmin laughs, enjoying the bashful expressions painted across Minho’s and your face. “Is that why you were so adamant about making that bet, Y/N? You wanted an excuse to cuddle with Minho?”

Minho clears his throat. “Anyways, why are you home?”

"What do you mean?” Seungmin remarks. “I told you I'd be back by ten," he points to the clock on the microwave. “Didn’t you see my text?”

"Oh. I must have missed it," he admits. 

A smug grin pulls at Seungmin’s lips but before Minho can scold him any further, a disturbing realization suddenly sinks in. "Wait, Seungmin, if you were in here," he pauses, a loud gulp emitting from his throat. "Who turned on the lights?"

At those words, you feel a sinking feeling form at the pit of your stomach as the three of you slowly direct your attention towards the light switch. As your eyes reach the source, you find a beaming Jeongin waving his fingers at you.

"Aiisshh I.N-ah!” Minho says, placing his hand over his heart as you jump back, your side colliding with the edge of the counter. Wincing in pain, you force out a small smile at Jeongin as you try to calm your pounding heart and throbbing hip.

"Awe our little lovers are jumpy tonight," Jeongin laughs as he winks at you before poking Minho's side. “I was wondering when you guys were going to notice.”

As Jeongin makes his way towards the pantry, Minho lets out an exasperated sigh. "You too?" he asks, ruffling his hair. "When did you get back?"

"About ten minutes ago with Seungmin and Yongbok," Jeongin replies as he looks back and forth between two packages of ramen he now held in his hands.

"Really? Yongbok is here too?" Minho asks in disbelief. As if on cue you hear Yongbok skip into the kitchen. “Oh, hello hyung! I didn’t know you were home?”

As soon as Yongbok’s round, bright eyes meet yours, a wide smile spreads across his lips. “Y/N! It’s been a while! How have you been?” he asks as he embraces you into a tight hug. 

“It has! I’ve been good, how about you?”

Seungmin decides to use Yongbok as a distraction as he silently sidesteps his way out of the kitchen, the bowl of candy tightly clutched within his right hand.

Jeongin, who was still pondering over his ramen in the corner, finally smiles as his eyes light up at the beef flavored packet. "You.” He throws the chicken flavored pack back into the pantry before looking for a pot.

Shaking his head, Minho pushes aside his confusion as he refocuses on the task at hand. "Okay, well we were just going to get some candy.” Opening up the pantry he looks for the bag of sweets. “Hey, where did it—. KIM SEUNGMIN!" Minho yells as Seungmin runs toward his room, giggling aloud to himself. "Yah! You have to share!" Minho sprints after him.

You watch in amusement as Minho charges after Seungmin.

"It might take a while before you get some candy,” Jeongin says as he puts the water to boil.

"Care for some ramen while we wait?" Yongbok asks as he goes to get himself a ramen packet as well. 

You let out a soft giggle. "I would love that."