#then they turn into all these rusty browns in summer...

[ornithological]

sanderling (calidris alba) in summer plumage, ireland

[katcoquette]

Calm After the Storm

Tyler Owens x Reader

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summary: you’re the calm before, and after, the storm, and he’ll never stop coming home to you… and you’re grateful he’s here to be part of what is sure to become a favorite memory.

★ word count: 1.3k

★ author's note: first onneee for tornado ty & it’s a very soft, quiet moment. just a little somethin somethin while my thoughts ruminate. thank god for twisters bringing back my will to write!! jake, baby, I’m coming back for you! hey & I’m a little rusty… it’s a little rusty; but enjoy!

Sunsets were always prettiest after a storm, and there was no better place to enjoy them than out in the yard with the horses. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds as it set, and light glistened off the puddles that were left over.

The scent of rain still lingers in the air, but it’s warm enough that you’re comfortable in the cutoff shorts you’d put on in the beginning of the day. The sleeves on your boyfriend’s flannel had been rolled up by you some minutes earlier, to keep them out of the way of the grooming you were doing, but they just kept slipping back down.

Each time, it forces you to pause your brushing and readjust the sleeves again, which makes your horse, Millie, shake her head and snort in response.

You laugh to yourself after what had to be the fourth time you’d paused, and pet the side of her head. “I know, I know.” You reassure, and resume brushing.

Her chocolate brown coat glistens in the warm glow of the descending sun as you brush over it again and again, getting lost in the motion.

You appreciate the how mundane it is, and let your mind drift elsewhere, specifically to someone else.

Tyler Owens.

To his fans, he was a thrill seeker, as wild and unpredictable as the storms he was chasing, and while all of that was true, it wasn’t what motivated him to do what he did. You’d learned that almost instantly after meeting him.

To you… well to you he was passionate, thoughtful, and safe. He knew every part of you and your soul, and loved it all. You never felt anxious around him, or worried how you were being perceived.

He was also someone your local community knew they could rely on if, and when, the weather turned bad. He was learning about tornadoes, trying to understand them, hoping to alleviate the destruction they left in their paths.

But who said he couldn’t have a little bit of fun while doing all those good things, too?

So, on days like today, when the storm really was just a storm, he often missed what you enjoyed most about summers here. The calm after the storm.

People usually talked about the calm before, the anticipation of what unknown force was coming, but you preferred the feelings that came when it was all over. They weren’t always good, but today- today had just been rain, lightning, and thunder, so you were content, and happy.

It was nothing a blanket on the porch and a cup of tea couldn’t fix- which is exactly how you’d spent the afternoon while he was driving around out there. You figured he’d be back soon; the excitement was all over now.

“I think you’re just about done there, Millie Moo.” You give her a few good pats and bend down to place the brush back in your bucket. You hear his boots on the gravel before the brush is even out of your hand.

“Well, isn’t that a view!”

You smile at the sound of his voice, “The sun setting or the horse?” You yell back, straightening to watch him walk towards you with one hand on your hip and the other shielding your eyes.

“I try to look at the bigger picture.” His voice is softer as he reaches you, putting his arms around your waist. You slide your hands to his shoulders, the side of your mouth quirking up in amusement. He kisses you slowly, then rests his forehead against yours.

You’d never get sick of kissing him- or having to catch your breath afterwards.

You can see the smile on his lips. “I only ever mean you, darlin’.” He leans back, not to let go of you, but to get a better look.

“You look amazing in this.” He drawls, and despite how long you’d known him, you blush. “I wear this all the time.” You tell him matter of factly.

He smirks, “That doesn’t change how ya look right now.”

“I missed you.” You kiss him again, “And so did Millie. We were just thinking about you.”

He drops his hand to grab your own, leading you back to where Millie’s head was hanging over the fence. “Is that so, Mills?” She neighs at his question, making you both laugh.

“How was it today?” You ask him, wondering what he’d ended up in. You had quite your own view now: your tornado wrangler… nuzzling against the horse you’d had since you were a teenager, one leg up on the fence, the green of the grass and trees behind him, all lit up in gold.

“Uneventful.” You refocus on him when he speaks, lost momentarily in trying to memorize every part of the memory this was going to become.

“And?”

He smiles at your prompt for more information. You were always pushing him to share more of his feelings, to open up, confront them, but today that was truly all he felt about it. It was uneventful. But he’ll give you a better answer anyway.

“And- good. I’m grateful for the break. It’s been a hard season.” You give him a knowing look.

“And, I’m grateful to be home in time to see this.” He gestures around himself. “Everything. It’s a perfect evening.”

You hum in agreement, his words echoing your thoughts from earlier.

You lightly nudge your horse’s head out of the way, making room for yourself in Tyler’s arms. “Sorry honey, but I’m getting’ jealous.” He chuckles, but directs all his attention back to you.

You brush his hair out of his face, speaking softly, “I’m glad you’re back in time to enjoy it.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And he means it.

And you know it.

Of course he loved being out there in the storms, and tornadoes, and hail, but when all of that was said and done, this is where he wanted to be. He’d made that clear to you on more than one occasion.

“You want some lemonade, wrangler?” You gesture with your head towards the house, teasing him with that nickname.

He nods, unable to keep that smile off his face around you, and slings an arm over your shoulder, walking you back inside.

Once you have glasses full of lemonade securely in your hands, with the pitcher snug in your arm, and Tyler’s arms filled with baked goods and bags of crunch, you both head back onto the porch.

As far as you both were concerned, the evening was just getting started.

The sun is below the horizon as you both settle into the swing, the side table now full of food and drink. Tyler hands you a glass and then grabs his own, crossing an ankle over his knee and putting an arm over the back of the swing behind you.

You lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder.

It’s easy conversation, and then a comfortable silence, your voices fading as the crickets get louder. Soon that’s all you hear, aside from occasional ice clinking the side of your glass when one of you takes a sip.

And it’s perfect.

You watch the red fade to yellow, then turn all shades of blue, darker and darker, until eventually white stars start to glow through the black blanket of the sky.

A colder breeze causes you to shiver, but you still want to hold on for just a moment longer. It seems he does too, though he isn’t one to let you go cold.

He just pulls you closer to him and brings his arm down around you, instantly warming you up. You can feel his chest rise and fall steadily as he breathes, and it grounds you.

He holds you a little tighter, for the times he had missed the sunsets with you, and for all the times he knew you would be back on this porch alone, waiting for the clouds to clear, and for your wrangler to come home to you.

He’d stay there all night if you asked him to.

[tatoda]

Guitar Pick | college!conrad x fem!reader

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masterlist

part 2

summary: you go to Brown and maybe you don’t exactly fit in, but one brown haired boy makes you feel as if you do

pairing: college!conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: just fluff <3

wc: 800 (sorry it's short im getting back into things)

first con fic since last year :) a little rusty on the writing i apologize. sorry it’s not so long :(

It was the smell in the air that brought you comfort. The casual people-watching you would do as you walked down to the music store closest to campus— it wasn’t the best place to shop but it will do for the times you’re in Providence.

The ding of the door sounded as you walked through the store. The red interior with wood floors reminded you of back home, so that is why you kept coming back to the same spot every weekend. No one tried to bother you when shopping. Of course some boys would walk by and you’d glance their way, but they would never glance back at you the same way.

Picking up a guitar from one of the stands you sat down at the small corner couch. You have always loved playing any instrument, you would run around the house singing and hitting any object around the house to make drums until your aunt got you a ukulele at the age of 6 which took your dreams and desires for music to grow. Being at Brown surprised your family. They really thought you would just go to a music school, but you wanted to explore other career paths. Sometimes your parents weren’t proud of it but they supported your decision.

After a few minutes of strumming the instrument, you stood back up to get a new guitar pick. It was time for a new one— well that’s what you told yourself but you just loved shopping for new things. Reaching for a red and green one, another pair of hands reached for the same one.

“sorry.” glancing up at the voice, you see a boy maybe around your age, with brown eyes and brown hair as his cheeks turned a little red at the intersection

“no that’s my fault sorry, go ahead it’s all yours.” you gestured towards the pick.

“no, my mom raised me to be a gentleman. please take it.”

“i-“ but the tall figure cut you off

“please i was looking at another one anyways.” he looked down at you

“thanks, sorry again.” you softly grabbed it as he smiled gently at you before picking up a solid navy blue one

You didn’t think twice before you went to go pay for it and took off out of the store carrying on with your day.

The next day, you sat under a tree strumming your guitar just letting the nice weather hit for once. The shade of the tree helped you relax not being blinded by the sun. You were so busy strumming the instrument you didn’t realize the figure walking towards you.

“guitar pick girl.” the familiar voice called out making you stop in movement, the boy from yesterday. he was walking towards you wearing a Brown sweatshirt and sweatpants

“hi.” you softly introduced not knowing you would be seeing this boy again

“I’m sorry, i know it’s weird for me just to walk up like that and rude for me to not know your name. you left too quickly yesterday i tried to-to get your name but you were gone.” he played with his fingernails as he spoke

“sorry.” you smiled apologetically not knowing why this boy who you totally thought was cute was suddenly approaching you

“no worries,” he rocked on his feet “i-im Conrad, Conrad Fisher” he stuck his hand out to you and you lifted yours off the guitar

“y/n y/l/n” his eyes seemed to immediately remember the future

“how long have you been playing?”

“my whole life basically. you play?” he nods

“yeah just not too long ago maybe like a summer or 2, my mom wanted me to learn a song for her.”

“that’s sweet of you. you must be a mamas boy for the two times you have mentioned her talking to me.” you grinned at him

“yeah.” he sadly smiled and you didn’t feel like pushing him to ask about what it was all about “do you mind if i sit? you look like you need some company.” he gestured to the grass next to you

“all yours.” conrad then sat down next to you criss-cross

“what year are you?” he played with the grass that was in front of him

“junior, what about you?”

“sophomore.” you nodded and you both went silent but it wasn’t a bad silence, it was comfortable

“could i take you out sometime?” your eyes drifted over to conrad and his eyes went wide “sorry! i didn’t mean to come off so strong, i’d just like to get to know you better.” you looked down at his hands as they played with the grass faster and you put a hand over his to stop his movements

“i’d love that.” his eyes went to your hands and his visible relaxed

“i just thought you were really pretty yesterday.” that sentence made you blush and look down biting your lip

“i thought you were pretty cute too, conrad.”

[leonsdolly]

Tammy Faye

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you love Leon so much, you'd do anything for him.

CW: nsfw 18+, angst, obsession, depictions of murder, subby Leon, oral (m receiving)

WC: 4.4k

A/N: inspired by Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger !

Red, black, red, black! Your hands are painted with the brilliant scarlet hue as you scrub them vigorously under the freezing tap water. You glance up at the filthy mirror to catch a glimpse of yourself. Black streaks of mascara trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the blood splattered across them like unholy rouge on a Venetian mask. You force a smile through the cracked exterior. Pierrot gone rogue. If he’d stabbed Harlequin eighteen times in a truckstop bathroom less than ten miles from Raccoon City and made sure to pose him all special for a handsome cop to find.

It’s as if all you see these days are red and black. How you long to catch a glimpse of the blue that swirls your lover’s eyes. The faint baby blue shadow you had applied that morning was a poor substitute. You screw your eyes shut and try to picture the particular shade of cerulean that you live for. His lovely face is overtaken by the gut-wrenching smell of copper and mildew as you open your eyes and continue scrubbing at your flesh. No matter, you’ll see him soon. For now, you focus on washing away all evidence of your inundating love. You scrub harder and harder and harder. Jesus, how much blood could a girl hold?

After what feels like eons under the flickering fluorescent light, you turn the rusty faucet off and smile widely at your reflection again. If Leon were to see you now, would he be enraptured by the way your thick mascara coated lashes frame your teary eyes like a doll that’s been trapped in an unopened box, forced to watch the most heartbreaking scenes play out through the unrelenting acetate sheet? You shake your head forcefully, expelling those thoughts out. The cops will be here soon. A twinge of giddiness zaps through your heart at the thought. He’ll be here soon.

You reapply a fresh coat of red lipstick - Dior, of course, before taking one last look around the dingy restroom. It’s filthy, but it was your personal respite for the past few hours. You wrinkle your nose at the row of grotesque urinals lined up against the dirt encrusted wall. They were filled with mysterious liquids that made your stomach churn. Thick reddish-brown goop that lay still with unidentifiable objects submerged within like a bog in Hell. Who would even think of doing something as disgusting as sticking their hand in? You turn away and push the door open to be greeted by the warm summer air. The night sky looms over you, a black sheet covered in stars that twink and blink and wink down at you as if to say “your secret’s safe with us.”

While this truckstop is gross, its beauty lies in the fact that it’s tiny and desolate as hell. Sure, the city is less than ten miles away, but the dense forestry surrounding the Arklay Mountains provides some coverage along the highway, shielding this particular stop from careless eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could miss it altogether unless you paid close attention to the fading signs. And because this was in the middle of nowhere, there weren’t any workers manning the facility at night. You wink back up at the stars and circle around the bathroom towards the gaggle of deserted semi-trucks, towards the one with its back door unlatched and open for all to see, towards her. 

She sits up unnaturally, thanks to the crate you had propped up against her back. The emptiness of the semi’s trailer looks as if it’s about to swallow her for all that she’s got like a black hole. The shadows of moths fluttering against the lights dance over her, contrasting the stillness of her features. You tilt your head as you cross your arms and glare up at her. You’re still prettier, right? Her skin has taken on a sallow tone that appears even more unflattering in the harsh fluorescent light. Her hair is tangled and matted with blood. The black blouse she wears is torn and looks even darker with the stains covering it. You gently smack your lips, feeling the satisfaction of freshly applied lipstick. The whore got what was coming. 

Gone were the nights of crying on the kitchen floor as Tammy Wynette played from another room. Gone were the days of having to excuse yourself in the staff restroom at the station to wipe the raven smudges away from your eyes. Gone were the moments of sheer exasperation and disgust as you watched her touch his uniform clad shoulders and lean in close to let him brush his lips over her own.

You pull your dainty white lace-trimmed gloves out of your pocket and slip them on before padding over to the lonesome payphone. You deposit a quarter before carefully dialing the three digits that would summon your lover like Beatrice descending from Paradise.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a dead body at the old truckstop about ten miles south of Raccoon City.” Click.

You put the inky black phone back on the receiver before smiling uncontrollably. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the anticipation of seeing him very soon washes over you. You love him so madly, you’re convinced the only way out of it is 500 mg of midazolam, 100 mg of vecuronium bromide, and 240 mEq of good ol’ potassium chloride.

The dense forest behind the truckstop beckons you with open arms, and you oblige. You skip over to a spot that will allow you to have a front row view of what’s about to transpire while keeping you hidden among the foliage. From here, you can see the girl sitting up with deadweight limbs like a marionette being forced upright with invisible strings. The strings are in your hands, but you were forced to seize control of them from her. Who knows what her influence would have done to Leon?

A bat of her clumpy lashes here, a hand on his firm shoulder there, and your Leon voluntarily hooked himself onto the strings, dancing to the tune she hums from her spot in the dingy break room. You suppose you can't fault him entirely; it's in his nature to grin bashfully and gaze at a woman who fawns over him with lovesick eyes. After all, that's what you love about your sweet rookie cop. Sweeter than candy floss, tantalizing in every aspect like a perfect little peach ready to be plucked from Eden. He just needs to realize that you had always been leaning against the counter of that break room, observing the two with astute grace.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the chief’s office?” You dissolved.

The first words he had ever uttered to you solidified that you wanted all his words, and you would give him yours. You can’t even remember what you had responded with, lost in the tranquility of his eyes and splendor of his smile. You didn’t miss the way those eyes softly ran over your cream silk blouse, caressing and thumbing over the first few buttons for a peek of something more, something buried deep within your soul. Those lips pulled back to beam at you, beckoning you to press every part of you onto them until you shed black tears from a warmth you weren’t accustomed to.

You hear the sirens approaching from your protected spot, silently thanking nature for watching over you while the love of your life approaches.

“Come get your gift, sweetheart,” you murmur. “It's all for you, everything I do…”

Your heart thumps faster as the sirens scream louder and louder until they reach the truckstop. The slam of car doors echo throughout the otherwise silent night air as the officers’ frantic voices jumble over each other. You hold your breath as you identify your darling's voice among the two; your heart is about to blast off for the moon, leaving a red heart-shaped chemtrail behind it for all to see.

Some tinkering with flashlights and crackle of walkie-talkies, and there he is.

Leon rounds the corner to face the semi’s trailer, face going slack as he takes in the stage you set for him. He stands transfixed before her, immobilized like he’s now the one behind the acetate sheet. A pretty Ken doll, waiting for someone to tug at his strings.

His partner, Officer Redfield, flanks the semi as he joins Leon. “Fuck.”

Officer Redfield wastes no time in flinging open the car door and jamming his button to radio dispatch while his partner pales in the moonlight. You can't really make out what he's saying to dispatch but the terms “DOA” and “requesting units” and her name float over to you. When dispatch has confirmed that backup is on the way, Officer Redfield walks over to Leon and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Leon shakes his head, a little dazed, a little frantic, but pretty just the same, and your thighs clench together. “How could this have happened again, Chris?”

Officer Redfield sighs heavily as he gazes up at the displayed corpse with unease. “I don't know. Goddamn it…”

He says something about how great of a colleague she was and how the entire station would miss her, but you can scarcely hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. Your beloved had asked how something like this could have happened again. Again. He knew. He was at least putting the pieces together. Your cheeks hurt from beaming in the shadows of the foliage; he was acknowledging the gifts you had bestowed upon him. A girl from a coffee shop whose smile drew him in like a shrimp to an anglerfish. A brute of a man who dared to connect his fist to such a lovely cheek during a drunken brawl at a bar. Both posed for his lovely eyes only, their last moments entombed in the polaroids tucked away in your desk drawer.

I’ve done it again, you silently mouth to him. I’ve done it again.

He doesn’t show up to work the next day. Or the day after that and the day after that and the day after that, and your organs fail.

An entire week passes, leaving your heart to writhe in agony from his absence. You stare forlornly at his empty desk from your own, shuffling papers mindlessly and feeling your hand twitch towards the letter opener whenever Chief Irons walks by - the bastard was the one who granted your darling “time off” to “process his emotions.”

A feeling of solemnity looms over the entire station as it whispers in hushed tones about who could’ve ripped away its beloved receptionist, a young woman who was in the prime of her life. The collective mourning is enough to make you want to vomit all over her desk, covering the slab of wood in your spite. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

You skim your fingers over the mahogany surface of Leon’s desk, feeling every crevice he feels as he hastily writes up reports and laughs at the other officers’ jokes like an angel breathing life into humans formed from dust. You long to see his splendorous face again, long to hear the stumbling of his words as his superiors tease him, long to inhale his reassuring scent as you brush past him to heat up your food in the break room. 

“You friends with him or something?” Officer Redfield’s voice shatters you out of your reverie with a jolt. 

“Oh, um, kinda…” Your voice softens at the question. Were you friends? Absolutely not. You were something better.

“Well, a few of us are gonna take him out tonight. Try to cheer him up after everything that’s been going on. Hell, we all need to cheer up. That last one hit way too close to home, especially for Kennedy.” His expression grows solemn. Three unsolved murders in such a short amount of time doesn’t necessarily boast confidence in the local police department. “You should come.”

You’re hesitant to respond. While your instincts are screaming at you to politely decline the invitation and instead observe the gathering from afar, a part of you realizes that you’ll get to be close to him. The thought makes you flutter like a little lacy thing in the wind that’s been pinned to a clothesline for as long as it can remember.

“I’d like that, thanks for inviting me.” You beam up at Officer Redfield. “You’ve all worked so hard. You deserve to relax as much as possible.”

“I don’t know about that.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it looks like he wants nothing more than to tip his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, burning and clawing and gnawing at his esophagus until his vision turns black. “That’s three families who are cryin’ themselves to sleep, wonderin’ why this is happening to them.”

“Right.” Your eyebrows raise together in a display of faux sympathy, and your lovely mouth twists in a way that one could interpret as a pout of sorrow.

Where was the collective empathy when you were crying yourself to sleep every night while he was undoubtedly hugging her to his chest as they slept peacefully without a care in the world? Where was the justice in forcing yourself to be satisfied by your own fingers knowing it was a poor substitute for the heavenly cock filling her up? Where was the sense in any of it?

You slip back into an easy grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Raucous laughter and clinking of glasses and billiard balls missing their shots surround you as you enter a bar that’s rather homely in its own way. Your nerves are powerful enough to puncture flesh as you had primped and fussed over your appearance beforehand. This is your first outing with Leon, and you know that looking like anything less than Aphrodite’s descendant is not an option.

You see him before anyone else, just the way it’s always been. A modern-day Adonis standing unsuspectingly among the mediocre. His beauty wafts over to you like the aroma of honey and vanilla and brown sugar brewing on a stove, sweet and utterly tantalizing. It wraps itself around you, commanding you to drink it in until you relinquish all control. You’ve already given it all up for him. Gazing at him like he’s your cult leader, ready to usher you into the New World where it’s just you and him and no one else. You’ll do anything to preserve that world.

You make your way over to the group, greeting them and exchanging pleasantries before ordering your own drink. He’s leaning haphazardly on the edge of a pool table, and you casually stand by him, gripping onto your glass with trembling fingers.

He looks rather exhausted. Faint shadows encircle his eyes, and his blonde hair is a little mussed. His clothes are slightly rumpled, and he looks glumly at the tequila in his hand. His cheeks are painted with a subtle flush from the alcohol. You try not to reveal the utter state of adoration he’s put you in as you speak up.

“How are you, Officer Kennedy?”

He throws you a sidelong glance, and you catch it with bambi eyes. “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You feel as though he’s taken an ax to every single appendage as you giggle softly and tell him your name.

He gives you a small smile as he nods at you. “I see you in the breakroom a lot.” His smile heals the bloody mess he just made, regenerating your wounds until you feel whole again.

“I do too. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” You tilt your head sympathetically to show him you really care about his well-being. The angle also shows off your good side.

“Thanks,” he sighs. “I don’t know how something like this could’ve happened to her. Been beating myself up all this time wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this from happening. I don’t know. Sounds kinda crazy, but the other two cases we had felt pretty c-close to me too… You think I’m being real self-centered for that or something? It’s only my first year on the force, and I-I’m trying to process all of this. S’a shitty feeling…” His lets his drunken ramble fade away.

“I think you’re a good and kind person who is just trying to make sense of some horrible events that have happened.” You gently touch his arm as a way of offering comfort, and the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips evokes an overwhelming surge in between your legs. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Officer Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for anything.”

He blinks back tears that are starting to brim along his heavenly lashes, and your clit throbs underneath your dress. 

“I really appreciate that.” He smiles at you again which brings forth another wave of sticky arousal in your panties. “And Leon’s fine. Don’t need to do any of that ‘Officer’ stuff with me.”

“Leon.” Your favorite word in the world rolls off your tongue with practiced grace. He doesn’t need to know that you cling to the two syllables every night with frenzied cries as you try desperately to make yourself cum.

“Leon, what do you say we find somewhere a little more quiet? It can get pretty rambunctious and overwhelming in these places…” You lean in closer to gaze up at him underneath your pretty lashes, allowing your carefully selected fragrance to pull him under the depths of your desire, a siren calling out to the shipwrecked prince.

He lets out a stutter as the alcohol-induced blush dusted over his nose and cheeks intensifies further. It’s enough to put a Botticelli painting to shame.

“S-somewhere quiet would be good.”

You give his arm a gentle pat before leading him outside where the crisp night air kisses your faces, giving two lovers a proper welcome. The back of the bar is relatively secluded, and there is a small wooden bench that you promptly perch yourselves on. For the next minute or so, the two of you sit in silence. Your heart is about to blast off towards the moon as the realization that he’s here with his thigh pressed against yours hits you hard.

“Thanks for listening to me back there,” he finally murmurs with his eyes cast downwards. “I don't really want to get into that with the others.”

“Why not? They care about you, and want to make sure you’re okay.” I’m the only one you need, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.

“To be honest… I don't want them to think that I can’t handle myself. That I’m still just a stupid weak rookie who can’t compartmentalize his emotions like a real man.”

“Oh, Leon…” Darling, sweetheart, baby. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You’re a talented cop and a great person. You feel everything the way you want to feel. No one’s judging you or looking down on you for it. Trust me on that.”

You’re so caught up in reassuring him that you don’t realize your hand has floated up to cup his cheek until he stammers something unintelligible. You let your thumb rub soothing circles on his soft skin as you continue.

“I mean, anyone can tell how kind and sweet and smart and skilled you are. You have the respect of everyone at work, including mine…”

His flustered expression causes your breath to hitch as you gently brush his bottom lip with your thumb. You could write poetry inspired by the way his lips curve into a shy smile, pulling his faint dimples out of their slumber and letting sweet nothings be whispered to them under the moonlight.

“You want me to make everything better, baby?” You let your murmur be as soothing as possible, an elixir that promises to heal the broken man before you.

He nods bashfully as your forehead touches his. You let your hand fall from his face, and he whines softly at the loss of warmth, and as much as you’d love to mentally record the sound so that it’s playing over and over in your brain for those unfulfilling nights on the kitchen floor, you swallow it up with your own lips.

Your first kiss is what people go to war for. As your lips move together in tandem, you’re overcome with nostalgia for a time when the aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafts through the home and neighbors wave to each other over their white picket fences and Leon comes home with a twinkle in his eyes as he kisses you and the bundle in your arms.

This is why you did what you did.

He whimpers into your mouth as the kiss grows deeper. His hands roam down to your waist, squeezing gently at your sides as you let your tongue intertwine with his. You move your lips south, along his jaw and towards his neck where you set up camp. He lets out a whine as you press your lips particularly hard against the sensitive spot by his throat, taking care to pay attention to the two little moles peeking back up at you.

“P-please…” He gasps at another scrape of your teeth against his delicate skin.

“Just leaving a few marks to remember me by,” you coo. “Making my pretty boy even prettier.”

To your delight, his hips shift uncomfortably at your words. You lower your hand to meet his crotch, gently palming the growing bulge underneath his jeans. His head tips back, proclaiming open season on his throat to which you attack with vigor. Your thighs squeeze together as your lover pants towards the moon. You’re so focused on making your pretty boy feel good with your soft rubs and passionate kisses that you’ve scarcely paid any attention to the soaking gusset of your panties.

You slowly but surely lower yourself to the ground, internally cringing at the feeling of dirt on your knees. Oh well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever gotten on you. You perch yourself in between his legs and fumble with his belt buckle. His head returns to its original position as he gazes down at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to, baby. I said I’d make everything better, right?”

“Mmm, yeah.” 

He sighs as you successfully unclasp his buckle and shimmy his hardened cock out of his boxers. You preen at the sight - it’s pretty, just like the rest of him, and weeping for your attention. You gingerly take it in your hands, marveling at the girth as you stroke it up and down with slow movements. He whimpers at the feeling and involuntarily bucks his hips up so that he fucks into your hand. You let him do this a few times before deciding enough is enough.

“What do you want me to do, sweet boy? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Your m-mouth,” he whispers.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” you tease as you hover your lips over the head.

“Want you to put your mouth on it,” he says, sounding more brave. How cute.

You hum in approval as you plant a kiss on the flushed tip of his cock which elicits the sexiest moan you’ve heard from him all night. Your hips roll against nothing, seeking pleasure for the ache in your cunt, but you force yourself to ignore it. You can’t be selfish tonight.

You softly lick at the sides before working on enveloping his length with your warm mouth. You bob your head up and down, relishing in the heavenly noises escaping his lips. You savor the taste of him as you slowly lift your head off to suckle at the tip before diving back in again, letting each inch tease against your throat. Your cheeks hollow out as you gaze up at him through your mascara covered lashes, letting your eyes go hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he heaves as he grips onto the hem of his shirt for an anchor. It’s all too much - your puffy lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the black tears trickling down your cheeks as you take him in for everything he’s got, the way you’re massaging his balls to heighten his pleasure. “I’m gonna-”

You pull all the way off, and you swear he almost cries.

“P-please, keep going. Please make me cum, I was almost there…” Tears bead along his lash line, and he desperately reaches for you. Your heart swells as you feel your emotions crash over you at the sight of the man you love crying for you to make him orgasm. How far you’ve come since those melancholy nights on the kitchen floor.Their sacrifices weren’t in vain after all. 

You smile up at him and proceed to pleasure him in the way you can - the way he deserves. The lewd slurping sounds you make fill the air, and he tries not to thrust harshly into your mouth, but it’s all too overwhelming when you’re sucking his cock like it’s your favorite thing to do in the world.

He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched moan as he bursts into your waiting mouth. You swallow his load, savoring the taste of his cum and trying to commit the feeling of it all into your memory. You pull off of his softening cock and press kisses to his twitching thighs as you observe his blissful state. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. His cheeks are as flushed as ever and a bit of drool has escaped onto his chin. 

“Th-thank you,” he breathes.

“The pleasure was all mine.” You help him get fully dressed again and capture his lips in one more kiss.

“Do you maybe want to come over tonight? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to… I-I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.” His eyes are begging, and who are you to deprive them of their desires?

“I’d love to.” You smile sweetly at him and take his hand to lead him to the car, winking up at the stars as you do.

[napakmahal]

Continuing with the “Young parent reader and Tadashi”. Imagine: visiting him with Bodie while he’s working in his lab.

“Come on, Bodie.” You chirped taking her out from her car seat. “Let’s go see daddy.

“Daaa-“ her voice died off. You two walked up the steps to the IT lab to visit your boyfriend. Bodie had gotten restless ever since she started moving around and standing on her own. For the past few weeks, when Tadashi would’ve leave for school in the morning she’s poke her head through the window and watch him leave. Her little nose sniffling and eyes red with sadness. It was weird for her that she wasn’t around all the time since summer vacation ended.

You walked into the chilly building and tried to remember the way to Tadashi’s lab. Through all the twists and turns it took as while before you finally recognized the corridor where his personal lab resided.

“O-okay.” You grunted, shifting Bodies little body to one arm to you could knock with a free hand before opening the door.

Tadashi was sat on the floor, paper sheets full of math equations sprawled around him, and a toolbox spilling with misplaced tools next to him.

He turned around at the noise and looked back at your and your daughter. “Oh, hey.”

“Daaa!” Bodie squealed from your arms and started flaring to reach him.

You leaned down and began to transition Bodie to her dads arms. Tadashi kissed your cheek and then the top of Bodie’s head. “How are my girls doing?”

“Well, she was pretty good today. Had a little bit of a battle getting her dressed.” You recall trying to fight her kicking legs to get her pink polka dot leggings.

Tadashi gasped and looked down at her. “What! Bodie, you’re giving mommy a hard time?”

She simply giggled and went back to playing with the random objects placed on the floor. Tadashi then looked back up and you. “And what about you, how was your day?”

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Got a lot of work done and finished shopping for tonight. I think we’re good for the rest of the week. What about you?”

He bounced her in his lap while rubbing her little body with his thumbs. “Umm- just been sitting here. I haven’t eaten though and I’m kinda hungry. Wanna go out?”

“Yeah we can go out.” You played with your boyfriends hair and kissed the back of his neck.

You rested your head on her shoulder and looked down at your baby girl. Who was busy trying to bite on a big metal screw.

Tadashi laughed and poked her in the cheek. “Oh you’re hungry? Yeah?” He then took on the challenge of yanking the screw out of her death baby grip. “We can’t eat this though, sorry.”

Bodie’s lip quivered at her dad taking away her new favorite rusty toy. Her brown eyes glistening with tears.

“Oh my god,” You rolled your eyes. “What a drama Queen.”

Tadashi smiled. “I know, right? Just like her mama.”

You slapped him in the shoulder loud enough to make a noise and Bodie giggled clapping her chubby hands together. Like her dad getting hurt was the funniest thing in the world.

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

Workin’ Hands (pt. 2) (Kit Walker x Reader)

Pt. 1, Pt. 1.5, Pt. 2

“You should do whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.

“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”

warnings: making out. smut. fluff? to smut. innocent!reader. parents?. fingering

You expected him to honk, or wait in his rusty blue convertible down the street— you’d walk down, your hand over your eyes, shielding your face from passersby, and quietly get in his car. He’d put his top up and drive off, putting his hand on your thigh without even saying hello.

Instead, he came to your door at five minutes to five. He knocked twice, whistling on your doorstep. Your mother opened the door. You were lucky— your father wasn’t home that evening, he was out drinking with friends from work.

“Good evening!” you could hear your mother say from your room upstairs. You were applying one last dusting of powder before your departure into whatever this odd night would be.

“Hello, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’m Kit,” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She shook it loosely, then replied, “Nice to meet you, dear,” she’d said, her nose turned up slightly. She’d, like all the other mothers in town, heard of one Kit Walker, town womanizer and delinquent.

You came down the stairs in your skirt a few inches above the knee, a short-sleeved collared blouse tucked into it, a shiny belt around the meeting of the two pieces.

You didn’t say anything, just looked at your mother. You walked to the door slowly. He held a singular rose in a brown paper wrapping, a thin pink ribbon tied around it.

“Mrs. (Y/L/N), I’d love to take your daughter out on a date,” he said with an intense tone of earnest.

“Oh, my,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows, putting her hand on her chest. “Honey, you know I can’t say yes without your father.”

“Please, ma’am. I’ll have her back by nine,” he smiled. “Your daughter is a lovely girl. I have every intention of being a gentlemen,” he held her eye contact, then glanced at you. You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes, but your mother had looked out the window, a concerned expression on her face, so she missed this little addition.

“Alright. I want her back by eight, though,” she said, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, eyes wide, clearly distraught.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much,” he smiled, offering you his arm. You wrapped yours around his and walked to his car.

“Oh, this is for you,” he smiled sweetly, handing you the rose in his hand.

You look up at him. “Thank you,” you put your nose to the bud, smiling.

He opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you situated yourself. Then, he walked to the drivers’ side, getting in the car next to you. He looked at you, staring until you met his eyes, as well, and he smiled, then looked to the road and drove away.

The wind blew in your hair, which was pulled half-up. His arm rested on the top of the door.

You watched him, periodically, and he’d turn and catch your gaze, and you’d look down at your lap. He would then stare at you as long as his driving allowed him, watching your cheeks flush pink.

About ten minutes into the drive, you rested your head on the top of the car door, the wind blowing your hair back. You stuck your arm out the window, feeling the harsh breeze of the moving car hit your skin. He looked over at you, getting flushed himself.

You drove down a tree-lined street, his eyes frequently flickering from the road over to you.

As you pulled up to a lakeside lot, parking atop the grass, he looked over at you.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Ain’t never been to the lake before?” he asks, putting a toothpick in his mouth.

“Well, I’ve heard of it,” you flush. “But I heard it was where boys and girls go to… you know…” you tilt your head to the side, then back up.

He chuckles. “Aw, yeah, in the summers some late nights you got some couples out here in their cars, windows all foggy,” he shakes his head, “but mostly it’s just a nice place to sit, I think,” he pauses, then smirks, “Unless you wanted to… you know…” he mimics you.

You flush and frown slightly.

“Honey, I’m just kidding,” he says, putting his hand on your cheek. Then, he reaches to the back seat, grabbing a basket and pulling it to the front. “I brought sandwiches!” he beams.

You look inside the basket. There are two wrapped sandwiches, two apples, and two toffee candies.

“Not much of a dinner,” his Massachusetts accent was accentuated by the combination of words, “But you said you didn’t wanna be seen, so,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure him, feeling somewhat guilty. “I swear it! I just… didn’t want people to get the wrong idea about me,” you fidget with your fingertips.

“I understand,” he says, taking the toothpick from his mouth and placing it in the pocket of the door.

“The food is lovely,” you reassure him. He smiles.

You sit and eat and chat about light topics— work, college, your families.

When you’re finished, he puts his trash back in the basket, taking yours as well, then puts the basket on the floor of his back seat.

“So, you really never been on a date before?” he smiles.

“Not once,” you say.

“Sure you’ve kissed someone before, though, right?” he asks curiously.

“No, I haven’t,” you smiled awkwardly.

That was all he had to know.

“I’d like to be your first kiss,” he says smoothly.

“Now?” you ask in a light, mousy tone.

“Only if you want that,” he lowers his face, looking at you from under his brow.

“I really don’t know how soon you’re supposed to kiss a guy…” you say. You both engage in a near-deadly eye contact.

“Honey, you’re not supposed to do anything. That’s all stuff your parents make you think,” he says. He puts his hand on your arm, rubbing it gently, his face a soft, encouraging smile, “You should do whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.

“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”

“I think,” you pause, flushing a deep red, “I think I’d kiss you now,” you whisper sheepishly.

He stares at you for a moment, then puts his hand on your face. He leans into you, pausing a moment, feeling your warm breath on his lips. Then, he closed the gap, kissing you gently. It’s a still kiss, and it only lasts a few moments. He pulls away, eyes scanning your face once again.

You stare at him, gathering all of your will, then follow him back, pursuing his lips to kiss him once again. This kiss is more fiery, as he allows his mouth to work against yours. He moves the hand he had placed on your cheek back so his fingers became tangled in your hair, placing his other on the side of your waist.

When he realizes your hands are still on your lap, he reaches down, grabs them, placing them on each side of his neck. He inhales deeply, his lips growing momentarily harsher against yours. Those soft, small hands— he was tethered to them somehow.

He puts both of his hands back on each far side of your jawline, pulling your face towards his. Your kiss follows his in passion and movement, and you breathe in your proximity one last time before pulling away.

Your eyes flutter across each others’ faces, still inches away. You even smell sweet, he thinks to himself. Like cherries. He smiles at you.

He almost swallows his next question, afraid to ruin the moment, but he had to hear you say it. He had to hear it himself.

“So, you’re really a virgin?” he asks.

You pause, looking down at your lap. “I am,” you smile shyly.

He had heard about you around town.

A shame she’s a total smokeshow, boys would say when you walked into the diner, she’s a total prude. They called you stiff, stuck-up.

You were none of that. You were something completely different.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, lost in thought.

“You’re gorgeous,” you smile. Of course that’s what you would say.

He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, smiling, his dimples carving into his cheeks.

You breathe deeply, trying to re-center yourself. “I’ve never had this feeling with anyone else before,” you confess.

He smirks, leaning back, “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you pause, identifying all your current symptoms before speaking again, “You make my heart race and my cheeks feel tingly and sometimes my stomach will feel tight, and it’s almost like a nervous feeling, but it’s not exactly the same.”

“Honey,” he says smoothly, laughing a bit, “Am I… Am I turning you on?”

You’d heard the phrase, however you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. It felt right, though; you did feel as though he was flipping a switch inside you that hadn’t been flipped yet. “I don’t,” you pause, “I don’t know what that means exactly.”

He smiles. Of course you don’t. He leans into you, then says, “Well, it’s,” he collects his thoughts, trying to find the best way to describe it to you, “It’s what makes men and women… want to… touch each other.”

You place a hand to your chest, concerned about the tightness and heaviness with which your heart was pounding. “How do I know if that’s what I’m feeling?”

“Well,” he smirks. As smooth as anything’s ever been said, he looks into your eyes and asks, “Do you want me to touch you?”

It’s the way you know you need water when you’re parched or sleep when you’re tired or air when you’re lightheaded underwater. You think of him touching you and you feel in your bones that it’s what you need. “Yes.”

“Can you do me a favor, honey?” hey says, caramel laced in his tone.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Can you get in the back seat for me, sweetheart?”

You pause, staring at him for a moment, processing his request. You realize you won’t say no to him no matter what you decide is the correct answer, so you simply nod and open the car door. He sprints around to the other side of the car, holding the back door open for you. Even in these circumstances, he’s ever the gentleman.

He waits until you are seated, then follows you in.

You look at him, flushed, a slight confusion set in your brow bone.

“I’m not taking your virginity, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, his one hand on your hip, the other brushing a piece of hair from your face.

You look into his eyes, cheeks flushed a bright pink.

He whispers, “Do you trust me?” he asks.

You nod without thinking twice on the question.

“Can you lay back for me?” he speaks in the most gentle tone he can, almost like speaking to a small, skittish animal.

You do as he asks, resting your head at the bottom of the car window.

He puts his two hands on the outside of your thighs.

Those big, calloused hands.

He kisses your knee tenderly. “Open your legs for me, please?” he asks, then adds, “It’s the last thing you have to do for me, okay? Promise,” he says.

You let your legs fall apart, and he kisses your other knee, whispering, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

“Hmm,” you mumble, smiling, closing your eyes.

You look back up at him, biting your lip and fluttering your eyelashes as he traces the inside of your thighs with his fingertips.

You push your hips forward, straightening your back, his hand ending up a few inches farther up your thigh.

You let out a shaky breath, your voice caught in it momentarily, your eyes closed once again. Fuck, he thought, did you even know how lewd those sounds were? Did you even know what it could do to him if you didn’t stop?

He winces at the sudden rush of friction in his jeans. He’d have to cope with the discomfort for your sake.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he said. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. So obedient, he thought. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant.

Your naivety alone was enough to make him go rock solid.

“Have you ever touched yourself where other people haven’t so you could feel good?” he rephrases.

You shake your head, eyebrows knit together, lip between your teeth.

He begins to inch his hand up inside your thigh. You watch his face intently, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours for an instant.

When his fingertips finally brush against the lacy fabric of your underwear, you let out a high-pitched whimper, eyelids fluttering closed.

He pulls back a moment, tracing the inside of your upper thigh, then makes contact again, this time placing the entire area of his fingers against you.

You exhale loudly, looking at the ceiling of the car. You are flushed down your chest a bright red.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You almost believe you cannot, so shy under his hand now, but you know enough about him to know he means what he says.

You meet his eyes and, unexpectedly, he feels himself go weak for a second. Your otherworldly gorgeous face practically tore him inside out already, and now it was almost unbearable to look at you.

Almost.

His eyes scanned your features, taking all of you in.

He rubbed against the fabric, flipping between the flat of his fingers and the back of his knuckles, teasing you.

Then, he reached up with both of his hands, hooking his fingers around your underwear, pulling down over your legs, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor.

He leaned down, pressing his fingers against you again, his other arm now around your back, pulling you into his chest, crowding you with his heat. He maintains your eye contact.

He rubs your clit in circular motions, smirking as you struggle to keep your eyes open, letting out choked moans from your lips as you stare directly in his eyes.

He moves his fingers down, feeling all the wetness pooling at your entrance. He has to rest his head on your shoulder for a moment to recuperate. He’d never felt a girl this wet before.

“You are very wet,” he mumbles deeply into your ear, almost growling.

“Is- Is that a good thing?” you ask him.

“Yes.” He felt guilty for being almost frustrated with your innocence. You were torturing him, his dick relentlessly hardened against the seem of his pants.

He pushed one finger into you as gently as he could, slowly. “That okay, darlin’?” His accent grew thicker as the moments passed.

You winced in pain. You’d never had anything inside you before.

He nearly came just feeling how tight you were.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, relaxing as the pain resolved. You realized what you had said, “Kit,” you corrected.

“Mm, uh-uh. Sir is good,” he says breathlessly, pushing another finger into you.

You moan loudly, closing your eyes tightly.

“Eyes on me, sugar,” he orders.

Your eyes quickly return to his. “Yes, sir.”

He plays with you, moving his fingers up and back from circling your clit to pushing in and out of you.

You whimper at the strange combination of sensations, your heart pounding.

His eyes trail down your body. His hand up your skirt is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, he resolves.

He begins to push his two fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It’s seems a difficult multitask, however he has clearly mastered it beautifully.

You feel a hot, tight sensation forming at the bottom of your stomach. He continues to manipulate your body with his long fingers, and you feel the tightness building.

He smirks as your face changes from pleasure to confusion, and whispers, “Breathe, baby.”

It’s like he can read your mind.

“I feel,” you mumble, “I…” you wrap your hand around his bicep, suddenly needing something to hold onto.

“Uh huh,” he smiles confidently.

Suddenly, a white hot sensation rushes over your body. You moan loudly, breathing heavily, squealing out a messy string of exclamation like, “Kit, oh my.”

He’s nearly gone lightheaded from the vision of your arched back, your soft hands wrapped around his bicep, your hips rolling against his hand up your skirt.

“It’s okay,” he comforts you, “It’s okay.”

After a moment of the intense, unfamiliar sensation, Kit kisses you, smiling into your lips.

“Kit, what did you do to me?” you pull away, whispering, a euphoric smile pushing up into your cheeks.

He grins back at you, putting his hand on the side of your face. “All you need to know is I never want to stop doing it,” he responds.

You finally pick your shoulders up off the door, looking to the dashboard of the car.

“Oh my God,” you say.

“What?” he asks with a dorky smile on his face, still reeling from watching you come undone below him.

“It’s eight thirty!”

[incogrio]

monster mash!

SYNOPSIS: in which you go on a pumpkin patch date with your boyfriends!

pairing: : poly!ot5 x gn!member!reader (no gender mentioned, but written with male reader in mind) word count: 1.8k+ genre: enough fluff to heal my soul permanently warnings: cringe? overly affectionate? a changbin joke (in good fun i love him) mayhaps very american view of pumpkin patches,, queers,, etc

AUTHORS NOTE: soooo... yeah i've been gone a WHILE. i would say a lot has been going on but that would lowkey be a lie. i just sort of lost the motivation to... do anything really LOL,,, but i hope u guys have not forgotten abt me!!! i may be a tad rusty, these may be a tad out of character, i may be a tad terrified of posting this. moral of the story, hope u enjoy, i've missed u guys. 

fall has always been your favorite time of year. the orange falling leaves, slight chill in the air, and the pumpkin flavored treats never failed to enthrall you. but, being a kpop idol comes with its downsides. the main one: no time off. 

and so, you spent every halloween practicing with your members, filming to do specials and squeezing in a singular mini chocolate bar in secret at the end of the night. in many ways, it was depressing. but what the emptiness left behind was love.

you and your members had slowly begun a relationship. in the beginning, it was out of sheer desperation and loneliness. a quickie to get you through a long schedule. but, throughout your years together, all six of you had fallen in love. and today, you were finally getting some time off, and what better way to spend a chilly autumn day than at a pumpkin patch. finally, you had all crammed into the van you’d usually used for traveling between schedules, except today, there were snacks strewn about, no chauffer, yeonjun took that job, blankets and jokes. 

“guys, what if we lose soobin in the corn maze, he’ll look just like the scare actors!” beomgyu loudly exclaimed mockingly over the hum of the engine and radio blasting music. 

soobin, in the passenger seat beside yeonjun, simply turned to look at gyu. squinted eyes and lips fighting a smile dawned his face. 

“guys!” soobin repeated, mimicking beomgyu, “what if we lose beomgyu in the pumpkin patch, he’ll look just like the pumpkins!” huening kai loudly burst into laughter, clapping his hands together. 

beomgyu, who was sitting next to you, let his jaw drop in shock. he picked up a bag of chips and hurled it at soobins face, to which the entire van erupted into laughter and claps. 

soobin turned once more, “y/n! restrain him!” 

you laughed reaching out to wiggle your fingers into beomgyu’s sides, to which he squirmed and loudly squealed.

“ah! stop! i thought you loved me!” beomgyu loudly protested through his laughs. 

after much reprimanding from yeonjun for being too loud, soobin delivered a chaste kiss to yeonjun’s cheek. everyone pretended not to see the blush. it wasn’t long until you felt a small tap on your shoulder. you turn to see one of your boyfriends, huening kai. he was dawned in his brown star sweater, black hair all strewn his forehead. he looked like if fall and spring had a child, and if they had named it after their hopes to become summer. 

he points to a nintendo ds in his hand, and then glances to the empty seat next to him. you smile at his sheepish request, and climb over the seats to collapse next to him. he immediately covers you up with a blanket, and you lean your head on his shoulder. almost instantaneously, you are enthralled by his soft, deep voice muttering to you his actions on the pokemon game displayed on his screen. you wrap your arms around his, snuggling into him as you slowly close your eyes.

———

when you awaken, you notice that what once was a soft, brown sweater, is now a tan colored shirt. you don’t need to look up to know who it is. you let out a soft hum, and taehyun smiles to himself. he softly shrugs the shoulder you lay on, coaxing you to lift your head. once you concede, you realize the rest of the van is empty. 

“we’re five minutes away,” tae says softly. “but beomgyu was gonna shit his pants, so we stopped here. everyone else is getting snacks.” your tired brain takes longer than usual to deduce that you have arrived at a gas station, but once you do, you look back at tae. 

“you didn’t want to get off?” you ask, voice deeper than usual from sleep.

tae shakes his head, reaching to you and fixing a stray hair gently. 

“wanted to spend some time with you, even if you were asleep.” he says sheepishly, and you internally aw. he leans forward, his bright black eyes glancing down to your lips. you let your lips brush for a moment before taking control, jerking your head forward to close your lips around his. he lets out a deep breath, as though he had been without air for years. you smile against his lips, and allow yourself to get lost for moment. 

“guys, stop being gay.” you hear beomgyu say from the open van door. tae separates himself from you, smiling widely, eyes crinkling around his shiny eyes. 

you turn to gyu, “if you want a kiss too, just say that.” 

“what if i do? i sat next to you on purpose, you know. but then you moved!” beomgyu whines out, to which you chuckle. he was only sated after about 5 kisses and two cheek squeezes. 

——— 

when you all finally arrive at your destination, you were welcomed in by a large “fall pumpkin festival” sign in large, blocky letters printed on a wooden sign. 

you pile out of the car, soobin immediately floating to your side and slipping his pinky to wrap around yours. you all slowly figure out where you are meant to go, and begin walking up a quaint gravel path. at the entrance, you were immediately bombarded with the sounds and sights. giant bouncy houses, food trucks, carnival games, corn mazes, even pig races were all at your disposal. immediately, you all gravitated towards the small race course that winded up tiny ramps and around small obstacles. 

gyu points at one of the pigs grazing, “look, it’s bang pd!” soobin immediately brings a finger to his mouth, signaling to gyu to stop talking as you all giggled. 

“i say the one with black spots is gonna win,” you declare, pointing at the small pig who was currently sniffing his own poop.

“no, the pink ones gonna win.” soobin declared, “he’s bigger.” 

“wouldn’t bigger mean he moves slower?” tae mentioned, and soon, you were divided, three vs three, on which pig was gonna win. you, tae, and gyu on the side of the black spotted pig, which you had affectionately named ppulverse pt 2. soobin, yeonjun, and kai on the side of the pink one, whom they had named changbin. when the race had finally begun, you all cheered obnoxiously loud for your respective pigs. ppulverse pt. 2 fell at one point, and gyu dramatically fell to his knees in utter disappointment. it was safe to say that it wasn’t hard for changbin to win. your team pouted as yeonjun, kai, and soobin all exchanged celebratory kisses and pats on the back. 

“how does it feel to LOSE!” said yeonjun as he pointed at your dejected faces.

“i’m never fucking you ever again.” you said with a monotone, to which kai once again laughed and clapped. 

yeonjun simply laughed with a cocky smile. “aren’t i the one doing the fucking?” he whispers to tae. 

soon after, you all decided to try your hand at apple bobbing. and then you were painting your ppulbatu’s on pumpkins and buying them for an absurd amount of money. yeonjun decided to try his hand at a strong arm competition. lets just say, kai gave him lots of ‘you tried your best’ kisses. 

“it’s getting dark, lets go into the corn maze.” kai suggested, and you all simultaneously stopped walking. he let out a soft hum in confusion.

“im not doing that.” taehyun immediately protested, and immediately all the other members agreed. except for you.

you sigh, shuffling your feet. “i’ll do it on the condition that i get funnel cake beforehand.” kai smiles, reaching up and doing a salute motion with his hand. kai ordered the cake as yeonjun decided to “prove” himself by winning you a fox plushie. 

“watch, baby, watch your sexy boyfriend!” he loudly exclaimed, and you covered your face in embarrassment. he paid the man behind the stand five dollars, and received five rings in exchange. you lingered behind him as he lined up his shot, and tossed them into the rows of empty bottles one by one. as though suddenly possessed by an athletically capable alcoholic, the rings perfectly lined up with every single bottle.

“are you proud?” he asked as he handed you the large plushie. 

“very!” you say happily, pressing a kiss to his plush pink lips. by the time you returned to the rest of the boys, they had already begun digging into the funnel cake. you sat down, sitting the plushie next to you as though he were a person. all the members immediately mutter soft ‘woaaahhh’’s at yeonjun’s accomplishment.

finally, after much picking at the cake in slow motion to stall, you had to venture into the corn maze. junnie, soobin, gyu and tae all sat on a hay bale near the entrance to the maze as they hyped you up. the fox plushie in one hand, and kai’s sleeve in the other, you both slowly walked into the maze. 

kai walked as though he were walking through a mall at midday. meanwhile, you were practically pulling off his sweater by the sheer grip you had on him. the first scare actor noticed you guys before you noticed them. they took note of your apparent fear, and targeted you instead of kai. 

right as you were walking by, a man dressed as a zombie launched out of the corn maze and shouted in your face. you screamed bloody murder, stumbling back into kai and covering your face with your plushie. kai immediately laughed, and you smacked him as he practically dragged you to continue walking. you kept your eyes on the actor as you walked farther and farther away. 

the next scare actor targeted kai, determined to make the unfazed man crack. she was dressed as a pilgrim, with a giant axe stuck inside the front of her skull. she jumped out, grabbing her head axe and yanking it out of herself, before maniacally swinging it at you and kai. you, once again, screamed out, pulling kai backwards by his sweater and shaking. kai simply stepped back, letting the woman’s manic behavior come to a halt before laughing to himself and continuing on his way, you in tow. 

the woman stopped her acting as you left her sight, letting her axe get stuck back in her head and turning to the zombie actor, shrugging. 

for the rest of the maze, all of the actors were targeting kai, desperately trying to get him to so much as flinch, blink, anything! ironically, the only person they managed to scare every time was you. after what felt like an eternity, you finally looped around to the entrance, and saw your boys all chit chatting. you sprinted out of the maze, pulling kai behind you and immediately shouting about what had happened. you described every single scare as kai hugged you, and the rest of the members diligently listened to your maniacal rambling. 

despite the scares, you were comforted in the simple fact that no matter how dark or scary a place may be, your boys would always be there to listen. 

and so as you snuggled into the van once more, next to tae once more, you smiled to yourself. fall was finally your favorite season again. 

there is a taglist! if u want to be on it, put in an ask :3

don’t forget your daily click!!

requests, as always, are open! no promises tho :(

[saber-slutt]

i told you i'd see you later, one way or another (kinktober day 1)

"Who is this diva?" you ask. it's me. kinktober began and i rose from my summer hibernation. i'm still embarrassed bc i revealed i was gonna write for kinktober in my uni's music committee. Guilherme if you ever see this i am so sorry you had to hear that. guilherme is a cutie patootie i love him so much. he's like a journalistic writer. anyways, hello! i'm gonna take my fanfic writing seriously again. i'll be posting on ao3 too if that's more convenient. same titles as here, under the name mostlyajoke. I hope this one's up to par guys, sorry if it's not, im a bit rusty. any comments, criticisms, etc., are encouraged, so i can improve and also i love to yap. anyways day 1 for me on october 13th lets goooo

headers from djarrex

Day 1 - Wet Dream

He laughed your name breathily as he wished you a goodnight. Anakin was always a gentleman, walking you back to your quarters if he happened to pass by the créche at night, which had been happening more and more. you worked in the Jedi Corps at the temple, helping tend to the younglings. Yes, you loved the job because you truly enjoyed teaching and playing with the young Jedi, despite the war picking up in the galaxy, but also because you got to see him. Him. He made time to visit the younglings, never too tired to tell a story or practice basic force maneuvers with them. Anakin was especially never too busy to talk to you, to tell you you looked pretty today or to ask how your day had been. Maker, he was beautiful, with curly brown locs and piercing green eyes, eyes that would scan you when you told him anything, so you could tell he was listening intently. You loved these interactions, though you knew he was just being polite. After all, Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi, if not one of the most well-known or powerful by this point. He’d never have serious interest in you, no, he would never break the Jedi code.

         Still, when he walked you to your room, a part of you always longed that he would ask to take you somewhere, somewhere private, just for the two of you. Or that he would give you communication to his comm. But he didn’t, and as you would close the door behind you, you’d try to shake your schoolgirl crush from your thoughts. Today seemed to be another one of these days, or so you had thought, until as he turned down the hallway from your door, you heard him say, “I’ll be seeing you soon, beautiful.”

         You floated through the rest of the night, his words replaying incessantly. They were so bold, furthering you from the idea that he was just being polite. Still, you tried to remember that at the end of the day, he was a Jedi, and you were not. Even if you were, you two could never be together. But his words were on repeat, what did he mean “soon?” Your thoughts did not settle as you get ready for bed, and still did not cease as you tossed and turned into the early morning.

        “Mmm fuck…fuck,” you whimpered out, clawing at brown locs as a tongue drilled into your pussy. The man buried between your legs pulled back for a second to grunt a small “language” before dipping back down to lick hard and flat strips through your folds. “C-can’t help it, feels so good.”

         You could practically feel his smirk against your slit, his tongue only gaining more speed. His tongue toyed with your clit and your hole, neglecting neither. A sheen sweat overlaid you. You had never felt so warm, so comforted, even though you knew you were dreaming, it had never felt so real or vivid. Just then, a sharp sensation was felt between your legs, but then, euphoria. The man was sucking on your clit, hard. You wanted to see him, to see the man invading your dreams. You whimpered again, lazily stroking his hair. He got the hint and raised himself up to look into your eyes, and to flash you a smile.

         Anakin.

        “You’re beautiful” he whispered, lowering himself back down to your pussy, throwing your legs over his shoulders, “and sweet. And not just your personality too.”

         You moaned. In the back of your mind, you knew you were dreaming, but Maker, it felt so real. Anakin continued his attack on you, licking and sucking both your clit and entrance. With each passing minute, he tightened his grip on your hips, leaving bruises. His nose bumped into your clit, his long, curly hair tickled your thighs, and the wet sounds echoing in the room were filthy. You were euphoric. The man you loved was pleasing you, solely focused on you, like he cared for nothing else in the world. You were nearing your peak of pleasure, whines becoming sharper, and you gripped his hair again. He went harder on your pussy. His name began to flow from your mouth.

         “Anakin, please, don’t stop, oh maker, Anakin,”

         “Shhh, let it happen,” 

          Your back arched and you let out a guttural moan, raspy. Your pussy spasmed as pleasure spread throughout your stomach and beyond. Anakin slowed his assault, letting you ride out your high, but he still made sure to lick up every drop. He pulled back to look at you when you made noises indicating overstimulation. His lips were shiny with your juices before he licked them. You were breathless and blushing, wishing to form words but too sated to try. He crawled forward to kiss you deeply, comfortingly. Anakin fell to lay on his side, pulling you to his chest.

         “Good, huh?” Anakin asked.

         You nodded in response.

         “Sad it’s not real?”

         You nodded again.

         “Oh, poor baby. Don’t you remember me saying that I’d see you later?”

         You were still.

         “You’ll wake up in a minute. And I’ll be outside your door. Then you’ll let me in your room, and we’ll talk, and laugh, and I’ll flirt with you all night long. You understand?”

         “Yes.”

          You sat up like you were electrocuted. You rubbed your face with your hands. Maker, what a mean dream to have. It was like the universe was teasing you, giving you a taste of heaven just to take it away. And then it wanted you to believe there was a chance it could be real. There was no way.

         But it never hurts to check.

         You felt like a loser standing up; surely some life force out there was laughing at your naivety. Shame filled you as you made your way towards your door. It was overflowing when you put your ear to the door and heard nothing. But for one last hurrah, you pressed the button on the wall that would open the door.

         You were met with Anakin.

[jobean12-blog]

Fair Grounds for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Cowboy AU)

Word Count: 1,772

Summary: Joel takes you to your first real state fair

Author’s Note: This is for @the-slumberparty June Writing Challenge and my item is lemonade and my setting is festival/fair as well as a Summer Bingo Event and Choose your own AU box. I also did one with Biker!Joel and since my friends are super supportive and kind I decided to do Cowboy!Joel too because both are the best! Thank you to Navy and Roo for hosting and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ All dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of fun and fluff and sweetness, it gets flirty at the end ;) 

This photo below was taken by Iglesias Mas for Strange Way of Life 😍

Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel insists on picking you up for your date to the state fair, ever the gentleman and loving any excuse to spend more time together.

He knocks and waits, his smile growing when he hears you start to unlock the door.

You open it just enough to say, “close your eyes, Cowboy.”

He takes a step back and pulls his hat off then puts it over his face.

When you step out you rest your hand on his arm. “Okay.”

He takes his hat down and it tumbles from his fingers as he focuses on you, his gaze sweeping from your head to your toes.

“My god,” he says.

You grin and bend down to grab his hat before standing and placing it back on his head.

“Does that mean you like it?” you ask, tone cheeky.

You step closer and press yourself against him. “You look pretty good too…if you can stop drooling and close your mouth.”

He pulls you closer. “You are the sexiest, most beautiful woman I have ever seen darlin’.”

His arms circle around your waist and he kisses you hello, the sweet gesture quickly turning heated as his hands smooth along your curves and he drags your hips into his.

When he releases you he let’s out a sigh, kissing you one more time, quickly, before taking your hand and walking you to his truck.

“If we don’t leave now I’m gonna march you right back into the house and we’ll never make it to the fair.”

You giggle and hop into the truck when he opens the door. The ride is short and it almost takes you as long to find parking.

“Wow,” you whisper as you enter the fairgrounds, “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”

You look around at all the rides, tents and booths, a vibrant array of colors and sounds, and try to take it all in.

“Let’s go have some fun darlin’.”

You nod excitedly and keep hold of his hand as you wander toward some of the booths, stopping at the first game you see.

Joel tips his hat back and gives you a wink before he takes the toy rifle and gets into position to shoot the target.

You try not to giggle when he leaves just a shred of black on the star-shaped target, failing to win you a big stuffed toy and grumbling something about poor mechanics.

“I thought all you cowboys knew how to shoot!” you tease.

“Gimme something with a decent lever action and I’ll shoot the feathers off a duck’s butt at five hundred feet! This thing…”

He looks at the old and rusty toy. “Sucks!”

“Yeah…yeah,” you continue to tease. “And that poor duck!”

You make a pouty face and he smirks, taking your chin between his fingers and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Don’t worry darlin’,” he murmurs against your lips. “It’s just an expression.”

He slips his hand into his back pocket and hands the guy working at the game booth another dollar.

“One more try.”

You keep still, watching the target intently as Joel readies himself and starts to shoot.

With a squeal you throw yourself into his arms. “You did it!”

“Just needed to warm up,” he says with a triumphant grin.

You tap your chin as you try to pick out your new toy. “I’d like the stuffed dog please, the brown and white one.”

The guy at the game booth pulls it down and hands it to you with a smile.

You squeeze the dog to your chest and smile over it at Joel.

He reaches for your hand and you take it.

“Can we go on a ride now?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

“Sure darlin’.”

You spot the Viking swing ride; it’s squealing and creaking motor making Joel grimace as you approach.

“This has gotta be older than me,” he jokes.

“I’m scared but I want to go on!” you tell him.

Pressing yourself into his side the entire time you’re waiting on the line you finally move up to take your seats, suddenly unsure if you want to hold onto the railing or Joel.

“I apologize in advance if I scream really loud and squeeze the life out of you.”

He presses his lips together to stifle a laugh and you narrow your eyes playfully, startling when the ride jerks forward. Without a second through you wrap both your arms around his bicep and smash yourself against his side.

Now you feel his laughter and you would scold him except the ride starts getting into full swing and the only thing you can do is scream with terrified glee.

He tucks his hat away so it doesn’t blow off his head and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

When you step off the ride you lean into Joel’s side to steady yourself.

“Did ya have fun?” he asks.

“Yes!” you squeak. “Everything is a little wobbly though.”

“I got ya darlin’,” he says softly, tucking you under his arm. Let’s get something sweet.”

He leads you over to the food area and you look around the bustling fairgrounds, trying to decide what to get. The air is filled with the aroma of various foods, each one tantalizing and you finally choose something, deciding first to have lemonade.

“The booth is a lemon,” you giggle as you wait on the line. “It’s so cute!”

“Wait ‘til you get a taste darlin’.”

You take a moment to peruse the menu, and your mouth waters with anticipation as you read the enticing choices. Classic lemonade, freshly squeezed and tangy, is available for those seeking a traditional experience. But there's also a selection of tempting twists on the classic, such as strawberry lemonade.

Taking Joel’s advice you go for a classic lemonade, your eyes widening when the vendor hands you a cup so large you can barely close your fingers around it.

Joel takes it from you, the cup looking like a regular size in his large hands.

“Here,” he says, holding the straw up to your lips.

The cool, tangy sweetness dances on your taste buds, instantly refreshing and invigorating. The combination of tart lemons, the subtle hint of sweetness, and the chill of the ice soothes your senses on this warm day, making you feel rejuvenated.

“It’s sooooo good. Oh my god.”

You take a second long sip before he does the same.

“Shit,” he agrees with a chuckle. “I’m almost forgot how good this is.”

You reach for another drink but he swipes the cup away and instead plants his lips on yours.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Sorry darlin’…just need some extra sugar.”

He adjusts his hat and winks.

“Where are we going now?”

You’re back in Joel’s pick-up, resting against his shoulder, your stomach full and your feet tired.

“It’s a surprise.”

He pulls off the road and into a small clearing, stopping the truck at the edge of a cliff.

Before he opens his door he holds up his finger, signaling for you to wait, and jumps out, running around the truck to help you.

“We’re so high up!” you say, peering near the edge. “It’s so beautiful!”

The cliff offers a panoramic view, stretching far and wide. Below, the vast expanse of the earth unfolds, revealing a tapestry of rolling hills, meandering rivers and lush greenery.

While you’re admiring the view he lowers the tailgate and sets down a blanket in the truck bed.

“Come ‘ere darlin’,” he says, placing his hands on your hips to help you hop up.

Once you’re comfortable and resting in his arms he threads his fingers through yours, idly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

The sun, now hovering low on the horizon, casts long, dramatic shadows that dance across the landscape. The golden light bathes everything in a soft glow and the distant mountains are silhouetted against the radiant sky.

You stare out at the breathtaking scenery, but every time your eyes slide to Joel he’s looking at you.

Slowly he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before releasing them and curling his arm around your waist to tuck you against his chest.

You push his hat off his head and run your hand through his hair then dance your fingers across his jaw and over his beard.

He closes his eyes and hums, leaning into your touch. His hand moves from your waist and he slips it under your top, rubbing softly and slowly, making the heat in your body build.

Your hand drops to the collar of his shirt then slides inside the open buttons, his skin warm and smooth. You move lower, popping open the next button, then lower to the next, revealing more of his skin.

“Darlin’” he murmurs, his lips pressing to your neck, lightly nibbling until they meet the shell of your ear.

With a shiver you hook your thigh over his, the thick muscle settling between your legs and creating the perfect friction as you shift against him.

He reaches forward with his thumb and sweeps it across your lips, leaning in to kiss you. At first it’s tender and soft but when his name falls from your lips, desperation in every syllable, he rolls over and covers your body with his, deepening the kiss until you’re a panting mess beneath him.

When he pulls away for air he rests his forehead to yours and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fuck woman,” he groans as he pushes himself up and slides out of the back.

He extends his hand toward you. “Get in the truck. I’m taking you home.”

You crawl closer and grab the front of his shirt, dragging him back to you and chasing his lips.

“Nope. I can’t wait.”

“Darlin’,” he says softly, but it’s gritty with restraint. “I’m taking you home to bed like a proper fucking gentleman.”

Your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck so you can bring his mouth back to yours.

“Right now, I don’t want a proper gentleman,” you whisper along his lips. “I want you, Cowboy, fucking me in the bed of your truck, under the sunset.”

You slip from his grasp and lie back on the blanket invitingly. He sucks in a curse and stares, taking you in, the golden setting sunlight catching like little sparks across your skin, lighting you up like an angel.

With purposeful movements he charges back into the bed of the truck.

“You’re gonna miss one hell of spectacular sunset darlin’,” he simpers as he settles over you. “But I promise I’ll make up for it.”

@sstan-hoe @laineyreads @justkinsey @beccablogsthings @pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren​

[myseungsunglove]

44,640 Minutes | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x reader

Warnings: fluff, mild cursing

Word Count: 720

Synopsis: the reader is missing her boyfriend while he is away on tour.

This is my first Drabble in years and years. I used to write regularly many years ago, so if this really sucks ass, I’m sorry. I’m so rusty!

Feedback Appreciated!

「© June 28, 2023 by myseungsunglove」

It had been a month since you last saw Kim Seungmin’s face live and in person. 31 days of absolute torture. 44,640 minutes without feeling his hand in yours. 2,678,400 seconds since his lips last brushed against yours.

You were losing your ever loving mind. The fact that you were keeping track of how long it had been since you had last been with Seungmin, down to the second, was proof enough that you were without a doubt head over heels in love with that little menace.

You stepped out of the Uber, buzzing with excitement. The LA sun was bright, the chill of the air reminded you that summer was still a long way off. You pulled your jacket closer around you as you walked toward the concert venue, still shocked you just got on a plane and flew half way across the world for a boy. Missing him made you do crazy things, but this one was an all time record.

The boys’ manager met you at the door with a warm smile. In your haste to leave Seoul two days ago, you had at least had the forethought to let someone know about your plans. Telling Seungmin a convincing lie about why you couldn’t FaceTime two nights in a row was much harder, but you managed.

It wasn’t long before you were surrounded by the usual crews. Occasionally people waved greetings and smiled warmly as you passed by. You could feel the butterflies flitting in your stomach the more steps you took. A month had been far too long without your boyfriend, and you couldn’t wait to have his arms around you.

The manager stepped through the door into a room where the boys were holding a pre-rehearsal rehearsal. A time that was much more relaxed than the actual rehearsal before the show. You followed, taking a deep breath as you did so.

“Look what I found roaming around outside,” he joked, stepping aside to reveal you to the group.

“Y/N!” a few of the boys rang out, but not your boyfriend. His back had been turned in deep discussion over a specific dance move with Minho.

“Shut up, guys. Not funny. You know I’m missing her like crazy. Don’t gotta rub it in on concert day,” he whined turning around to face the group. As he did so, he came face to face with you, a stupid grin plastered on your face, the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes from the overwhelming happiness you felt.

“I really missed you too, Seungie,” you chuckled, looking up into his beautiful deep brown eyes.

His face scrunched up, confused for half a second before his brain caught up with what was going on.

“Shit,” he breathed out, as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him, his face quickly nestled against your neck. “A month is too damn long,” he mumbled, his breath warm against your cold skin.

Your hand held the back of his head, fingers gently running through his soft brown hair, as you reluctantly pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. You were barely able to do so before Seungmin’s pink, plush lips met yours in a slow, meaningful kiss. You pressed him closer to you and deepened the kiss, desperate to be closer to him.

“I agree,” you breathed out against his lips. “Let’s not do that again,” you added as your fingers combed through his hair once more. “I don’t have to be in my studio to get work done. I’m on hiatus anyway. I can record just about anywhere. You aren’t there. So, neither am I.”

His smile brightened, stretching all the way to his eyes. “So you’ll join us?” he asked, and you could hear the desperate hope in his voice.

“Can’t get rid of me now,” you joked, pressing your lips to his again.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled against your lips. What you didn’t know was that the 31 days away from Kim Seungmin had drove him to buy a ring just last night while missing you because he wanted to make sure you didn’t have to spend 31 days apart again. That ring was currently in his hotel room, hidden away in a safe.

44,640 minutes made people to some desperate things when they missed someone, but you’d both soon realize that these two decisions were the best decision either of you had ever made.

Tags from interest in original announcement I won’t continue to tag you unless you want: @starlostseungmin @backintomykpopphaseagain @jho-1

[nevernonline]

✽ maybe this means something? ✽ | csc.

CHAPTER 00 - Introduction.

Choi Seungcheol used to be the bane of your existence, but through a year of seasonal rotations, something felt different. It has to be overwhelming realizing you could fall for the person you always thought you hated.

𐦍 paring: seungcheol x reader. (svt members mentioned)

𐦍 genre: frenemies (sort of), romance, a little angst, fluff.

𐦍 content: non-idol characters, food/drink, cursing, slightly- suggestive, pet names, fem! reader. bff! hao.

𐦍 word count: 1.4k

♥ notes: every time I listen to Means something by Lizzy McAlpine it makes me think of cheol so I wanted to write a little something with it as inspo, but pls ignore any typos or weird phrasing I'm super rusty when it comes to writing long fics. pls enjoy and give feedback. xo.

Intro - Fall - Winter - Spring - Summer

Intro:

Walking down a narrow alleyway trying to find the brown arched doorway in the photo from your friend's text, you suddenly felt a chill running up and down your back, was someone following behind you? If they were, was it smart for you to turn around and look or keep your head held high and continue to your front? 

Against your better judgment you continued down the moonlit coated pathway. Suddenly a firm grasp came up to your shoulder as you screamed only to be met with the smirking face and raven colored hair of your worst nightmare, no, not a murderer but worse, Choi Seungcheol. 

For all you made out of his features in the small amount of light you did have, that smirk plastered on his face could only be changed by your hand coming in contact harshly with his cheek. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you spat in his direction, his hand still resting on the jacket that covered your bare shoulders underneath.  

Seungcheol, now stone cold as you’ve known him to be,, just shook his head and removed his hand only now to be pointing two doors down from where you had walked. “You missed the entrance.” 

You just squinted back in his direction and without a word pushed passed his broad shoulders to the door you had missed. When you finally reached the warmth of bodies grazing passed you in both directions the sound of the music made the fast paced beating of your chest seem calm. 

“Minghao!” you yelled finally spotting the reason you’re not in bed  watching your favorite movie. 

“I didn’t think you’d make it!” he smiled hugging you so tight your ribs felt like they could crack. 

It was a celebration for him after all, you’ve known him forever so you could miss a big moment like this. He was throwing a party for all of his closest friends to cheer the opening of his art gallery, most of them being featured artists he discovered somewhat like what you thought you’d be doing, but maybe in another life. 

Your right arm still draped around his waist as your left outstretched to him grabbing the one thing you really needed, alcohol. Taking a sip and letting it run down the back of your throat felt like a reward. 

“You know I could never turn down a chance to celebrate you, this is really amazing, Hao. I can –” a familiar voice interrupted yours offering another congrats to the friend on your side, of course it was his. 

Seungcheol looked at the closeness of you and Minghao and felt a rush to his cheeks, “Hi, sorry to interrupt you both, but I figured if I didn’t stop her now I could never get a word in.” 

Your mutual friend just laughed at the two of you. He's always been in the middle of the bubbling tension, “Cheol, thank you. Really you’re like 75% of this. You designed the entire layout; it wouldn't have been the same without you.” 

Hao’s hand left its comfortable position around you to now be wrapped around the shoulders you rudely brushed passed earlier. 

“Wait, you designed this?” your now hands gesturing to the architecture of Minghao’s gallery interior. 

Seungcheol looked confused as to why you were even entertaining a conversation between the two of you. He chose to let it go due to the night being special,, “Uhm, yep. I took over for my dad, he owns a lot of the historic buildings in this neighborhood so whoever owns the retail space has to come through our architecture firm for consultation.” 

Your eyes opened wide, almost not believing the words coming out of his mouth, pure shock was really all you had in you. “Oh, cool.” Was that all you could say? Cool? 

“I guess, it’s not really what I wanted to do forever, but designing for Hao was something I couldn’t say no to and my dad never would’ve let me if I didn’t stay to take over for him, but yeah it's cool.” His smile seemed forced now and for some reason you felt the need to get to the bottom of that. 

Something about him changed from the time you saw him teasing you outside, something like the air during this season. On the outside it was cold, but the inside was warm and comfortable. You’d have to find shelter first to find the beauty of the outside.

A groan from Hao took your now staring eyes off of the cherry lipped boy to focus back onto him. “I’m sorry I have to go say hello to some people, but if you guys want to sit and wait for me I’ll be back in like ten minutes tops, grab a drink and go into the lounge.” His eyes never left yours searching for the fear of being alone with someone you loathed, but he couldn’t find it so he felt safe to leave you. 

As you waited with him in line you pretended to look around the room more, but really you just wanted to size him up. He had an outfit on that brought out his now masculine shape, which as a departure from the slim boy you met years before. His eyes seemed softer, like he had calmed down from the teasing and prodding. You couldn't put your finger on it, but maybe he was always this beautiful but you were too blinded by the rage inside your gut to notice.

“Hi guys, what can I get for you?” The overly perky bartender spoke loudly knocking you out of your trance.

“Tequila Soda.” Seungcheol and you spoke in unison. 

A small smile curved onto your normally downturned mouth, “Good choice.” 

“Mmm, you too, thought you had no taste?” He teased and grabbed the two drinks gesturing over to the sherpa lined loveseat near the fireplace. 

“I’m surprised you ever thought anything about me other than I was a bitch.” You scoffed now placing your jacket over your stocking covered legs. 

He just laughed and placed the two drinks down in front of him, “Well, to be honest I think this is the most I’ve ever spoken to you without one of us getting upset.” 

“Yeah, I would say sorry for that, but I’m too sober to have that conversation with you.” You lifted the rim of your glass to your lips taking a sip. “Can I ask you something actually?” 

Seungcheol just nodded in your direction while adjusting his frame towards you further, “Sure, go ahead.” 

“Did it at least hurt when I slapped you earlier? Cause if it didn’t I caused my hand pain for no reason.” 

“Yeah, it really did.” He just smiled. 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

Leaving the party after your first civil conversation with the same guy you hated since you met him five years ago had you on a weird high, but it was probably just the tequila right? 

You would have never imagined from that first day in college when Minghao introduced you to a friend of his that you’d ever get along with him. You always just viewed him as Choi Seungcheol, enemy number one. A womanizer, a rich brat who got everything in his life handed to him, someone that you’d never get along with and not because you didn’t try. 

Seungcheol teased you, he made you feel small. Told you basically for years that Minghao only had been keeping you around because you were his charity case, but not in so many words.

You had felt a deep loathing for him forever, so why is it changing? 

Passing down as leaves  crunched beneath your feet you notice something, a street sign, a mundane object that’s never stuck out to you before it read ‘Coups Avenue.’ 

His nickname was on a sign just a few blocks down from your apartment, a street you’ve probably seen many times and never paid any attention to, so why was it special now? 

Your pace picked up as the wind blew colder, you had to get to the bottom of it.

Finally reaching the end of your elevator ride into your apartment, your laptop was out before you could even change out of your clothes or wash off your makeup you started researching the small hub that was your neighborhood. 

“Coups Avenue, what could that even mean?” your head couldn’t wrap around the fact it was the first time you noticed it. 

“ Coups Avenue is a small lux dead end street, featuring boutique liquor stores, luxury apartment complexes, and coveted neighborhood restaurants, most famously Choi Bistro founded in 1995 after the birth of the Choi family's son.” You read aloud to your dog as she's cuddled to your side on the couch. 

“So… I saw his name on a street sign, literally named for him after he was born.” You rolled your eyes and laid your head back to stare at the ceiling. "

It had to mean something, right?

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Getting Clean (and Dirty)

Content: (mild) smut, handjob (male receiving), gn reader

Minors DNI

____

There were several ways of keeping oneself clean at Crystal Lake. The most obvious one was just bathing in the lake itself. Then there were the showers and bathtubs in the cabins, but those had only had cold water, if any at all, for years. Or one could heat up a big pot of water over a fire and use a bowl to pour it over oneself, if using hot water was necessary.

Today was a blazing hot summer day, and a recent group on uninvited visitors had recently met their unfortunate end, so there were probably a few corpses swimming around in the lake at the moment, which is why you decided to take a chance with one of the old, rusty showers.

The icy water felt even colder when compared to the burning heat of the sorrounding air, so you took a deep, sharp breath when it began raining down on you.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to rub any dirt and grease out without making too much of a mess of it.

You took a look around and found, to your delight, that one of the most recent victims had left their shampoo and shower gel behind. Thinking to yourself that adequate hair care was probably the last thing on that person's mind, now that they were dead, you snatched the bottle and, with a satisfied hum, began soaping yourself up, mindful not to use too much. Such a little treasure was a rare treat for your lifestyle, so you wanted to be able to enjoy it for as long as possible.

Your thoughts briefly wandered to Jason, who was back at the little shack the two of you actually lived at, and you sighed to yourself. It would be nice if he would join you for a shower. You understood why he wouldn't; he had a lot of issues around nudity, and the thought of anything sexual maybe happening probably horrified him, not to mention his phobia of water that seemed to come and go as at random. Such was life with him, and you had long accepted that your relationship with him would be celibate. Being with Jason, you had decided back then, would be worth it, sex or no sex.

While you were busy rinsing out your hair, the sliding glass door of the shower cabin quietly opened and closed. You were so occupied that you only noticed your visitor when you turned off the water, motioned to leave the shower and found yourself staring at a very naked, very very well-built man. You looked up and found a pair of brown eyes returning your gaze.

"Jason?", You mouthed silently. Then you looked downward, following a reddish-brown happy trail down to…

Oh wow.

Before you could say anything, he gripped your shoulders, his eyes sweeping over your body, needy and lustful, but still carefully attentive to your reaction. If you showed any kind of fear, or disgust, or even just apprehension… he would let go immediately, you knew that. He had decided to go this step, but only if you would decide to go it with him.

You licked your lips and reached up to cup his face. "Are you sure you want this?", You whisper hoarsely. Your hands wandered from his face to his shoulders, down to his chest, dragging your fingers in little circles wherever you felt any tension. This was the first time you could feel him like this, with no clothes in the way, and you wanted to savor it. Lavish him with all the love and attention he deserved.

He sighed contently and, in turn, his huge hands wandered from your shoulders to your upper warms, then your sides. Rough, calloused fingers slid over your still soapy skin, mimiking your movements.

"Can… can I kiss you?", You asked.

He had to bend down slightly so you could reach his mouth, but once your lips met, he pulled you closer, so your naked body was pressed tightly against his. You continued caressing him while you kissed, his shoulders, back, sides, until your hands cupped his tight behind, causing Jason to let out a soft gasp against your mouth.

"Too much?"

He shook his head and returned the favor, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze.

With you so close to him, you could clearly feel the effect your touch had on him. He was already at half-mast, just from a bit of petting, and pressed against you like this, he felt even bigger than he had looked. You let your lips wander from his mouth to his jaw, his neck, then down to his shoulders, and chest, peppering soft kisses all over his flushed skin as you went along.

He groaned and began grinding against you, desperate and overwhelmed by his arousal. He was fully hard now.

You muttered his name once more, and, carefully watching his reaction, let one hand wander to his twitching erection. You moved slowly at first, until he began thrusting into your fist. You started to match his rhythm, and began lavishing his face and torso with more loving kisses.

"You're doing great, love", you told him breathlessly. And dear god, he was looking great, too. His mouth slightly open, his face and chest flushed, his muscles flexing under his skin…

The combined stimulation of your hand around his cock and your lips on his upper body soon pushed him over the edge. He grabbed you, so tight it was almost painful, and with one final jerk of your hand, he came. Hot cum spilled over your fingers and slowly dripped onto the wet floor of the shower.

Jason looked down at you with glazed-over eyes and fluttering eyelids, all of the tension leaving his body with his release. He leaned against the wall of the shower cabin to keep himself upright, and you wrapped your arms around him in a tender embrace. "You did so well, Jason. I'm proud of you."

You were kind of disappointed that you hadn't gotten some action yourself, but what counted right now was that Jason was comfortable with everything. Maybe next time, or whenever Jason felt secure enough to do more. You could wait, no matter how long it would take.

[soufcakmistress]

In the Heat of the Night

A/N: Babies what is good!!!! I am so rusty but I’m so happy that I got this out for yall. Yall know I love me some Jonathan Majors, but I don’t write for real life folks. That’s just MY preference, no shade to those who do. Please comment and like and reblog to let me know how yall feel. Let’s get into it!

The south side felt different duting the summer. Kids were out of school, frolicking in the streets and turning on the fire hydrants. The ice cream man made several stops throughout the neighborhood, the old heads played their card games and dominoes until the wee hours of the morning, and the bars stayed packed with ladies and gents to take a load off. Summertime Chi felt larger than life.

Delphine Freeman sat up in her bed and stretched her arms to the sky. Looking behind her, she saw an empty bed with nothing but a small note on her husband’s pillow. “Picking up some things for breakfast. Be back soon, my love.” She picked it up and held it to her heart. That man of hers.

Delphine remembers the first time she encountered Atticus. Her family had just moved from Virginia, and she was totally new to the Midwest. At first, it was hard making friends at a new high school in a new place. Her accent and bumpkin ways attracted the wrong kind of attention among these city folks, so she kept to herself. Until one day when Atticus was helping his club attract new members, and he passed a flyer to her in the hallway. “You should come. Who knows, you might find a friend here.” He had her, hook line and sinker with his gentle way and sweet smile.

Atticus looked like 6 days of beautiful creation from God above AND the seventh day of rest to her - she missed seeing his face this morning. Delphine laid back against the pillow that smelled like him and reminisced on their roller coaster ride of a relationship. Fighting entitled white people over magic and who it really belonged to and his birthright, his trauma from Korea and monsters straight out of a pulp book— nobody with sense would ever believe it. The storm was over now, and her and Tic lived in peace, as well as holy matrimony.

The memory of her betrothed looking so debonair in his suit on their wedding day made her heart palpitate. Her legs squeezed together, recalling those shoulders filling out that blazer and kissing those lips as they said ‘I do’. She especially loved the surprise on his face when the ceremony was over and she slipped her hand in his pants right outside their wedding suite and him allowing her to take what was hers. “Oooh, I love that man.”

She was feeling frisky now. The window was cracked with a moderate breeze flowing into the room but Delphine’s heat couldnt be contained. Flashes of him saving his entire family from catastrophe, him shirtless and bespectacled reading aloud one of his favorite pulp books while he laid in her lap, the look of adoration and love when they bought their home on the South Shore. Tic was all man….and all hers.

Sweat dripped between her large breasts, her coochie ached in the best way and she couldn’t take it anymore. Delphine took Tic’s pillow and put it in between her legs. The reflection of her in the vanity bureau with her slinky nightgown raised up on her hips made her feel like she was a bit unhinged. If she didn’t cum now, she would lose it. So she rode that pillow like its name was Atticus Freeman and he was the only thing that could satiate her.

Her clit hit the seam of the pillow so precisely, it almost took her over before she was ready. “Shit, shit….oooh Tic baby…damn..” She pushed the straps down from her nightgown to expose her breasts and she really got to moving.

The key in the front door lock clicked with Tic lumbering in with a couple brown paper bags of breakfast stuff. He went to the kitchen to put everything away, but could have sworn that he heard something from the shared master bedroom. He got the baseball bat they kept in the coat closet and inched toward the room. Tic pushed the door in slightly and what he was met with could have knocked him on his back.

His sexy ass wife rubbing her pussy in figure 8’s on his pillow. Tic made sure to be quiet putting the bat along the wall, and rubbing his crotch slowly to take Delphine in. He knew when she showed signs of her incoming orgasm— shaking her head back and forth, fingers tangled in her hair, stomach fluttering…..she was almost there. When she finally shouted in delight, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of a zipper coming down and broke her out of her trance. Delphine gasped when she saw her fine ass husband staring with bedroom eyes and pouty lips that made her wanna howl to the moon. “Looking for this?” He pulled his dick out of his pants and a deluge of fresh slick coated the meeting place between her legs.

Delphine almost started up again on the pillow but when the object of her deepest affections was just as hungry for her, it would be criminal to not take advantage. “Damn straight. Bring yo ass over here, four eyes.”

~

BB King played on the kitchen radio, and the lovely couple made breakfast together. Tic already put on a hot pot of coffee, and he sipped on a mug as he fried up some bacon. Delphine stood next to him in one of his shirts and panties, making her famous blueberry pancakes. Both hummed along and caught cute ass glances at each other, floating on their sensual high. It felt so good. Not having to worry about what the next day held and being allowed to just live.

The phone rang while Tic started cracking eggs, and he wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Freeman Residence. Lester, my man! What’s shaking? Nothing much brother, just me and the Mrs. making some breakfast. She’s doing VERY well, I’ll let her know you asked about her.” Delphine turned around with feigned shock when he said that, knowing his subtext and that he blew her back out for the ages just twenty minutes ago. She walked over with a huge smile and popped a blueberry in his mouth and kissed his lips.

He pinched her butt when she went back to the stove and finished chatting it up with Lester. “Sunday? We’ll be there brother. See ya then.” Tic looked at the calendar on the wall next to the phone, to see if there was any extra obligations needed for the guidebook and his aunt Hippolyta. He also did some math and tried to remember his wife’s last cycle. “That’s why she’s so frisky…”

~

Lester had a block party over where he stayed in Bronzeville, and it was jumping! All kinds of rhythm and blues and guitar singers filled the south side with a plethora of food to choose from. Little girls playing jacks and double Dutch, little boys doing bike races, the teenagers making googly eyes at each others and the elders trading recipes for lemonade and greens. Everybody would pitch in and bring something for the community to enjoy. Delphine took all of Friday to make 5 sweet potato pies from scratch and Tic grilled so many slabs of ribs, it was insane. Irene, Lester’s wife was tight with Delphine; her and the other young women gossiped while sipping beers on their stoop.

“Uh oh, ‘Phine. Tic is over there getting rowdy at that card table.” Irene loved to tease—he was putting them back and with each hand he won, the louder his voice carried. “Oh hell. Lemme go feed my baby.”

Delphine made Tic’s plate with everything he loves — ribs, chicken, potato salad, cornbread, sausage dog with relish and an ice cold Budweiser. “Hey baby, you been doing a whole lot of drinkin but not a lot of eating. Come on now.” Tic acquiesced and moved with her away from all the men. She sat on his lap at an empty table and fed him some of the food before he took over, and started feeding her too.

Tic’s skin was all tan and his arms and pecs were bulging in his shirt. He didn’t even have to try to get her riled up. Delphine rubbed his back, and absentmindedly played with his ear. “All right now. You know that’s my spot.” They both had their fair share of alcohol that evening, and Delphine usually would have to beat Tic off with a stick. The shoe was on the other foot now. “Tic……I don’t have any panties on..”

He almost choked on his beer when his minx of a wife started talking so salacious like in his ear. “I like this Delphine. She takes what she wants. What you trying to do? Only if you say it, will you be able to get what you want.” Delphine’s skin pimpled because he meant every word. All the ruckus and commotion around them meant nothing in that instance. Just her and her husband. “I want you to take me in that alley…..and do whatever you want to me..”

That sinful jawline clenched, and she knew he would do just that. Wasn’t any more talking. He drained his beer, and dragged her down a few streets to a secluded alley. Delphine stood at the brick wall, flushed with the strap of her linen dress down her arm. Tic cradled her face and they kissed each other so deeply that they breathed for each other. She undid his pants letting them fall to his knees, and he picked her up.

Delphine was so wet, the slick was almost to the inside of her knees. Tic’s thrust was so strong, they both gasped aloud. “Yes Tic, fuck me hard!” His face lived in the crevice of her neck, licking and kissing. Just like every muscle on his sculpted body, Tic was rock hard and filled her up so deliciously. The same BB king song from the other morning played and they were able to hear it still. Everything swirled around the both of them and yet nothing at all mattered. His low grunts were so sexy and she could tell he was about to cum.

“Oooh I love this pussy baby, I love this pussy….I fuckin love you!” Atticus filled his wife up all the way that it spilled down her legs and the heat of it all triggered her to orgasm. She pulled him in even more and he expelled more of his love inside her. Tic brought her down to her feet, and she stumbled immediately. Tic steadied her and stuck his tongue down her throat yet again. “Atticus Freeman….the man of my dreams..”

~

The guidebook was doing so well.

Atticus and Hippolyta had been able to come to an agreement on operations; Atticus would be able to make final edits and handle submissions to the publisher and Hippolyta would be able to do most of the trips to update the stops. She acquiesced to Tic’s request that he would join her to assuage his nerves if she went more than 3 states away.

The book was flying off the shelves and Hippolyta had been able to meet some publishers in Kansas City and Detroit to put in some local Negro owned shops and apothecaries. It was the second Saturday in August, and the entire South Side would be at Washington Park for the Bud Billiken parade and festival. Delphine and Tic packed up their station wagon with fold up chairs, a cooler full of beer and pop, and more food to last a winter. Dee was finally feeling better and she rode with you guys to the Bud as she was Delphine’s favorite little cousin.

Everybody was rocking and rolling to the marching bands and majorettes. Delphine and Dee looked at all the floats and picked their favorite one. “Oooh Dee, you see the grand marshal? That’s a good lookin man!” She made sure to say it in earshot of Atticus; she loved him a bit jealous and possessive. He cut his eyes at her, smirking behind his beer. “All right now, don’t get in trouble.”

“Baby, there is nothing more that I would love to do than be punished by you.” Delphine stuck her tongue down her husband’s mouth, and Dee gagged at the public display of affection. “Y’all are so gross I swear!”

The grand marshal announced who had the best float and the best marching band in Chicago, and the party went on until late in the night. “Come on, dancing queens, let’s get y’all home.” Atticus loaded the car up and Delphine and Dee fell asleep in the backseat holding each other. Atticus looked in the rear view full of gratitude and unbridled joy at his two girls. He stopped at Hippolyta’s house and carried Dee inside.

Delphine moved to the front seat after and waited for her husband to drive them home. The angles of his face illuminated by the streetlights made him even more handsome in the low light. She couldn’t help but to stare. That same feeling from that other morning came back with a fierceness. He felt her eyes on him and winked at her. “You looking like you still hungry for something…..”

“That mouth on my body…that’s what I need.” Delphine sat with her back to the door and lifted her dress, pulled her panties off, and put them in his lap. Tic took them and sniffed them and was instantly engorged. That station wagon moved a little quicker then.

Fireworks were being shot near the lake and Tic and Delphine had a clear view from their balcony. “Ooooh let’s see baby! Her ass clapped in her dress and Tic had to grip his meat walking after her. “Lemme make sure the shoggoth is okay first. Keep it tight for me baby.”Tic went to the basement and fed the shoggoth and calmed him down since they were gone all day. He had it down to a science now. Feed him a racist white man a day, and he would cooperate.

Delphine was out on the balcony totally enthralled. She jumped like a little kid when several popped at once, entrancing her with the bright colors. Standing at the window, he just gazed upon her. How did he get so lucky? Tic joined her on the balcony, wrapping those muscles around her waist. All the kisses behind her ear made her giggle just like how he intended. While she was off guard, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and lifted her dress in one motion. “Now what you doing back th—OH!”

He slipped right into her pussy with the most earth shattering intrusion Delphine could ever experience. “Shhhh shhh. We have to be quiet. Now Mrs. Freeman…..I think I know what’s gotten into you cuz I did the math. It’s that other time of the month, ain’t it?”

A breathy yes fell from her lips and it clicked for her. She was always incredibly horny and with shiny hair and skin at this particular point of the month. “You tryna have my baby?” Tic whispered in her ear, and pinched her nipple as his hips stroked back and forth. “Delphine, are you tryna make me a father?”

She loved when he got rough with her, especially when they were at risk of being seen in the act. “Yes, Atticus give me your baby.” His hands gripped hers on the railing and he let her have it. Delphine had already came twice but Tic was always generous; he wanted his wife to be satisfied. “Here it come..” Atticus held her right to his chest and gave her devastating thrusts and came deep inside her. Her head rolled back on his shoulder and they stood together still united as one as the fireworks show gave the finale. “I love you so much” they both said in unison and gazed at the sky.

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[1nervegas1]

Canon Book Patrick things!

Currently reading the book and decided to post my findings/things I've noted on this character!

Content warnings for animal death, child death and mentions of harrasment under the cut, Patrick Hockstetter is his own warning

-Patrick was the son of a devout catholic and a paints salesman, and had grown up in a religious household

-His IQ tested as low normal and he'd repeated 2 grades (1st and 3rd) and was taking summer classes so that didn't happen again

-He was very apethetic student and the teachers wrote hardly anything on him on his school reports.

- He'd leave test sheets blank or would just put a large question mark on them

- Was VERY quiet in class so he was pretty much allowed to fail because he was easier to ignore while teachers would focus more on students like Vic and Henry that would often disrupt class and deface school property

-He wasn't stupid at all. Infact, he was very smart, he just didn't bother with school.

-Didn't see any other creature, human or animal, as real. Believed himself to be an actual creature despite that

-Had no real sense of hurting, no real sense of being hurt

-Reality was meaningless to him

-despite life not meaning too much to him, he was very aware of rules. Life had rules and he knew to follow them.. Or atleast try to avoid being caught

-Had to be seated away from the female students in his class. Teachers tried to avoid any contact with him and female students.

-Patrick would draw a picture for his mother every time he'd go to school but he'd only use black and brown crayons

-Fan of arts and crafts, made his own duct tape wallet, it wasn't very well done, the stitching was coming undone and the note pocket flapped around

-Patrick hadn't liked it when his mother had brought Avery home, he tried to tell himself that he didn't care as long as it didn't disrupt his schedule

-Of course, Avery had done that and all the attention had been turned to him, meals turned up late, Patrick was woken up by the crying

-If Patrick was "real" He thought Avery also could be "real" too, he didn't like the thought of that.

-He was frightened that he was being replaced, and when Avery was big enough to do what Patrick would usually do (get his father the paper, hand his mother the bowls when she was baking bread,) his parents would get rid of Patrick all together.

- what he cared about the most was (1) the rules, they'd been broken or changed ever since Avery had come home, (2) Averys possible reality and (3) He could be thrown out and replaced

-Patrick killed Avery as soon as he'd gotten home from school, he felt more alive than ever once he'd got rid of him

-The doctor that pronounced Avery dead thought Patrick was under shock, so he gave him a pill to take

- He wasn't phased at all, wasn't bothered, felt no guilt and after that he'd done nothing like that again but he could if the chance presented itself. Though as he grew up he would become more aware of the rules and that nasty things happened to people that didn't follow them

- He knew the rules but he liked the excitement he felt when he'd killed his brother and he wanted to feel it again

-first he killed flies, with a swatter and then those sticky flytraps you can get for hardly anything at the shop, he'd watch them for hours in the garage dying. Then he figured how much more efficient a ruler was, so he'd kill them throughout the school day, putting their dead bodies in a pencil box

-He'd kill beetles with pins from his mother's pin cushion, he'd catch them impale them and watch them die slowly

-it moved on to animals when he'd stumbled across a hurt cat one day, it was dying in the gutter. He pushed it around with his foot and was soon shood off by an old woman that had seen what he'd been doing.

-He soon found an old rusty amana fridge, he'd heard about how kids could get stuck in there.

-soon animals started going missing around town and he was to blame.

-He almost had a ritual when dealing with the fridge, he'd sway a little, hum a tune.

-The fridge had a hold over him and he'd somewhat fixate on the thing, he'd draw it at school, he'd dream about it at night

-He got very worried when Henry had told him that he'd tell on him and his beloved fridge (decided he would tattle on Henry for breaking Eddie's arm if Henry did say anything) and decided to go clean it out of his latest victim, a pigeon. When he did however he was attacked by "leeches"

-Pennywise found it hard to find what form to take because Patrick was nutoriously hard to scare.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Insinuation 2.7 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

I really need to plow through these faster. I'll be at this all summer and more at this rate.

 I felt a touch guilty, for acting under false pretenses.   I also felt pleased with myself, in an irrational way.

What false pretenses? :P Taylor, why you always lyin' to yourself? :P

That regret quickly turned to a pang of anxiety.  What would they think when they saw the real me?  Brian and Alec were good looking guys, in very different ways.  Lisa was, on the sliding scale between plain and pretty, more pretty than not.  My own scale of attractiveness, by contrast, put me somewhere on a scale that ranged from ‘nerd’ to ‘plain’.  My opinion of where I fit on that scale changed depending on the mood I was in when I was looking in the mirror.  They were cool, confident, assured people.  I was… me.

A year and a half of some of the most intense bullying will fuck you up.

I stopped myself before I could get worked up.  I wasn’t regular old Taylor, here.  In the here and now, I was the girl who had put Lung in the hospital, accidental as it was.  I was the girl who was going undercover to try and get the details on a particularly persistent gang of supervillains.  I was, until I came up with a better name to go by, Bug, the girl the Undersiders wanted on their team.

Ayyyyyy! There's that brain Taylor! :high fives her:

 I rationalized it by telling myself that I was already in this wholesale.  Being truthful about that one thing might well save my hide if any of them decided to do some digging on me, or if I ran into someone I knew while in their company. 

This isn't even a bad rationalization, like some of your others. Just sound logic.

 Lisa, though, put one of her arms around my shoulders and gave me a one-armed squeeze of a hug.  She was a little older than I was, so she was just tall enough to be at the perfect height to do it.  What caught me off guard was how nice the gesture felt.  Like I had been needing a hug from someone who wasn’t my dad for a long time.

Oh god you poor touch starved girl. We need to get you some emergency kittens, STAT! Maybe an overexcited puppy or two.

Or just Kara Danvers. She's huggy enough to cure even the worst touch-starvedness

It wasn’t an area that had been kept up, and kind of gave off an impression of a ghost town, or what a city might look like if war or disaster forced people to abandon it for a few years.  Grass and weeds grew between slats in the sidewalk, the road had potholes you could hide a cat in, and the buildings were all faded, consisting of peeling paint, cracked mortar and rusty metal.  The desaturated colors of the buildings were contrasted by splashes of vividly colored graffiti.  As we passed what had once been a main road for the trucks traveling between the warehouses and the docks, I saw a row of power lines without wires stretching between them.  At one point weeds had crawled most of the way up the poles, only to wither and die at some point.  Now each of the poles had a mess of dead brown plants hanging off of them.

Ah yes. The deadsville. Every fictional Urban Dystopia has one. :rofl:

Our destination was a red brick factory with a massive sliding metal door locked shut by a coil of chain.  Both the chain and door had rusted so much that I expected that neither offered any use.  The size of the door and the broadness of the driveway made me think that large trucks or small boats would have been backed up through the entryway back in the factory’s heyday.  The building itself was large, stretching nearly half the block, two or three stories tall.  The background of the sign at the top of the building had faded from red to a pale orange-pink, but I could make out the bold white letters that read ‘Redmond Welding’.

The convenient abandoned warehouse/factory.

Someone should set up an evil lair in an abandoned coffee shop. Just for a change of fictional pace.

I supposed they might have a TiVo, though I’d never seen one.

For some reason, some name-brands just feel... weird to see name-checked in fiction. TiVo is one of them.

“I’m jealous,” I admitted, meaning it. “Dork,” Alec said, “What are you jealous for?” “I meant it’s cool,” I protested, a touch defensively. Lisa spoke before Alec could reply, “I think what Alec means is that this is your place now too.  This is the team’s space, and you’re a member of the team, now.”

Cut her some slack Alec. She's still getting used to the idea of belonging/being wanted/welcome anywhere.

Also, like, I imagine Lisa doing that has *got* to get infuriating sometimes.

“Last time he went up against Shadow Stalker, he came back here and bled all over a white couch,” Lisa groused, “nine hundred dollar couch and we had to replace it.”

You shouldn't have gotten a white couch then :P

I blinked a few times, then hedged, “For other local capes?  I’ve done research online, read the cape magazines religiously for a few years, more since getting my powers… but I dunno.  If the past twenty four hours have taught me anything, it’s that there’s a lot I don’t know, and will only find out the hard way.”

Information is the greatest weapon in the Wormverse, that's for sure.

I stared at her, a good part of me horrified that I’d gotten into an undercover situation opposite a girl with superpowered intuition. Taking my silence for awe, she grinned her vulpine smile, “It’s not that amazing.  I’m really best with concrete stuff.  Where things are, timing, encryption, yadda yadda.  I can read something out of changes in body language or routine, but it’s less reliable and kind of a headache.  Enough information overload without, you know?” I did know, her explanation echoed my own thoughts regarding my ability to see and hear things through my bugs.  Still, her words didn’t make me feel that much better.

Alert! Danger Will Robinson Taylor Hebert

“And,” Brian said, still glowering at Lisa, “Even if she knows a lot, that doesn’t mean Lisa can’t be a dumbass sometimes.”

Everyone who has valid (even if not always correct) reason to think they're the smartest person in the room has a remarkable ability to also be the biggest dumbass in the room.

2.7 - not quite knocks it out of the park, but definitely very good.

[daryascurse]

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬

⸻ 𝘌𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (part I) status: indef. hiatus

“Then maybe I’ll see you around again during your stay.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. But – do we have anything to be afraid of?” you add, still with a half-smile and levity in your words.

Erwin shakes his head and laughs again. It already sounds warmer. He plucks the keyring from the rusty nail, and hands it to you. “It’s just a story. You have nothing to worry about.”

The Cabin event fic ⟡ reader: POV second person, AFAB, nongendered pronouns ⟡ content: modern AU, mentions of drinking/ smoking wεed, oraI, fngering, dirty talk, sεx, ghosts, ghost stories ⟡ wordcount: ~9.3k ⟡ ao3 link ⟡ playlist

ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴅɴɪ. I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

You only realize at the very moment Reiner’s turning out of the woods, wheels rattling dust free from the dirt-packed road, that you’re the only one of the four of you really on vacation. Annie, with her head leaning on the window and loose blonde bun threatening to spill free, has her work laptop at her feet. She likely has its contents on her mind. She’d asked you, the trusty trip planner, to be sure to find a place with a reliable internet connection; her texts uncharacteristically anxious at the thought of doing her legal internship so remotely for even a few days.

The request had been somewhat at odd with Bert’s, whose most repeated request in the group chat had been to find a place with nature. “Fresh air,” he’d said. “I don’t mind the bugs,” accompanied with a smiley face, when Reiner suggested camping, before Annie had reminded him of her need for wi-fi.

So the weekend was to be spent at this small ranch; if it even could be called a ranch. “Maybe it’s the actual property that makes it a ranch,” Reiner had said when he saw the online listing. Perhaps that was the land yawning around you all, this lone dirt path coming from the small town at the base of the clumps of trees. And now, as the car bumps along, the woods turn to neatly lined orchards bursting with juicy fruits. But the advertised building itself had seemed small for the word ranch, with three bedrooms and as many bathrooms. Regardless, Bert had loved it as soon as you’d sent it to the chat. “I can do work on my stories out on the porch,” he’d typed. You could picture him already, a blanket tucked under his ankles even in the summer heat, pen and notebook in his lap. He preferred to write the old fashioned way.

And he’s perked up now in the seat ahead of you. “Oh, neat,” Bert says, in that eternally boyish voice, and you lean around him to peer through the smeared windshield.

The ranch house sits low against the flat horizon with a few more thickets of trees breaking beyond. Several small forms, horses, graze in a small pasture lined by slats of an uneven fence, with another, smaller house behind them. Perhaps a stable or a barn. The midday sun beats white, hot light over grass that’s a patchwork of greens and browns. Reiner lets out a low whistle.

“Like a postcard,” he says.

The car seems to rattle in response, jostling harder on the road.

And Reiner, the last of the four friends rolling down this dirt path. While Bert’s embracing this little trip as a writer’s retreat away from his day job, and Annie’s made fervent promises to be present as soon as she slams the laptop shut each evening, Reiner should have been just as concerned as the latter to have internet access. You all haven’t spoken about it, haven’t asked him directly, but you know he’s between jobs now. He should be spending time applying and reaching out to recruiters. Yet all he’s said about this trip was that he would be glad to get out of the city and clear his head. Something about the way he’d said that gave you a strange understanding that Reiner would be taking this time to himself. Perhaps amongst the trees, maybe with the horses. But it left you, still leaning into the middle seat to take in the approaching house, the only one actually here with legitimately nothingto do.

Three cheers for vacation.

“How do we check in, again?” Annie asks you.

You lean back into your seat with a wince, aware suddenly of the impress of the buckle at your hip. “Well,” you say in elongated pause as you tap on the screen and wait for the app to open. At least the cellular signal seems strong enough. Annie should be able to work. “So it looks like the owner lives on the property?”

“Really?” Annie says, with a wrinkle of her nose. “Even when guests are here?”

“Makes sense,” Bert says, gesturing at the horses. “I don’t think we’d be feeding them.”

“Yeah, it did say it’s a semi-operable ranch even during the summer rental season,” you say. “If there’s a few animals, I’m glad they aren’t leaving us to take care of them.”

“Land maintenance is probably year-round,” Reiner muses, his head turning to look at the bales of hay the car rolls past. His hands loosen on the steering wheel, just for a moment.

“What does it say about the animals?” Annie asks.

“Didn’t you check out the listing before I finalized the booking?” you shoot back.

“Little miss lawyer didn’t read the fine print,” Reiner says.

“Not a lawyer yet,” Annie corrects him.

“But did you read anything about the place?” Reiner asks pointedly. “That’s what you get for keeping the group chat on mute.”

Just as pointedly, Annie ignores him.

“We’re not supposed to touch them,” you say. “Or, it says, ‘do not enter the horse pasture or approach the horses unless ranch staff is with you. We will be taking care of them throughout your stay.’”

“Huge liability issue still,” Annie murmurs. She must be thinking of legal hypotheticals.

Bert lets out a long, satisfied sigh. “But it looks like I can watch them from the porch.” His feet push at the mat in subconscious thrill.

“Bertie likes the horsies?” Annie says, in that dry way only she can. Through the high metal spokes of the headrest, the back of his neck flushes red.

You kind of understand it though, listening to his stammering, half-coherent response about just enjoying the company of any living creature. Not that your head is in the clouds the same way Bert’s is, but the sentiment of it is human. We are not solitary animals, you think, pausing to chew on his words as they float to your ears.

But funnily enough, it had been Bert’s other observation about the property that solidified the booking plan back in the planning stages. He had zoomed in, taken a screenshot about something with a winky face following it in the listing, something tongue-in-cheek and the exact opposite of the concept of enjoying the company of a living creature.

According to local legend, the ranch is haunted.

There’s a sort of informal parking space right by the porch, a sprawl of dirt as grey and flat as the solitary road. It’s where Reiner brings the car to an uncertain stop.

“I’ll get the keys,” you say.

“And wi-fi password,” Annie says.

You leave it to them to unpack the car as you begin to circle around the house, Reiner scooping your bag in one arm and the few days’ worth of provisions you’d all bought in town in the other. The brown paper handles strain between his thick fingers. The local town was barely a fifteen minute drive from the ranch, but even as your group had driven through those wide, empty streets, Reiner had had the idea to stock up in advance. It didn’t seem like things would be open late around here.

The last message you’d gotten from the host had been to come to the little green house between the ranch house and the stable, but the only little green building you’d found was practically built into the stables. The horses don’t seem to react at your hesitant approach, mild ear flickers likely responses to flies or the heat. The entrance is around the side, out of sight of the main house. You check the message again – the keys should be hanging on a nail between the porch light and the front door. And the keys are there, but the door is ajar.

You don’t expect to hear your name come floating through that gap, gentle on the summer air.

“Yes,” you say, hesitantly. “Hello?”

He opens the door fully, and your phone slips in the sweat of your palm.

You’d joked, you and Bert and them, that this place must be run by an old man. The listing, after all, hadn’t been accompanied by a profile picture, just the innocuous faceless default grey that’s generally found in employ of the scammers and the technologically inept. But if it was a scam, it was a needlessly elaborate one, with all the mentions of animals and descriptions of the land. Scammers wouldn’t bother to message with such detail; while an elderly person may feel the need to write painstakingly detailed directions through the woods. You’d messaged him a few times, even before texting on your way out today to confirm the hour of arrival, and felt confident it was the latter. Probably an old man, Bert had agreed.

But he wasn’t an old man.

“From the booking,” he says, repeating your name with a tone of recognition.

“Ah,” you say. “Yes.”

“I’m Erwin,” he says, and you can’t help but stare as his lips as he says it. The slight push forward of his lower lip on the first syllable of his name; the way the tip of his hooked nose barely moves as his mouth curls back to finish the introduction. His face is perfectly sculpted and his skin is agelessly clear. His muscles curve with years of active work, in a way that artificial weights in the gym can’t form. And you’re self-conscious in a way you hadn’t expected to feel on a summer vacation with a few friends. “Erwin Smith.”

He shakes your hand, calloused and warm. You feel your fingers clasp over his. The heat lingers on your skin even when you withdraw.

“You’re – the owner?”

“Not the owner,” Erwin says with a slight smile. It makes his lilac blue eyes soft. “I don’t run the renting stuff. The old man needs help around the place, though, so I’m here year-round.”

Half-right, then.

“That’s… neat,” you say, and twist your lips, knowing how lame that may sound. “What kind of things do you do?”

His hair has a soft ripple to it, swaying with each gentle push of the breeze. You’re aware of each strain of muscle banding across your back, the way your shoes close at the side of your feet, every sense of perception heightened. Maybe it’s the fresh forest air, or maybe it’s his scent wafting over. It’s a good smell.

“Just the day to day,” Erwin says, leaning in the doorframe. He still looks kind, his eyes bright and clear. “It’ll be busier when it’s time to harvest. Only have horses on the property now, but I go down to the orchards. You might have passed them on the drive up.”

“I think so. The fruit looked so good.”

Erwin tilts his chin high, a gesture that somehow comes across more humble than proud. “Help yourself, the peaches are in season. But don’t worry. I won’t be bothering you during your stay.”

Wouldn’t be a bother at all. “No, no,” you say, moving weight from one leg to the other. “I mean, tell us if we do anything to get in your way. I’m sure there’s a lot with everything.”

You’re trying to figure out the shift in his expression as Erwin echoes, “’We?’”

“I thought I put it in the booking? It’s, um, me and three friends.” You frown back at him, wrestling with the sudden urge to clarify that none of them are more than that to you.

And you could be desperately fooling yourself, but he could be eying you as if that is what he’s asking. So you add, “Just three friends,” with a smile.

He nods and something in his face seems to visibly relax. There’s a faint trace of sound on the air as the others keep unloading the car.

“Here for vacation?” Erwin asks, the angle of his brows raising stiff.

“Yeah, sort of a get-away. One of my friends has to work still, though,” you say.

“That’s a shame,” he says.

“It is. There’s wi-fi, right? Is there a password?”

“Should be in the kitchen,” Erwin says, and looks directly at you with a gaze like clouds passing over the sky. “You gonna hide inside all day?”

The ease and lightness in your responding laugh almost catches you off guard. “No, no,” you hear yourself say, and you let your eyes dance around the trees before settling back on that piercing gaze. “I’m happy to get out of town, see somewhere new.”

“You coming from far?”

“Couple hours drive,” you say. “We didn’t know much about the area when we were planning.”

“It’s a nice little place,” Erwin says, his voice dropping into a musing tone. He nods, almost absentmindedly, and it almost sounds like he’s about to say something else before his voice trails off. The distant sounds float on the air, and your feet waver. You’re trying to think of another reason to linger on the handsome ranch hand’s doorstop.

It comes to you suddenly. “Speaking of,” you say. “Could you tell me about the whole… ‘this place is haunted’ thing?”

You wave your fingers in air quotes and Erwin starts, laughs. It sounds a little rusty coming out of him, as if he doesn’t have much practice doing that.

“Ah,” he says. “That’s an old town story. Just some scary local tale.”

He hesitates, and even with something floating through the air that sounds like your name, you hear yourself say, “Maybe you could tell me this story.”

Erwin raises his eyebrows. “If you’re interested.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not talking about ghosts.

He looks to the side. His profile is almost noble against the dark wood. “Well,” he says slowly. “I’m not sure how much intellectual value there is to this.”

He’s stalling, stretching out the time on this porch together, maybe for the same reason you are, and you tilt your head in curiosity. His blue eyes slide back to you.

“This ranch used to have the same name as the town,” Erwin says. “German name, I guess. My dad used to say it meant something like ‘comfort’ or ‘solidarity,’ or something like that – but I don’t remember. He was more for the books in the end. But it was all because the ranch was so successful, so it made the town richer, too.”

Erwin pauses again.

“Did you grow up in town?” you ask.

“Most everyone around here did. My dad worked on the ranch too.” Erwin’s fingers twitch, as if about to raise. “But that was a long time ago. What I mean is, it used to be more… well, I’m not sure what the word would be. Communal, maybe. The town was the town, and the ranch was the ranch, but it was a lot bigger back then, and so naturally a lot of people from town were tied somehow. Like I said, all the land you passed coming in is part of the property, but there used to be a lot more people working here.”

Erwin smiles, and it’s not for you. It’s forlorn, wistful, but it makes you echo it briefly.

“The ranch hands came in daily from town, mostly. And back then, it was mostly pigs that it was known for. Go ahead – you’re smirking, I see you – but that was the business. The ranch ran that way for years, and it was very successful, very well known in the region. But then one winter, strange stuff started to happen. The pigs started disappearing. And of course the owner at the time was furious. He blamed the ranch hands.”

“Why?”

Erwin pushes the heel of his boot against the wall, and leans forward. You feel the breath catch at the back of your throat.

“Guess he thought the townsfolk were behind it,” he says. “At first, he thought someone was slacking off, letting the pigs out. Or that they weren’t being cared for as the cold started to set in. And then he became suspicious, that they were being stolen. And whatever kind of person he had been before, he started becoming a cruel man. He was driving the ranch hands to exhaustion, with long hours and cut wages. People were going back to town later, and later, and some of them never made it home.”

His voice is dropping, and you’re leaning forward too, listening avidly.

“It gets real cold in the winter,” Erwin says softly. “I know it’s warm now, but in the long, dark nights, it can get hard to find your way back down to town. Some of them froze. Some of them were probably attacked by wolves in the woods. And the pigs were also still disappearing.”

“So – what happened?”

Erwin presses his lips together for a moment. “No one knows exactly,” he says.

He doesn’t speak for a moment.

And the tension in the thick summer air is cut by the sound of Annie barking your name in annoyance somewhere on the porch.

“Oh,” you say half-distractedly, and turn your head. When you look back, Erwin’s arms are crossed, and he’s looking down, leaning back against the wall. “I’m – I’m so sorry. I should go.”

“No, no,” Erwin says, jerking his head up. “Sorry to keep you so long. It’s just a silly story, anyway.”

“I do want to hear the rest of it,” you say, and let the words play slowly off your tongue.

“You sure you do? Then maybe I’ll see you around again during your stay.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. But –  do we have anything to be afraid of?” you add, still with a half-smile and levity in your words.

Erwin shakes his head and laughs again. It already sounds warmer. He turns his head, reaches, plucks the keyring from the rusty nail, and hands it to you. “It’s just a story. You have nothing to worry about.”

You don’t tell the others about Erwin Smith for a reason you can’t quite decipher. What is there to say, anyway – that you met someone who works here and you think he’s cute? Maybe you’d tell Annie if it was just the two of you; maybe you’d tell Bert or Reiner, but some burning thing under your chest holds your tongue.

You do apologize for keeping them waiting, and Reiner looks surprised. “It wasn’t long at all.”

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. “I thought I heard Annie calling for me.”

“I didn’t,” she says, with a slight wrinkle to her nose.

The afternoon is unpacking, exploring through the modest house. There are three bedrooms, and it was already agreed Annie would get her own to double as office space. Bert and Reiner don’t mind sharing, which leaves you alone in an upstairs room at the back that overlooks the little green house, rustling through your backpack on the twin size mattress with motions that creak the wrought-iron headboard. It’s the smallest room, doesn’t connect to a bathroom the way Annie’s and the boys’ do, but the view is convenient. You keep an eye out the window as you move about the room and hang clothes up. Sometimes Erwin’s shadow passing through the little house seems to bend and refract behind the distance and layers of glass, and you turn your head away quickly, as if he could see you staring through the windows. If he’s even there, and it isn’t just a trick of the light.

And then the light is dimming, almost faster than it should in summer months, but it leaves the cloudless country sky in brilliant marbles of purple sunset.

“Beautiful,” Bert says as you all crowd around the little farmhouse kitchen table for bagged salad and quick microwave meals for dinner. “Look at that sky.”

You cast a side eye to Annie, whose soft lips are already turning upwards in preparation of some sly remark as she unscrews the first of the many bottles of wine you’d all packed – god, would they just fuck already – but Reiner speaks before she can.

“I think we’ll see stars out tonight,” he says, and Annie sits silent.

At some point in the dinner, with Bert clacking salad tongs for emphasis, the conversation returns to those stars and how much cooler any constellations would look if everyone smoked a bowl. “Or two,” Bert says mildly, and Reiner nods. “And then stargazing.” Even Annie relents with only a few grumbles about needing to log into work early.

And after the long, timeless dinner, with more wine, with refrigerated cake, it comes up again as an assured plan. Someone notes that it’s wow, so late now. Bert goes up to his and Reiner’s room and back down with paraphernalia in his palms. You gather blankets from the quaint sitting room and head outside.

Crickets ring somnolent in the night. Reiner navigates you all out, past the car, into the dry field along the road still printed with your arrival marks. His broad shoulders and pale hair wisp swiftly into the dark, his shadow a stretching tether to the porch light Annie switched on before closing the front door.

“Here?” he calls, and you shrug in silent response.

“Sure.”

You all make a clumsy circle of blankets on the patch of grass, your palms rubbing against coarse thread as you pull yours out firm against the ground. Bert pulls a glass pipe from the depths of his pocket, twinkling in the dim flood of light from the porch.

“Here,” Annie says, and the grate of a lighter rasps after the sound of her voice.

When the pipe passes to you, smoke pulls into your lungs and spins into your head. You cough into your elbow, passing it in turn without a word.

“The stars are out,” Bert says in a thick voice.

It passes, the lighter erratically flicking in the circle. You lean back, knees up, and then find yourself lying flat as they spin so out of touch above. Silence falls swiftly over the dark, dry grass. The stars emerge like pins pushed through velvet, slow pulses of brilliance that intensify in the periphery when you focus first on one, then the other. The minutes pass and the universe grows vast.

Bert’s arm is raised, the motion of his finger dancing in the air a shadow at the edge of your vision. He’s saying something about a constellation that may or may not be real, names that sound exaggerated…

“Next to the little dipper. Don’t you see? That’s a giant monkey. That constellation is called ‘the beast’…” and Annie is laughing, the sound hiccupping out of her despite herself.

Reiner’s just cleared his throat, a rough grunt, with a silence as if he’s concentrated on trying to see Bert’s vision. You turn your head, neck lolling against the ground, to squint through the dusk and make up some absurd picture in the sky.

You lock eyes not with Bert, but with another face lying in the dry grass.

A face, gaunt, with lips burned away and broken teeth jutted out. The skin that remains, peeling back in ribbons, is waxy grey. A grotesque rattle rises from its throat just as your own breath catches there, as if your heart is hammering in such distress it stops the air for just a moment.

The oily eyes burn at you, glittering in the dark, and you scream.

“What?” “What?” come the voices of your friends, eerily out of tandem as they start, and Bert – you can see him, the bristle of hair at the back of his head as your stomach churns – how this all happens at once, how Bert’s head turns and he sees the ghoul and screams.

It’s all simultaneous, each sound and motion. Limbs slap the dirt as everyone jumps frantic. The dirt rolls under your elbow, sharp needles of pebble, and your next scratches the back of your throat as if the volume is doubled just from the brief physical discomfort. The ghoul rattles on the ground, limbs crumpled like a fallen corpse. You almost fall in the scramble to stand, to whip around, just to see another thing – this one standing –

“Fuck! Fuck!” and it’s Reiner shouting in a primal fear.

It sounds like someone else calls – to run.

The bent neck of this ghastly figure lurches towards you, head swinging heavily as it shuffles, and you’re almost falling again, a terror buzzing at the base of your skull. If the universe was inhaling, swelling over you before, its maw now yawns to swallow. The porch steps beyond are all you can focus on. You have to stagger your steps to keep from falling. The chill of the thing’s reaching hands almost wisps across the back of your legs.

Annie screams next, piercing and foreign.

Your leg muscles are tight as you bound up the shallow stairs. Reiner’s besides you, his legs stronger, his arms longer, as he pushes with one hand against the railing along the porch steps. His other touches at the small of your back, anxious fingertips that spread into fingers when you two reach the landing. His arm, still outstretched, pushes forward to open the door and then with a push, he’s urged you through.

“Go, go – go – fuck!”

Feet hammer against the wood planks and when you turn in the hallway, clutching your hands to your chest in a desperate splay across your throat, Reiner is holding the door for Annie and Bert. They’re through; he slams the door and bolts it. The hallway reels.

Someone’s screaming still.

It’s you, until Annie grabs you by the shoulders.

“Fuck,” you choke out with a cough, and she steps back.

“It’s gotta – ” Annie says, and pauses, swallows, and somehow sounds wilder when she continues. “We’ve gotta – fuck. Okay. I’m, I’m pretty high.”

“Yeah,” Reiner  says quickly. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Did you guys – ” Bert starts, but Reiner talks over him.

“Some sort of trick of the light,” he says. “Shadows, not light.”

You lock eyes with Annie for a moment before she looks away, and you can tell you’re both thinking the same thing Bert’s asking – did we all see the same thing?

Another shiver rockets through you as you hear yourself say, “I’m stoned. Absolutely. I think I… must have scared myself.”

Everyone nods in relief, or feigned relief. But this isn’t the same as a shadow moving at the end of your kitchen, or headlights shooting past your window and lighting a heap of clothes in a way that looks monstrous through the mental haze.

Right?

Not that you want to be right. So you nod too.

“Yeah. What the fuck – what’s that flower?” Reiner asks Bert.

“Uh, I think it’s just what I had in the grinder. I packed it before we left. But it’s what we smoked with Zeke and the guys back home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Really sure.” Bert pats his pockets, and a look of horror briefly flashes across his face. “I left it out there. And the pipe.”

“And the blankets,” you say.

Silence falls uncomfortably. Even though you’ve all accepted it for what it must be – a weird mind trick – no one seems to want to unlock the door and retrieve the abandoned belongings. Or even look out the window.

“We can get it all tomorrow,” Reiner says.

“Yeah. Nothing’s going to happen to it. Nothing. I’m going to bed,” Annie says thickly, and reaches up, running a hand through her hair. Her fingers catch in the tangle of her ponytail. She pauses a moment, combing through, and continues with a little more of her normal strength in her voice. “I bet it’s that we drank more than we realized, smoked too much too, and didn’t actually eat enough at dinner. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Reiner says firmly.

“That’s probably it,” you say.

Bert still looks the least confident, but he shrugs, too. “I’m gonna go to sleep, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll head up with you,” says Reiner.

“I think I need some water first,” you say.

Reiner wavers, and Annie says, “Do you want us to get it with you? Or wait?”

You want to tell them yes, but you shake your head. “No, no. Go to bed. We all need to just sleep it off.”

Certainly, no ghosts have rustled through the house. The kitchen is how you left it, with salad tongs and red-ringed wine glasses strewn across the table and lit in streaks of dim moonlight. The sink sits low to the right in a black basin. You’re still hugging yourself, fingers wrapped around your arms as you approach to pull a crystal cup from the cabinet. This will require letting go. You silently count to three before reaching out for one.

A knock rattles gently against window glass.

You don’t scream; you stop yourself from it by clapping your hands so quickly over your mouth you bite the inside of your cheek. You’re looking wildly to the back door at the edge of the kitchen.

It’s Erwin Smith in the moonlight, but it still takes your heart a minute to slow when you recognize him. Or maybe the adrenaline hammers from relief.

You walk, unlatch the door, and stare at him without speaking.

“You – is everything okay?” he asks. “I thought I heard screaming. Are you alright?”

He turns, points, as if to trace the journey from the little green house buried in the darkness.

“I was going to ring at the porch,” Erwin continues. “But I saw you through the window back here. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

He looks genuinely concerned, and you hesitate, leaning on the doorknob. You’re still staring at him, the blue of his eyes stone grey, and if you could see your reflection in its depths you’re sure it would look wild.

“Um,” you say. “I…”

You break your glance to look away, through the night. No corpses or ghouls lurk at the trees, and Erwin only seems concerned for you.

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. “We… I think we all thought we saw something that spooked us. I think it’s okay.”

“Snakes?” Erwin says, a frown beginning to furrow between his thick brows. “You should be careful in the grass.”

“No,” you say, but the sound trails off. Was that what had been besides you, at least? Was that the rattle, the eyes, a snake? You shake your head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Erwin rubs at his chin. “Probably. But you seem really shaken up. Are you sure you’re fine?”

You’re not sure. You look at him helplessly, and open your mouth, but he shakes his head abruptly.

“Do you want to come have some tea?”

“Tea?”

“It’ll help.” Erwin stops a moment, rubs his chin again. “I know it’s a very forward invitation.”

He stands like a shining knight in threadbare flannel, the sharp cast of his nose bold in the moon.

“No,” you say again. Your fingers clutch on the knob a moment, before moving forward onto the stoop and closing the door behind you. “That sounds like a nice idea.”

Erwin takes the step down to the dirt path that trails out behind the ranch house. “I’ll try not to keep you so late,” he says, and even in the darkness it looks like his teeth flash in a quick smile. It’s clearly meant to comfort, and it must, because you follow him down the steps with surprising ease.

He grips a large metal flashlight in his hands, and presses a button to the side. The beaten path alights, but the weeds and thickets shoot skyward in black shadows, and you instinctually shrink besides Erwin.

“It’s alright,” he says, and his hand circles the small of your back. “Just darkness. You really did get a scare. Gotta be careful around those snakes.”

Erwin’s hand is different around your waist than Reiner’s, who had just been a sturdy hold to usher you up into the house. The flex of his bicep pushes into your shoulder blades as he moves you through the path to the little green house, a shade of grey in the darkness. The adrenaline of the fright is leaking out of your bones and with it goes the remnants of the smoke, leaving your kegs heavy and eyelids beginning to sink. It’s that iron brace, strong but warm, and secure, that keeps you alert and walking in time with him.

The little green house is really just one room. And his room is small and Spartan, a bed in the corner that you do your best not to stare at. Erwin bids you sit at a small circular wood table. You shift your weight in the seat, the uneven chair legs wobbling against the floor as Erwin fills a silver kettle with tap water.

“Peppermint tea,” Erwin says as he lights the stove. “It helps when you feel shaken up.”

You catch yourself rubbing your forearms and force yourself to stop. “I’m not anxious. I’m really feeling better.”

“You seemed nervous on the walk.” He pulls out two mugs from a cabinet, and turns to lean on the counter. He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows at you. The silver kettle begins to cloud with condensation. “We got a scarier dark out here than in the city?”

Maybe in the daylight, you would have laughed at that. You barely break a smile. “Maybe. Hey. You didn’t get a chance to finish the ghost story.”

“Seems the last thing you need now,” Erwin says.

You shake your head. “I want to know. I think I need the distraction.”

“Not sure how much another scare is good for a distraction,” Erwin says with a vague cluck of disapproval.

“I thought you said it was all silly, and nothing to worry about,” you shoot back.

“Well.” Erwin rubs his chin, and the kettle begins to let out a light hiss. He turns his head, glances to you, and busies himself with fiddling with the tea bags. “I don’t think there was really much else to say. And, you know, what I told you at the start, all of that is true.”

“The ghost story?”

A shiver goes up your back as you say it.

“Oh, so you believe in ghost stories? Maybe I shouldn’t tell you after all. Supposed to be calming you down.”

You laugh despite yourself, and insist that you want to hear it. The hiss of the kettle turns shrill.

“But,” Erwin continues, as he attends to the tea, “I mean all that about the ranch. It used to be really successful, pigs were the industry, lots of workers coming in from town every day. Then things just started to shift – the pigs started disappearing. The owner wasn’t seen as a bad guy before, a little stern, but not cruel, but when all of that started, I guess he got paranoid or something. He turned cold, paranoid. Started working the people near death, like I said.”

“This was when your dad worked here?”

 “All of this was ages ago, years and years ago. And then winter came and it got worse. People froze heading home, got lost. There used to be more wild animals roaming here too.”

You glance at the pine walls around you, thinking of the yawning darkness of the woods outside. The details of his story feel more real now in the nighttime, and you can imagine it in colder months – people wandering, freezing, hearing the sound of wolves in a directionless distance.

Erwin brings two steaming mugs to the table. You look down at his hand, focusing on the turn of his knuckles as he releases his grip on the cup he’s put down in front of you. He flexes his fingers, takes the other chair, and pulls it closer around the circle to you. There are little silver scars peppered across his skin.

When you look up again, he’s looking at you, and you realize the word to describe his gaze is intense.

“But as I said, there were still people who came. The town was understanding at first. The town and the ranch had gone back for as long as anyone knew; if there was something with the pigs, with the ranch, it was bad for everyone. The most patient of all figured that things would be better by spring, and the man would calm down.”

“So what happened?”

The tea is comforting to cradle.

“A fire one night. A bad fire. No one knows how it started, but, you know, everyone has their versions. Some people say it was an accident. Some people say it was either a ranch hand or someone up from town trying to burn down the owner’s place for revenge.”

He takes a sip from his own mug. You mirror him without thinking.

“But what ended up happening was that near everything was lost. Lost a lot of land, a lot of structures – lots of the livestock, the pigs that were left, ran off into the woods. The owner died, too. All like that – ” and he snaps “ – into the night. Very, very few people made it back, no one made it back to town without injury. So the town severed all ties, formal and informal. Trust and business with the ranch had already been dwindling, and so they blamed the owner for only a few of them getting out alive. Families who had relied on the ranch for their livelihoods shunned it completely.”

“That’s horrible,” you say.

Erwin nods slowly. “So that’s where the ghost stories come in. People say the ranch has been haunted, the lands, ever since. That the forests are full of the spirits of the dead ranch hands, burned, maimed, trying to find their way home. And the house – well, even in the years since, with new owners. The old man now. No one’s lived there, even though it’s been rebuilt. They say that since that was where the original house was, where the first owner died, he and his family have haunted it since.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, turning the mug between your hands.

Erwin sighs, leans back in his chair. His foot knocks against yours under the table, but neither of you withdraw at the touch. “To steer away from the morbid,” he says, “that’s the gist of it. My family’s been one of the few to stay despite it all. We still get a few hands in for the harvest season, but very, very few come locally.”

“So you stayed,” you say, finding your voice. “Or – I guess, years ago, your family.”

“S’all I know,” Erwin says with another heavy sigh. “The old man running it now, he’s a grumpy one, but he’s good. Doesn’t pay any mind to the stories, too. When the old man decided to start renting out in the summer, he and – some other kid from the family, that’s who runs it, thought that it would be an interesting detail to throw in. Not like anyone in town would be interested in staying anyway, might as well try to make it some sort of intrigue.”

His foot leans away now, and you notice the absence.

“Sure,” you say. “That’s what my friend found interesting.”

“So you didn’t choose to stay in the haunted house?”

“No. Well, I saw the listing, but Bert’s the one who noticed that detail.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Bert’s just a friend,” you hear yourself add, clumsily.

“You said before,” Erwin says with a half-smile. There’s a softer tone in his voice now. “Though I appreciate the clarification.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” Erwin says, and his foot pushes against yours again.  

You return it, rocking your foot to the side and feeling his. You lean your chin on your hand, and look at him. The angles of his face are sculpted, near-regal, and that sky-like stare…

You shift in your seat.

“Feeling a little better?”

“The tea’s definitely helped.”

It’s been barely touched by the two of you.

If you leaned a little on your elbow, your head would be tilting so near to him you’d feel the warmth from his skin – and you are leaning that way. You’re close enough to see the crepe skin creasing into smile lines under his eyes, the shadow of the vertical dip between his nose and lip, as his mouth presses and folds with a pausing breath.

Close enough, because he’s leaning back, too, and soon the distance is gone because he’s kissing you. His hand is on your waist, his palm warm, curved at your side. His lips are soft and the kisses are chaste at first, but as soon as your lips part – a slight, involuntary oh coming from your lungs – your tongues are meeting, too. You’re adjusting your position, your elbow outstretched, your hand finding his face, thumb at his ear and fingers curling to brace at the back of his neck.

“So the story didn’t scare you away?” Erwin asks in a low murmur when you tilt your head, catching your breath for a moment.

“Well, I don’t want to spend the night in a haunted house, now,” you say. And it sounds a little too coy, something you’re almost wishing you could take back once it’s out, but there’s that piercing glint in Erwin’s eyes, in the hawkish angle of his eyebrows. His hands are cutting to your waist and he’s standing, urging you to rise with him, and his lips chase you down again.

You’re moving with him, with his kisses, moving in awkward backwards steps as he’s guiding you. The back of your knees find the edge of the bed when his feet stop moving, and you’re down in a moment.

Erwin’s lips are parted, the breath already coming heavy between his lips. His thick fingers slip at the buttons running down his flannel, and you fidget, kicking off your shoes and hands rising to pull at the hem of your shirt.

“You’re… you’re so…” Erwin pauses in his words, and through the wild movements of your arching hands, you see the ripple of his shoulders and carved biceps as he shrugs the flannel free. You don’t even try to contain the urge to reach out, and trace your fingers across the iron bands of muscle. You suck in air through your teeth as he bends, fumbling to tear his shoes off in turn, and he’s at your face again.

He holds your face in his hands, blood rushing at your temples, and his deep eyes searching urgently at yours.

“God. I saw you, and you were so beautiful.”

He’s beautiful.

“Oh?”

It’s all you can say, because Erwin kisses you again, the curve of his lips turning into a small smile against your mouth.

“Real happy to hear you’re just here with friends,” he says in a husky, cracked tone.

You’re smiling when he lets go of your face, his hands coming down to the bed and pushing dips into the mattress around your legs as he urges you further back, up against the crumpling sheets.

“You know, I was really happy you wanted to tell me that story.”

“Yeah?”

There’s no way he’s thinking of the ghosts, because you’re not.

Erwin moves with you, over you, between you as he parts your legs to kneel and work at the button of your fastening. You let your hips roll up, arms bending clumsily up under your back to find the clasp of your bra, frustratingly difficult to do compared to any time you’re alone, about to get in the shower or go to bed – of course you can move with grace then, and here with the handsome man over you, everything feels jerkish and awkward. But he’s not noticing, not caring, focused on urging your legs free to undress you fully.

Almost.

You take in a breath, not sure what you’re about to say, but it comes out in a shuddering gasp as the side of his thumb brushes over the fabric of your panties, the last strip of modesty covering you as your bra falls to the floor.

“Oh – ”

Erwin’s touch is sensitive, hovering over your skin, and you’re unable to bring any words to your tongue when he tugs the fabric to the side, nearly cutting into your hip at the side with the inadvertent strength coiled in his bones. He’s looking at you, and then down again, as he sinks down, settles his head between your legs.

He licks at his thumb, tongue washing over his skin for a moment, and he presses it against you. You tremble when his mouth opens, so warm, and his thumb moves to push at your folds to tease you apart. It takes his tongue no time to find your clit and capture it there. And it’s him moaning as he gets a taste of you, tasting again and again.

But you whimper too, his name tumbling out of you. Your thigh muscles are straining against Erwin already, knees desperate in their strength to keep his body to yours. Your hands are down, brushing fervently through his hair, trying to find a grip in the smooth blonde strands. His fingers pull at you again as his tongue dips between your folds. Your hips squirm into the sheets.

“Oh fuck.”

Erwin kisses between your legs, and your foot flexes, points, in frustration. You need more than these butterfly kisses and velvet workings of his tongue – needing more – inside – his fingers, god –

“Not fair,” you choke out, “you’re still – ”

“Hmm?”

Erwin doesn’t disengage, he just keeps going, as his voice hums over your skin and adding to the sensitivities. You throw your head back, trying to keep the keen from rising in your lungs. It’s like he’s actively working to make you scream, with his pants still on, and your fingers just grip at his hair harder. Your hips go up, to work against him, with his tongue still warm and strong against you.

“Ah… oh…”

You’re so close to some release you hadn’t had the thoughts to keep track of, something you didn’t know was rising so quickly. But especially when his lips close and the breath comes sharper, it threatens to burst.

“I’m – ”

“Mm?”

“Fuck – ”

Erwin lifts his lips and you can’t help it, you make a strangled noise of what can only be described as deep unhappiness. Your hands fall away from his head, your fingers tense in the air, as his gaze narrows on you.

His lips are shining, his eyes are dark.

“What do you want?”

His voice is deep.

Your lips struggle.

“I need,” you say, and swallow. “Fuck – I need to come.”

And it’s the pulse of his fingers, the way your hips are still straining towards him, desperate for a touch, that gives you the spirit to add, “make me.”

Erwin’s face is on you again, his nose pressing to your mound, and his fingers have finally joined his lips as he works into you. You let it out at last, the sharp cry of an “oh, oh, fuck” and he’s moving – his hand coming around, cupping over your thigh to pull you upwards. When he moves, the air shifts, coming colder than his touch as he exposes you, the trail of his saliva cooling in the instances when his tongue moves, up, down. Your sighs are coming more fervent as his lips move closer, still letting out his own groans and breaks in breath, but you’re holding at him again and pushing your body to his face.

It breaks, then, cresting into his mouth and you scream. You’re shaking, trying to seek the friction on the muscle of his tongue and push of his fingers opening you, but his mouth has shifted down to catch it all. He’s licking the syrup flowing between your legs, and moaning in smacking breaths at the delicious wonder of your taste.

“Oh my god.”

“Fuck,” Erwin moans, his tongue barely unable to break away to even get the word out, and you shudder at the anguish in his voice. “So – good.”

The desperate gratitude in his voice makes you mutter it again – “my god.”

Erwin moves away for a moment, and your head is still spinning, seeking a sense of something grounding. He kisses you, and he’s rising off the bed.

“Where – ”

“Not – no, hang on – ”

He can’t even make out the sentence that he’s not going anywhere. His face is strained as he gets to his pants, and you’re sitting up, reaching for him again as the breath audibly comes from you.

“Fuck,” you murmur in near exhaustion.

“You better not be done yet,” Erwin says, and you almost laugh.

“No.”

There’s still something in you, something that says the friction of grinding against his face and feeling his tongue wasn’t enough. The need that had you bringing you into him is still there, as if the orgasm wasn’t even done, as if you need him to fully fuck it out of you before you’d even be satisfied.

“Then get those off,” Erwin says in a grunt, and you moan and get your cramped fingers around the band of your dampened panties to throw them off. He reaches for the lamp switch with his free hand, and he looks like a statue carved out of sheer marble, his cock hard and visibly aching in the grip of his palm.

Erwin climbs back, the silhouette of him still strong as your eyes adjust to the dim room, and you part your legs for him with new eagerness. The air is only cut by two sets of heaving lungs, and then your gasp as he guides himself into you. The angle is wrong at first, and Erwin can clearly see that in the slight wince of your forehead and baring of your teeth. It’s the mix of his saliva and your orgasm that lets him slip with ease into a new position on the next thrust. He adjusts just as you rock up on him, and it’s immediately better. Fuller. Erwin’s hand is at your chest, and he tightens it, pinching his fingers at your nipple until your mouth drops open in another high moan. Your hips tilt upwards and another reflexive response comes as the wet arousal beams within you to meet him.

“Ouch,” you let through your teeth in delayed reaction.

Erwin makes an expression close to a smile, if he could spare the energy for it, but his focus is so, so concentrated. He lifts his hand, cradles your face for a brief moment. Before you can push your hand against his to hold him close to you, he’s bracing himself as his body angles lower to you.

“Okay?” he asks, barely getting the word out and unable to provide the whole sentence.

“Mmhm,” you say in the same response.

Erwin moves into you, thrusting, and your grip is climbing against his back. His muscles are strong, firm, and the strangely lucid thought comes to you again, that this sort of strength comes from years of training and work that a man can only get from a specific life.

“Ah – ”

He shifts the way he’s holding himself over you. His hand comes broad against your thigh, urging you to lift your leg against him, and it gets him in deeper. As much as he can go, as deep as your thighs can let him. Your body feeds him, rushing forward, opening yourself up as much as possible. But he’s just…

“Oh.”

So big.

You whimper, and Erwin kisses the side of your face.

“Does it hurt?”

His voice is raw. He cradles your head with his other hand, forearm pressed into the bed at your shoulder, thumb in clumsy caresses against your temple in a desperation to press every inch of your skin against his. With every shudder of breath you shake into the pressure of his hand, the bend of his arm braced against your shoulder, your thighs spread across his in aching squeezes.

You can barely nod into the cage of his body. “ ‘S- it’s so - much,” you choke out, your lips pressing at the last word, as if it could burst out of you.

Erwin kisses you again. “Good.”

The way you hug into him and tremble around him is so natural, as if your body was made to work up against his, as if you’ve done this together countless times before. His kisses are full of need, as yours are full of want, and the moans bursting out of you are nonsense. His cock is thick. He hits a spot so sweet, so aching, and it almost hurts, just the way he’s so clearly pleased about.

“You – fuck, you’re so tight,” he says, and he keeps pushing in and in with every thrust.

You feel feverish.

Made for it.

And when you whimper in another strangled whine, he kisses you right on your lips pressed together so desperately. Sweat beads across his forehead, the flare of his nostrils strain, and you must look the same sort of mess tousled below him in the sheets.

“Pretty,” Erwin says, quietly through a tight jaw, as if he can read your half-formed mind. “So…”

“Oh…”

He’s so big, almost too big, and it almost isn’t enough, even as the filling thickness of him keeps teasing at that miserably aching place in you. He’s keeping you so wet, so dripping, your hips grinding to meet him and fuck him back as best as possible as he fucks you.

“Feels so good,” he says, and your legs lose strength.

“I’m –”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he’s going to make you come again, but the tension in Erwin’s face shows he’s with you, as if he can already barely hold it back.

“Mm – I might – I might come…”

Your voice is high and it rises with urgency in each word, as if almost asking permission.

Erwin can only nod back, shortly.

“Yeah -” he makes out. “Come – on. Come for me again. Do it again.”

“Ah – ”

You do; you come again, harder this time, as if the dregs of the last orgasm still pulled at your inner walls and rushed this one out of you. The mess of you is pooling on the sheets, smearing against your thighs as you keep moving against Erwin, humping at him desperately and shamelessly to get it all out of you this time, because you’ll just go fucking crazy if you can’t.

And Erwin is barely after you, each milking thrust of your thighs up against him, and his eyes are on yours as your heart beats hot from your lungs in aching breath. It’s as if the delicious show of your pleasure coaxes it from him, and you can almost feel how your own heat glows onto him. He comes, fucking into you still as he does, with his own whines echoing yours in half sentences and gasps of your name.

“Oh…oh my …”

God.

You can’t finish the thoughts either.

Erwin pants heavily, and when he slides out of you, so slick with the pleasure you’ve called out from each other, the sensation of it makes your legs shudder again. He almost collapses as his body moves away from yours.

“Fuck,” he forces out as he leans on his elbow.

Sweat shines across his chest, his face ruddy even in the night, and you can only roll your hips into the mess of the bed. You make a noise that sounds like “uh-huh,” but it’s even less formed than those vague sounds.

He looks up, swallows, the dip of his Adam’s apple a silhouette as he moves. “You know,” he says. “You don’t want to sleep in a haunted house, you can stay here.”

You turn to face him, the weeping between your legs cooling as you curl your knees up against the comforter. They knock into his, and Erwin reaches out as he leans further back on his other arm, his hand resting on your thigh. He rubs against your leg absently, familiarly, intimately.

“I’d like that,” you say, and he gives you that rusty, genuine smile again.

If there are ghosts after all, they’re out in the woods. And here, with strong arms and a warm blanket to bring you to a safe and dreamless sleep, there’s Erwin.

part 2 (tbc) (NOTE: as of December 2023, this fic is on indefinite hiatus.)