#there were only a handful of things in my size

[teaboot]

Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

My earliest memory of what I would call self-awareness occurred spontaneously in the middle of my fourth birthday party, where I suddenly became alert to my existence as a separate entity surrounded by other conscious beings.

This presented to me as not dissimilar to simply being brushed along the flow of a river- experiencing life as a serious of flashbang moments and instants and sensations, like meditating to music until the individual notes break into sounds that follow no rhythm and are only noise- no past or future, only now- and then suddenly finding yourself holding a paddle in the belly of a boat with no idea what to do next.

I remember running to the body that felt safest, who I did not recognize as anything else, and asking it who all the strangers around us were. The person that I learned was my mother told me they were my aunties and uncles, and I was being silly because I KNEW them, and why was I so shy all of a sudden?

Learning to articulate myself after that instant, I remember, was immensely frustrating. Learning your first language, as I remember it, is wuite a bit like how Ive been told recovering from brain damage feels like.

YOU know what you mean. YOU know what you're saying. But there are holes where you reach for something you know MUST be there and find nothing, and must find a way to communicate using only what you have at hand. Except there are always faces looking at you, talking down to you, asking you to do tricks for them to prove you really are a real human person.

I loved art, and I'm very good at it, but GETTING good at it was the worst. I'm told I started with scribbles at six months or so, before I could walk, and at three and four I remember being immensely frustrated that I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to produce, and I didn't know how to PRODUCE it.

And simple shit, like drawing shapes and circles, developing fine motor skills. You FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, but your hands are soft and wobbly and don't cooperate. Getting your mouth and body to obey your directions is hellish, especially when all the appliances and furniture and installations around you are built for someone easily triple your size.

Chairs are hard to sit in when you're small and cant touch the ground. Your legs dangle and you cant scoot closer to the table, and the backrest is so far back you cant use it for support, and the table comes up past your chest so your chin is amost in your plate and your dumb clumsy hands cant hold a big spoon or fork in a way that feels natural or elegant so you end up smearing shit EVERYWHERE and getting yapped at for having your elbows on the counter.

Reading people was interesting. Most people are condescending and plastic when you're small, and you can tell when they're being saccharine and fake, but you're told the polite thing is to believe what they say and be polite back. I used to try using big sentences on purpose just to het them to leave me alone. "What a pretty girl! Can you say Hello?" was the most common ask I can recall. Id answer with the floweriest thing I could think of, usually, "I'm very well, thank you for asking, how are you?", because people only ask you interesting questions after you do well enough on their tests to prove you're people.

Being small was very tiring, and very frustrating, and becoming aware of myself in my own head probably made everything a lot worse overall.

No regrets, though. From what I can recall, life is far more enjoyable when you're aware of it occurring. Time can't slow down until you know it's there, I think

Being a baby full of instincts felt like living as a live grenade. Being a child was far harder, but more Full. More Human. A LOT more like adulthood than infancy, and I was very determined to remember that.

If any of that makes sense

[pixie-felix]

a/n: inspired by @hyunjinx42 (specifically this), suggested by @arestoucries

-as you sink down on his c*ck after a long day of work- @hyunjinx42

Just a short little something something to try break feed the absolute chokehold Railway Chan has us all in. Inspired by @hyunjinx42, suggested by @arestoucries. As always, smut under the cut, minors dni.

Content warnings: breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, ancient vine references (just the one, let me know if you found, I made myself laugh and then I couldn't take it out).

I accidentally posted this earlier today when I was still working on the draft 🤣 this is the complete version, so if you were disappointed earlier hopefully this will make up for it

T a k e a S e a t

You know exactly what Chan wants when he sits down in that chair. 

Tie loosened, hair mussed, eyes dark as he looks you over like a cat eyeing the most delicious bowl of cream.

“So, you were watching me all day.” 

“Of course I was watching you. It was your MV shoot.” You keep your voice light, but the intensity of his gaze is making you tingle all over. Not to mention the hint of the devil in his smile, quirking the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I was watching you too. Come here.” He beckons you over, that familiar come hither motion of his fingers sending a strong jolt of arousal to your belly and your mind straight into the gutter. 

It might just be because he's been playing a vampire all day but you feel powerless to resist him. Walking towards him, and that chair, like a woman hypnotised.

That devil's smirk spreads as you move into arms reach, shivering as he reaches out a hand to stroke your leg. Just the inch of bare skin, above your knee and below your skirt.

“Did you choose this outfit just for me, sweetheart?”

This outfit being a not-quite-knee-length pleated skirt, a silk shirt buttoned up to the neck, and what the fashion magazines might describe as a smart casual blazer. It's giving “slutty schoolgirl meets business casual.”

Had you chosen this outfit especially for Chan, knowing about his purity kink and the fact you'd be in his eye line but just-out-of-reach all day?

You bet Chan's sweet ass you did. 

And he knows it too, knows it in the way you shiver as he lightly runs those fingers, a barely there feather touch, up your leg. Under your skirt. Slowly, closer and closer to where all that want is bubbling in your gut.

“I thought so. Such a tease.” Under that playful tone there's something low, something dark. Something that makes itself known when scrapes his nails back down your thigh, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough that you know if you were to look there’ll be five red lines marking your flesh. Dragging his fingers away from where you want them, where you need them, taunting you with a smile that tells you he knows how your cunt is clenching over nothing.

“I wasn’t the only one watching you though, was I?” Marking. He’s fucking marking you. 

“Channie…” 

“That’s not my name.” 

“...Chris?”

“Not today sweetheart.”

Oh. Oh. 

Oh boy.

“...Daddy?”

“Good girl.” His voice is all low and growly, and he tugs you forward by your knees until you’re standing astride his lap and hands are running up the backs of your thighs again, alternately stroking and scratching as he smiles up at you. 

“Do you even know what you do to me? What it’s like having to pretend you’re not mine. Having to watch guys like that following you all day, flirting with you, eyefucking you, and not being able to do a damn thing about it?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. Chan is jealous. You were training the director's new PA today, some guy who’s name you’ve already forgotten. And Chan is jealous. 

As if he isn’t the most gorgeous man on the planet, a professional wet dream, and your long term boyfriend who’s been dicking you down dumb for the last 4 years. 

And if he wants to talk about unfairness, let’s talk about work. Watching him film that scene today, in this very chair, where an orgy of dancers were writhing on him. In fucking handcuffs. And he was sitting there with that look on his face. Yes yes, work is work, and acting is acting, the hazards of dating an idol etc etc…

But watching your man sit with a crowd of strangers slithering on his lap, that special expression on his face you only see when you’re sinking down on his cock after a long day of work, in that goddamn chair…

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” The question is innocent, the look in Chris’ eyes is not. He's completely Chris now, all signs of sweet Chan gone, replaced by the hungry, almost feral creature that likes it when you call him daddy. “Are you thinking about all those dancers from earlier, sitting on me, touching on me…”

“Yes, Daddy…” you whisper, blush creeping across your ears. It's like he's staring right into your soul, reading your thoughts and revelling in how you put up no resistance. He can invade all your private places and you let him, you're an open book to him

“Did it drive you crazy?” His voice is a low whisper, heavy with lust and wanting. “Did you want to come and sit on my lap instead, come and claim what's yours?"

You're too turned out to speak, your voice a whimper rather than words. “Daddy… don't tease…”

He smiles slowly at you, reaching up your skirt and slowly dragging your panties down your thighs.

“Then come warm this cock my love. Daddy's been waiting all day.”

It's almost musical, the sound Chris makes as you sink down on his dick, somewhere delicious between a moan and a grunt. It's almost too much, the way he stretches you. You cling to his shoulders and hide your face in his neck as you whine, nipping at his neck as you desperately try to ground yourself.

“Mmm… so good…” Chris has his hands on your hips, guiding you until you're settled on his thighs, his cock fully sheathed inside you. “Such a good girl. So perfect for me.”

He's almost too big to fit, your pussy stuffed fuller than full, at it's absolute limit. Teetering on the cusp of what feels good and what doesn't.

He's mercifully gentle, running his hands up your back, stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles.

“You're doing so good, baby. Just relax, relax for me baby.” He hisses when you lean a little more forward, mewling into his neck into his neck and holding him tighter as the change in angle causes your pussy to spasm and stretch, barely able to bear it.

“I want.. I…”

“What do you want, babygirl?” Concern creeps into his turn, worried that maybe his dick is too big, maybe you’re not enjoying it. “Am I hurting you? We can stop if it's too much.” He presses kisses into your hair, brushing some out of your face as he tries to look you in the eyes.

“No Daddy… please don't stop. You feel… so good…” Chris sighs in relief, stroking your face tenderly. “Will you… will you…”

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

“I can't… I want…” You shake your hips lightly, barely moving but Chris' dick is stretching you so full it feels as intense as if he was pounding you out, hips snapping as he tried to fuck you through the mattress.

Chris makes a strangled sound, the drag of your velvety walls almost driving him to madness.

“What do you need, babygirl.” His voice is hoarse with the effort of holding still. “Just tell me. Tell me baby, please, you're driving me mad…”

“Daddy,” your voice is almost a sob, “Daddy, please… It feels so good. You feel so good, inside me…” Chris has to bite his lip to keep from swearing at how good you're making him feel. He loves is when you talk dirty.

“Baby, if you keep saying things like that…”

“Breed me, Daddy. Please. Please.” Chris presses a shaky, kiss to your lips, gentle and tender, trying to distract himself from how every single muscle in his body tenses up and he's pretty sure his balls just turned blue.

“You sure…” He has to be sure, has to check, before the last strip of his sanity is stripped away and he loses control.

“Please Daddy. Breed me. Claim me. Make me yours… please.”

“Okay baby, okay.” He starts moving, gently, rolling his hips slowly, tantalisingly, doing his best not to go too fast or too quickly. “Daddy’s gonna breed you, okay? You're so tight baby…”

He's not sure what's gonna explode first, his heart or his testicles.

It doesn't take long, every tiny thrust driving both of you closer to the edge,Chris closing his eyes and urgently trying to think of something unsexy. Socks with sandals. Being called “Bang Channie”.

That one weird nude Han accidentally sent him at Christmas. What the hell was he doing with all that BBQ sauce on his titties?

But not even deep philosophical musings on the strange behaviour of Han Jisung can distract Chris from how you've started to bounce on him, your pussy finally adjusted to his cock enough that you can ride him a little, thighs tight around his waist.

He almost loses it, when the little gasps and moans spilling from you get so loud he has to muffle them with his hand. No badly how much he wants everyone to hear how good he fucks you, you're still supposed to be keeping this a secret… Definitely not fucking on stage props quickly relocated to a nearby dressing room. Thank fuck the door locks.

But then you bite his hand, losing control of your sanity and bouncing on his dick like a rabbit, whining, so close to cumming but you just can't quite reach it by yourself.

The sting of your teeth on his fingers pushes Chris over, all restraint gone, hands snapping to your hips as he bucks up into you, holding you still so he can pound your pussy.

He feels you coming undone on him, your pussy spasming, clenching, sucking his dick in deeper until he could swear he's pressing against your cervix.

It's not until you collapse in his arms, shaking, trembling, that he finally gives in and lets himself cum. And he cums hard, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy twitch, milking his cock until he's got nothing left to give.

Balls empty, dick aching, cocksore and thighs shaking, Chris holds you close, his seed dribbling out as his cock starts to soften inside you. You both moan when it finally slips out completely, clinging to each other tightly as you both come down from your respective highs.

“I think… I think we might have ruined the chair, Channie.” You giggle as you look up at him, all blissed out and happy.

“Oops.” He shrugs, before leaning forward and brushing your noses together in an Eskimo kiss. “I guess we'll just have to smuggle it home.”

You rest your head on his chest, happy and sated. Eevelling and how quickly Chris can switch back to Channie, all cosy and cuddly and sweet.

“So…”

“So?” Chan is already starting to look sleepy, all fucked out and giddy. He tilts his head at you like a curious puppy, like he didn't just fuck you into th fifth dimension.

“...are you still gonna try tell me the song is about trains?"

Chan blinks, and you can see the cogs in mind turning as he tries to figure out what trains have to do with anything that just happened.

He flushes bright red when the penny drops, eyes going wide, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of a good comeback. In the end he just hides his face in your neck and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like a whiney “shut up”.

You laugh and snuggle down in his arms. He groans, knowing you're gonna tease him about trains once the post orgasm contentment passes.

That's what he gets for being a liar.

Okay, I'm just about happy with this one. This isn't even the No Thoughts/Hard Thoughts fic, but apparently I have breeding kinks on the brain. Oops. Hope you guys don't mind two in a row. In other news, Channie’s big dick problem is the subject of another fic. Yay size kink? Anyways, thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are so much appreciated and motivating and stuff, let's enjoy this highly educational science gif of Channie to end the post:

tagslist: @sthaay @arestoucries , @chrizzztopherbang, @avnche, @kemkem33, @mikaelless, @lvrgrl-xo, @eevenus , @furioussheepluminary , @sheerfreesia007 , @aasthamoon , @amazinglystay @delulustardust (I got my lists mixed up, I only post skz fics on this account so lemme know if you want me to take you off)

m.list

[eoieopda]

triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus. 

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly. 

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door. 

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?” 

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds. 

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath. 

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks. 

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years. 

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough. 

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling. 

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?” 

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?” 

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line. 

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view. 

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls. 

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?” 

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention. 

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him. 

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.”  Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.” 

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways. 

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time. 

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself. 

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out. 

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.” 

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling. 

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level. 

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no. 

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly  gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip. 

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name. 

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten. 

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time. 

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on. 

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others. 

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens. 

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.” 

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull. 

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term. 

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —” 

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another. 

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is. 

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be. 

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s. 

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper. 

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just —  get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t. 

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?” 

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks. 

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her. 

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking. 

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake. 

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all. 

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation: 

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….” 

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll  push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase. 

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming. 

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he? 

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold. 

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.” 

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —” 

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance. 

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand. 

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.” 

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom. 

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?” 

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

[hvnlygrl]

bf jj and virgin reader doing it for the first time !!!!!

he literally just baby's her without belittling her because he knows she dosent fw vulnerability like that

i got you babe.

pairing — jj maybank x fem!virgin!reader

word count — 2.0k

warnings — smut minors dni, loss of virginity, p in v, protected sex, fingering, oral (f rec), fluff, aftercare.

synopsis — jj is nothing but a sweetheart during your first time, and it’s everything you could’ve imagined and more.

notes — i love this idea he would be so sweet and tender and just so perfect for ur first time

you were nervous. you obviously trusted jj more than anything but it didn’t help ease the anxiety that was building inside of you. you didn’t want to look like a fool or ruin anything with jj.

but it had been nearly 3 months of your relationship and the most you’d done together is some under the clothes groping and grinding, leaving each of you to go home and finish yourselves off.

jj would never pressure you into anything, or look at you differently for taking your time, he understands how fragile virginity is and how you want your first time to be special, but he can’t help but leave each heated make-out session feeling more desperate than the last time.

you’ve thought about it all week and you’re sure that tonight is the night. it’s his birthday and you want to make it even more special.

he opens the silver chain you gifted him, eyes going wide at the gesture, “holy shit, babe! where did you get the dough for this thing?”

“nunya,” you flash a grin at him, heart fluttering at how excited he is to put it on. “you like it?”

“baby i love it,” he looks like a child in a candy shop, “it’s fuckin’ awesome.”

“good, i’m glad,” you hum proudly. setting the scene is going better than you’d imagined. jj sits on your couch, expecting that to be the only gift he’d receive. with his birthday being january 14th, you picked out a couple of new hoodies for him since his other ones were getting extra ratty from overuse (and from him dropping the blunt on himself nearly every time he smoked).

you pull out two mid-sized gift bags from the side of the couch and hand them to him.

“holy- more gifts? how much did you spend?” jj gapes at you, eyes full of concern and a bittersweet happiness at how much you’re willing to go out of your way for him.

“i’m not telling you!” you huff out playfully, “open it!”

he rips the tissue paper from the first bag, discarding it to the side of him before pulling out the first hoodie. it’s a light teal-blue, with the ron jon surf shop logo on the back. “dude this is sick!” he flips it over to look at the front, noticing a tinier version of the logo on the heart.

“now open this one,” you grin, knowing he’d love this one even more.

he pulls it from the bag next, revealing a black hoodie, his favorite album plastered across the front, the artist’s tour dates and locations listed on the back. “no way!!”

“yes way,” you can’t stop smiling at this point, knowing that this is genuinely the happiest he’s been since you’ve met him. “happy birthday my sweet boy,” you lean towards him, giving him a kiss.

he leans into it, hands immediately coming up to grip you face, one resting on your cheek and the other resting in your hair toward the back of your head.

you embrace the kiss even more, allowing him to slip his tongue against yours as you nervously clamber onto his lap. you’re in a flowy mini skirt and long sleeve button up. he’s adorned in the brand new silver chain, a cut-off sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts.

you let your fingers glide down his chest slowly, nails dragging against the fabric before lifting at the bottom to pull it over his head.

he falters for a moment, looking at you curiously, “whatcha doin, baby?”

“i’m ready, jay,” your nervousness is plastered across your face but you mean it. you’re ready to go to the next level with him. and tonight’s the night.

“you sure? you don’t have t-“

“-i’m positive baby.”

“if you change your mind at all no matter how far we get just say the word, okay?” he raises his brows at you expectantly, a thousand percent serious in his words.

“okay,” you flutter your lashes.

“you promise you’ll tell me if you fell uncomfortable in the slightest?”

“pinky swear,” you hold your pinky out, heart beating in your chest as he wraps his own pinky around it, locking in the promise.

he uses the linked finger to pull you back closer to him kissing you as his hands then moving to rest on your thighs, thumbs massaging the interior while you begin grinding yourself on top of him lightly.

you begin feeling more sure of yourself, your hands gliding around jj’s pecs and biceps, “you’re so hot.”

“speak for yourself, y/n,” he breathes against your lips, cheeks flushed with need.

you moan softly when his hands slide up underneath your skirt, gripping at your ass roughly.

at this point, you’re dripping and you could care less about the slow foreplay. “i want it,” you whine quietly, your hands lingering at the zipper on his cargo shorts.

“you sure you can handle it?” he’s half-joking, of course.

“positive,” you nod quickly, “please baby?”

he groans through his teeth at the neediness in your voice, opting to flip you onto your back, gently resting your head against the arm rest of the couch. “you wanna move to the bed or stay here?”

“i don’t care,” you shrug, mind clouded with lust.

“pick one baby,” he replies, voice smooth and steady.

“mmm,” you begin thinking, “bed.”

he nods as he scoops you into his arms, letting your legs wrap around him, his hands supporting your weight as they grip your ass.

he lies you down at the head of the bed, resting you atop the comforter and your favorite pillow. he bites his lip in anticipation as he unbuttons and unzips his shorts, slipping them off and launching them across the room.

he spreads your legs slowly, eyes flitting back up to meet your nervous gaze, looking for your assurance before moving any further. you give him a quick nod, holding your breath as he slips your skirt off, his fingers gliding against the edge of your panties.

he unbuttons your shirt from the bottom up, opting to leave it on as your chest and lacy bra is exposed. he breathes heavily at the sight of you, eyes wide and full of lust almost fully exposed for him. his dick is on the verge of bursting out of his boxers, tip leaking and as needy as you feel in this moment.

his muscles are detailed, flexing and unflexing with each movement he makes.

jj leans down to kiss you again, one arm steadying himself next to your head, the other hand rubbing your sopping wet pussy through your panties. the sensation makes you moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up slightly toward him. he takes that as his cue to slip his hand under your panties, groaning at the wetness pooling between your lips. he gathers some of it at the tip of his fingers, trailing it back up to your clit before swirling them around the sensitive button.

your eyes flutter at the feeling, one hand flying up to the back of his head as you tug at his hair roughly. “fuck,” you whisper, head flying back. “feels so good baby.”

he continues the motion for a few more moments before slipping a finger inside of you, kissing you as he does it. he glides it in and out a few pumps before adding another finger, his lips trailing down to your neck as he licks and bites the sensitive area. he continues that, hooking his fingers up inside of you as he pumps, watching intently as you moan and gasp, head thrown back against the pillow, one hand gripping his bicep as the other grasps at the comforter below you.

jj slips the panties off you, readjusting himself so that his face rests just above your glistening pussy. “she’s so pretty, baby.”

you blush at his statement, hands roving around his wavy locks as he begins lightly licking and kissing your sensitive area. you gasp at the new sensation, fingers yanking at his hair. “fuck, that’s,” you groan when he starts full-force kissing and sucking at your pussy, his tongue drawing shapes along your clit. “oh my god.”

he hums, one hand grasping his dick as the other holds your thighs apart, the vibration bringing you nearly to the edge of an orgasm. at that, he stops, leaving you to whimper at the loss of the sensation, the edging only making you want him more. “why’d you stop?” you whine desperately.

“because i wanna feel you cum around my dick, baby,” he pulls the boxers off, watching as your eyes go wide at the sight of his member, veiny and rock solid, his tip leaking needily as he reaches for his wallet on your nightstand, pulling a condom from one of the pockets. he quickly rips it open then glides it over his dick. “you ready, angel?”

you nod quickly, “i need it, jay.”

“whatever you want, sweet girl,” he positions himself back between your legs, his chain dangling in front of your face for a moment before he begins kissing down the side of your neck as he guides himself to your opening expertly. you hold your breath as he inches himself inside, fingernails cutting into his biceps.

he goes extremely slow at first, inching in and out to get you used to him before going to town.

the first time he bottomed out inside you, you jumped, letting out a yelp, causing him to quickly pull out and look at you with concern. “you okay?”

“yea, i jus- it was a lot,” you fail to meet eye contact with him, cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.

he grips your chin softly but firmly, forcing you to look at him, “hey. don’t feel embarrassed baby, let me know if i’m hurting you, it’s supposed to feel good, alright? remember our promise? i’m not gonna judge you for any of this. ever.”

you gaze at him for a moment, eyes full of love and tenderness. you nod and pull him back closer, this time using your own hand to guide him inside of you. you kiss him lovingly, teeth clashing together and tongues gliding in and out. it’s perfect, truly. you couldn’t have imagined someone better to have your first time with, and you’re beyond grateful that it’s someone as kind and nurturing as jj.

once he finds a groove that you both can enjoy, he begins going to town, thrusting in and out, leaving you clawing at his back.

“oh my god, jj you feel so good holy shit,” you cry out, face buried in the crook of his neck.

he groans, throwing his head back, “that pussy feels so fucking good, angel, you have no idea.”

he continues thrusting, watching you intently as your eyes begin rolling back, fingers clawing even deeper while your legs start closing in tightly around him. “that’s it, baby, lemme feel you cum around me.”

you let yourself revel in the feeling, the world around you disappearing for a moment while he groans, unable to stop himself from cumming with you. you feel him nut into the condom inside of you, pussy tingling at the sensation.

he holds his position for a moment, unmoving as you each catch your breath, just gazing at each other.

“wow,” you breathe out in awe, just beginning to get your normal headspace back. “that was awesome.”

jj chuckles, “glad you enjoyed, baby girl. i’m here anytime you wanna do it again,” he winks at you slyly.

you grin, wincing slightly as he pulls out. you watch him lovingly as he saunters to the bathroom for a moment to pee and dispose of the condom, heart fluttering when he returns with a damp washcloth to clean you up with.

he cleans you up before picking out a comfy set of underwear and pajamas and tucking you in under the blanket. he pulls you onto his chest after throwing his own boxers back on, his chest warm and comfier than ever.

“i love you,” you whisper, head resting atop his heart.

“i love you, sweet girl,” he kisses the top of your head as he scrolls through various streaming sites, looking for something good to watch.

“happy birthday baby,” you give him a brief squeeze.

“best birthday ever,” he huffs back, hand rubbing your back softly.

-> back to masterlist

taglist — @rubiehart

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can I get petite reader x rafe with size difference and some holiday vibes?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected p + v, raunchy humor,

Do not let the banner fool you into thinking this is Rafe x OC — it’s not. I just likes the aesthetic of Sabrina’s pictures and her little dress

—

Ipad in hand and hair rollers on, you went over everything in the house, making sure all the preparations for tonight were done. It was your first time hosting a Christmas dinner, and you wanted it to be perfect, knowing Rose would nitpick on the smallest things. You wanted your father to ask for a second serving of turkey, and your mother to compliment the wrapping paper under your massive Christmas tree. For Sarah to tell you how delicious your Grinch cookies were— 

‘’The wine! Can you ask Sarah if she got the wine your father likes? I thought we had a bottle left, but I can’t find any,’’ you asked Rafe, who was coming down the stairs after his shower, freshly shaved and smelling strongly on the cologne you loved. 

He hummed, pulling out his phone and sending his sister a quick text. ‘’Anything else, baby?’’ 

Eyes still on the list, most of the dots were checked. ‘’Can you get the fancy wine glasses down from the top cabinet? I can’t reach them.’’

‘’Can’t reach very high when you’re three apples tall,’’ Rafe teased, an amused smirk at the corner of his lips. 

You glared at him. ‘’I’m not three apples tall! I’m regular sized.’’ 

It wasn’t true, and you both knew it. You were just about Wheezie’s height — who was thirteen years old. 

Rafe chuckled at your reaction and went to the kitchen for the wine glasses. He reached the top cabinet and grabbed the glasses with ease, handing the first four to you. He brought the other fours to the counter where you had placed the wine opener. 

Then, you disappeared back to the living room and up the stairs to finish your hair, seeing as there was only an hour before your parents would arrive. Rafe followed and watched you standing in front of the mirror of your ensuite bathroom in your small red and white festive dress, which was driving him crazy. The way it hugged your body and made you look like a little doll in a Christmas outfit. He didn’t think he would love that childish looking dress when he saw it on the hanger — he compared it to one of Sarah’s when she was little —, but now he wanted nothing more than to flip the skirt up and take you right there.

‘’At what time is it acceptable to kick everyone out?’’ he asked, already looking forward to being alone with you. 

‘’Don’t be a Grinch, Rafe. No one has arrived yet,’’ you warned as you took out another one of the rollers. Your hair was so bouncy and pretty. You’ll need to ask Sarah to take nice pictures of you and Rafe so you can hang them in the house.

Rafe shook his head. ‘’I’m not being a Grinch. I just really want to fuck you in that dress,’’ he said casually, making a smile bloom across your lips. His smirk grew into a cocky grin, and he continued. ‘’I was thinking under the tree?’’ he began, his voice low and full of desire. ‘’So you can be my little present that I get to unwrap. Or, in front of the fireplace like they do in movies. What do you think?’’ 

You put down your last roller, and grabbed the hairspray and brush to smooth everything a little. ‘’I think…that you should get dressed. Can’t welcome our guests in sweatpants.’’

Although you moved into this house last November, you and Rafe had yet to host a holiday dinner. The Camerons rented a nice cabin last Christmas — as they did every year. You went skiing, and ice skating with Sarah and Wheezie. And Thanksgiving was spent at your parents’ — your mother loved Thanksgiving. 

‘’Alright,’’ Rafe replied, eyeing his clean pants and a crisp button up you had priorly set nicely on the bed. 

He was perfectly capable of picking his clothes and dressing nicely, but the nerves of hosting had you searching through his closet and picking what he would wear for tonight. 

When you were both ready, you went back downstairs. Your father had called saying he was going to run a little late due to a closed road and traffic. Moving to Charleston after college had been difficult for them. They assumed that you would come back home, and instead you bought a house seven hours away from them.  

‘’Rafe, I said no,’’ you repeated, avoiding Rafe’s grasp.

He was faster than you, quickly catching you when you walked by the couch. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled you closer to him, leaning down to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck. ‘’But you said your parents would be late. Come on, baby. Just a quick one?’’

You shook your head, dodging his kisses. ‘’Rafe…’’

The offer was tempting. It didn’t help that he smelled good and looked so damn hot in his white button up. 

‘’You're not being fair,’’ he retorted, chuckling darkly. ‘’Walking around in that tiny dress. Look what you did to me,’’ Rafe pressed his tented pants to your ass. ‘’I can’t welcome your parents with this rock hard beast in my pants. How inappropriate would that be?’’

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out as he pressed the evidence of his arousal against you. ‘’That’s your problem.’’ 

He grinned, leaning down to steal a kiss, his lips brushing your glossy ones just enough to send a shiver down your spine. ‘’Not my fault you look so damn good in that dress.’’ 

‘’Horn-dog,’’ you muttered, trying to hide your smile.

‘’Around you? Always.’’ 

You laughed again, but it was cut short by a squeal when your feet left the floor and Rafe threw you over his shoulder in one fluid motion. Your skirt rode up, exposing even more of your thighs as you wriggled awkwardly over his shoulder. Rafe chuckled, his hand coming to smack your exposed ass cheek. 

Rafe set you down on the divan, which turned out to be one of your favorite furniture purchases. Who would have thought that a couch could be convenient for so many different sex positions? 

''You gonna fill my stocking?'' you asked, looking up at Rafe with sparkling eyes and glossy lips. For the sake of being naughty, you lifted the skirt of your dress, flashing your red panties. They were small, and not hiding much. 

That made Rafe groan, his gaze roamed your body with a hungry gleam in his eyes that made it clear how much he wanted you. ''Fuck,'' he mumbled in a low, gruff voice, hurriedly unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. ‘’You been walking around like that all this time?’’ 

You grinned in response. ‘’I’m on the naughty list, aren’t I?’’ 

‘’Top of the fucking naughty list, yeah,’’ Rafe agreed, rubbing himself over his tight boxers. His eyes caught the gold ‘R’ around your neck, glistening from the twinkling lights of the tree. He had never seen anything more beautiful. 

You lowered your eyes to his crotch, knowing what was underneath. ''Boy, I think that package is too big to gift wrap.'' 

Rafe chuckled at your comment, a cocky smile playing on his lips. Your raunchy sense of humor being one of his favorite things about you — spontaneous, sharp, and just the right balance of cheeky and bold without crossing into vulgarity. It kept him on his toes, always guessing what you'd say next, and he loved every second of it.

You shuddered when Rafe’s cock entered you, squeezing through your tight walls and filling you up. He had one knee on the divan, right between yours, and gripped your hips as he pounded into you, panties pulled to the side. Your red fingernails were digging into the back of his biceps and shoulder, anchoring you to him. 

A quick fuck, he said. 

Your head lulled as your arousal built, your orgasm threatening to come as sounds of pleasure left your lips. Rafe’s hips picked up the pace, reaching between your bodies to toy with your clit. The ‘magic button’, as he called it. 

As if Santa was watching and purposely unleashed a curse of Christmas on you and Rafe, the doorbell went off, echoing through the house just as you came around Rafe’s cock with a cry that must have been heard on the other side of the front door. On top of you, Rafe growled into your neck as he released ropes of cum inside you.

The doorbell echoed again, and Rafe laughed. 

‘’Oh my god,’’ you panicked, trying to catch your breath. 

You flipped back the bottom of your dress and stood, quickly closing and clenching your legs when you felt something dripping between your thighs. You couldn’t welcome the guests like that…

You glared at Rafe, who was tucking himself back into his boxers and pants, and very much amused by the situation. ‘’This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this.’’ 

—

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[hanasnx]

sure, we can rave about clark kent toe sucking, pussy sucking, BUT i just know 1000% clark dies when some tits are in his face.

you're sitting on his lap, playing around with all those perfect dark locks he's got and plastering soft kisses to those chiseled rosy cheeks that blush even pinker under your attention while the unarguably cutest boy in smallville has those super big, veiny, and farm-raised hands clutched around your waist—you're so small being held by a boy his size that u disappear in his grip—just like you were made just for him to hold and he loves it he loves YOU so much and how beautiful you look sat like a queen on her throne upon his big, muscle-sculpted leg—even if it makes him a teensy bit nervous when you're so close and lovin' on him, kent's leg bouncing up & down absentmindedly as he stares at your chest, satisfied with how they bounce as a result of his nervous tic. he's so focused he doesn't even realize his gander is all by his own accord

Baby," you laugh, "starin' so hard, Clark…"

His eyes dart up to meet yours immediately, guilt flashing across his face as he realizes how blatantly he’s been staring. He fumbles over an apology, cheeks burning, but before he can finish, you press your lips to his and tug your top down.

"Here," you tease with a smirk, "somethin' to keep you busy while I finish up my work."

Clark is stunned, frozen for a second as his wide eyes drop to your chest. You lean back into him, lips finding the crook of his neck as you suck a hickey into his flushed skin. His mouth practically waters, staring at you like you’re some kind of dream he doesn’t quite know how to handle.

Tentatively, he starts by cupping one in his hand—large, veiny, and calloused from farm work—and it fits perfectly, like it was made just for him. His chin rests lightly on your head as he watches every move, every reaction, his fingers brushing over your nipple and making you gasp.

"Like that?" he murmurs, so soft it’s almost a whisper, and it's both the essence of a question and a statement. Fuckin' Cutie Clark!—The most cutest thing. You nod, breath hitching as he squeezes gently, testing, before the compulsion takes over, and he dips his head to suck at your chest.

Your lips are still at his neck, kissing and nipping, when a moan slips out—"Awh, Clark…"—your voice a soft, needy sound right into his ear that sends a jolt through him, straight down to his cock and suddenly he’s lost.

He kneads and squeezes, his lips sealing around your nipple as his tongue flicks over the sensitive skin. Spit drips lazily down your body, and he doesn’t care—he’s addicted, hooked on the warmth of you, the taste, the way you gasp and clench against him and grasp his biceps for stability. From that moment on, Clark doesn’t just like sucking your tits—he craves it, like it’s the only thing that grounds him.

UGH, i might have to post this too! CLARK KENT SUCKS BOOBS SUPREMACY!

i have a difficult time responding to long asks but i wanted to say i enjoyed this thank u :)

[alchemistc]

43. undone if it speaks to you <3

Getting back to these because I have a lot of fleeting half ideas I need to get rid of to focus on the Cap Buck series. This once again got longer than I meant it to so happy new year.

It takes Eddie about half an hour to realize Buck and Tommy are actually having a drawn out argument, right here in public, instead of just bickering the way he's so used to.

It's...strange.

The thing is he's always seen Tommy with a lid on it - he projects a certain image in a public, and a slightly less restrained image in private, and Eddie is absolutely certain the Tommy he knew six months ago would have rather eaten a live scorpion than air his shit out in such a public setting.

He supposes six months into their second at bat and Tommy's a little less concerned about laying a bunt.

It's subtle, is the thing. Eddie has had screaming matches with Buck in very public places before, he knows the usual script. Emotional land mine after emotional land mine exposed to whoever's in hearing distance, no holds barred, knock down, drag out shit. It's probably why it takes him so long to notice, because this is some fucking terrible amalgamation of Buck and Tommy at their worst and he is not a fan.

Hen goes to get another round with a raised brow in Eddie's direction that means she's definitely noticed too and will be taking her damn time getting back.

Chim's too busy staring all moony-eyed at a ready-to-pop Maddie absolutely killing her karaoke song to care when Tommy grimaces and rolls his jaw while Buck whispers something Eddie doesn't quite catch.

Eddie takes a drink. Then another.

He's down to the ice in his rocks glass.

"You aren't seriously trying to argue that projected stats have more weight than a full career, are you?" Tommy asks, and Eddie sort of wants to hit them both, because what? What? This whole thing started when a song reminded Buck that Tommy had once implied he didn't have enough gay experience to really love Tommy. Or. That was the gist, according to Buck. Famously not a reliable narrator in high emotion moments, but Tommy's never outright denied it, to Eddie's knowledge.

"I'm just saying, Gretzky's goal record is gone, so how can you say people with a decade of play left in them can't be in the conversation to surpass him? Statistically -."

Tommy's eyes glint. He looks mad.

When he stands from his seat, Buck throws both arms in the air. "Yeah, walk away," he spits, and Tommy, two steps towards the restroom already, spins on his heel with clenched fists.

Eddie has a sudden, clarifying memory of Buck reading off the statistics for couples who make it past the first six months. First year. First two, and five. Statistics for couples who took a break. Statistics for gay men, specifically, when he realized his sample size was skewed too straight.

Jesus Christ, he'd rattled those off to Tommy, too.

"I'm not subjecting Eddie to the shit I have to say to you right now, Evan," Tommy says, jaw clenched, hands digging into his pockets. He rocks back on his heels, tension fucking rolling off of him.

Buck stands too. Makes a sweeping gesture that seems to piss Tommy off more, and then they're both disappearing into the crowd.

Hen sets a new drink down in front of Eddie twenty seconds later.

"Thank you for leaving me to witness that by myself," Eddie manages, with a wry twist to his smile, and Hen grins back.

"Their foreplay sure has kicked it up a notch," she says, and Maddie crinkles her nose as she drops back into the booth beside Chim.

"If Jee hadn't been there they'd have screwed in my bathroom last week, I just know it."

Eddie shakes his head between them. "They - you guys know they were fighting, right?"

Maddie raises a brow at him like he's cute. Like a cute confused little puppy. Oh he hates that.

"Tommy deciding one of them dying was the only way they'd be free of each other has opened up a whole new world of ways for Buck to get his rocks off," Hen intones, like it's obvious. "This is just their flirty bickering turned up to eleven."

Eddie takes about twelve minutes to digest that - just long enough for Hen and Chim to get a duet in, long enough for him to drain another drink, long enough for Maddie to decide the baby's officially tapped out for the night, long enough for Chim to grab their jackets and toss a few bills on the table before he's herding his wife out the door.

Tommy rounds the corner and settles back into his seat looking decidedly more relaxed. There's at least one less button hooked on the flannel he's been wearing all night. It takes Eddie a second to register that his face is a little dewy, like he'd recently splashed water on it.

Hen makes a face a second before Eddie gets it.

"Oh come on, man."

Tommy's lips twist into a grin, and he yelps when Hen kicks out at him under the table. "Low hanging fruit, Kinard."

"I mean, one of us did," Tommy manages with a shrug, and only winces at the second kick.

Buck slides in next to him with a fresh beer for each of them and slaps a hand high on Tommy's thigh. Possessive. Still clearly a little riled.

"Yep, I'm out," Hen murmurs, and Eddie scrambles after her.

[angstywaifu]

Underestimated - Bodhi Durran

Request/Prompt: Bodhi and reader get into a fight during challenges because Bodhi underestimates her and she kicks his ass. And he finds it really hot and maybe they end up sleeping together from @fictional-babes-inc

Warnings: sparing/fighting, slightly dominant Bodhi. Masterlist | Support Me

Name after name gets called. Riders pairing up against each other on the mat, all of us trying to prove ourselves. It was the one thing the Rider’s Quadrant never lacked. Competition. We were all trying to be the best, trying to make sure we came out on top while we fought on these mats. Especially with Threshing fast approaching. We all wanted to prove we were the better fighter or take out those we saw as threats. And I loved the thrill of it.

”You look like you’re itching for a challenge.” Garrick teases from next to me.

He knew better than anyone how much I enjoyed being on the mat. Having been in the same foster home we knew each other very well. The only person who knew him better than me was probably Xaden, as they knew each other before the rebellion. My parents were part of the rebellion, but they were as high up and were a later addition to the cause. Meaning I didn’t know a lot of the other marked ones as well as the others.

”You know me too well. It’s been too long since I’ve been on that mat.” I tell him with a smile which he mirrors back.

I’d somehow managed to escape being called up for any challenges last week, meaning it had been almost two weeks since I’d been on the mat for a challenge. I’d missed it.

”Tavis, you’re up.” The professor calls up as he waves Garrick over to an open mat, a Cadet from my year going pale at the sight of Garrick walking over. Good luck kid.

Not long after Garrick walks away, Bodhi slots into his place. Yet again late for challenges. I swear he was never on time.

”Are you ever going to be on time for this?” I tease him, rocking into his shoulder as he playfully shoves me away.

”One day, but don’t hold your breath.” He teases back with a goofy grin.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

He laughs in response before turning his attention back to the challenges at hand, mine drifting to Garrick who has the first year pinned to the mat already, their face bright red as Garrick cuts off their airflow with his arm. And he wonders why most of my year are afraid of him.

”Y/N and Felix, you’re up.” The professor calls across the room.

As I go to step forward Bodhi grabs my arm. “He’s going to knock you out, don’t.”

I furrow my brow at Bodhi. Due to his lateness to nearly every challenge he’d never actually seen me fight. And honestly the way he questions my ability now hurts. Especially seeing as Xaden had excused me from the training he had allocated to the other marked ones who were lacking in their fighting skills.

”Don’t think I can handle myself?” I challenge as I step towards him, Bodhi swallowing nervously.

”No, I’m sure I can. But…. He’s like triple you’re size.” He says nervously, clearly noting he’s angered me.

Fine, he thinks I can’t handle myself, I’ll prove him wrong.

I turn my head towards the Professor who is looking at us with a furrowed brow, clearly not liking Bodhi’s interruption. “I’d like to challenge Bodhi Durran instead.”

I feel Bodhi’s grasp on my arm slacken. “Y/N, that’s not what I me-”

”Done. On the mat Cadets.”

I free my arm from Bodhi’s grip, walking past a Garrick who laughs and shakes his head as he heads back to our spot. “Have fun Bodhi.”

I hear Bodhi stutter behind me, worry clearly setting in as he follow me to the mat. He wants to underestimate me? Fine. Just be prepared for the consequences. I turn on the mat to face Bodhi, seeing Garrick and Xaden standing where we were moments ago trying to contain their laughter as Bodhi joins me on the mat.

We both settle into a fighting stance and I’m glad to see a determined look to cross Bodhi’s face. He better not go easy on me. And I hope Garrick’s words were enough for him to rethink his approach to me.

Despite him underestimating me, Bodhi is the first to move, lunging forward as he aims a quick jab at my shoulder. I can tell there isn’t much power behind it, clearly testing how I would react and move. I lean back just enough to feel the air rush past me as he missed by a few inches. I watch as his brow twitches with surprise as I sidestep it with ease.

”Nice reflexes.” He praises as we start to circle each other.

I shrug and smirk at him. “Didn’t think you’d be so predictable.”

I watch as he smirks at my words, clearly seeing the challenge I’ve laid out for him. He might be the softer and more docile version of Xaden and Garrick, but deep down he was the same, you just had to find the right buttons to push.

This time he comes at my harder, faster, his strikes becoming more and more calculated. But unlike him, I’d had weeks to study how he fought. Studying his rhythm, the way he shifted his weight around. He steps towards me, throwing a right hook which I’d seen him do before. I duck low, twisting around him before landing a punch in his back.

’See, predictable.” I tease again.

Bodhi turns and smiles at me before charging at me again, feinting left before he aims a kick towards my ribs. I catch his leg mid air and sweep his other foot out from under him, Bodhi hitting the mat with a loud thud, his shocked expression priceless as I stand over him, pinning him to the mat as I press my foot into his shoulder.

”You good down there?” I joke as he squirms under me.

Bodhi just growls in frustration as he shoves my foot off him, rolling back to his feet as he settles back into a fighting stance. He comes at me again faster and sharper, trying to change things up. Just like Felix, Bodhi had size and strength over me. But I could use that to my advantage like I always did. I let him come at me, blocking and dodging till I see the opening I need. I let him come at me, blocking and dodging until I saw the opening I needed. And when it came I didn’t hesitate. A swift strike to his shoulder throwing him off balance, followed by a solid kick to his knee sending him stumbling backwards onto the mat again, his body landing with a loud thud.

”Point proven.” He grunts out as he rubs the pack of his head which had just missed hitting the mat and had landed on the wooden floor.

”You’re not a sore loser, are you?” I ask, holding my hand out to him.

He grasps my hand, pushing off the ground as I pull him up. “Not when the fights this fun,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking to my lips for just a fraction of a second. He catches himself, looking away quickly, but I saw it. Felt the intensity behind his eyes.

I step back, giving him room to breathe, though part of me wants to see what would happen if I didn’t. “Let me know when you’re ready for a rematch.” I say, turning towards the edge of the mat.

”I might need a minute to recover, from all of that.” He calls out to me.

Just before I step back into the crowd I turn and look at Bodhi, a smirking pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s a shame, because I don’t.”

Bodhi’s eyes go wide as Garrick chokes on his laughter as Xaden thumps him on the back, barely containing his own laughter. I don’t wait to see what Bodhi does, pushing through the crowd towards the doors.

”Dude, if you don’t go after her I might just do it.” I hear Garrick say from behind me, a muffled ow sounding from behind me that sounds awfully like Garrick as I step through the doors.

I know Bodhi has followed me when I don’t hear the door close behind me, the sound of rushed feet fast approaching me. I barely turn around before his hands grasp my hips, spinning me around as he lifts me up, pinning me to the wall.

My breath catches as my back meets the cold surface, the contrast sharp against the heat radiating from his body. His grip is firm, commanding, but his touch isn’t rough—it’s deliberate.

“Do you ever stop running circles around me?” Bodhi’s voice is low, gravelly, and it sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and unreadable, and I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“I wasn’t running,” I manage to say, my voice breathless, betraying me. “You’re just slow.”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile, but there’s something softer beneath it, something that makes my pulse race even faster. “Oh, is that how it is?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against my hip, just barely enough to be noticed. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been in my head since the moment you walked across that Parapet.

I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing he can see—or the fact that I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, strong and steady despite the chaos between us. All I know is that my walls, the ones I’ve spent years perfecting, feel like they’re crumbling under the weight of this moment.

“You’re in mine too,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. They hang in the air between us, daring him to make the next move.

His smile fades, replaced by something deeper, more intense. “Say that again,” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

I swallow hard, my hands gripping his shoulders for balance—or maybe just to ground myself. “You’re in my head too, Bodhi. And it’s... infuriating.”

He exhales a soft laugh, his lips brushing against my temple as if testing the boundaries. “Good. At least we’re even.”

Before I can respond, he leans in, closing the gap between us, his lips hovering over mine. He hesitates for the briefest moment, his eyes searching mine for permission. And when I don’t pull away—when I tilt my head ever so slightly toward him—it’s all the confirmation he needs.

The kiss is bold, unapologetic, and all-consuming. It’s everything I don’t associate with the Bodhi I’ve come to know. The kind and caring Bodhi everyone sees. It’s not careful or slow—it’s fire and fury, a culmination of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment we’ve danced around this. My hands slide up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if proximity could quench the heat building between us. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse.

When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, he doesn’t let go. His hands stay firmly on my hips, his forehead pressed to mine, his lips ghosting over the corner of my mouth like he’s not ready to let the moment end.

“You drive me insane,” he says softly, his voice rough but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Good,” I reply, a small, breathless smile tugging at my lips. “At least we agree on that."

[aboutchriss]

Horses of Sydney

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader (we call him Chris in here)

Genre: fluff, crack

Warnings: spiders, like big spiders, the ones that you can find only in Australia, slightly arachnophobia

Author note: I wrote it last night, I don’t know what is this, it just came out after I saw a video on instagram lmao, hope you enjoyed it.

💌 remember! english it's not my first language, please be gentle with me! let me know if there's any mistake(s) 💌

Are you wearing a towel in a hotel lobby? Yes do you have shampoo in my hair? yes do you look weird? probably but there's a reason behind this

"uhm, Miss can i help you?" a voice with a thick australian accent asks

"y-yes, oh my god yes" WHY THE GORGEOUS RECEPTIONIST WHY?

"is there something wrong with your room?" he asks

"no, no the room is perfet it's just that i have a big guest in my room and i can't handle it, not big things like that, i can handle small things, but not that"

"there's condoms of every size on the bed side table miss”

"what? NO, NO. tha-that's not what i mean oh my god; as you can tell i was taking a shower, without my glasses, of course, because who takes showers with their glasses on? my blind ass can't see shit okay? i was washing my hair, music blasting from the shower speakers then boom a giant black-ish thing is on the wall, i thought 'am i losing that much hair?how does my hair ended up there?’ so i put my glasses on to grab it, AND THANKS GOD I DIDN'T DO IT, there was a huge, big, enormous spider in the shower with me, so i grabbed a towel and run here" You say walking back and forth, looking at the man with his stupid fucking glasses, and he's trying not to laugh, the hot dude at the recption is trying not to laugh at you.

"i'm sorry, i'm making such a big deal out of this and i know that big spiders are common in here but...that thing was not a spider...it was but with the dimensions of a horse, i could ride and do a fucking promenade on the beach with it!"

and this bitch is laughing, hands on his stomach, dimples out and eyes closed

"i'm sorry miss, it's the first time that someone describe a spider like this, do you want me to take it off the wall for you?" he asks

"please, i'll do anything, i'll pay an additional, another room please i'm begging you" You say desperate

"okay, okay, let's go, show me the horse...i mean the spider" he says walking out of the recption, with a plastic box

the two of you start walking towards your room, once you're inside you let him go into the bathroom

"oh hello buddy...come here, c'mon here in the little box. we don't look at women without they're consent buddy, especially if they're naked, come here...oooh such a good boy" is he talking to the spider? is he teaching consent to a fucking spider? what the fuck? "and we're done" he said closing the plastic box and walking outide the bathroom

"were you talking to...him?" you ask

"yeah...his not poisonous...just a curious spider...trying to get ladies attention" he says smiling

"thank you really..."

"Christopher, call me christopher" he smiles and once again his dimples are out

"y/n, and thanks again i own you something" you say looking at him

"you don't own me anything...maybe a drink...in the city center? downstaris at 8 p.m?" he asks looking at the spider

"i- damn that was smooth...okay, see you tonight" you say smiling

he opens the door to get out and then he stops

"i prefer light blue panties" he winks at you and get out

“You saw her naked before me, you lucky bastard”

He says to the spider

"what?" you ask your self entering the bathroom and there they are a pair a light pink panties.

[sleighhethereal]

♡ — 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

WARNING: slight nsfw, bunnies

imagine being one of the only female best friend's of Mei, and somehow you haven't met the Monkey King at all the first season or two

you didn't really give a shit to begin with

sure, it was amazing having MK as a best friend AND successor to some immortal jackass

all you've heard from MK is that Wukong was—

"HE'S THE BEESST!" MK squealed as he swung the red staff around in the air, swiftly doing stances with each turn. "Just as the legend says, [Name]! He's strong, handsome, and- and- he taught me that you should ALWAYS believe in yourself—"

"MK, I could have told you that myself."

though, there was a small part of you that wasn't atleast curious of what or who Sun Wukong is

it seemed MK talked about you alot, because sometimes Wukong asked for you to join

"Hey [Name]." MK would approach you as you held twenty dishes in hand, "Monkey King asked me... to ask you, if you wanted to- sort of- join in on the training—?"

that'd be when MK would receive a wooden spoon to the back of his head, sending him flying to the ground face-first

"HELL NO! HE GOT ONE OF YOU, I'M NOT LETTING HIM TAKE THE OTHER!" Pigsy would screech, somehow spawning another wooden spoon in his palms.

after that, MK stayed for shifts a bit longer than expected‐ you'd ask why and he'd tell you Monkey King seemed like he was sulking, so he gave him a break

weird stuff

it was during personal training that you'd finally meet the Great Sage‐ not under great circumstances

and no, it wasn't for the end of the world

MK was prepping his own moves, with you on the side for... support? Mei came around in a bit, sitting beside you.

"I wonder what else I can do.." MK mumbled to himself, pushing his hand out as it began to glow a bright yellow. "YAAAAAAAHH!"

everything went black

and you slowly opened your eyes to see Mei beating the absolute shit out of MK

"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY—"

"YOU TURNED MY BEST FRIEND INTO A BUNNY- CHANGE HER BACK, NOW!"

you blinked, looked down, and screamed.

you quickly rushed- well, hopped‐ towards a full-length mirror and gazed upon yourself.

you turned into a life-sized bunny

half the day was spent with MK trying to turn you back but nothing worked, just a sweaty man on the floor and a whole lot of sobbing apologies

it would've been fine but you were starting to do strange things

like, you hated Pigsy for example

"Kid, what the hell is up with you?" Pigsy asked, his eyes filled with nothing but concern.

"Don't TOUCH me!"

you found some menstrual pads, chocolate, and some take-out noodles on your bed the next day

you weren't on your period.

you nudged people, head-butted, and didn't sleep at all at night

sometimes you'd watch MK sleep and he'd wake up to your purring, and then others would wake up to his terrified screams

finally, MK took you to Flower Fruit Mountain- he couldn't turn you back himself, but someone can

that'd be the Monkey King himself

you were especially weird this week- you had made a dirty den in the shop, growling at anyone who came near

so, yeah, that was kind of the last straw for Pigsy

when Monkey King came out to greet MK and Mei, he never did

he squealed at the sight of you, pushing the kids aside (quite roughly, sending them flying off the stairs) and rushed you with open arms

he kissed your face, nibbling your cheeks— a part of him actually thought you were an early birthday gift

"O-M-G! You're so cute! What brought you here, hmmmm? Oooooooo, I just wanna eat you up and put you in my pocket-" He babbled nonsense as he carried you, pinching your cheeks.

that was until you practically pounced on his face, pulling his nose close to yours as you stared into his eyes.

"You'd give me great kittens."

"...Oh?"

It took MK a while to try and separate you both and it took a while longer convincing Wukong to turn you back

"Look, man, I need you to bring her back to her- you know, normal self."

"But why????"

"You KNOW why!"

"If dealing with her is so difficult, I could... take her off your hands—"

"MONKEY KING." "DON'T YOU DARE!"

"WHAAAAATTTT?"

eventually, after like two days, MK convinced Wukong. it would've taken longer if it weren't for you actually telling him that you wanted to be yourself again

after Wukong's dramatic tears and hard hugs, he turned you back

lucky for you, you don't remember anything that happened after being converted

well, lucky for like a few seconds after you got back to the shop

"So you kind of asked Monkey King to, uh.." MK got close to your ears, whispering the rest."

your face went red, "I did what?"

"I think he was into it too—"

"WHAT?"

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Batter Up

This new apartment was at least three times better than the hovel that sent you through the floor and into Simon’s lap. Both the deadbolt and the doorknob locked and used the same key! It had only been a month since moving in and you were still learning how to coexist with a man who maybe spent three out of every ten days in his own bed.

He didn’t text much and had yet to give you a heads-up on when he might be home. Today would be your only day off this week and you spent it deep cleaning the apartment and settling the last of your items into their homes. You had vacuumed Simon’s room, your room, and inside the couch. It was a newer couch but you still didn’t trust that it would be clean. The last one spawned crumbs like it had been put on this plane for that purpose alone.

As the sun settled you settled as well. TV on, volume low, you sip a glass of wine and relax until nearing midnight. Settling into bed you leave only a small plug-in nightlight in the kitchen to illuminate the darkness.

Quiet sounds, shuffling of feet, and the lock of the front door sliding home wake you from a restful sleep.

Terror kicks off as you fight to free yourself from your blankets. A bat lived under your bed next to the headboard for this reason. It had to happen while Simon was gone—course it did. Your toes are silent on the carpet as you pull out your protection. The bright pink softball sock had been a gift from a friend who moved before you finished school.

Opening your door on silent hinges you slip into the hallway. All is dark in the flat like you left it. There. Someone moves in front of the night light.

Lining yourself up with the opening into the kitchen you pull back, wound and ready to beat the brakes off whoever broke into your flat.

You catch him in the stomach as he steps from the kitchen. Your fear spikes when you see he is wearing a mask. There is no reason to wear a mask at night.

“Oof.”

Large hands grip the bat to his stomach. In a fight of muscle, you would have lost. Good thing you had your handy dandy sock. Pulling the bat down the length of the hall you leave the intruder with nothing to turn against you.

Winding up you aim higher this time.

He moves faster than his size suggests. One paw of a hand clamps down on the wrist closest to him, the other on the bat. Your sock must be on the floor somewhere.

The wailing cry that burbles out of your throat as your shoulders are slammed into the wall overtakes whatever your attacker is trying to say. The bat leaves your hand, fingers fighting in vain to hold onto the knob.

“Hey.” He shakes your shoulders back against the wall, “Hey, it’s me. It’s Simon.”

“S-s-simon?” You hiccup out the word.

The darkness obscures him still.

“I am going to let you go and turn on a light. Stay.”

You slip down the wall, strength leeching into the floor. The kitchen floods with light and there he stands, your roommate. You had hit the man with a bat.

A new kind of horror slips through you. Both hands cover your mouth in shock.

“I’m so sorry I hit you with a bat Simon. I didn’t know you were going to be home tonight.” Your words come out muffled by your fingers.

He groans as he settles down next to you on the floor of the hallway.

“It’s my fault for not letting you know we would be in tonight,” he winced as he shifted his arm over your shoulder.

Leaning in you let your tears water the sweat stains on his hoodie, a bit more salt won’t change much.

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Maybe we can make it a rule to tell me when you’re coming back?”

Simon laughed and then groaned. You started apologizing for hitting him so hard.

“Quit apologizing for protecting yourself. What was that on your bat anyway?” he looked to the floor outside the kitchen. Incongruous the pink sock causes both of you to laugh.

When you settle in bed after a cuppa, heart more settled than when you woke, the image of that single sock would leave you smiling as you drift.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

@lilynotdilly @theyarereal I finally remembered to finish this thought.

[sucodelaranja86]

- hyun-ju cho relationship headcanons (pre/post game) : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

warnings: mentions of very faint transphobia.

A/N: Requests are open. :))

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ For starters, she confirmed herself that she is not a timid person. And you can see for yourself that she isn't afraid of expressing her opinions or taking leadership.

But that doesn't mean she isn't insecure.

It's hard to find people who embraced their true identity, specially in the place you two live. So it's not hard for her to feel like she is sticking out negatively in the crowd. And of course, people around you don't make things better.

So not going into too many details, she would enjoy PDA a lot more if she didn't make you two stick out so much. She is not embarrassed to show affection to you, quite the contrary. As i mentioned before, she is not a shy person by no means. She just feels a afraid of making a fuss.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't shower you with affection inside closed doors!

Independent of your size and height, you are going to be the big spoon. Yes, she is the double of your size, and yes, you are going to caress her head while she sits on your lap. It's not like you are complaining.

She feels like she can be her true self around you, and that true self is a clingy woman who demands affection everytime your hands are unoccupied.

Even through messages, she is still the same person you know. And you are not afraid to admit she messages and comments like a facebook mom. She didn't understand what you meant when you bursted out laughing while admitting that, but it would never not be funny to you.

"love, are you coming home rn?"

"Yes, my dear, 💕 i am on my way. 😊 I am currently at the subway, and i couldn't help but admire some of the breath-taking flowers a certain seller is promoting. 💐🌷🌻 Should i get a combination of flowers for our apartment, or should i save for something else? 🤔 Message me what you think! ☺️😚🤩"

You never get the heart to explain to her why is it so funny. The proper grammar, the exaggerated quantity of emojis, alongside a sticker that is the definition of a grandma's humor won't ever not make you giggle.

And don't even get me started on the 'funny' videos she sends you.

They are either military humor/jokes that you would need at least 2 years of researching for you to understand, or those videos that would be funny 6 months ago and you would sometimes catch your mom giggling to it. Sometimes you had to remind her you were not a first class sergeant like she was, and that always lead to her explaining for 15 minutes about the joke. So after some time you decided to simply laugh, even if you didn't get it.

You once tried looking through her main page on the only social media she used, and the only things you found were mainly housewife tutorial videos, military documentary clips, occasionally some millennial funny videos, and even more occasionally trans pride related ones. It was like a single mother, a teenager who just came out and a 47 married man were sharing the same social media.

And speaking about moms- she is the biggest one ever. You got a simple cold? She is already making you soup while wrapping you up in the warmest blanket you two own. Had a problem with someone? When they see her, they are surely not going to mess with you anymore.

Overall: you don't know if you bagged a girlfriend or a single mom.

⌢ ⌣ ⌢ ⌣

[drewsephrry]

I’m not sure if requests are open or not so pls forgive me and ignore this if it’s closed 🤦🏻‍♀️. I love your blog you’re an absolutely amazing writer!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Smut Prompt List no. 2

19) when the teasing in the dressing room gets a little too hot

JJ x fem

i am so sorry i took so long for this one, thank you for your kind words and for requesting!!! 🤍🤍

2k celebration!!!

warnings: sexual innuendos

words: 675

The boutique's cramped dressing room barely fit one person, let alone two. Yet JJ Maybank, ever the opportunist, had no care about invading your space. Leaning lazily against the mirror with his signature smirk, he looked entirely at ease.

“You planning to take all day, or am I getting a private show?” He teased, his eyes flicking to the dress you were still wrestling into place.

“JJ!” You hissed, shoving at his chest in a futile attempt to push him toward the door. “Get out before someone catches you!”

“Relax, princess.” His grin widened as he plucked at the tag dangling from your shoulder. “It’s not like I haven’t seen more before. Besides…” His gaze dropped, sweeping over the dress “This one’s cute. Little tight, though. Sure it’s your size?”

“You’re insufferable. Go harass someone else.” You said, glaring at him, but as always, he seemed fueled by the challenge.

“Nah.” He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You’re my favorite person to bother.” His tone softened, turning mischievous. “Now turn around. Let me see the back.”

“JJ-”

“Turn around.” He repeated, his voice edged with playful command. With an exaggerated eye roll, you complied, facing the mirror. The dress hugged your figure, the fabric clinging in all the right places. JJ let out a low whistle, stepping closer until the heat of his body brushed against yours.

“Damn.” He murmured, his tone shifting into something deeper, heavier. His fingers trailed lightly over the zipper, sending a shiver down your spine. “This might be my favorite one yet.”

“You’re impossible.” You muttered, your voice lacking its usual bite. His nearness was distracting, and you cursed the way your body seemed to lean into his touch.

“Admit it. You love that I’m impossible.” JJ leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you swallowed hard.

“JJ, someone could walk in-”

“Let them.” He said, his voice low and rough. “Might make things more exciting.” His hands slid to your hips, tugging you gently back against him. You gasped and his grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

“JJ.” You started, your tone wavering between exasperation and something else entirely. “You can’t just-”

“Can’t I?” His lips brushed your ear, then trailed down to the curve of your neck. “You look too good to ignore.” Your hands clutched the edge of the small bench, torn between shoving him out and pulling him closer. JJ gently kissed your neck.

“This isn’t the time.” You managed, though your resolve was crumbling fast.

“Why not?” He countered, his lips grazing your shoulder. “You know you look amazing. I know it. And I can’t stop thinking about how much better this would look on my floor.” A startled laugh escaped you, part nerves, part disbelief.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shake your head.

“And you’re stunning.” He shot back, spinning you around to face him. His hands cradled your face, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. “Seriously. You drive me insane.”

For a moment, the air between you stilled, heavy with unspoken truths neither of you dared name. His thumb brushed your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. His other hand on your hip, pulling you closer.

“Well, if I’m driving you crazy, maybe I should just buy the dress.” You cleared your throat, breaking the tension. JJ’s smirk returned, full of wicked charm.

“You should. But only if I get to help you take it off later.” He replied, with a smug grin. Rolling your eyes, you shoved his chest.

“Get out of here before someone calls security.” You pushed him. He backed toward the door, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Fine, fine. But don’t keep me waiting. I’ve got plans for us tonight.” He exclaimed.

“Plans?” You echoed, arching a brow.

“Yeah.” He said with a wink. “Me, you and that dress. Or maybe not.”

And with that, he disappeared, leaving you breathless, flustered, and far too tempted to find out exactly what he had in mind.

A/N: this was probably not what you had in mind and i am incredibly sorry for that. but this request really stumped me for some reason. i still hope you enjoyed it!!🤍🤍

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

M!troll x f!reader

2.3k words

You knew Ba’tual rarely slept with someone more than once, you weren’t quite sure exactly what to make of him letting you know he was expecting more.

(Oral: male receiving, size difference)

————

The sounds of movement woke you and you opened your eyes to see sunlight streaming through the windows and Ba’tual getting dressed.

“Good, you’re up. I though I was going to have to wake you” he commented, only barely looking over.

You sat up, your head spinning a little. Not the worse hangover you had ever had, but you certainly were not feeling so great.

Looking around you saw your clothes folded and sitting on the table along with the borrowed jewelry neatly placed beside them, so at least getting dressed and leaving would be easy.

Well, mostly easy. You struggled to figure out how exactly Bira had tied the shirt around you yesterday and you resigned to wrapping it any way you could just to keep it up. Hopefully you would not see anyone on your way back to the inn where you were staying.

As you went to leave Ba’tual stopped you for a moment and placed his hand under your chin to tilt your head up and make you look at him. He glided his thumb along your bottom lip before pressing the tip of it into your mouth, “I have things to do today, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pressed his finger in a little farther and forced you to swirl your tongue around it “But you know where to find me.”

As you went to leave he gave you such a saccharine smile. He was still insufferable, but you supposed you did not have to like him to be able to have a little fun.

Tracing the roads back to the hold as a best you could, you kept an eye out for anyone who might recognize you, disheveled hair and last night’s clothes on incorrectly was not a good look on anyone.They were not many humans in the city so you drew at least some attention anywhere you went, but at least so far you did not know anyone you walked past.

You wanted to take a wide berth around the hold, figuring that was where you were most likely to bump into familiar faces. Besides the road you usually took to get back to the inn, you realized you actually did not know any other way back. Going through the main square was your only option for now.

Cautiously you looked out from the side street you were on to check who was there. It was still fairly early in the morning and almost no one was out yet, which was quite a relief. You moved quickly across, hoping your little hustle was not drawing too much attention and you made it just over half way across before you heard a familiar voice.

“Looks like someone had a good night” Bira teased.

You could have died of embarrassment right there.

“I’m just glad to see you didn’t spend all night writing notes” she laughed.

“Yeah” you laughed back awkwardly.

“So, anyone I would know?”

“I don’t think so” you lied.

She gave you a little shrug and a smile, “Well, hope you had some fun.”

As you turned you saw something that made your heart sink: Ba’tual walking towards the two of you. Quickly you started to walk off, hoping to not be too suspicious but you heard him call out to you.

“Hey, you left this at my place” he called out much too loudly for your liking and holding up a bracelet.

You looked back and forth between him and Bira and tried to brace for impact. You were one hundred percent certain that you had put on everything that was laid out by your clothes, you had no idea how you missed something.

“Him?” Bira practically spat at you, “You have a whole city to pick from and you picked him? That’s who you went home with?”

“Good morning to you too, Bira” he smiled, clearly enjoying the scene he was currently causing while he went to hand you the bracelet.

“I could have set you up with so many better choices!” Bira hissed at you as she snatched the bracelet from Ba’tual.

“She can’t help that she has good taste” he smirked.

“A whole city. A whole city! And you choose the guy who’s been pestering you nonstop?”

You did not know how to explain it, nor did you think Bira would actually care, but Ba’tual could actually be quite charming when he wanted to be. And besides, you had fun with him. It was not like you were looking for a relationship.

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean that other people can’t like me” Ba’tual teased Bira.

“Fine, fine, make whatever poor decisions you want” she threw her hands up in defeat and sighed, “Just be careful, ok?”

“It’s fine, Bira. I’m an adult, I know what I’m doing” you assured her.

“And you” Bira snapped at Ba’tual, “don’t be such an asshole.”

“Oh but I think she likes it, she certainly seemed to like being pushed around last night” he smiled.

“Not another word” Bira warned him.

He smirked, “That’s fine, I have places to be anyways, but I’ll be seeing you later.”

“Really?” Bira asked you as Ba’tual walked off.

“I mean, it was really good” you shrugged.

Bira looked like she wanted to retch.

After getting back to the inn to wash up and change, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly at least. You headed back to the hold as you were supposed to meet with several of the huntsmasters from the minotaur clans that lived in the plains outside the city.

As you approached the hold you spotted Ba’tual in his typical spot outside, watching over two newer recruits as they sparred. He looked up as you passed and beckoned you over.

“Find me when you leave, I’ll be here all day” he told you.

You just nodded, fairly excited for whatever awaited later.

The day dragged on much longer than it should of. You found yourself struggling to write down everything the huntsmasters where telling you: important information about traveling routes for trading or following migrating animals, mostly just going in one ear and out the other. At the end of the day you smiled and nodded politely as you bid them farewell, kicking yourself for being distracted at such a vital time.

You quickly scanned the area outside the hold, the excitement building as you spotted Ba’tual sitting and leaning against one of the posts that lined the sparring area.

“Found you” you playfully called to get his attention.

“Great job” he snorted.

“Soooo” you began, “What’s the plan?”

“I’m starving, and could use a drink. Dealing with new recruits is draining.”

“Not a fan of being a teacher?”

“No. They all think they know better and then whine about unfair fights when sparring” he stood up and once more placed his hand under you chin to make you look up at him, “So I could could use a drink and some stress relief.”

You tailed behind him, somewhat struggling to keep up with his long strides as you made your way across town. The tavern he brought you to was one that you had never been to and you were the only human there. Ba’tual sat at the bar and and immediately started chatting in troll to the bartender. He smirked and nodded his head towards you and the bartender gave a laugh.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“Nothing, just ordering for us” he shrugged.

You were certain there was more to it, but it was not like you knew what he had said to prove anything so you dropped it.

The two of you made your way back to his place, a pleasant buzz in your head from the alcohol but less tipsy that then previous night at least. It was a short walk at least.

Ba’tual wasted no time once inside, immediately beginning to unlace his pants. “On your knees” he directed you, only barely glancing your way as he folded his pants and sat them aside.

You raised an eyebrow at him and remained standing.

“Please” he added with a clearly faked smile as he saw your facial expression, “And come over here.”

You knelt down between his legs next to where he sat on the bed and immediately he grabbed your hair and pulled your face right up against his cock. He was looking down at you expectantly, but did not say a word. You ran your tongue across his tip, lapping up the pre cum that had formed already. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hair, somewhat forcing his way into your mouth in his impatience.

Swirling your tongue around him got quite a response. He caught you off guard and bucked into your mouth, making you gag a bit and pull back. You looked up and shot him a dirty look, but he did not seem to care.

“Careful” you hissed at him.

“You can handle it” he shrugged.

“If you want me to blow you then don’t do that again.”

Cautiously you resumed, this time wrapping a hand around his base to hopefully keep him from shoving his cock down your throat. You started a steady rhythm of stroking him while you sucked on his tip and you felt his grip on your hair loosen as he relaxed.

Looking up at him, he really was quite a sight. When he was not being a pain the ass and kept his mouth shut he really was rather handsome.

You ran your free hand up his thigh and felt the taut muscle right under the skin, you had seen him sparring several times and knew he could absolutely manhandle you if he wanted. Slowly you moved your hand farther up his thigh until you were able to cup his balls, they hung heavy in your palm and you smile as you heard him moaning while you played with them.

He was leaning back on his elbow, eyes closed and taking deep breaths through parted lips.

“Fuck” he moaned, “That’s why he didn’t shut up about it.”

You snorted, you did not know what he was going on about, but it was almost charming in a way.

Slowly you took more of him into your mouth, enjoying how he tasted and smelled. He had been outside training recruits and sparring most of the day, giving him a strong, musky smell especially with your face between his legs and tasted of salt from the traces of sweat on his skin.

“Look at me” he directed you, though the commanding tone had all but dropped from his voice. Now it was almost a plea.

You looked up at him, though leaning back a bit he was watching you closely now, breathing heavily through parted lips.

“Spirits” he sighed, “You looked good with your lips around my cock.”

You held his eye contact and took more of him. At this point you were just at the edge of gagging if you went any farther and still it was only about half his length. You kept your tongue against the underside of his shaft, teasing him a bit as you slowly pulled back to see how he would react.

Quickly you felt his grip on your hair tighten again as he yanked you back towards him, though this time with your hand around him he did get deep enough to make you gag.

“Don’t” you warned him as you all but removed him from your mouth.

He gave you an almost pathetic whine, but released his grip on your hair entirely.

With your newfound freedom of movement you wrapped your other hand around him, working your mouth and hands in sync. He was nearly whimpering as you continued and you could hear soft words in troll falling from his lips.

As your pace increased so did his panting and ragged breathing to the point where he was nearly gasping as he finished. Spurts of thick, warm cum filled your mouth and quickly got to the point to overflowing and dribbling down your chin.

He reached down and wiped the cum off your chin with his finger before holding it to your lips.

You humored him, not only licking it off playfully sucking on his finger for a moment.

He let out a deep breath through his mouth before speaking, “Fuck” he sighed. “Really does live up to the hype.”

“Wait, have you never been blown before?” you asked in bewilderment.

“No? Have you seen troll tusks?”

“What about orcs or minotaur?”

“Look, we share a city and all get along, but not like that.”

“Then how’d you even know what it was?”

“My best friend is married to a human, you think he doesn’t tell me all about what he gets up to?”

“Fair” you conceded and you went stand up. You pressed yourself against him and began to kiss and nip along his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You did not know how to answer. It was obvious what you were doing: continuing.

“Aren’t we just getting started?” you asked, doing your best pouty, sultry voice.

“Wasn’t that enough?”

“No?” it was your turn to sound annoyed.

“Well, I’m tired. I’ve had a long day.”

“And I must be the only human you’ve had luck with, because while I’m not the only one in the city I must apparently be the only one willing to blow you” you fired back.

You saw his lip twitch as he scowled at you, clearly annoyed and doing his best to play nice. “Fine. If you’re going to be like that then give me a few minutes to catch my breath.”

[cjsmalley]

A Toy For Aronos:

Harry took Aronos by a hand and gently led her further into his shop; it was, after all, bigger on the inside.

He led her to a wall of stuffies, in all shapes and sizes and types, everything from aardvarks to zebras were represented, including magical creatures and creatures from popular culture.

He crouched beside her and spoke softly, “I want you to pick a toy, Aronos. Let the Force guide you.”

He and Anakin watched as she sank into the Force, using Anakin as an anchor to the Here and Now and Material World; Aronos scanned the wall of toys and floated, with neither man panicking quite yet, to grab an…

“Well, that’s fitting,” Harry muttered as Aronos floated to the ground while hugging a life-sized Espeon plushie.

 “The psychic type Eevee evolution, little on the nose,” Anakin muttered back but he was smiling as Aronos handed her toy to Harry and came out of the Force on her own, only tugging a little on Anakin to do so.

Harry took the toy gravely and brought them to his workshop, mumbling “Amethyst...and I think…yes San Palo wood…” as he grabbed more materials off shelves and from buckets.

He set the toy down on a worktable and set to work; first he pried off the fake gem in the forehead, a thing made of plastic and inserted a real amethyst instead after shaping it correctly and inscribing it with runes and glyphs.

“Anakin,” Harry had said seriously, tossing him the stone, “charge that up with the Force, as much as you can give it without it cracking.”

Anakin did as told, forcing power into the stone until the runes on the flat backside were glowing. Only then did Harry take it back and place it in the forehead of the toy.

While Anakin charged the stone, Harry had been shaping and inscribing a block of wood; it was taking the shape of a heart, an anatomically correct human heart.

It was small enough for the toy but still clearly a heart; all over it were more runes. Anakin was given the heart and told to charge it as well, without burning it.

Once the heart was charged, Harry made an incision into the chest of the toy and buried the heart in the fluffy stuffing. He lazily repaired the cut before casting more enchantments on it.

“Warming charm, self-repair charm, self-cleaning charm…the usual Hogwarts package,” Harry hummed as he cast the spells.

“Hogwarts package?” Anakin asked.

“Oh, yes. I have a policy that each incoming First Year is entitled to a free comfort object; blanket, toy, whatever they want. Better if they already have something they’re attached to, but they have the pick of the kids’ section of the shop,” Harry explained, “made it a policy after a buncha Sam’s friends wanted something like his hippo. Remember Barry the Hippo?”

“Yeah, wasn’t that some toy you picked up at a mundane market and enchanted specially for him?” Anakin leaned against the table, keeping an eye on the now curious Aronos. Aronos was watching her uncle work avidly.

“Where do you think I got the idea for my toy section?” Harry snorted, layering the last charms on his current project, “and my gifts to the kids of the family? Anyway…they’re done. One Seer friendly comfort toy. Should help her stay grounded.”

Harry turned and knelt, handing Aronos the toy and telling her to sleep with it every night.

She agreed solemnly.

Wished Away 9

Tylers meet Phantoms:

“Christ, Mum,” Rose said as she took in how Jackie, Pete, and Tony were dressed, “we’re just meetin’—”

“Royalty!” Jackie squeaked. They were all done up like they were meeting the Queen at Buckingham Palace itself!

“Honestly, Mum, they don’t care,” Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing her mother’s wrist and tugging her through the console room and to the wardrobe room, “I told ya ta dress casually. Let’s just hope the Ol’ Girl has clothes fer ya.”

It took about an hour to get everyone redressed, in things much more casual but still nice, before Rose led them back to the console room.

Jackie was clearly anxious, “Are ya—”

“’m sure, Mum. Danny an’ Sam don’t do formal unless they have ta. Unless you’re an annoying subject or someone threatenin’ war, ya don’t even have ta call ‘em by their titles. They’re just Danny an’ Sam ta family.”

“Lookie what I found,” Jenny bounded from the innards of the TARDIS, holding a tiny bike helmet.

She went to her toddler uncle and put it on him, making sure it fit right, “Landings in the Realms are worse than normal ones. The TARDIS does Her best but the Realms give her…nausea? A headache? She just doesn’t do good.”

“Oh, goody,” Jackie said lowly, hugging a strut for dear life already.

“Let me protect Anthony,” Bad Wolf came out, holding out her arms; without hesitation, Pete handed his son over.

Bad Wolf settled Tony in her arms, against her chest and shoulder, and then spread her feet and crouched slightly, clearly bracing for impact; she stayed steady even as the TARDIS began Her flight.

Everyone else was thrown about the console room, the Doctor and Jenny barely holding on to work the console, but Bad Wolf and Tony did not move an inch.

The landing was rough, just as Jenny said it would be, throwing even the Time Lords to the grated floor before the TARDIS stopped quaking.

Jenny recovered first and stood up, rubbing her shoulder, to peek out the doors, “We’re in the Palace. Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam are waiting…”

Slowly, everyone picked themselves up and Rose reemerged, straightening with some popping from her knees.

Jenny led the procession out, racing to hug a man and a woman, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam! How’re you?”

Danny and Sam chuckled and hugged her as one, “Good, doing good. You?”

“Perfect!”

She let go of them to drag Jackie, who was hesitant, forward, “This’s my Gran, Jackie. Mum’s side, duh. Completely human. He’s my step-granddad, Pete, and Mum’s holding my uncle, Tony.”

“Yer Majesties,” Jackie tried to curtsy even though she was in trousers, “an honor ta—”

“Oh, enough,” Sam chuckled, “didn’t they tell you? We don’t do formalities with family.”

“Family?” Jackie’s eyes were wide, “I know Rose said—but—”

“We count Clockwork as family,” Danny explained, “and he’s claimed the Doctor as family. The Doctor and Jenny. Rose’s basically married in by this point. Common-law, you understand. That makes her family our family. Welcome to the Palace, your home in the Infinite Realms.”

“My god,” Pete muttered, somewhat disbelieving.

“Not a god, not yet anyways,” Danny winked.

“Where’s Dani?” Jenny burst out, “Is she still in school?”

Sam grinned, “With Anakin, in the nursery. We let her stay home today.”

“Oh, Gran! Can I introduce Tony to Anakin? Please!” Jenny nearly begged.

“Anakin’s our youngest,” Danny explained kindly, “around Tony’s age, actually. We also have a nanny looking after them, Nanny Clara. He’d be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Jackie looked to her husband, who nodded, “if you’re sure.”

Jenny cheered and took Tony from Rose, dashing off with him deeper into the Palace.

“Jenny knows the Palace as well as anyone,” Sam assured, “and if she gets lost, she can flag down a servant for help. She’s heading directly for the nursery. It’s the most defensible part of the Palace.

Danny stood up, helping Sam, “C’mon, we can talk over food; stay close, Tylers. Doctor?”

“Rose and I can bring up the rear,” the Doctor agreed, taking Rose’s hand as they began walking.

The Palace was a gothic masterpiece, in a very literal sense, though even Sam had wearied of all the gloom and had sought artists and artwork to fill the halls, soft, plush carpets and tapestries to keep the warmth, glassworks to fill the once barred windows. Statues and busts dotted the hallways, some classical, some avant garde

Masters had given their masterpieces, their magnum opuses; they were paid handsomely of course, in either coin or material.

Oils, watercolors, acrylics, textiles, glass, all created for Her Majesty the Ghost Queen. For His Majesty the Ghost King.

It wasn’t yet a riot of color, nor would it ever be, but it was more alive.

Jackie gasped and the group stopped, turning as one to see what had captured her attention.

“When they said the family was huge…”

Ah, it was the most recent family portrait; all the children were gathered around Danny and Sam, all in formal wear.

“We…sometimes people sell the souls of children to me,” Danny started, causing her and Pete to whip around to him in horror, “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? But anyways, we adopt the kids. Only Dani—Danielle—isn’t adopted.”

He pointed out each child and gave their backstory.

“Good Lord, you were young!” Pete said at Damian’s story.

“Old enough to be king,” Danny shrugged helplessly, “it…it wasn’t easy, we had help, so much help, and we made mistakes…”

“All parents do,” Jackie told him softly.

“So we’ve been told,” Sam smiled just as softly, “and we’ve learned and made new ones with each kid.”

Danny coughed and continued to point out kids and tell stories, until all had been covered and then they moved on.

As they neared the dining room, Danielle and Jenny joined them with each holding a toddler.

“Oh my,” Jackie said, taking in the Anakin Skywalker; she knew who he grew up to be, or would have if he had not been adopted.

“We’re hungry, Dad,” Danielle said.

Danny waved them into the dining room where the smaller table was already set for a meal; there were two chairs with booster seats and Jenny and Danielle put Tony and Anakin in them before sitting beside them and helping them get food.

The group chatted over the meal, Jackie and Pete slowly relaxing at how easy going the Royals were, and generally had good cheer.

After the meal was done, Jenny asked, “Do we put their photo up on the family wall now? I know you’ve got me, Dad, and Mum…”

Danny chuckled, “We can, if they’re okay with it.”

“Family wall?” Pete questioned.

“We keep walls of pictures of the extended family,” Sam explained easily, “you know, like Rose, the Doctor, and Jenny. Harry’s and Neville’s parents. Damian’s paternal birth-family. The Royal Portrait is just the immediate royal family. The walls are for everyone and everything else.”

Danny and Sam led the group out of the dining room and down another hallway; the walls were plastered with photographs. Some were professional, most were candid and amateur.

A common camera sat on a small round table; a high-end camera but nothing too expensive or professional.

Danny picked it up, saying, “If Jackie, Pete, and Tony don’t mind—”

Jackie decided it would be a family photograph and dragged the Doctor in; Rose and Jenny came without complaint.

Danny took a set of pictures.

After that was done, it was decided it was time for the Tylers to leave, taking pity on the still disgruntled TARDIS.

They were, however, invited to the next family gathering.