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capslocked · 1 year ago

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight.

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

#hyewon smut #izone smut #izone hyewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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l0vergirlsw0rld · 3 months ago

Text

adam designated driver

intoxicated!readerxcaretaker!adam

a/n: adam driver is maybe like the love of my life I hope he reads well. this is also an older fic but maybe 2020-ish?

wc: 2.3k

18+ MDNI | no smut but sexual themes

summary: Y/N went out and had a few too many, when trying to call a taxi driver, she taps her friend adam's contact instead.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?!"You managed to shout over the pulsating bass.

The bartender nodded, turning around to grab the bottles he needed.

He was in his mid-twenties, sporting a thick beard and jewelry: trendy black stretchers, multiple rings on his fingers, and bead bracelets that swung from his wrists as he shook the shaker vigorously.

You observed his rings up close as slid your fifth drink of the night in front of you. You shouted a 'thank you' and passed him the money. The chilled glass froze your palm as you grabbed it. You winced hissed.

You were already intoxicated, which resulted in you feeling warmer than usual. You began to drink your cocktail, wincing from the prominent bourbon taste hitting your tongue.

Turning to the dance floor on your bar stool, you observed your friends dancing provocatively in front of the men.

They would grind on each other and kiss for the sake of attention as if their clothing alone wouldn't draw attention, and it would work every time. Men who were complete strangers would buy you and your friends multiple rounds throughout the night hoping to get lucky.

Tonight, you all wore matching tight-fitted black mini skirts and tops that barely covered your chest. Your outfit in question was uncomfortable, to say the least, but it was like wearing a costume. When you'd dress like that, it was as if you were a new person, for one night. You immediately gained a newfound confidence and your adventurous side would come out to play.

You grinned against your glass, chuckling to yourself.

How you loved being a woman.

You scootch off the seat, stumbling, trying to find your footing. Your sense of balance was terrible when you were drunk and your heels did not help with that at the moment.

Eventually, you made your way to your friends on the dance floor, joining the small circle to include yourself again.

"Y/N! There you are, I missed you!" Your little blonde friend threw herself on you. You caught her in your arms, laughing.

The six of you danced to the beat. Hips swaying, arms in the air, hair flying everywhere. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins, and sweat forming on your forehead, but you didn't care you were having so much fun.

our arms were raised in a state of intoxicated freedom as you tried to keep up with your friends, whose energy seemed endless.

Your fingertips tingled as you waved your hands to the rhythm, and your feet grew numb from the constant stomping.

Your head felt heavy on your neck, and your eyelids became harder to keep open. You were running out of breath.

Your movements turned sloppy as your body began to fatigue, even though your mind insisted you had more energy than you actually did. Your chest heaved, struggling to breathe in the tight top.

A couple hours went by and the club slowly began to empty out as people left in small crowds. The night was approaching its end.

You were seated in a booth with fewer friends, all of you trying to call your drives home.

Your vision was blurry as you fiddled with your phone, trying to hold it properly.

The aggressive blue light blinded you. You squinted, opening your contacts app.

A few scrolls down and you found your usual Taxi Driver's phone number.

You pressed it, bringing your phone close to your ear. The ringing echoed loudly in your ears as you drunkenly awaited a response. He finally answered.

"Ugh-mkay, uh I'm at thuh Sound Night Club.... on Las Palmas, can you cohme get me? I'm fuckhing drunhk." You slurred into the phone mic.

After a few exchanges, you hung up. "Welp ladies, my taxi issa comin soon so I gotta wait outside." You stood, steadying yourself on the table. You draped your jacket over your shoulders, clinging your wallet and phone to your chest. You gave them each a kiss on the cheek and said your goodbyes.

Your heels padded on the tacky red carpet as you slowly made your way to the entrance. Before leaving you wished the bouncer a good night. "It's not my birthday, but thank you." He replied. You just smiled, confused.

You pushed the heavy doors open, only to be greeted with a freezing gust of air. Your exposed legs were now covered in chills. The street lights illuminated your flushed cheeks; how nice. You leaned your back against the club's brick wall and waited for your Taxi.

A shiny black Camaro pulled up to the curb, flashing its lights and honking its horn. You stayed put, wondering whose ride it was. It then honked again.

You just observed silently.

The driver's door opened and a tall dark man rose from the car. "Y/N?" He shouted. You jumped slightly. This wasn't your taxi driver: You wondered who the man was, and how he knew your name.

Fucking trouble, that's who.

The unknown man was shouting your name. You looked around to see if anyone else was outside that you could ask for help; not one.

Fuck it, you thought.

You took a run for it, your cheap heels clicking on the cement sidewalks, and you gripped all of your belongings as if your life depended on it, and at that moment it did.

The streets of Los Angeles were dangerous at this time of night, and you were the desired victim; a drunk, helpless, pretty girl in slutty clothing.

So much for being a woman!

The cold air breezed through your product-filled hair as you ran down an alley, only to be cornered by the car again.

You stopped in your tracks, shocked. Your heart pounded in your ears and your mouth was now dryer than a desert. You couldn't find your voice to yell for help.

The man got out again and started running after you, leaving his door open. The car lights blinded you, you could only see his tall shadow approaching you, quickly.

You once again tried to make a run for it but your heel fell through a manhole cover. You rolled your ankle and fell to your knees, your full weight hitting the solid pavement. You groaned in pain. The man rushed to your sides, as you cried on your hands and knees.

This was the end.

"Y/N! What were you thinking? You could've gotten seriously hurt! You could've gotten hit by a fucking car!!" The familiar voice gritted with rage. You lifted your head trying to identify this strange individual's face, only to reveal the face of your friend, Adam.

"Adam? Why the fuhhck are yohu trying to kidhnap me for?" You slurred, trying to push away from his grip. "Kidnap? What? -Y/N, you called me from the club asking me to pick you up." He raised an angry eyebrow.

You just broke down in tears, feeling lost and confused.

"You're too drunk." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"nO, I called, Denis. My usual taxi." You squinted, pulling out your phone to show him. Adam plucked the phone from your grasp and examined the phone.

"Y/N, it says Driver. Driver, Adam." He sighed impatiently.

"Oh, well, i swearr thaht I actually talked to hi-WOah!" Adam had cut you off by picking you up bridal style from the ground.

"Let me down!" You attempted to squirm but your lack of energy or control didn't allow you to do so.

"No, Y/N. You hurt your ankle. Now stop whining and let me take care of you. It's late- It's 4 in the fucking morning and you're acting like a child." He knelt down to grab your jacket that was at his feet and proceeded to place you on the passenger side of his car.

He then resumed his place at the wheel and sped off to his apartment. His car hummed loudly down the silent streets.

During the drive, you were quiet, your scraped knees were pulled to your chest and you faced your window, observing the lights that flashed by as Adam sped through the neighbourhood.

You began to feel your soberness again because all the adrenaline was gone and the pain was now settling in.

Adam pulled into the parking garage and stopped the car in his usual spot. He turned off his vehicle and picked you up once more, this time with less anger. You toyed with the collar of his shirt as he carried you to his door. He had so many birthmarks on his neck.

Arriving at 11B, he managed to unlock and kick his door open. He used his elbows to switch on the lights and laid you on the grey sofa.

"Do you need anything? Some pants, another shirt? Socks?" He spoke on top of you, trying to keep you awake.

"This outfit is too tight, Adamhm, can I borrow some long socks and one of your T-shirts?" You breathed out, with your eyes closed. Your head felt heavy against the firm couch pillow, it's like you were sinking in quicksand.

"I'll be right back." He said.

You peeked an eye open to observe his apartment decor. It was minimalistic, with tones of light greys, topes and whites. Indie artists covered his walls, and colourful woven rugs were sprawled across the floor. He had lots of books on his shelf in the corner, you propped yourself up and dragged your feet to the library dizzily.

Poetry.

Adam had lots of notorious poets in his collection.

He returned shortly.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want some shorts or sweatpants? They have drawstrings, so you can tighten it as much as you want." He placed the clothing on the oak coffee table that you were now making your way to.

"I'm sure... thank you, Adam." You smiled unzipping your painfully tight top, exposing your red push-up bra. Adam's eyes diverted to the floor, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs in my bedroom. It's the first door on your left." He turned to leave.

"Wait, Adam!" You let the top fall to your feet.

"Yes?" He turned around, making only eye contact, trying to not observe your figure.

"You have poetry books in your library." You said, sliding your skirt off, leaving you in only your matching lace undergarments.

Adam controlled his breathing.

"I do, I do, uh, do you read lots of... poetry?" He asked leaning against his living room door frame.

"I actually used to write some and read them at open mic nights." You smiled, unclipping your bra swiftly, allowing your breasts to bounce out of your bra.

"Much better," You muttered.

"I-I uh, I didn't know that." He bit the inside of his cheek, face remaining unreadable. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest and fixed his posture. You could hear his foot tapping the floor, and you could sense uneasiness in him.

Oh?

Casually, you let the bra fall, like your top, and slid on his grey Star Wars t-shirt that he probably had received from a fan.

Adam was not one to watch let alone buy merchandise from his own projects. The Kylo graphic tee looked cute on you, it ended mid-thigh and wasn't too wide.

"I still write sometimes, but not as much as I'd like to, you know? What about you, do you write?" You sat on the low coffee table, knowing well, that Adam was struggling to keep his composure and slid on his long black socks that went up to your knees.

"I do, but I don't think that it's good." He chuckled, trying to seem less awkward. You simply smiled at the statement and found your place on the couch.

"um- you need some water and aspirin, I'll go get that for you." He said and walked out of the room, his heavy footsteps thumped on the creaky wooden floors.

In one hand he had a big glass of iced water, and in the other, he had two tiny pills. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly, washing down the medicine with water. "Need anything else?" He asked glancing at the time: 4:52 AM.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you, Adam. For everything. It's really appreciated. Also, I'm sorry for earlier, I thought you were trying to hurt me, it was dumb." You looked down at the glass that you held in your lap, in embarrassment.

"You are...welcomed." He gave you a small close-mouthed smile before shutting off the lights and going upstairs to his own bed.

You tossed and turned on that shitty sofa. It was small compared to your bed at home and the throw blanket was too thin for your liking, you really wished you would've taken up that offer on the sweatpants.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, now fully sober and exhausted.

You quietly got up and proceeded to make your way upstairs to the first bedroom on the left. You turned the doorknob slowly and pushed it even slower to avoid making any noise. You saw that his bedside light was on, and you could make out faint clicking noises. When you fully opened the door, you were happy to be greeted by Adam sitting shirtless in bed, typing on his computer.

"Hi." You quietly spoke.

He lifted his chin and met your eyes with his brown ones. "Hi." He gave you a toothy smile.

"Can't sleep either?" You asked, padding towards his gigantic bed. "No, not really." He chuckled closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table.

You sat on the foot of his bed, observing his thick chest and shoulders. He was a very attractive man, very large, he looked soft. You bit your lip at the thought.

"Come." He lifted the covers from the unoccupied side of the bed and tapped the mattress like when prompting a dog or cat to come sit next to you.

You obeyed and got under the covers next to him, already feeling his warmth.

You hummed in delight as he turned off the lamp. Adam laid on his side, facing you. You did the same, trying to focus your eyes on his face through the new darkness.

He let out a tired sigh and without warning, he pulled your whole body forward. Your head was buried in his chest, his bicep supported your neck, and his other arm rubbed your back.

"Sleep, or you'll get sick tomorrow morning. "

You smiled and inhaled the scented body wash he used. You absent-mindedly pressed a kiss to his chest, making him hum lovingly.

A moment of thinking passed and he then tipped your head back, to place a long tender kiss on your lips. You returned the kiss, feeling his plump lips against yours in delight, sending butterflies in your stomach.

After, you returned to his chest and he placed another kiss on your forehead, drifting you slowly to sleep.

oh adam, i'd die for you

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superblysubpar · 2 months ago

Text

dad!steve harrington x mom!you

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: steve's baby girl isn't really a baby anymore

3,911 words

warnings: please see the How Sweet It Is masterlist for general warnings about this AU | minor spicy smutty mentions | minor alcohol mention | shitty first boyfriends, with minor discussion of feeling pressured in a relationship | overall an angsty yet fluffy story

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow at the bottom of the story!

Autumn, 2004

There’s something burnt inside of the microwave, some vegetables they refuse to eat past their prime in the bottom drawer of the fridge. There’s a lovely drawing on your living room wall, the only evidence left behind a purple and orange crayon which leads you to believe it was Annie, Luke having dared her to it no doubt though.

The dishes aren’t done, the laundry isn’t folded, the bills need to be paid, but for once, you really don’t care.

Because Annie and Luke are with The Munson’s at the movie theater then staying over, Julie is sleeping over at a friend’s house. Olivia is with Zoe and her aunts, Grace is at her first ever boy girl Halloween party then also sleeping over somewhere and Steve isn’t even having a melt down. And your eldest, Nora, for once, isn’t with her boyfriend, but having a much needed girl’s night with her best friend, so Steve’s in a fantastic mood.

You’re not going to take the night or the mood for granted.

He’s refilling your wine and pulling you onto his lap once the movie starts, the movie you got to pick and one that has sex, and weapons, and swearing and you get to watch from any spot on the couch you want. You get to take up space and eat junk food you tell them they can’t.

Except, it turns out, you and Steve don’t really care about the movie or any of that stuff.

Steve’s got his hands running down your back, like each little dip in your spine is meant just for his fingers. His warm breath flows over your throat as you throw your head back, his kiss finds a spot on your neck and he can’t wait to mark you up like he used to. Can’t wait to make out with you for hours with no interruptions except his stupid lungs needing air. He’s gonna make you come on his fingers, and his tongue and-

Ring! Ring! Rinnnngggg-

“Don’t,” you gasp, eyelids fluttering and blurring your view of the ceiling when Steve grinds his hips up into yours, “Don’t you dare answer that.”

His lips graze your collarbone. “Answer what?”

Your laugh makes him smile against your jaw before he’s catching your head with both hands and pulling your lips down to meet his.

Hey, you’ve reached The Harrington’s! We’re sorry we missed your call, but if you leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. Have a great day!

Steve hums into your mouth, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he whispers, “Your phone voice is so cute.”

Your lips skim over his, back and forth as you shake your head. Narrowed eyes meet his sparkling ones. There’s little lines next to his eyes that almost obscure the freckles, proof of the years and laughter, direct results of letting you steal his sunglasses forever.

Beeep!

Uh, hey guys…

Both of your chests inflate, shared held breaths at the sound of Eddie Munson’s worried tone.

Steve looks over at the machine, your forehead knocks against his temple and his arms wrap around your waist as you both exhale and wait for Eddie to tell you the bad news.

A kid threw up, cried, something, and that meant they were coming back home.

It’s worse. It’s so much worse.

So, um, listen, I know, I know okay, it’s your first free night, but I just wanted to call and let you know…well jesus liv, how do you want me to tell them? If it were my kid I’d-

Steve looks at you and you both get up at the same time, worried expressions and racing towards the phone.

Christ, okay, we have Nora, and we’re bringing her home…I’ll let her tell you what happened. But uh-

Steve’s hand reaches the receiver first and his jaw is sharp as he bites out, “What?”

You’re unable to hear Eddie, but it cannot be good from the look on Steve’s face. Cannot be good from the way he grits out a ‘thanks’ and slams the phone down, almost knocking the whole thing right off the little table.

His hands are in his hair and he’s pacing, so it’s definitely not good.

Steve’s glasses slide down the slope of his nose while brown and slightly wavy hair speckled with gray gets trapped in his fingers as he yanks and ruffles it and blows out his breath.

“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill her. I’m gonna-“

“Woah, woah, woah,” you pull at his wrists when he makes a third spin back towards you and get him to stop. “What’s going on? What did Eddie say?”

Steve’s arms go limp in your hold, hanging next to his plaid pajama pants as he stares at you. Eyes a little more green when they get all teary like they are now.

“Fuck, she’s…”

“What? She’s what?” You panic when he trails off, when he starts crying. You grab the front of his shirt, “Steve, tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“She’s fine, she’s,” he sniffles and presses his fingers under his glasses which he then yanks off and flings onto the kitchen counter. “God, I’m so fucking mad at her. She’s fine. She’s drunk, or was drunk, I don’t know. She was at a party or something. Eddie said they drove past her crying next to a pay phone.”

Your shoulders relax, knowing your daughter is at least safe, and your best friends found her. You’ll worry about the state she’s arriving in when she gets here.

Steve leans on the kitchen counter, his head hung between his shoulders and your palm soothes up and down his back, wary of your tone when you start to speak again.

“Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions, alright? She didn’t…she didn’t lie, necessarily. Maybe she just went out with Lindsay for a bit…they’re always being invited to parties. It’s this time of year. And…and we can’t be mad at her for drinking Steve. How many times did we-“

Steve shakes his head and turns to you, hand thrown out towards the front door as his voice rises. “You don’t think that’s the exact problem here, Kate?! I was fucking seventeen not that long ago and I know what the hell she’s doing with Charlie, I mean, christ, babe, we didn’t have her that much older than she is now!“

“Hey, don’t yell at me! I’m not the enemy here!” You shout right back.

You’re glaring at each other, his hands on his hips and yours crossed over your chest and there isn’t a sign of either of you backing down any time soon. But something in his eyes shifts, his chin wobbles a little and you raise your shoulders and clear your throat.

Steve breaks first, falling back against the countertop again as he cups his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

“I know,” you whisper, your socked foot nudges his, “It’s gonna be fine, okay? Cause we do this together, right?”

He doesn’t look up at you, but his arm reaches towards you and he’s pulling you into his chest, nestled between his spread legs. He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arms around you, tightly.

Neither of you moves until headlights slice through the sheer curtains of your little bay window in the breakfast nook next to you.

Steve sighs, deep and full of too much stress and he doesn’t let you go till he hears the sound of two car doors.

There’s a light knock on the door, then the creak of it opening, Eddie’s voice calls out, “Guys?”

You’re the first to go assess, and your shoulders tighten when you see your daughter, cowering behind Eddie.

Smudged make up and a top you’ve never seen, a skirt too short for your liking cause it reminds you an awful lot of one you wore that the boys really liked. You can smell the vodka from here and your eyes sting from the tears forcing their way to your lashes when Steve’s breath sucks in behind you with a pained breath of her name.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you clear your throat and nod to him with as much of a smile as you can muster, “Are Annie and Luke…”

Eddie waves a hand and hooks his thumb over his shoulder, “They’re at home hopped up on something Liv told them all was zombie blood but is actually just mountain dew and vanilla ice cream and in front of Hocus Pocus on Disney as we speak.”

Your arms curl around yourself and you smile a little more at that, but it falls as soon as your daughter makes eye contact with you. It’s like every ounce of calm has vanished from you, because now you know she’s here and safe, you can be mad.

Really mad.

Eddie nods once, and pats Nora’s shoulder, gently nudging her forward.

“Thanks Uncle Eddie,” she murmurs.

He kisses her temple and starts to close the door, “Anytime kid. I mean, not anytime. Don’t…anyways…”

He raises his eyebrows at the two of you and the door clicks closed.

Nora covers her chest with her arms and her chin wobbles an awful lot like Steve’s and her mouth parts but you stop her.

“Go to your room, Nora, I don’t…I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

Tears slip past Nora’s lashes at the same time as yours and she shakes her head. “You’re not gonna even let me explain? It’s not what it-“

Your hands fly to your temples, rubbing them as you close your eyes and laugh, “What? It’s not what it looks like?” Eyes open to find hers looking shattered as you keep going, “Cause it looks like my daughter lied to us about what she was doing tonight. If I call Lindsay’s mom, will she even know you were supposed to be there or,” you laugh again, colder, and not at all finding the situation funny, and hold up your hand, “Let me guess, her mom thinks you’re both here and we thought you were there, right? But really you were with Charlie at a party.”

“Mom,” Nora sobs, her hands fall at her sides, “I’m sorry, but-“

“Oh, I’m not done,” your hands land on your hips, adopting your husband’s signature pose along with his hot head, “Cause you know what else it looks like? It looks like you’re wearing clothes I’ve never seen before and I sure as hell didn’t buy for you. And that’s just looks, cause I can smell the vodka from here and-“

“You��re not being fair!” Nora shouts at you, black mascara runs down her cheeks that she swipes at half-heartedly, “I didn’t-“

“I don’t want to hear it young lady!” Your foot practically stomps just like her’s used to, her own tantrums held in this very entryway flashing before your eyes. “What’s not fair is lying like this. You don’t do this Nora. We don’t do this! When have we ever told you couldn’t go to a party? That we wouldn’t pick you up, no questions asked? That you couldn’t see Charlie? That-“

“Right!” Nora screams, her hands thrown up in the air and at you, “Your perfect daughter didn’t do something right, for once in her life! I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry!”

She sobs and you shake your head and start to walk away, “I can’t do this.”

“Mom,” her voice breaks and she sniffles as you head into the kitchen, “Daddy-“

“Nora…just…clean up and go to bed. Please. We’ll talk in the morning.” Steve’s voice is unnaturally calm and you hate him for it.

Your shoulders hunch with the sound of each step of your daughter’s feet on the stairs, your head lands heavy in your hands as your elbows press to the counter-top.

There’s a clink, a pop of a cork, liquid sloshing, and then the distinct grate of glass across the counter top, red wine sits under your face as Steve sighs.

“Well, that went super well I think. A plus parenting, mom.”

Your hands drop from holding your head so you can glare at him.

“Yeah? Thanks for the back up, dad.”

Steve shrugs, he leans against the stove and squints at you, his lips have the nerve to twitch a little like he’s fighting a smile.

“Oh, sorry, was I supposed to talk too? You didn’t really take a breath to let anyone else chime in, hon.”

Your body lifts as does the wine glass to your lips as you throw a hand towards the staircase. After a large swallow of the wine, you accuse, “What is your deal right now? Five minutes ago you were-“

Steve takes a step towards you and grabs the wine glass from you, then he holds your cheeks in both of his hands.

“I’m trying to do that thing you’re always telling me to do, that you normally do so well. Take a deep breath. Relax. Listen. It’s not always what it seems.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and your head falls forward again, though this time in defeat, in embarrassment.

Your forehead is caught by his lips, a kiss pressed there then the top of your head before he tilts you up to look at him again.

“I…” you sigh and look at the stairs, “I should go talk to her again. I should apologize.”

Steve shrugs and kisses you, soft and over too quickly.

“I think she needs some time to cool off too. You can talk in the morning, after you both relax.”

Your eyes narrow at him and his sparkle when you tease, “How many ways have you come up with to kill Charlie?”

“Twenty-seven.”

A laugh leaves you but it’s quick to cut into something that resembles a sob and a sigh, because it’s too real. He pulls you into a hug.

Both of you make no hint of moving anytime soon until Steve whispers, “Wanna start the movie over? We can actually watch it this time.”

Which is a nice thought, but in reality, you just curl up next to each other on the couch and neither one of you really sees the action past the glow of the screen.

You’re both acutely aware of the shower upstairs, the soft music of a stereo, the click of a lamp. Severely aware of the laundry piles addition of clothing reeking of alcohol. Counting down the hours till your daughter wakes up and you’ll try it all over again.

So it’s not a surprise when you fall asleep on the couch, bodies and brains too tired to make it through another hour of the film.

Steve stirs first, the click of the TV and the blue fuzzy screen turning dark startling him in his fitful sleep.

Your head is on the opposite end, legs tangled together with his and hogging the blanket. He tilts his head just make out a figure in the dark, one now quietly sneaking out of the living room and into the kitchen.

Steve holds his breath and stares at the ceiling, listening.

He hears the soft thunk of a drawer closing, the hum of the fridge, the swoosh of a burner and then nothing.

So when he rolls off of the couch as slowly and quietly as he can, and makes his own way to the kitchen, he freezes when he sees his baby girl leaning against the counter, stirring a pot on the stove, not really thinking through his actions and what he’d say when he got here.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispers, avoiding his gaze.

“You didn’t,” he lies. Steve sits at the counter on one of the stools, and lets his chin rest on his fist.

It’s quiet then. Quiet for a long time. Long enough for Nora to pull down two mugs and pour hot cocoa into them. Long enough for her to pass him one, then for both of them to take sips.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, what to do, until Nora opens the fridge and pulls out an apple. Until she pulls a knife from the wood block and starts slicing, the peel remaining intact as she spins the fruit and it furls down to the countertop.

“Who taught you how to do that?” He asks softly.

Nora looks up, surprised, at him, eyes that are so much his blinking right back at him behind wire rimmed glasses. Glasses he remembers telling her she could use to see for late night snacks when she didn’t want to wear them.

“Oh, um, no one,” Nora says quietly, then hesitates, “Well actually, I guess, in a way, mom?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, lips twitching on one side.

Nora nods, smiling as she gets to the last spin of the fruit, and she hums. Steve watches her eyes get a little glassy, watches her chin wobble just likes yours before she admits, “Yeah. That movie? Sleepless in Seattle?”

Steve smiles at that and nods, exhaling a deep breath as Nora finishes the curl. He knows it well, it’s your favorite movie, and the reason one of his daughters has the name she does. Her fingers toy with the peel, voice tight as she keeps explaining since his silence is letting her.

“Mom was watching it a couple of month’s ago and she…there’s this scene. Where Annie is trying to peel an apple in one long curl and she’s listening to Sam talk about his wife, and love and mom can quote the whole thing. And…and…”

Nora swipes at her eyes as she looks at him, so hurt, so broken as she shrugs her shoulders and she whispers, “It wasn’t magic, dad.”

Steve swallows and he stands up, grabs his little girl as she falls into his arms. So small and only getting smaller and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Nora squeezes him as she sniffles into his chest. His daughter who’s somehow old enough to be crying about love and a guy who broke her heart while she drinks hot cocoa with bunnies on her feet and moons and stars on her pajamas.

“I thought he really cared about me, and when I said no, when I told him I didn’t…that it didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to…he…he…”

Nora hiccups around her tears and Steve’s heart stops beating, his lungs stop working.

“He called me a tease,” she sobs into his chest, “He called me such terrible things. I thought…I thought he really loved me, dad.”

He’d kill this kid Charlie if it was the last thing he did.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a long time, just holds Nora until the front of his shirt isn’t getting freshly wet. So he whispers, “It’ll be magic, someday baby, and you’ll know, okay? It’ll just feel right. And screw that guy. I never liked him anyways.”

Nora laughs into his chest that swells at the sound and he curls her hair behind her ear when she smiles.

“But not until you’re, like, thirty.”

“Dad,” Nora sniffles, she shakes her head and hugs him again. Her voice grows tight again, “I’m sorry I lied about where I was. And I only had one drink. I smelled like that cause these guys spilled a bunch of punch everywhere and-“

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, kissing the top of her head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She hugs him tightly, then whispers, “Love you dad.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

Another squeeze, and then she’s disappearing with her cocoa and apple up the stairs, and his tears finally fall.

And in the morning, when he’s done prepping for a quiet breakfast before all the other kids get home, he climbs the stairs two at a time on the way to wake you.

But Steve finds the bed you’d both finally made it to at around one in the morning empty, and as he walks down the hall, he slows, hearing your voice come from Nora’s room.

“You know we don’t expect you to be perfect, right? If your dad or I made you feel like you can’t mess up or…can’t be a kid, I’m so sorry baby. We rely on you so much with the younger kids and that’s not fair to you at all, is it?”

He watches from a distance, the two of you curled up on Nora’s bed. You sit up right against the headboard, your fingers run through her hair as she hugs you, curled around your waist and chest like she used to when she was little.

Steve doesn’t hear what Nora says but you laugh and run your hand up and down her spine.

He rests his head on the wall and watches you with so much love in his chest, he feels like he might burst. And that’s before Nora asks, “How’d you know?”

And you ask, “Know what, sweetie?”

“That dad was the one? That he was…that it was right?”

Steve smiles as you tilt your head up and blow out your breath.

“Gosh,” you laugh, “That movie kind of gets it, honey. It was a lot of little things. It’s still a lot of things. I fall in love with him for a new reason every single day. The way he always opens the car door for me, or let’s me have the last of the fries. How much he loves and cares about you guys. When he picks up pizza on the way home with flowers. When he yells at the TV when his team doesn’t make the right play. The way he looks at me when I’m telling a story or the way he says my name.”

“Like it’s got all the best letters in it?” Nora asks and you smile.

“Exactly. Even when he’s mad at me, it still sounds like…”

“Magic,” Nora whispers.

“Yeah,” you nod.

Steve raps his knuckles on the door when it’s quiet for awhile, and peeks his head in.

“There’s my girls, anyone want apple cinnamon pancakes?”

Nora shouts a yes and you laugh as she jumps out of her bed and races down the stairs like she used to what feels like a really long time ago.

When you leave her room and touch his arm as you pass, he pulls at your hips, spinning you until you gasp. He catches the sound with his mouth, lips strong and sure in their kiss and saying so much with so little.

“What…what was that for?” Your eyelashes flutter when he pulls away and your stomach fills with a million bouncy balls.

“No reason,” he kisses you again and leaves you standing there breathless, shouting down the stairs to Nora, “You better not be eating that raw batter young lady!”

And later, when the sink’s full of suds and soaking dishes and kids are opening the fridge only to look inside and complain and then open it again two minutes later, or the washing machine is making that weird clunking noise again and Steve’s shouting at one of the kids to get off of the other kid and you’re scrubbing at crayon on the wall, neither of you care.

You aren’t going to take it for granted.

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/6

since there were two of these and I'm late posting, I posted the poll separately, you can find it here

#superbly subpar's writing #trick or treat freaks 💛#how sweet it is AU #steve harrington #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb

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yutarot · 4 months ago

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deal or no deal (mark lee smau)

6) “i like you.” (written chapter) 888w

- game day -

“technically, me going to the game with mingi means you have to get some sharpie on that forehead.” you yell to mark in the other room, probably panicking to get ready considering it was 7pm and the game starts at 8. the routine of bangs which follow by a pained hiss confirm your thoughts.

“you okay in there mark?” natty shares your laughter as mark curses at you both from the doorway.

finally coming through the door in his green and black basketball jersey, mark stumbles across the kitchen of the boys’ frat house, house keys twirling round his finger. “technically, you and mingi aren’t even going on a date, let alone is he your boyfriend, just wait till i score a 3 pointer tonight.” he’s smug. you hate it.

“you won’t.” you reply but he only winks at you, heading outside to the minivan where chenle and the rest of the team are waiting.

once you make it to the SKU campus, you feel nothing but a pang of nerves cascading across your chest, nerves that have nothing to do with the result of the game.

“you can drop me here,” you call to jeno, who was driving, “mingi said he’d meet me outside, thanks jen.”

you wave goodbye to natty, jeno and donghyuck, straightening down your hair and wondering what is causing you to be so nervous meeting a man you’d known for over a year.

that was until, you saw his face infront of you.

“hey.”

never in your life had you experienced anything as awkward as this moment. wishing the band or anyone was with you.

“so, uh, you wanna take our seats?” you ask and he nods, not saying a single word until you enter the stands.

“you look really nice, yn.”

what.

whaaaaaaaat.

“what?”

he laughs a laugh u wish you will never witness again in your lifetime unless your with him, you nearly melt in your seat. “i said you look really nice.” he’s still laughing but you don’t find anything funny right now. you want to go home, back to the dorm with natty and julie where you can squeal to your hearts desire. instead, you have to hold yourself back, sufficing with a quick ‘thank you’ and turning your head back to the game as the cheerleaders run onto court.

you spot julie in her uniform, giving her a wave and giggling as she smiles back.

you forget completely about the man beside you.

“you’re friends with julie?” he asks. brows furrowing.

“yeah, she’s my roommate. why?”

“nothing.”

weird.

you soon realise you hadn’t messaged mark or chenle to wish them luck on the game. pulling out your phone, you find the groupchat , sending them a text and shoving your phone back into your pocket; hands clammy and shaking. you were so nervous.

throughout the game, mingi had said nothing but a few comments, occasionally criticising the play or yelling out chants everytime NCU scored. you couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited you in the first place, his sudden lack of disrespect towards you baffling and without reason.

that was until half time.

as you return to your seat from a quick bathroom break, mingi turns to you, eyes set on your own.

“look yn, i need to talk to you.”

you nod in reply.

“what’s going on between you and mark?”

you’re confused. is he asking if you’re dating? you and mark get that alot but from him… he has no reason to ask that.

“we’re just friends. why?”

“i like you.”

oh.

it’s sudden, unexpected.

he didn’t hesitate.

you’re stuck in place, eyes unable to drift to his, mouth unable to close.

he’s everything you’ve ever wanted. lead guitarist of your college band, second most popular guy on campus (after jeno of course), and here he was telling you the three words you’d been waiting and waiting to hear.

and yet all you can think about is how you will win that stupid bet.

“you don’t have to reply, not yet.” he continues, “i just want you to know.”

your mind draws back to the practice you had in mingis garage where you first played your new solo, it was then. that was when his attitude changed. that was when he started liking you. only, you struggled to understand why.

after the game, you waved goodbye to mingi as you clambered back into the car with jeno, hyuck and natty, mark and chenle joining you after their win against SKU. if you were being honest, you weren’t watching the second half of the game, mind fixated on the three words mingi had told you. the three words that would be running in your mind over and over and over and-

“yn?” mark calls out from the seat next to you, a look of worry plastered on his face. why is he worried? he should be ecstatic right now? “you okay? you haven’t said a word.”

“oh sorry, im fine.”

mark knows you, and he knows you are in fact, not fine. but he dismisses it anyway, keeping a reminder to himself to ask you later.

the drive back to the house is loud and embodies the atmosphere of party, crammed somewhat illegally in the back of jenos car, the boys singing chants and natty cheering alongside them.

you should be happy, but your not.

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otomiyaa · 6 months ago

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Better Setter!

BokuAkaKuroKen

[Fic Reupload] - Posting this oldie requested by anon, thanks to @wertzunge who still had it! I'd forgotten how wild this one is.....

Summary: A very crazy situation from Kenma’s point of view; Bokuto and Kuroo suddenly feel very determined to prove to each other that their setters - boyfriends - are more ticklish than the other. Things escalate, not just a little. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 2.2K

“Look look look! And I go baaamm!” Kenma and Akaashi both exchanged tired glances when they heard Bokuto’s loud voice again. Who thought it was a smart idea to get together at Kuroo’s place and watch the recording of their latest Nekoma vs. Fukurodani match? Not them.

“HA! No that, your look was priceless when I almost smashed the ball into your face!”

Yeah. The game result was a draw, and since it was a simple practice match their coaches did not see the point in dragging it much longer to determine a winner. A draw. Draw! Of course that didn’t satisfy the dork captain duo in the least, and both Kenma and Akaashi ended up getting dragged along so that the captains could ‘see on their own who had won the match’.

“That point wasn’t a point!” Bokuto protested. Both of them sat glued to the screen while Kenma and Akaashi lounged on the big couch, each on one side. Kenma playing his games as always, and Akaashi lazily reading the news on his phone app.

“It was,” Akaashi said, and Kenma nodded, both of them intelligent enough to just be able to hear which part of the match they were at.

“Shut up Akaashi! God - look look! Isn’t Akaashi and my teamwork the greatest?” Bokuto’s snarl at Akaashi was instantly forgotten, and Kenma couldn’t help but snort at this. This couple was so cute.

“Nothing like what Kenma and I are doing. Here, look at that. He’s the best setter ever,” Kuroo said, and Kenma felt a subtle blush heat up his cheeks.

“Pardon me? I am 200% certain Akaashi’s the best setter.” Oh no. Was this really going where they thought this was going? Akaashi and Kenma exchanged glances again and both sighed. Here goes.

“No, Kenma is a much better setter. No offense, Akaashi,” Kuroo continued. It was Bokuto who took offense though, and he suddenly stood and shouted through the noises that came from the recording.

“Akaashi is the best! And he is also the sexiest cutest and most handsome setter in the world!”

“That’s not relevant Bokuto, but since we’re at it, have you ever seen Kenma’s smooth and silky skin? He is what you could call sexy. Nothing can beat that.” Talk about relevance! Kenma blushed like crazy and could see Akaashi was doing the same.

“Hohoho. Then you haven’t felt what Akaashi’s skin is like. I just have to…” Bokuto made a long swiping move with his finger into the air and closed his eyes with a dreamy smile “…do thiiiis and his skin feels so soft and smooth under my touch, and he’ll even share his angelic laugh because you see. Akaashi is very sensitive,” Bokuto continued as if he was promoting something in a commercial video, and Kenma felt embarrassed for Akaashi.

Poor Akaashi, why were they…

“Sensitive? You should see how ticklish Kenma is man! His laughter will make you pregnant!” Kenma’s face exploded. No fucking way did he say that!

“Kuroo!” he finally yelled, lowering his game and glaring at him while he breathed heavily.

Big mistake, since the two only now seemed to realize their bae’s were in the same room, and the smirks that appeared on their faces were anything but reassuring.

“What are they…” Akaashi mumbled, slowly lowering his phone as well.

“You dare say ‘ticklish’ without telling me Akaashi is the champion at being tickled?” Bokuto asked, slowly rising on his feet and walking over to where the setters were sitting.

“Why not let me demonstrate it then?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma swallowed as they started to circle around them. Oh no.

Both he and Akaashi ended up overwhelmed by the situation and jumped up from the couch, but before they could even flee they both got pulled back down onto the couch, each of them on a captain’s lap, opposite each other with Kuroo and Kenma sitting on the corner part of the seat, and Bokuto with Akaashi facing them and only inches away.

Both victims’ eyes made contact with each other and they trembled in anticipation.

“Bokuto, let me go…” Akaashi told his boyfriend calmly, and Kenma could see him squirm uncomfortably, but Bokuto pulled him tighter against his chest and trapped him with his arms.

“Heh Bokuto. What do you say, shall I show you my Kenma’s the most ticklish setter in the world?” Kuroo asked as Akaashi’s plea was ignored. He circled his arms around Kenma and pulled him closer onto his lap while he nuzzled the back of his head.

“K-Kuroo! This is silly! Don’t-” Kenma gulped when he noticed the way Bokuto moved his hands under Akaashi’s shirt, moving it up over his chest and making the latter squirm.

“Nothing matches how sexy and charming Akaashi is when I do this, Kuroo dear,” Bokuto lectured, and he made a claw of his hand and wiggled his fingers down Akaashi’s chest and toned tummy.

“HAahh!” Akaashi arched into Bokuto and threw his head back, his hand quickly shooting up to cover his mouth.

“Oh but watch this then.” Kenma was unprepared for when his own assault began. Kuroo wiggled his fingers up his sides and instantly went for those oversensitive spots in the hollows of his arms.

“Kuroooaaahh!” Kenma yelped, jumping suddenly in Kuroo’s lap but unable to escape his clutches.

Kuroo pulled him closer against his chest and Kenma’s mouth opened wide when he felt the demanding fingers ask for more.

“Ahaha nohoho s-stop it! Why are you doooh-aahaha wait!” Kenma gasped when his shirt was also moved all the way up as well, half-stripping him right before the eyes of Bokuto and a laughing Akaashi.

Kenma thrashed and bucked against Kuroo who continued to drill his fingers into his armpits, thumbs prodding and index fingers wiggling mischievously in a way that made him want to scream.

“STAhahap! Kuroo you know I’m - aahaha nohoho!”

It was embarrassing, very embarrassing to be tickled like this and actually witness how Akaashi was suffering from the same, and Kenma had to admit Bokuto was right about how sexy and charming he looked. There was just something about watching him laugh like that in such a helpless state, and it made his own heart flutter.

He’d probably enjoyed this immensely if it wasn’t for himself being tickled into a puddle of embarrassing laughs and tears. What was remarkable about Akaashi was how he was barely struggling at all, and that while Kenma was thrashing about like a wild animal and being totally uncharming unlike the ticklish guy in front of him…

From his point of view, Bokuto was winning this game with golden prizes.

“Your Kenma’s a wild one eh?” Bokuto asked as if he was reading Kenma’s mind, and Kenma automatically sucked in his own stomach when he saw the way Bokuto made a surprise claw-move at Akaashi’s stomach, making the exhausted guy choke on a laugh and mewl adorably.

“I know, right? You gotta know how to handle the wild kittens,” Kuroo said proudly, and without warning Kenma’s waist and sides were next to fall victim to some devious squeezing hands.

“FHAaha! Nohohho!”

He kicked his legs and threw his head around, his blond hair flying all over the place, while Akaashi was merely squirming charmingly and laughing at Bokuto’s equally assaulting fingers.

“Can I try?” Bokuto asked, and Kenma’s eyes snapped open.

“Sure.” Wait wha-

“Waahhh!” He squeaked when suddenly he and Akaashi were each thrown towards the other as both devil captains switched partners. Before he could comprehend what was going on, his arm was in a steady grip and Bokuto pulled him onto his lap.

“Heyheyheyyy Kenma, so how ticklish are you really? Why not show uncle Bo!” Kenma’s eyes opened wide when he felt Bokuto’s clawing hands he’d seen on Akaashi’s body earlier do the same to him; huge hands grabbed his sides and ribs and fingers wiggled in a rougher way than Kuroo would do.

“Shihihit no p-plehehease!” He struggled and thrashed and ended up flipping on his stomach so he was hanging over Bokuto’s lap.

“Wild he is, indeed,” Bokuto judged, and he proceeded to attack Kenma’s sides and hips with quick spidering fingers and squeezing movements that had Kenma buck like a wild animal on his lap.

“HEhehe K-Kuroohohoho hehehelp!” he laughed, tears pricking in his eyes and his breath running short. This was different. He was used to Kuroo’s tickles, not Bokuto’s and somehow this was even harder to deal with. And that said a lot.

“How are you so calm? Ah coochie coochieee coo!” Kuroo was having full attention for Akaashi who was squirming in his lap now, snorting, laughing and giggling at his mercy.

“P-Plehease Kuroo dohohon’t!” Akaashi laughed, and he gulped when Kuroo suddenly threw him onto the couch and pounced on top of him.

“Come on, laugh for me Akaashi!” Kuroo sang, and from his position on Bokuto’s lap Kenma could see how Kuroo released his worst tickle monster powers on the poor Fukurodani setter.

“AHah! NOT Thehehre!” After wondering where Kuroo was tickling him to get Akaashi that hysterical, Kenma was suddenly a lot more worried about his own situation when Bokuto moved his hands down and gripped the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs.

“Gahhh oh nohoho pf-plehease! C-Can’t breheeathe!” Kenma warned through his wheezy laughter and giggles. Bokuto had the energy he feared he would have in a situation like this. Merciless tickling, a loud voice that told him playful taunting words, and on the background Kuroo’s voice that did just the same while Akaashi laughed just as loud.

This situation couldn’t get any crazier.

“Stoohohohp!” Kenma’s laughter had turned very whiney when Bokuto switched to tickling his sides and ribs again while his loud mouth blew raspberries on his bare back, down his spine, lower back and sometimes partially on his side.

“Eeeheheek!” Kenma squeaked, his legs kicking weakly and arms making one final flailing move before he felt his body go limp under Bokuto’s touch. The lips on his skin sent tingles and chills through his entire body all at once, and he gasped tiredly and giggled when he felt the tickling slowly come to its end.

“I have to say, Kenma is very ticklish and he’s a real cutie. You were right,” Bokuto said, and Kenma blushed when he felt how he was wrapped in a couple of strong muscled arms and cuddled against Bokuto’s chest.

“K-Kurooo…” he whined, but he didn’t struggle, feeling rather comfy in his boyfriend’s buddy’s arms. His eyes found Kuroo’s who was snuggling a very tickle-tired Akaashi closely, and the smirk on his face reassured him that this was going to be just fine.

“And I am amazed about Akaashi. He’s a lot better than I expected,” Kuroo said as if he was talking about sports rather than a person getting tickled, and Kenma was surprised how good his boyfriend and Akaashi looked together like that.

“So, it’s a draw again?” Bokuto asked, and Kenma felt tingles from his breath against his neck, and he scrunched up his shoulders.

“Yes. Let’s call it a draw.” And then it was proved that the situation could definitely get crazier than it already was.

Kenma felt how Bokuto hugged him closer when Kuroo and Akaashi joined them on their side of the couch, and he felt lips kiss his own sweetly and passionately. His head was still a little cloudy and his eyes still teary from the tickling, and only after opening his eyes he noticed he had been kissing Akaashi.

“Heh. How’s that?” Bokuto asked, watching Kenma snuggle closer to his own setter, and Kenma blushed. After witnessing Akaashi getting tickled like that in front of his eyes, kissing him had definitely been on his guilty mind. But…

“Kuroo will…” Kenma started, shyly watching his boyfriend and seeking consent, but Kuroo grabbed him closer and kissed him as well “…absolutely kill you,” Kuroo finished for him with a sinister wink, and Kenma could barely even blink when Kuroo started to tickle him mercilessly again.

“K-Kurohaaa-hmph!” Yes, that was Bokuto kissing him while Kuroo tickled him to pieces and suddenly Akaashi was joining in by nuzzling Kenma’s stomach.

“Gahaha-Guuys! Wahahaait!” It was probably because he was the smallest that they ended up teaming up on him, even Akaashi whose cheeks were still adorably flushed from his earlier predicament.

“Meheh-Mercy!” Kenma gasped when Bokuto and Kuroo took turns in blowing raspberries on his tummy. He then ended up kissing someone again, and he honestly thought he could recognize Kuroo’s kissing style in there.

It was as if he had gotten drunk, not from alcohol but from getting tickled too much, and no matter how stupid and crazy it would seem, it was how in the end Bokuto and Akaashi practically joined his relationship with Kuroo.

Now with suddenly two boyfriends more, Kenma could only chuckle in delight at the funny thought that Bokuto and Kuroo had never come to an agreement about who was a better setter. Looked like they were meant to play for a draw at all times, which was, of course, not necessarily a bad thing!

#reupload #haikyuu #bokuakakuroken #ot4 #tickling #tickle fic #kuroken #bokuaka #bokuto #akaashi #kenma #kuroo #otomiya!writes

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hansooyung · 6 months ago

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hansooyung's coloring tutorial & ctiys: alma time! 🍒

hello everyone! though i've been meaning to for a while, i've finally gotten around to making my first manga coloring tutorial! i'll be going over cleaning panels and screentones, choosing base colors, and finally shading and lighting.

this will also be a color this in your style challenge, so if you're willing, feel free to post your colored panel and tag me in it!! i'd love to see all the results :)

find details under the cut! 🦋

DISCLAIMERS:

this is just how i personally color! i know for a fact that some of my other friends follow other methods and have such beautiful colorings <33

for colors specifically, i play around a LOT. if you don't like your color scheme for the time being, mess around with it! i don't use psds since i like to mess around by hand with color palettes, but maybe i'll look into it for the future.

i explain a lot just bear with me gang 🙏

TECHNICAL STUFF:

software: ibis paint x (on iphone). i use ibis since it is FREE for all phones and it worked on my chromebook as well.

while this tutorial is made for ibis paint x, everything works on other softwares except the brushes, which i've provided alternatives for below.

brushes: i will be using dip pen (hard) which is automatically included with ibis, and two other brushes i made myself which you can find here and here. for more brushes, @/bkdkdh was incredibly helpful and posted her awesome set here!

for other softwares, you can use similar brushes. dip pen (hard) can just be the default brush, while wet edges is just the default brush on lowered opacity (and more of a rectangle/marker shape?). watercolor pencil is a watercolor brush in the rectangle/marker shape as well. if you can't get the shape, you can always smudge your lines into shape as well, so don't fret too much! a bunch of people only use one brush for coloring everything (which is insane to me, personally, they are so talented!)

fun fact: the first brush listed that i made was originally called "aki tao watercolor smooth" 👍

ok here we go guys!!

STEP ONE: CLEANING THE PANEL

i think of this part as setting up the panel for coloring! usually it's pretty exhausting cuz it's all b&w but it's all worth it i swear. the panel i'll be coloring is this beautiful one of alma from chapter 2:

imgur link here (x)

a lot of people redraw their lines to avoid screentones, which is extremely helpful. however, i work on a phone and my fingers are not steady even with the stabilizer turned all the way up T~T. i do it this way, but a different (possibly easier) way may work for you!!!

your first step will be to remove all the white, giving us a transparent background to work with. THIS IS THE NUMBER ONE REASON WHY I USE IBIS PAINT X.

when you upload the image to ibis, a popup comes asking if you would like to "extract line drawing". this creates a lineart of your image. click yes, and your work is like 90% done.

if you're not on ibis, you can redraw your panel, put lineart layer on screen, etc. or you can just extract line drawing from ibis and upload to software of your choice

for those of you not on ibis, i've included the line drawing here (x) if it looks black, don't worry and set your background to white.

omg i was not kidding when i said i explained a lot. ok now onto the three main steps of cleaning the panel:

cleaning background

removing screentones

repainting black lines

for cleaning the background, we're going to clear off all the extraneous stuff. this includes the text in the speech bubble, the gradient screentones behind alma, and the panel line on the left side. just use your eraser tool and go crazy! (i forgot to save the panel at this point of the coloring OTL)

for removing screentones, we're going to remove all those "dots" that mangakas use for shading. these are used to show value for b&w art, but since we're coloring we don't need them—a lot of people have really cool ways of incorporating screentones in their colorings though, and it looks amazing! i used it on nana's hand in my bnha coloring.

remove the screentones from alma's hair and jacket with your eraser tool. this will take time, but it's worth it in the end!

for portions with a bunch of lines, you can create A NEW LAYER and redraw some of the lines. that way, you can erase indiscriminately from the original layer but the lines you drew are still there. again, like i said, my hand is really shaky so i don't do it a lot, but it's extremely helpful for smaller parts where i have control! i used this on alma's jacket, and here's a screenshot of the process:

(i made his jacket purple so i could distinguish between layers easily).

it should look like this when you're done:

for the final step of cleaning, i like to erase all the things colored black (the collar and strings of the jacket, along with the back part of his hair). that way, i can color them in with dark colors and it adds to the whole look of the coloring.

i've circled the parts i'm going to erase below:

and it should look like this when you're done!

ok everyone cheer we're ready to color now!!!!

STEP TWO: BASE COLORS

CROWD CHEERS ok lets go!

this part is the most important to me, because it sets the tone for the whole coloring. i like to use three-four main colors in my colorings, and it's usually background, skintone, hair, and the secret fourth color. the secret fourth color is usually whatever color fits the character's vibe, or if the character's color is the bg, it'll be an accent color.

for example, with my nagi coloring, i used white for the hair, i had my skintone, i had blue as the main coloring vibe (as nagi's color), and black as the accent color.

for alma, i chose his main color to be red! it's the color of his hair and his jacket, so i wanted it to be vibrant and stand out. since blue contrasts red, i went for a greyish-blue shade for the background. (i went for grey rather than solely blue because then it would clash rather than complement).

disclaimer please please please take your device off night mode warm mode f.lux whatever you have. this has screwed me over more times than you may think :(

i like to make my vibrant colors closer to the right end of the color square. for alma's hair, i chose this color:

i dragged it down from the corner a bit but kept the saturation since his hair is kind of dark. we can use vibrant colors to shade it though, so don't worry!

here's his hair and the background together:

now from here, play around with skintones until you find one that matches the hair!

i usually drag around the wheel to the orange-red intersection, and have it on the lighter, more saturated side. here's the color i chose for alma's skintone.

i thought his original skintone looked a bit too orange, so i pulled the saturation back a little bit (moved closer to the left side of the square).

after that, color in his jacket with a bit darker red than hair, choose a gold color for the accents on his jacket, and color in the black parts with a grey-ish color (we will change that later).

here's the base colors!

if it looks a bit bright, don't worry! we can change that with shading. or you might just have to. accept the light.

STEP THREE: SHADING AND LIGHTING

wooo we made it!!!!!!! ok now i lied, we have a bit more of base colors to go. on a layer above the skin, color in your teeth and tongue. for pieces that have a more red feel (like this one), i like to make the teeth and the shading a more vibrant blue color. (for blue pieces, i make it a purple!).

IMPORTANT NOTE: ALL SHADING AND ALL COLORS SHOULD BE DONE ON NEW, CLIPPED LAYER.

i'll then go in and do some light shading with my wet edges brush. i'll use a darker color for hard shadows and then a lighter, more vibrant color to accentuate it.

next up we have blush! a lot of people do this in very different ways but i like to do it directly under the eyes, in a vibrant red shade. make a new layer above the skin and clip it on. color pick alma's hair and drag it to the most saturated shade (red corner). then using the watercolor pencil brush, lower the opacity of the brush and drag a line under the eyes on both sides.

make sure to erase the portion of blush that goes above the eyeline. i also added some lips for alma as you can see, and then added a red line under the eyes! this was back to the regular dip pen (hard) brush on 100% opacity. it may take a few tries to get your blush to the way you want it, so don't worry too much.

now we can start our actual shading!

i break this part up into three steps: skin shading, blue shading, and light shading (highlights?)

for all of them, think about where the light is falling and how it will look on alma.

quick interlude about brushes: i use the watercolor pencil brush for softer, bouncy looks (like blush and noses) and i use the wet edges brush for more hard lines in shading.

again, make a new layer above the skin and clip it on. (i like to have it below the blush, so it doesn't cover it). for skin shading, i take the vibrant red and lower the opacity of the wet edges brush by a significant amount (specifics don't really matter, as long as you're happy with it). i'll trace his neck, from the shadow of his face, shadows of his hair falling on his face, ears, and nose. (for the nose i used the watercolor pencil brush for a softer look).

this is what i have once i'm done!

next we have skin shading part two, where we basically make a new layer on top of our first shading, lower the opacity further, and trace outside whatever we just did to blend it in more.

i used the watercolor pencil brush since it's more softer shading meant for blending! i also added it around the eyebrows for depth.

next up we have our blue shading! this is a technique that i learned from @/bkdkdh's colorings, but adding blue as a shadow really adds to the whole coloring. using the watercolor pencil brush, select a light-ish blue shade (a bit more saturated than background color) and use it to shadow a few more areas than your skin shading. i always make sure to hit the underside of the nose, cuz i think it adds depth!

finally, to wrap up our skin shading we have our lights. i use an orange-ish yellow color, which i set pretty light to not blend into the skin. using the watercolor pencil brush, i'll basically highlight any areas opposite to where the blue was, and highlight different parts. i always highlight one side of the nose as well.

i erased the line around the nose since we now have shading there, and added a darker shade to the teeth since i felt it wasn't shaded enough.

now onto the hair!!! (guys we're almost done bear with me, skin and hair are the two main things and then you can half-ass the clothes)

color pick alma's hair color, then drag the red a bit further down to get a darker yet still saturated color. here's mine:

then, using the wet edges brush, draw lines of shadow wherever clumps of his hair fall or overlap with each other. you can have the opacity set to whatever level you want, i just went with around 90. just try to follow the natural lines and patterns of the original line drawing, and everything should work out fine.

here's how mine looks! then, just like we did for skin shading, place a layer on top and lower the opacity to around 50%. place some more shading to blend it in. you can also shade more parts with this shade for some softer shading. i actually forgot to take a screenshot of this step but you'll see it in the next one!

for our (almost) last part of hair shading, take a layer and place it below both of your shading layers. this is going to be our highlight layer! you can see it below, labeled 49%.

remember how we set alma's hair a bit darker from the corner color? now select that corner color and draw highlights in the center of each hair clump.

lightly visible but it's there!

now here i skipped around a bit bc i was having fun and forgot i was doing a tutorial, but repeat the shading (not highlighting) steps with darker colors for alma's jacket. you should have your base layer, a dark shading, and a softer shading for blending.

we're almost there guys!!!

for the pretty much final step of shading, select a light blue color and do some blue shading with the watercolor pencil brush opposite to wherever your darker shading falls (just like we did on the face). make sure to do it to both your hair and your jacket! here's mine:

now for the black portions, we're going to color the whole thing in a dark blue color. just alpha lock your layer and make a big stroke of dark blue, almost black. for our black shading, we're actually going to go lighter.

select a lighter (but still dark) color and place highlights on the base layer, then take an even more vibrant, lighter blue and place it on the very outside for highlights. a better example of this would be nagi's legs in his blue lock uniform here. then, choose a shade to apply shading to the gold accents on alma's jacket and we're done!

CROWD CHEERS!!!!!

STEP FOUR: FINISHING TOUCHES

we made it guys!!!! for finishing touches, i'll usually do background effects or text or that kind of stuff.

step one is coloring your lines. you can add a new layer and clip it to your lineart, or simply alpha lock your lineart and color directly on top. for hair i like to add vibrant blue/purple lines, along with a few red ones. for skin lines i try to do dark brownish purples, but leaving some black is good too bc it adds flavor!

i colored in the text boxes and added shadows using the wet edge feature, then added some text. for the glitch effect, i duplicated the lineart, dragged the layer below all of my colors (including speech bubbles) and then used the glitch effect with height full from ibis. if you don't have ibis, you can look into features on your software, or you can also just drag your lineart layer a bit to either side and color it in. i also applied just the tiniest bit of noise on top of everything

and there we go!!!!! we made it to the end :)

if you've read all the way til here, thank you so much! if you decide to color this panel of alma (or any other panels!) don't be afraid to post them and tag me for a color this in your style type of thing! (you can also put it in my tracked tag, #user.roy) i'd love to see everyone's works :)

here's the full timelapse: (it stalls for a bit at some times but hey we can't have everything)

#roy colors #tutorials #manga coloring tutorial #useraki #usergojoana #usermica #usernikiforova #tagging some friends <3 #alma #gokurakugai

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starwarsmum · 1 month ago

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Chapter 6 of Introducing: Mousinette! Results Day 😁

After Marinette left Gotham behind (hopefully temporarily) she braced herself for the final school term. She woke on the first morning back at school and felt melancholic - this was the last time she would start a fresh term with her current friends. Sure, it wasn't like she'd never see them again but still.

“Tikki, why is change so hard? I had a wonderful time in Gotham, but how is it possible that lycée is over so soon?” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair as she took a final look in the mirror. Tikki gave her some encouraging words and she smiled, grabbing her backpack as she walked out of the room.

Approaching the lycée, Marinette slowed down and checked her phone for messages. Now that she was back in Europe, her new American friends were unlikely to message her during her morning routines and school - they should either be sleeping or working. But Adrien had found time to message her, asking about her trip and whether she was ready for school again.

She smiled and sent him a short text saying that she was happy but also sad and nervous about the next step after this. The rest of this term was about preparing students for their next step in life, rather than learning about topics. She kept her smile all the way to her desk, thankfully able to block out Lila's high pitched (and likely false) recounting of her break.

Sadly, she could only ignore it for so long, Alya dragging her into the conversation by asking how her break was.

“Isn't it crazy that you were both in Gotham? Lila was just saying that she spent most of her break with the Waynes, which is so cool! Didn't you say you went to view the Gotham U campus with your aunt and uncle?”

“Yeah, and we met up with my online friend's family. She has a younger brother planning to go to GU, same as me! He's a bit of a jerk, but you know, I don't have to spend time with him if I get accepted. I've already started researching fashion internships, in case. How was your break?”

“My break was boring, mostly spent it babysitting and being relieved that there's no more tests! Ooh, your online friend that sent you flowers on Valentine's Day? Did sparks fly when you finally met face to face?”

“Um, no, I think I traumatised her, actually. And she definitely only sees me as a little sister, so I spent some of my time getting over the tiny crush I had,” Marinette shrugged. She had grown massively from when she would sob about how unfair it was that someone didn't love her back. She had a better sense of her own self-worth and wasn't going to waste her energy on trying to force things to change. “Besides, she's almost twice my age, I'm not sure I would have liked her as much if she did have feelings for me.”

“Oh, that's such a shame, Marinette!” Lila cooed, drawing Alya’s attention back to her. “I'm sure you'll find someone eventually , some people are just unlucky like that. Like my friend, Damian, he told me he has feelings for someone, but she doesn't feel the same. I've told him I'll help him confess but he won't even tell me who it is.”

“Ooh, girl, you don't think he could be crushing on you , do you?” Alya had taken the bait, and Marinette had to work not to audibly groan. She knew it was all lies, because after spending two evenings with Barbara's not-quite-family, she had worked out that they were the same Waynes that Lila had been bragging about for the past few months. When she had asked about her, they had claimed confusion and she let it go.

“Oh, I hope not,” Lila replied, managing to sound both flattered and crestfallen. Honestly, if Marinette didn't detest her so much she would be impressed. “I would hate to hurt a friend, just because I don't feel the same. I mean, we all know how certain people,” she added significantly, eyes darting to Marinette, “can't handle when people don't return feelings. Our friendship might not be the same again!”

Gritting her teeth, Marinette turned away as Alya continued the conversation and tried to get a handle on the flash of anger that had flickered through her. It's my last term with the lying witch, she consoled herself. And then I'll be away from here, actually friends with some of the Waynes and she'll drop into obscurity.

_ _ _

Barbara was in the batcave when her phone started belting out Katrina and the Waves’ Walking on Sunshine. The others around her, getting ready to call it a night after patrol, glanced over to her, quizzical looks on most faces. Damian was scowling, but given that was his usual look, she paid it no mind.

“Hey Mari, what's up?” Barbara said as she answered the phone. Jason snorted at the ringtone and Damian seemed to freeze before shrugging it off. She eyed him speculatively for a moment, before focussing back on the call.

“I got in!” Came the shriek from the other end of the line. “I got my BAC score today, and I got a freaking 19 and I only needed a 16 to get in so I'm going to Gotham University!”

“That's incredible, way to go Mari! Does that mean it's time to apply for those internships? Oh my god, you have to promise me we'll do girls nights when you're here,” she was babbling, but she wasn't used to having civilian friends any more. It would be nice to let loose with Marinette, even if it was only once in a while.

“Obviously we will, but I have to go for now, I need to go down and tell my parents! Talk to you on Saturday.” And the dial tone rang in Barbara's ear suddenly. She grinned, shaking her head. Chances were, Marinette would realise she had called Barbara at 3 in the morning, Gotham time, but she was pleased that she had wanted to tell her so much that the time difference hadn't even crossed her mind.

“I take it that your…friend will be attending the same university as me this fall?” Damian said suddenly, standing to the side. He huffed slightly at her brisk nod and walked away without another word. She glanced around and caught Dick's eye, but he only shrugged as he walked over to her.

“I don't know what that was about, he hasn't mentioned her to me since the day we went to tour the college,” he said. “You know what he's like with new people though, he's probably just worried we're going to make them hang out.”

Barbara hummed in agreement, picking up her phone again when a message chimed. She smiled when she saw that Marinette had indeed realised the time in Gotham and was both apologetic and a little concerned that Barbara had still been awake.

Across the world in Paris, Marinette had messaged Chloe, Kagami, Adrien and Alya to let them know the good news. She was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing around her room and squealing every now and then. She had already started packing almost everything, regardless of if she would need it between now and when she moved to Gotham.

“Tikki, it's really happening! Oh my God, it's going to be so incredible, we can move into the dorms, make friends and learn so much! And I need to find an internship, God that's going to be so stressful!” She threw herself into her desk chair and let it wheel her to her computer, throwing herself onto her arms.

“Marinette, I'm so proud of you! You worked so hard on your BAC, and you have so many options with internships thanks to the work you've put into commissions!” Tikki was fluttering around her head, smiling and squealing. “We’ll need to consider our options because we can't let any dorm mates know about me.”

“Ugh, right, magical secrets,” Marinette moaned, thinking hard. “The dorms we looked at were pretty small, not a lot of privacy and no soundproofing. That doesn't sound like I'd be able to keep you out of the box…okay, new plan! We're going to secure an internship and get an apartment, that way it's our space. It'll probably be easier doing commissions anyway.”

Now that she had made the first decision, it was easy to see what next steps to take. She started looking at the listings near the university for 1 or 2 bedroom apartments, writing off several that looked beautiful but had ridiculously low prices. She settled on two or three that seemed reasonable and sent emails to them.

She then started to scout out internships, checking the employees testimonies and looking at potential salaries. She sent emails to all of them, but took extra care on the ones she wanted. Wayne Enterprises was at the top of her list, both because she knew them personally and because it was high on the list for employee treatment.

She sighed and stretched again, checking her phone and grinning at her new messages. She opened the one from Kagami first, the slightly formal manner making her glow with pride at how well she had done. Chloe's was more relaxed but just as proud. Alya hadn't messaged back yet, but Adrien’s was sweet.

Hey Bug, that's so awesome! I knew you could do it, you've always been the perfect one of the two of us. Let me know if I can help at all with the changes etc. <3

Although it had been a hard decision at the time, breaking up was the right thing to do. When they had revealed their identities after catching Hawkmoth, it had been awkward and tense. They had decided together that there was too much between them now, and that being friends was better than trying to force it to work.

They had both made token arguments, trying to keep the relationship, if only because it turned out they were Ladybug and Chat Noir, Marinette and Adrien; their friends shipped them so hard, they had practically cried when the pair finally started dating (Alya totally cried when they stopped dating, too).

Their new friendship was built on the solid foundation of having spent time fighting a supervillain, shared stresses of hidden identities and dealing with mini gods. But moving in with his aunt in England meant that Adrien had had to break up with another person - Plagg. Plagg was getting some much needed rest in the Miracle Box, coming out occasionally to chat with the Guardian and Tikki.

Now that she was out of texts and tasks, Marinette decided it was time to do some designing again. She had a free day from lycée and planned to utilise it properly. All of the joyous energy that had flooded her was ready to be honed, and she wanted to see what she came up with.

So it was several hours later that she heard the chime of her emails, and realised that she hadn't moved in that time. Cursing softly, she made her way to the bathroom, went down to the kitchen to grab a drink and a snack, before settling down in front of the computer again. She opened the new email, squealing when she saw it was from Wayne Enterprises.

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng,

It was a pleasure to receive your application for the internship offered here at Wayne Enterprises and we are considering your application currently. We do wish to clarify some things regarding your experience up to this point.

You have successfully worked with Mme Audrey Bourgeois, and won a competition with the brand previously known as Gabriel. Based on those, we would just like to discuss what you have worked on since your brand ceased trading in the past year.

We look forward to hearing from you,

The Office of Timothy Drake-Wayne

Co-CEO

Marinette chewed her lip, wondering if she was ready to out the face behind MDC. On one hand, this was why she had rebranded, she needed to get her work out there and make it easier to break onto the fashion scene later. On the other…the anonymity meant that she didn't have to deal with paparazzi, or people trying to be friendly with her just because she was kind of famous. Her hands hovered over the keyboard before deciding, and starting the email back. She checked the time and saw that it was still early in the day in Gotham.

Good morning,

Thank you for your speedy reply, I appreciate that you are a very busy company so it means a lot that you have taken the time this morning.

In regards to my brand, I rebranded in December last year. Prior to the rebrand, I had kept my connection to Jagged Stone secret as I am still 17, and did not wish to present myself to the media yet. As this is still the case, I trust that you will treat this information with discretion.

All of my current work can be found under my new website, mdcdesigns.fr

If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to contact me, either by email or phone,

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (MDC)

She tried to relax but was checking her emails every few minutes. She figured they would need to check her claims out, but she so badly wanted this internship. It was the best paid - ie, not volunteer work - and the company had raving reviews from long standing employees.

After what felt like hours, but was only minutes, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She picked it up hastily, not bothering to look at the screen as she did so. She felt herself physically deflate when Alya responded to her greeting.

“Girl, a 19? That's crazy amazing! We have to celebrate, like immediately! I can have the girls ready to go in half an hour, tops, and we can do whatever you want. I'll bet the others will want to celebrate their scores too, and anyone who doesn't can commiserate!” Alya was so enthusiastic that Marinette couldn't help laughing.

“Als, it's, like, Wednesday. We should wait until Friday, that way we can plan something spectacular,” Marinette mused, already jotting down a couple of ideas. “Now, I'm not 18 yet, so that vetoes a couple of options, but we could go for a meal, get glammed up and head to this new dance club, it allows 16 and up, you just can't drink without ID. Oh, or we could go listen to a band somewhere, although Kitty Section is obviously a no, since they'll want to relax too. Hmmm, why don't we- oh, sorry, that's another call, can I catch you back in a little bit? Thanks, Alya, speak soon!”

She switched calls while Alya was still laughing and went to say hello when someone else interrupted immediately.

“How could you not tell us you were MDC?” came Tim's voice. He sounded highly affronted, and Marinette choked back a nervous giggle. “You knew we wanted to know, Babs must have told you we were fans, so why didn't you say anything?”

“Uh, hi Tim, nice to hear from you,” she replied awkwardly. “Well, first off, I said in my email why I didn't say anything. Also I know Babs pretty well but I only met you that week? Anyway, Babs was the one that wanted it kept a surprise.”

“I didn't think you were so malicious, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Tim said gravely, although he undercut the gravity with a snort a moment later. “God, no wonder we couldn't find out though, I bet she designed your website, didn't she? I knew the code was familiar when I struggled to crack it, but she didn't say anything so I didn't put it together.”

“She did, and off the record, the reason I needed a new site is because someone started spreading rumours that I was stealing someone else's work, so I had to shut my old one down. That's why I needed Babs' help to set up a new one, I couldn't trust my friend to do it without blabbing.”

“Oh, well, that sucks. Whatever, I already talked to Babs and she confirmed that you are who you say you are so I wanted to call personally and offer you a job.”

“Don't I need to interview for the internship? Aren't there, I don't know, a bazillion other candidates that need to be sorted through?” Marinette was alarmed at how quickly it was all moving.

“An internship? Oh, hell no, I want to hire you as the fashion consultant for Wayne Enterprises. We don't have one currently, just sort of pick up the odd suit and have Alfred tailor it, but if you're willing, we could give you a job to be in charge of our public event wardrobes.”

“...you know I'm going to be a student in the fall, right? And that I can't be a full time employee because I'm not even 18 yet?”

“Oh, well, sure, but there's no point giving you an internship when we could take you on part time. My understanding is that you're getting a full ride to GU and therefore don't need the money for school fees, but I promise as a part time employee, your pay would be significantly better than an intern’s. Plus, that leaves the internship open to someone who needs it.”

“How do you even know about the scholarship?” Marinette was stunned. He wanted to hire her? No awful internship, she could do what she loved for people she knew and liked? It sounded too good to be true. “Wait, no, that's not the point. I mean, yes, obviously I want the job, when do you want me to start? I can't move to Gotham right now, because I have to finish the year, and my birthday isn't until July, but then I could make my way over in August?”

“Okay, awesome, what if we hired MDC as a independent consultant, through your website, for the next 2 months, you can start making some designs for everyone, and then you can sign an actual contract just after your birthday, then whenever you move to Gotham, we can set you up with an office and creative space?”

It was more than Marinette could have dreamed of, and she was quick to agree. They hashed out the logistics, but he sounded just as gleeful as she felt when the call disconnected. She squealed and did a happy dance, picking up her phone to call Alya back.

_ _ _

Once Damian knew that he would be seeing Marinette again, he decided that he needed to change his behaviour. It was not a sudden revelation, he had been thinking about their interactions more often than he would admit ever since she had gone back to Europe. So over the next week or so, Damian made an effort to improve his conversational skills. He spoke to random students at his high school, worked on being more patient with Kent, and asked his father to find him some work at his company to spend time with a range of different personality types.

He of course did not relay this particular reason to his father, giving a more general explanation of wanting to get a feel for the business before he began working towards his economics degree. His father readily agreed and Damian found that he was more than capable of marshaling his temper around buffoons.

He did not want his brothers to make more of his change of behaviour than there was, and so he seldom interacted with others at the same time as them. Even so, Grayson had commented more than once that his patience had improved drastically, most likely referring to the fact that he had not threatened anyone who had been overly familiar with him.

He was determined to make a better impression on Marinette the next time they met.

#maribat #mlb x dc #damian x marinette #damianette #daminette #daminette fic #eventual daminette #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #dc x mlb #introducing: mousinette #chapter 6

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just-another-siimp · 2 years ago

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Surface Pressure 141 x Reader HCs

Just a dumb bunch of thoughts about the 141st members reacting to their S/O giving them a massage, i crave fluff so i'm writing it for myself. If you guys like this please reblog! It gives me my daily serotonin boost.

word count: 1.3k Warnings: Unsure, if you find any let me know <3.

Captain John Price

We all know that as Captain, John is under a lot of pressure to not only keep his team alive but to get results.

A lot of the stress that he has is held in his shoulders, it doesn't help that post mission he spent a lot of his time hunched over a desk completing reports.

Massages often helped.

You often bought him coffee in the early hours of the morning, strong and dark the perfect combination to get him through the rest of his reports.

Even with exhaustion hanging over you, you'd stay by his side. Keeping him company until he joined you in bed.

You sat on your phone, idly scrolling through the news trying to catch up on the normal of aspects of life you missed while deployed. In the three months since you'd been away there was another royal scandal, the clicking of keys stopped drawing your attention away from the click bait article you'd been occupying yourself with.

Looking up you noticed how John rubbed his shoulder, sighing as he checked over his work before turning to you. When your eyes met he smiled and you practically melted, rolling the chair closer to his side in order to steal a kiss to the cheek before you lost him to his reports again.

"I'm almost done, love. Won't be long now." Your hand reached out to his, squeezing gently as you stood fingers sliding up his arm and the shoulder he'd been rubbing just moments prior. Wordlessly you added a small amount of pressure, both hands now gently massaging the tension away. John leaned back in his chair, head lulling to the side as his hands reached up to hold yours. In a matter of seconds he'd completely melted in his chair, blue eyes staring lovingly up at you.

"You've been sitting at this desk too long, dear." "Hmm if you keep this up I'll never get the reports done."

"That's the point."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Gaz always has an air of 'calm' surrounding him, it's the reason why you'd fallen in love with him. Even under pressure he never seemed to crack, though that didn't change the fact that even he could grow angry and frustrated.

Anger was often a result of exhaustion, nightmares, aching limps keeping him awake or the worst possible thing. Your young neighbours throwing a house party at 2am on a tuesday.

You'd hate to admit it but even you were growing tense with the near constant thudding of bass boosted music. The party did eventually end, only with police intervention. Which was probably for the best, because if either of you had gone next door it would not have been a nice encounter.

Even after the nights drama Gaz couldn't sleep, he'd continued to toss and turn next to you. No amounts of spooning able to quench the frustration he felt.

Gaz had gotten up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, you sat up listening to the sound of footsteps padding back into the room. He gave you an apologetic smile as he placed the glasses down, that's when you realised. He'd bought you water too. This man was far too sweet to be real.

"Sorry to wake you Sweetheart."

"Come 'ere"

Your voice was coated in sleep, soft and sweet as you reached out for him. As he knelt down on the bed he pulled you into a kiss, something soft and sweet hidden within all of his anger and frustration.

"Lay down."

"Is that an order?" He's smirking at you, you're rolling your eyes at him. Despite the sass he still lays down, on his stomach. Fingers tugging lightly at the shirt you wore, it belonged to him once upon a time. Doing your best not to accidentally knee Kyle in the ribs you straddled his back, hands running down his back.

"Don't be a shit, Kyle."

"Yes ma'am."

In a matter of seconds he was putty in your hands, muscles relaxing under your expert hands as they pushed out the knots in his back. Fifteen minutes later he was fast asleep, with you laying on his back like a weighted blanket. Both finally sleeping peacefully.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ghost isn't the type to enjoy a massage, or any form of TLC really. The feeling of hands on his shoulders send him back to the battlefield, the weight on his back makes him feel like he's suffocating.

Even with you he's not fond of a massage, if you start to rub his shoulders or back he'll guide you into a a hug. Often smothering you in a cuddle, or returning the favour and offering to give you a massage instead.

What he does like however, is his hands being played with.

Simon can't explain it, but the feeling of your fingers gently pinching the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger is relaxing.

The movie had long since been abandoned, yet it still played softly in the background. You and Simon hadn't moved from the couch since dinner, takeout containers sitting empty on floor instead of being disposed of immediately. 'It won't hurt for the floor to be messy for a few hours' Simon had said, his attempt at keeping you on the couch successful. He'd sat with his back against the armrest, you between his legs so he could stop you from leaving. So you wouldn't have been able to say no either way.

Your hands had taken one of his, gently massaging away the ache that had settled in during the cool evening. He told you he was starting to get old, you rolled your eyes and reminded him that you're both the same age.

As the ending title began to play you shifted, releasing his hand as you attempted to get up. The same hand you'd been holding moments early snaking back around your waist and pulling you back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"To pee"

"I'm coming with you." At that comment you smack his hand, standing up.

"Clingy are we?"

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Johnny is very much a head rub kinda guy, he would start world war three if it meant getting a head rub.

that's an exaggeration, he wouldn't.. unless- jk

He likes to sit in front of you on the couch while you play with his mohawk, normally he pulls your leg over his shoulder and will massage your calf or foot.

He doesn't want you to feel left out

but when he's stressed tho? like mega stressed all of the tension in his body goes to his neck. He ends up getting Migraines so bad he sits in a dark until they go away. When on a mission it's worse.

As the sun went down the chill in the safe house grew, huddling closer to the fire you waited for Soap to come out of the shower. He'd been in there for longer than usual, you could only assume that it was as a result of the exhaustion that had overtaken both of you.

If it wasn't for the chill that had set in you'd probably have fallen asleep in bed, but you'd wait for Johnny first. After all snuggling was the best way to achieve warmth, or so he liked to remind you. The door swung open behind you, footsteps skipping right past you as he flopped down on the bed.

It was clear as day and you knew the signs, he had one of those Migraines again.

"mo ghràdh.. I'm so tired."

"Come get into bed properly, love. Then you can sleep."

Once you were both snuggled up under the covers, your hand rested on the back of his neck. Thumb sliding up from his shoulder just to the base of his ear, adding a little pressure before going back to it's starting position.

"Y/N-"

"Shh, go back to sleep."

"Thank you.."

Within a few minutes you'd both drifted off to sleep.

#call of duty mw2 #modern warefare ii #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #kyle garrick #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #this got long #i'm not sorry #i want a head rub now #simp writes #thanks komo for the save with soap

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miscfandomwrites · 10 months ago

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A/N: Don’t know how this college will show up on tumblr, so let’s see. This is an old, old idea that I got one day after I drew all over my arm in eyeliner when I was in class. It was actually really pretty, and thus the idea for this was born. Due to my ADHD it’s hard to focus in class, and because of that I need some sort of stimulation to make my brain think. This was written with an attention disorder in mind for the reader.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader

Location: Marvel > Natasha Romanoff > Oneshots

Warnings: None, just a small drabble with fluff

Words: 900ish

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

“We need to move in from this direction instead and then we can carry them out.” Bucky voiced from his place against the wall.

I didn’t bother to follow the conversation, as this was the fourth time that they’ve been over editing the plan even when the first plan was perfect.

I inwardly groaned and leaned my head back, moving my arms and stretching. Enjoying the feel of my back popping. The debate about how we were to get in was still going, and I ended up digging through my jacket pockets. Damn, I had a fidget in here this morning…

Still tuning everyone out, I found an eyeliner pen. Wait, wasn’t I looking for that yesterday?

You have got to be kidding me. I was. My habit, or rather, unconscious habit of losing things wasn’t fun. I misplaced things often enough to where I kept trackers on several items I used daily. Everyone idolizes having an attention disorder until you realize just how fucking shitty it is.

Seriously, I can’t get through the day without misplacing something. Or caffeine. Both.

I ran a hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ears as I pulled the cap off the pen. It was one of the oil-based ones, which meant it was easy to clean off of skin. Laying my hand on the table I started sketching some bones on my fingers, then moved to my hand. Keeping tabs on the conversation, I finished my hand and moved to my arm. Instead of bones I just drew swirls, some small stars, and honestly whatever came to mind. I did the same with my other hand, albeit a bit messier because it wasn’t my dominant hand that was doing the drawing.

“We’re done with this for now. Let’s go over this tomorrow.” Steve said as he clapped his hands together, and shut off the screen. I glanced up only to meet Natasha’s eyes. As soon as she caught my gaze she smiled. I smiled back at her.

Everyone in the tower knew I had an attention disorder, and if just given my fidgets I would be fine. It turns out both of the scientists and I share that in common, and more often than not we were inventing some sort of new fidget toy. Of course, after the lighter-knife-spinner combination, we were a bit limited on our creations. Still, we got along great.

Everyone slowly got up and headed out to wherever they would be going, and I pulled out my phone and earbuds. Donning my jacket and tugging my phone in a pocket, I started my music and headed out, headless of Natasha calling after me.

I got to my floor and immediately shoved my shoes and socks off, along with my jacket and pants. I was bored enough that the thought of doodling over my legs sounded entertaining enough that I discarded my pants as well, kicking them over the back of the couch and flopping down onto it. I grabbed the remote and started from where I left off of (Favorite show) and went back to work. Eventually my feet were covered, and I moved up to my calves, then my knees, and soon enough my entire legs were covered. I drew up my arms as best I could, and fixed my hands.

“So, this was the result?” Natasha’s voice scared the shit out of me, causing a huge streak of eyeliner to mess up my doodles on my arms. I turned towards her, mouth open in shock. She huffed a laugh and went around the couch, sitting down next to me.

She held out her hand. “May I?” She asked. I handed her the pencil and she gently took my arm, and continued my drawing up my arm and onto my shoulder, before lightly drawing them on my neck, and eventually my cheek.

“These are really pretty...have you considered getting these tattooed?” She asked me as she switched sides and started working on my other arm.

“I have, but I also realized that I’d want them different as soon as I saw them.” I replied.

“That makes sense. You typically don’t like things to be permanent, they always need to be changing.”

“Yeah, some permanent things. Such as tattoos, furniture, clothes. I change those often. But people however...they’re always changing.”

“Ah, so in relationships you wouldn’t be deterred if someone wanted something permanent with you?” She questioned, tracing the pencil up my neck and onto my cheek, leaning closer to me.

“No, I wouldn’t. I prefer that type of stability in my life.” I whispered as she leaned closer to me.

“Do you want something permanent?”

“I do.” I leaned closer and closed the gap between us.

#miscfandomwrites #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

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thomasisaslut · 1 year ago

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Experimental

Ava Chen x Alex Volkov

Includes: Vaginal Fingering, Pregnancy Sex, Couch Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie, Lingerie

Word Count: 1k

—

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51683707

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1393372009-𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝-𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬-experimental

—

Ava sits on the toilet, a pregnancy test in her hand. She waits until the results come in, when they do, she jumps up in excitement. Unfortunately, Alex wasn't home yet to share the news, Ava smirked.

She had a plan.

The short, dark headed woman walks back into their bedroom and to her walk-in closet. When they bought a house together Alex insisted on getting Ava everything she has ever wanted, including lingerie sets.

Ava grabs her and Alex's favorite set, a beautiful dark blue fabric with sheer coverage—the lingerie revealed all of her hardened nipples, the bottom half only covers her clit, leaving her curves on display for when her husband gets home. She smirks to herself before grabbing a matching colored robe. Ava slips it on before tying it together in the front.

A loud buzz comes from the nightstand, Ava walks back into the main bedroom and stares down at her phone, she sees Alex—or, 'my love'—flash across the screen, awaiting her answer. She decides not to answer it.

Ava walks to the living room and decides to wait for Alex to return.

It doesn't take long.

A loud knocking comes from the front door of the house but Ava remains put on the couch, she smirks the second the door is flung open.

"Ava?" A panicked voice calls out, when he spots his wife he instantly walks over and cups her cheeks. "Are you alright? You didn't answer my calls, sunshine." Alex presses his lips to Ava's forehead.

"I am fine, Alex." She chuckles, her hands creep onto her robe before undoing the tie.

Alex's jaw falls slack at the sight of his wife in their favorite lingerie set. "Oh, fuck, sunshine..." His hands trail down from Ava's breasts to her hips when Ava grabs his hands and holds them on her stomach.

The dark headed woman looks up with a smile, tears brimming in her eyes. Alex's eyes widen.

"My love...?"

"Yes, Alex?" Ava's grin only widens.

"Are you pregnant, sunshine?"

"Perhaps." She winks, Alex's own tears begin to form before he embraces Ava in a tight hug.

"Oh, why didn't you tell me?" He kisses her cheek, jaw, and then neck. "Fuck, sunshine..."

"Yes, fuck indeed." Ava smirks, luckily, with Alex's current position she is able to wrap her legs around his waist—so, she does.

"Will you be okay with this, sunshine?"

Ava gives him a deadpan look and Alex chuckles before kneeling down, he slides away the panties connected to the lingerie set before licking a stride up Ava's soaking cunt, she whimpers at the feeling of her husbands tongue as it enters her core. His right hand slides to her clit while his other begins to toy with one of her nipples.

"Alex!" Ava whines, she weaves her hands into Alex's perfect hair, messing it up within a second as she grasps the locks. "I need you, please, no prep." She begs.

"I am not going to hurt my pregnant wife, Ava. I am going to make love to her."

She whimpers but allows Alex to continue, his hands trail down from her breasts to her waist to then her inner thighs before sliding in, using Ava's slickness as lubricant.

"So wet for me, sunshine, how long have you been waiting for, hm?" Alex smirks, his lips connecting with Ava's esophagus before biting down and sucking a deep, red love bite.

"Since, oh!" Ava moans loudly, whimpering under her husband's touch. "I-I found out!" She manages to say between pants and moans.

"That long? I've been gone all day, sweetheart." Alex's smirk only grows.

"Yes! Which is why I need you so, so bad." She pleas, Alex gives in.

His fingers curl inside of her cunt, drawing a desperate gasp from her throat, Alex withdraws his fingers before stripping off his pants, he tugs down his boxers in the same motion before gathering more of her slick and lubing up his cock.

"Are you prepared, sunshine?"

Ava nods eagerly. "Yes."

Alex aligns his member with Ava's drenched pussy before sliding in the head, her breath hitches underneath her husband, wanting more from him she bucks her hips.

"Ah, ah, careful, love." He smirks and pushes more of his inches into her needy core.

"I need you! Alex, fuck!"

"Profanity? You need me that bad?" Alex sucks another hickey onto Ava's neck as he teases her, his free hand moves to her breasts, toying with her nipples under the lingerie bra.

"Y-Yes! Please!" She begs, moving her legs around Alex's waist to emphasize her point.

He indulges.

Within a second Alex removes his cock before flipping Ava over and thrusting back in until his cock is fully sheathed.

"Ah! Alex!" She shouts, moaning at the insertion of pain and pleasure. "Please! Move, I'm fine!" Ava reassures her lover.

He kisses her spine as he begins his pounding, Alex hits that soft spot deep within her each and every single time, fucking her like she has never felt before.

"When I cum," Alex begins, his pelvis bone slapping against Ava's rear with every harsh movement. "You are going to take it like the slut you are, sunshine, do you understand?"

"Yes!" She moans, her hands reach up at the couches base, holding on tightly as Alex continues his rhythmic thrusts. "Give me it! I want it, please, Alex!" Ava pleas.

The sound of Ava's voice made his cock twitch deep within her, she felt his cock move before releasing deep inside of her cunt, the feeling of being stuffed with her lovers cum made Ava cum herself, her juices leaking down onto the couches coushin and mixing in with Alex's seed.

Her legs wobble as he pulls out, Alex quickly flips her over and hoists Ava into his arms.

"Are you alright, sunshine, did I prep you enough?" Alex asks, his eyebrows furrowing with worry for his wife.

"Yes, I am fine." Ava confirms and kisses her husband's cheek.

"And what about our child?"

She giggles in his arms. "Our baby is fine, now bathe me!" Ava pinches Alex's arm and he only laughs with her.

"Of course, Sunshine."

#alex x ava #ava chen #twisted love #twisted lies #twisted games #twisted series #twisted hate #josh chen #jules x josh #jules ambrose #christian harper #christian x stella #stella alonso #smut #pregnancy #fan fiction #bridget x rhys #rhys larsen #bridget von ascheberg

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ruwriteshours · 1 year ago

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MONSTERS IN MY ROOM (PART I) ⛧ L.JN

↝ pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader

↝ genre: mortal instrumental! au, angst, gore, urban fantasy, fluff, eventual smut (MINORS DNI)

↝ warning: mention of death of characters

↝ summary: You didn't know your usual habits would become a huge significant part of your life. With little memories of your past, you are forced to remember to find your missing mother with the help of Jeno, an immortal.

"Yeah, I know I wouldn't forget." You groaned, your hand clutching onto the phone as you moved it to the other side of your ear. "You've been talking about it since last week."

You could hear grumbling noise of complaint coming from Jongho at the other line. "Well, how am I suppose to know you'll follow through. Your mom's crazy."

"Well, my mom doesn't control my life." You began sketching on your notepad, your fingers tracing on the symbol you drew as you let out your usual monologue. "I'm three more months to eighteen. Plus, she won't know a thing." You whispered out the last part.

"Yeah, whatever 'Miss Independent'." You giggled. "Just don't get both of us in trouble."

"Oh, don't be such a wuss. She won't suspect a thing." You assured, before hanging up— not even giving Jongho the chance to retaliate.

Flipping through the pages of you sketchbook, you had realised how much your sudden habbit had gotten worse. Your book was occupied with the same drawings of the symbols. All of it being repeated.

Sighing under your breath, you walked out of your room to wash up. "Hey, sweetie!" Your mother's chirpy voice greeted you by the kitchen, preoccupied with her cooking. Muttering back a soft 'hey' as you walked away only to be stopped again by her voice calling out to you.

Whining, you turned around. "What is it?"

Turning off the stove, she looked up at you with her beaming smile. "I see you've gotten busy."

Glancing down at your hand, you could see the graphite ink of your pencil had painted your entire hand— smudging your clean shirt.

"Yeah, it's for a project." You lied, attempting to rub off the dirt.

Your mother only prodded further. "Well, tell me more then." She said excitedly. You laughed awkwardly as you gestured towards the bathroom. "I would love to, mom but I'm meeting Jongho soon." You excused.

"Oh," You could hear the tease in her voice. "Your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" You yelled out, a little too quickly. "He's a boy and he's my friend. He's my boy-space-friend." You explained, which only cause your mother to smile even more annoyingly. "Alright, sweetie. Have fun."

"He really isn't!" You began rushing to the bathroom to get ready. The last thing you heard was the gleeful laugh of your mother.

"Hey— woah." Startled by the sudden force being pulled on him as you hastily dragged Jongho out of your house. "What's the rush?"

"Don't want you to suffer by the wrath of my mom." You half-joked, still bothered by her comment. "Uh oh, what'd she say this time?" He laughed seeing your flustered expression.

"Nothing that concerns you." You grumbled, still holding onto his elbow to have him match your pace. He hummed, "Sure must be embarassing to have you this worked up."

"Shut up!" You hit his shoulder as it only fueled his humour, not finding your weak attack effective.

The walk towards the cafe was fairly short, your conversation with your best friend had always resulted in light bantering— not that you minded. Despite what everyone says about Jongho, (that he was someone who always plaster a cold exterior) you knew he had that warm light inside of him. His sense of humour and brightful personality was what made you want to get to know him more.

"Thanks a lot for doing this for me." Jongho spoke up. You smiled, "Don't go soft on me now, what are friends for?"

Oblivious, you didn't take notice on how Jongho's shoulder seem to slump— disappointed by your response. He was quick to cover up by bumping into your shoulder playfully, chuckling as you hit him back dramatically. Nearing to the destination, he walked up first to open the door. You didn't bother picking up on his gentleman act, having being used to his gesture.

"I'll get us a drink." He declared as the both of you found a seating. "Don't forg-" He was quick to interrupt you, though. "Forget to add in more whipped cream, got it."

With your order, he made his way to the queue. Your attention now being directed to the stage, listening to poetry slam— watching as the man stumble with his words, the beat of the drum not matching up to his speech. Letting out a sound of amusement, you turned your head to the tinted window— only to catch your attention at a certain symbol.

The same symbol you drew.

Without much though, you walked out of the cafe to take a closer look. Crossing the road carefully, you made your way to the open alley— observing excrutiatingly at the drawing. Your heart having picked up the sense of familiarity as your brain couldn't seem to remember. You didn't know you had taken so long outside until you heard Jongho's voice, followed by his hand holding onto your shoulder.

"Hey, why are you out here?" He asked, startling you out of your daze. Shrugging off, you could only utter, "I don't know."

He was about to question further when you turned to face him abruptly. "Let's go back." You grabbed his hand as you led him back to the cafe— thankfully, your seat was not being taken.

"Are you alright? You're being awfully quiet." He asked, noticing that you were in your head and was not paying attention to the event. You looked up at him with a small smile, "It's nothing, I'm just tired."

"Agony. Pain. Suffer." The voice of the performer acting out his scene.

"Tell me about it." He joked. "We'll finish up and go, you want another packet of sugar?" You nodded, "The brown one, please."

"Gotcha."

Watching him walk off, you let out a sigh of relief. You noticed a blonde-haired girl eyeing your best friend, a smile played on your lips as you observed the both of them exchanging greetings. You also couldn't help but notice that she kept staring at Jongho, obviously taking interest in him. Your heart soared, happy that your best friend had a chance to find someone. However, you were quick to assume when he walked away— rather quickly to your seat, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Why'd you leave so quick." He looked at you confused, "That girl you just talked to, she's totally into you."

He shrugged, not finding interest in the topic. "Not my type." You scoffed, "Oh please, you can go to her. I don't mind."

He scoffed back, "And leave you alone. No way." You groaned at his stubborness, "Act like that and you're gonna be single for life." You said jokingly, sprinkling the sugar onto your cup.

He didn't seem to take offense to your insult as he shrugged. "Maybe I'm saving myself for someone." You looked around dramatically, as if trying to search for who he was talking about. "Who?"

He didn't get to answer your question when the cheers and clapping sounds from the audience interrupted him, though you could see that he seemed relief to have avoided the topic altogether. Not soon after, the both of you joined in— acting as if you were listening to the awful speech.

The sky eventually went dark as the both of you took a detour, looking through every single local clubs that were available. As you past through every one of them, your eyes landed on the sign— with the same damn symbol on it. You turned towards Jongho as you pointed at the place. "Let's go here."

"Do you think it'll work?" Jongho asked incredulously.

"Of course it will."

Walking towards the entrance of the club, you were about to recite your script that you had prepared when the person behind the both of you cut through. His eyes were electric blue, hair spiked and his body covered in tattoos— all of which were random signs and symbols that had no meaning. "What an asshole." Jongho murmured.

Annoyed with the guy's rudeness, you looked up only to have an idea popped onto your head, "Actually, follow my lead." Ignoring his protest, you walked up to the bouncer with a confident facade as you pointed at the sign on top. "What does that symbol mean?"

Your question perked up the man that skipped ahead of you, turning around to look at you as he shared a look with the boucer. The man briefly whispered in his ear.

"What are you talking about?" Jongho harshly commented, his face panicking as he thought you had lost your mind. "Relax." You assured, focusing ahead as you watched the two men interact.

Not a moment after, the bouncer allowed the both of you inside. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned around to face Jongho with a smug smile.

"Did you went here without me before?" He asked in amusement.

The further you went inside the club, you squeezed your way through the crowds of drunkard people. Their bodies swaying to the side as the upbeat music echoed and flashing lights shining through the room. Jongho struggled to trail behind you, a look of discomfort takes over his face.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked— well shouted, as he was trying to overpower the loud music. You replied back with the same volume, "Yeah, but just water please!"

You looked around, your eyes catched a sight of the man who let you in the room. You were about to walk up to him, ready to ask him questions when his eyes looked behind you. Turning around, you caught sight on the most gorgeous woman in the room, her black hair swayed down her shoulders— the tight white dress complimented her curves, the tilted smirk of her lips as her sultry eyes bored onto the man.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching him walk towards the woman. You couldn't ignore the sudden feeling in the pit of your stomach, your feet following the both of them in the other area of the club— which is still in an open area, where everyone could see. You began to worry.

Something felt off.

Just as you predicted, the ring on the woman's fingers began slithering its way like a snake, transforming into a metal coil as it began wrapping itself on the man's neck. You gasped in shocked, completely in disbelief as you continued to watch the scene unfold.

The gurgling sound of the man struggling to gasp for air was spine-chilling. He clawed his hands around the metal coil but that only enrages the woman. The fury of the woman turned the colours of her eyes green as she balled her hands into fists— which made the material tightened around his throat. You looked around panicking as you noticed how the crowded room didn't seem to react at all at the murderous scene that was happening right in front of their faces, as if these people were invisible.

Shortly, a figure came in and began holding the man down— you watched helplessly as he was pleading for his life. Just then, another man came emerging through the crowd with his hood up, hiding his identity. You could only make out the black strands of his hair that was sticking out as he pulled out a weapon. His hand tracing along the lines of those threatening, sharp knife.

Without much thought, his knife sliced against the man's throat— completely decapitating his neck clean off. The blood began splattering everywhere, only now that you realised that the blood was black in colour as the fog escaped his body like acid. The sound of the man hissing in agony made you scream at the top of your lungs.

The three individuals hastily turned their heads towards the sound, seeing you in utter horror— from the way you covered your mouth as you teared up at the gruesome sight. The dead man was transformed into a horrifying parasite before it melted away into nothingness.

Your sudden screaming has also alerted the people in the room, who turned their heads towards you in confusion— not seeing the brutal death of the man. Your eyes dart towards the three people, their eyes staring back at yours. You could finally see the face of the hooded man. He was the last to fled the scene, taking a couple of steps closer towards you as his gaze was set at yours. His hooded eyes began to squint, as if trying to recognise you.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" Jongho was at your side in an instant, his hand grabbing onto your face to make you face him. You couldn't listen to his words, not when the fresh memory keeps repeating itself at the back of your head.

"I know what I saw." You rushed out of the club. "They killed that guy!" You repeated for what seemed to be the millionth time, still shaking from fear.

"Did you drink something, perhaps?" He asked, following your steps as he reached his hand out to call for a cab. "I heard that these people popped some stuff in the air to make sure we have a good time." He explained, trying to find some logical reasonings for your outbursts.

"Then how come you're not affected by it." You shot back, your makeup now smudged from the tears you let out previously— in a state complete mess. Thankfully a taxi came to a stop as the both of you hopped inside, his constant assurance only left you with more anxiety.

You knew what you saw.

After bidding your goodbye's, you were quick on your feet to make a beeline to your room— shutting your eyes in hopes to get some rests. Your vision clogged and your mind went black as you succummed to the darkness.

The morning after, groaning as you let out a stretch— rubbing your eyes but hissing at the sudden burning sensation that made your eyes water. Looking down, your hands were completely smudged with the ink of your pencil. In shock, you looked around your room as you gasped in horror. Papers were scattered across the floor, hung up and pasted on your cream textured walls. The same drawing accumulating in your room. You grabbed onto a couple and shoved it inside your bad, dashing out of your room as you made your way to the door.

However, you didn't make it far when the voice of your mother stopped you. "You went back late last night." Her usual nagging tone bugged you, not in the mood to get yelled at.

"I know, I'm sorry but I really have to go now." You pleaded, turning around to face your mother. Her eyes widened in shock seeing you in such a distress state.

The dark circles under your eyes are prominent as your hair flung in every direction. Despite the amount of sleep you had last night, it was as if you hadn't slept in days. "You can't leave."

You scowled in annoyance. "Yes, I can. I'm just going to hang out with Jongho, mom. It's fine." Your mother wasn't convinced, "So what? You're going to go off to him when you have problems, isn't that more of what you would do to a boyfriend." This time, you didn't detect any playfulness in her voice— it was as if she was hurt that you couldn't confide in her.

It was then that she realised that she needed to tell you the truth. Now. However, before she could utter a word— Jongho made his presence known as he stepped inside the house, which gave you the opportunity to fled, ignoring your mother's calls.

Showing the drawings to Jongho, you could only explain the events that had been happening as you watched his face contort to confusion— obviously not believing your spiel. Sitting at the cafe with eyes like a mad woman, it was difficult to convince Jongho. Ignoring his advice as you saw the same hooded man from the club, ignoring your train of thought. Your eyes widened in horror as you cowered away from his vision.

"What? What are you looking at?" Jongho asked exasperately as he began scouting around.

"Wait here." You said before running off, in hopes to finally get some answers— even if it killed you.

"Who the fuck are you?" You sneered nastily, shutting the back door that was leading you to an alley. The man chuckled at your rudeness.

"Lovely girl, aren't you?"

"This isn't funny! You killed someone, you're a murderer!" You accused, shouting at the man.

"I prefer to be called Jeno, actually." He stated as a matter-of-factly. "But I guess people who love to assume can call me that too."

"I know what I saw." You retorted.

"You think you know what you saw." He pointed at you, his eyes hardened.

Grabbing his hands to take a closer look at his tattoo, the same symbol being drawn on his hand— with shaking hands, you dug under your pockets to retrieve the drawing that you drew as you shoved it up to his face. "Why do I keep drawing this."

He hummed, taking the piece of paper as he observed it. "It's a mundane." He explained, as if there was no further explanation needed.

"What's a mundane?" You asked incredulously, prodding the man to continue. He looked down at you, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone that's from the human world."

"Well, if I'm not a human then what am I?"

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

©ruwriteshours

#jeno smut #lee jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream imagine #nct dream fanfic #lee jeno #lee jeno imagines #jeno fanfic

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evolutionsbedingt · 5 months ago

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Did somebody order pain on this lovely Friday?

Have some feelings about the end of Li Lianhua, inspired by a thought I had this morning. Meta-ish ramblings below the cut!

CW: terminal illness and resulting physical disabilities, suicidal ideation, open ending (equivalent with the special episode)

☆☆☆

You are called Li Xiangyi and everyone knows your hair is up in a jaunty ponytail. Simple guans hold it in place, not drawing any attention, not like the red ribbons trailing your every step like the love you inspire across the jianghu.

You call yourself Li Lianhua and you buy the hairsticks and crowns and ribbons to match. They’re white now, for the grief that follows and forms your path, and hold a bun made of half of your hair. It’s so much easier to comb just half of it and in the weeks where your muscles and joints ache with the icy cold of the yin slowly poisoning your neili, you leave the bun for as long as you can stand it.

You don’t call yourself by any name anymore, because you don’t remember which name was ever truly yours. You leave everything behind and hope that it too will do you the courtesy of letting you go. There are no more ribbons in your hair, only the bits of leather you use to tie it up. The hairstick you bought in return for all your other accessories is plain and the auntie who sold it to you said it’s as white as the morning sun. And your arms shake too much to keep them up for long, your shoulders protesting the twisting and pulling and holding.

The first time you do your hair after not-dying again, the hairstick slips from your stiff fingers and your shoulders scream from staying up that long.

The second time you have to lie down afterwards, short of breath and with the beginnings of a headache exacerbated by the hair dragging on your skull.

The third time you abandon the bun. Twist the strands only far enough that they hold in something rounded and soft, accept the wisps of hair you can’t ever seem to catch and that tickle your face, and use the hairstick to pin the end of what once was a ponytail up.

You have no name, you have no ribbons, you have only a stolen fur coat and a single piece of white jade. Your bones ache like the waves forever rushing in your ears are dragging you under. And you want to give in to them. So you take paths half-remembered, rely on strangers, kind and unkind alike, to return once again to the eastern shores and, on the edge of one world, you turn your back on the other and sink into the rising sun.

★★★

So. I recently again came across a post pointing out LLH's significantly different styling in the special episode and this morning I realised that his hairstyle may well be a highly stylised version of what may have happened if the yin poison continued to ravage his body.

Apologies for the questionable phone screenshots, but I'm mostly interested in the hairstyle which is nice and visible here.

I used to have that length of hair and let me tell you any sort of complicated hairstyle was absolutely impossible after my shoulder injury and subsequent loss of muscle mass. So it's, to me, entirely plausible that this is a stylised or idealised (possibly because we see him through Fang Duobing’s eyes) version of what might happen if he lost the vision, motor skills and strength to put up his hair into a proper bun (especially without modern, elastic hair ties).

In the fic I wrote it as him only twisting the hair minimally and pinning it up like this on purpose, but I've also had this kind of look when a bun of mine came loose without me noticing (or caring). The wisps likely don't look half as intentional without the Fang Duobing filter and, looking at that hairstick in the first pic, it also looks like it was shoved in rather haphazardly.

In summary: this is Li Lianhua at his weakest (can't do his own hair anymore) and loneliest (doesn't have anybody else to do it for him) and his hairstyle reflects that.

#the irony of me typing this up with an aching thumb wrapped in as much tape as possible so the joint is stable enough to write with #anyway. many feelings about canonically disabled Li Lianhua #mysterious lotus casebook #li lianhua #li xiangyi #character study #cw terminal illness #CW suicidal ideation #my adventures in writing #*mine

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rosyjuly · 1 year ago

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galex sugar rush au because i've been hooked on this terrible show and i want baker boys pining and whipping up gorgeous desserts.

The whole thing had been George’s idea.

“No.”

“Alex, come on,” George had said, trying to catch Alex’s eye, but Alex had been looking away, handsome face scrunched up in a grimace.

“Be serious now,” Alex had scoffed. He had finished his coffee with one last gulp and sprung to his feet. George threw his paper cup in the trash and followed him inside, looking at the nape of Alex’s neck as they’d crossed out of the courtyard’s sunlight and back into the dark of the kitchen’s staff entrance.

“I am being serious,” George had said, trying to keep his voice low, avoid drawing attention to the discussion now bordering on an argument. “Listen, it’s fifty grand – think about what we could do with that money.”

Anyway, they’re watching the episode now with Alex’s siblings, piled too close together on the couch.

“Don’t you start it without me,” Chloe says, pointing at Alex, when the microwave beeps. Alex’s apartment is only barely bigger than a studio; with the six of them crammed into the makeshift living room it feels practically claustrophobic, a train carriage at peak hour. The old couch doesn’t have the stamina to support three people anymore and every time Alex shifts it sags and sends George and Zoe tumbling down into the middle, the two of them pooling around Alex in a tumble of legs. George keeps his hands in his lap, just in case.

“I’m telling you,” Alex groans, “you already know the result! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

“If it was a big deal you’d have fucking made something,” Luca says without looking up from his phone.

“There’s popcorn,” Alex tells him, nodding at Chloe who’s returning with two bowls from the kitchen.

“Albono, you’re the laziest person I know,” George says. He drags a playful hand through Alex’s hair; the bleached strands are soft between his fingers.

“I deal with enough food during my day job if you haven’t noticed, thank you very much,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t pull his head away though. He picks up the remote and presses play, which finally shuts everyone up, even if just while Hunter March explains the rules of the chocolate-themed episode.

“Aww, I didn’t remember you guys had matching little outfits,” Zoe clicks her tongue.

“George’s idea,” Alex says, reaching around blindly for the popcorn. He’s right. It was: but it’s just blue aprons, nice cotton ones in a deep navy color, big, practical pockets on both sides. George actually wanted headbands, too, but Alex took one look at the bandanas, and said it’s either them or him. It was an easy choice, after that.

George crosses his arms over his chest as the other teams are introduced. Most of them look smooth, in sync; he’s been trying to avoid stressing about how he and Alex will come across.

“We’re friends and coworkers,” he sees himself say on screen, over-articulating the words like he does when he’s stressed. Alex next to him looks almost bored, eyebrow half-cocked at the camera.

“I got him drunk enough to admit that he hired me because he thought I was cute,” Alex says, flashing a bright smirk.

“For the record, I don't have hiring privileges,” George-on-the-screen says after a guffaw. George remembered feeling caught out: it’s not like Toto hadn’t asked him what he thought of Alex after his trial shift, and Alex was definitely his type: tall and handsome with an attitude. And he hadn’t even bleached his hair back then.

“Oh, you guys were laying it on pretty thick,” Zoe says, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

George hums, crosses his arm on his chest. He and Alex look like as much of a well-oiled team on screen as they feel in the kitchen, leaning close together over the countertop, notebook spread out in front of them.

“I think we should do something a bit more out of the box,” George-on-the-screen says, sketching up the bottom of the cupcake. “Peanut butter, raspberry, chili – that’s done and dusted.”

“Why don’t we do a pistachio one?” Alex says. He draws the frosting, dots the top part of the swirl. “Pair it with some nice dark chocolate in the dough, some crushed nuts on top, hm?”

In the next interlude, Alex says, his apron clean, his hair artfully swept to one side, “He makes it tasty, I make it look good.”

George snorts, nudges their knees together. “As if it wasn’t you coming up with that concept and like, half of the others.”

Alex doesn’t answer, but he presses his leg along George’s.

George still can’t believe Jacques Torres was in the same room, that he tasted their cupcake and liked it – liked it enough to name them the winners of the first round, blown away by the richness of the frosting, the satisfying, salty crunch of toasted pistachios.

For the confection, the two other teams already picked ruby chocolate, so they settled on gold instead to set themselves apart. George isn’t sure how much footage will be shown of them – probably more, now that one team’s already been eliminated. But he isn’t prepared for the exact moment when Alex-on–the-screen says, “Why don’t we do ice cream?”, watches with avid mortification how George-on-the-screen immediately nods, face tense, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“I can do it with liquid nitrogen,” George-on-the-screen offers, already checking the shelves for the equipment.

“Those glasses are so funny,” Chloe says, phone pointed at the screen. She’s posting a story about it – George can’t wait to see the mocking caption. Better to focus on how silly he looks while he’s taking out the ice cream of the container, goggles and big, rubbery gloves on, instead of the immediacy he seeks to fulfill Alex’s every request. He’s never even used liquid nitrogen before; only knew the technique in theory. And it showed. The ice cream came out a touch too soft. Not even Alex’s carrot cake crumble could save it; the judges were more impressed by the flambéd bananas with the ruby chocolate soufflé.

But they went through. The girls exhale in relief, and so does George, even though he knows the outcome, has lived it for months now.

In the final round, they have to create a chocolate wonderland; whatever that means. George remembers the paralyzing fear he felt in the moment, blanking – but Alex was already sketching, his face lit up with excitement, hands moving in sweeping, relaxed motions.

“And we can do the ferris wheel with salt sticks,” Alex-on-the-screen is saying.

So they made a realistic Winter Wonderland cake; the fair in a cold, London December, covered in mud instead of snow. A large sheet cake with silky chocolate ganache, on top the barren trees, overpriced amusement rides.

It must look impressive enough, because even Luca puts his phone away, watches the screen with barely concealed attention. Alex-on-the-screen is making the ganache, pouring heated up heavy cream over the chocolate. When he calls George over for a second opinion, he’s offering the spoon, his other hand cupped under it for any spillage. George-on-the-screen is taken aback, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before snapping out of it and tasting. It was exquisite, of course.

When they’re done with the assembly and the piping, Alex-on-the-screen asks, “Do you need me to boss you around?” because George keeps hovering at the edge of the shot, fetching salt sticks and shying away from trying to build the freaking carousel.

“Mate, the editors really liked you,” George snorts, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I had good moments, too! Where are they!”

“Natural charm, what can I say,” Alex says, but he nudges a friendly shoulder against George’s.

It doesn’t even come as a surprise that they win. Their opponents’ cake was, well, cute, but lacked the kind of single-minded focus Alex and him brought to the table.

On the screen, he and Alex hug long enough that something starts fizzing in his stomach, hot and uncomfortable. He excuses himself as the music starts up and Hunter March starts thanking them for watching another episode, stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. It can’t be that obvious all the time, he thinks, because otherwise Alex would have noticed it already, would have said something. Anything.

When he comes out, Alex and Zoe are talking in the kitchen, voices low and hushed. He raps his knuckles lightly against the door. Zoe looks up, face sharp as she says, “I better go, I’m already an hour late to my friends.” Before she leaves, she fixes Alex with one last look that almost makes George flinch. It would be better to flee. Easier, at least. But Alex has always been kind; even if they hadn’t won the prize, if they hadn’t convinced Susie to invest in their confectionery, Alex wouldn’t just blank him.

The front door closes. The flat is quiet again: it’s just the two of them and the dishes in the sink. George itches to grab a sponge and occupy his hands; shoves them in his pocket instead.

“Felt weird to see ourselves like that.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, giving him a small smile. He doesn’t seem mad, truly. “Kinda insane to think about it, still, you know? Winning. Um, the money, of course. Our own place.” He looks down and shakes his head, smiling to himself.

“We make a good team,” George allows himself to say.

“We sure do.”

For a few seconds, they watch each other, the silence stretching like a taut bow. Then Alex clears his throat – George tries to steel himself for the blow, school his face into something neutral enough for the rejection.

“Um. Zoe said,” and he clears his throat again, “she said that I should man up – her words, not mine – that I’ve wasted enough time already.”

“With, uh, with me?” George asks with a valiant attempt to ignore the lump in his throat.

“Yes– no! Not with the shop, of course, just–” Alex scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I’m getting this all wrong, just, let me–” and then he’s stepping in, cupping George’s nape with a hand as he slots their mouths together. George makes a noise that he’d deny on his deathbed – Alex seems into it anyways, he thinks – and presses closer, kisses him back.

#would i recomment the show? ehhhh #but it's fun and this is like 1.7k written in a few hours just because #galex #little fic #george/alex #idk my own tagging system but what's new!

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