#would be a good incentive to work hard this week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spiderhanzzz · 5 months ago

Text

"I'M FUCKING SPIDERMAN, BABY" — han jisung.

who would've guessed that the guy you've been texting on tinder is spiderman?

word count: 2.7k

pairings: spiderman!han x journalist intern!reader

genres: humor, fluff, slight angst, comfort, kind of fake dating???

warnings: swearing, drinking, han is referred to as peter, reader and han are both uni students, mentions of vomit and violence, mild injuries, lowkey blackmailing if u squint, no use of y/n & gender neutral reader, han calls reader "pretty" once, usage of "baby" and "sweetie" too

playlist: les childish gambino, dare gorillaz, novacane frank ocean, i bet you look good on the dancefloor arctic monkeys, making the bed olivia rodrigo

a/n: my first fic raaahh!!! >:3 so so excited for u 2 read all these crazy ideas swirling inside my head

“...whoever provides the information on Spider-Man’s real identity will receive a cash prize of $1,000 US dollars…”

Your gaze bores to the glow of your old crappy TV. You haven’t had the time nor funds to purchase a new one, given that your only employment at the moment is a journalistic internship. It’s a good agency, the same one reporting on screen right now, and you acknowledge how hard you had worked to get the position. Nevertheless, you wish you prioritized financial gain over prestige, because now you’re stuck in your run-down apartment in New York, investigating the biggest issues for no money at all.

So you guess it’s not that big of a deal that you have no leads on who the hell Spider-Man is. If any higher-ups scold you, you could just hit them with those snarky remarks you’ve kept in the back of your mind all this time. How do you expect incentive from me if you’re not even paying me? I’m writing all your scripts because everyone else is a damn deadbeat! Maybe then they’ll start appreciating you.

You released a heavy sigh. All this nonsense is giving you a permanent headache, and it doesn’t help that you spend most of your free time scrolling mindlessly on your phone, which lights up with a new text notification the moment you start thinking about it. Perhaps you’ve spent so much time on your phone it’s becoming a part of your brain?

Peter Han: hahah tbh im pretty busy this week, but i’ll let u know for sure :)

A light shade of embarrassment tints your face when you catch yourself smiling at the text message. Usually Peter— the cute guy you’ve been texting on Tinder— never uses any emoticons. In fact, he’s been acting pretty uninterested and dry with you, which wouldn’t bother you as much if it weren’t for the fact that you desperately need a date to your friend’s birthday party next week.

Despite your humiliatingly destitute lifestyle, you pride yourself for your unmatched abilities to blend into any crowd. So like any other New Yorker, you decided to surround yourself with upper class Manhattan socialites. They like you; they don’t need to know about your financial status.

But with great power comes great responsibility, and with great social life comes great expectations. Last week it was a certain Kate Spade wallet with the intentions to match with the whole group of girls, and the week before it was table manners at a European restaurant (how in the hell were you supposed to know which fork to use for a crème brûlée?) This week, though, they gave you the most impossible task of all: get a date.

And you would. Truly, you would. It’s not like you’re particularly unattractive or unlikeable or anything like that. It’s just that you haven’t dipped your toes into the dating pool since university started, and you’re too far gone now. Your peers are fluent in these unspoken rules of dating and you don’t even really know what a situationship is.

Thus why you’re acting a little bit too desperate with Peter.

As you draft a response to him— is it better to use two or three y’s in hey?— your train of thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud on your balcony, followed by a shadow of vibrant colours. Your couch is situated safely so you can see right out the window, but angled in a way that someone outside wouldn’t be able to see you inside. You found this hack on social media on a particularly paranoid rush of nerves and thanked whoever that person was every single night.

Hesitating for a minute, you consider your options: a) attempt to fight off whoever is in your building, b) run out and alert security, or b) pretend like you didn’t hear anything and pray you don’t see your own face on TV tomorrow instead of Spider-Man’s.

If you were acting rational you would have chosen the last option. After all, it’s New York— if there’s anything prevalent here, it’s crime. But you are just so fucking bored.

So you grab a baseball bat and swing open the window.

“Get the hell off my balcony, dude!”

To your surprise, you stand face to face with a pair of dangling Converse All-Stars (really dirty ones, too). In your spur of confusion you come to the conclusion that whoever is sitting above your flat has the ugliest red socks you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What the fuck, man?” The person exclaims. “You bruised my knee!”

“That sounds about right for messing with my place, no?” You say, stepping out onto the balcony to get a good look at the stranger.

Just when you think you couldn’t get more disoriented, you realize the man you’re looking up to is not a stranger at all. It’s none other than Peter Han, in a full on Spider-Man suit.

“Peter…?”

The stranger, AKA Peter, breathes out a nervous laugh, raking his hand through his messy hair. Cute, you think.

“I think you mistook me for someone else. I’m not Peter.”

“Okay…” You say dubiously. “Why are you wearing a Spider-Man suit then?”

“I’m a… uh… cosplayer?”

When his eyes meet yours, the truth sings: he’s been caught. Peter Han is Spider-Man.

He’s terrified, you can tell. You don’t blame him— you would be too in his position. But it’s not just the fact that you know now; it’s also the mischievous glint twinkling in your eyes. Just what the hell are you thinking about that could be so amusing right now?

“W-what’s that look for?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. Maniacal laughter bursts out of you like you’ve been possessed by the spirit of a circus clown, and you have to hold on to the balcony railing to stop yourself from falling over. “Oh, Peter, you naive little fool.”

Peter’s brows furrow in confusion. You mentally curse yourself for admiring how handsome he looks when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m on the case to find out Spider-Man’s identity. Well, your identity, I guess.”

“You did not tell me that.”

“Yes, I did.” You cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a judgemental look. “You’d know that if you paid any attention to what I have to say.”

“Look, listen…” Peter braces his lean arms on the side of the window to lower himself on your balcony. Standing face to face, you note that he’s not as tall as you thought. “I know I haven’t been the warmest person to you, but I would literally get on my knees and beg for you to please not tell anyone about this.”

You hum in amusement, taking a step closer to him and raising your chin with undoubted sanguine. Like this, you’re almost the same height as him. “As tempting as that sounds, I’d rather have you doing something else for me.”

Peter chuckles in disbelief, eyes wandering to the sky as if to ask God what have I done to deserve this absolute nonsense? His palms rest upon your shoulders when he looks you dead in the eye and says, “You are not blackmailing me, sweetie.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone who has very blackmail-able secrets.”

“That’s not even a word!”

“Whatever.” You peel away his hands from your shoulders, straightening your posture and pulling your shoulders back. Peter faces you with a puzzled gaze as you offer him your hand, clearing your throat and stating, “Peter Han, I would like to make a deal with you.”

He doesn’t move. “And that is…?”

“Date me.” Seeing his face contort into an even deeper state of befuddlement, you follow up with elaboration. “One date to a party next week, and just a few meet-ups and texts to prove that our relationship is going strong. In return, I’ll pretend this whole exchange never happened.”

You’re both silent for what feels like hours, eyes fighting a silent mental battle, until Peter’s rough palms finally envelop your own. You’re aware of how crazy and delusional you sound, but you swear he pulls you in just a little bit closer.

“Deal.”

It’s your third year in the city, and you’re still not fully familiarized with the parties. Contrary to your expectations of drunk sweaty bodies dancing up on each other, your friends’ definition of parties consists of low warm lighting embracing their glittered luxury brand dresses as they swirl their fancy little martinis and cosmopolitans. You appreciate it, really, since you don’t have to use up your voice every other night just to shout over the deafening electronic music. However it’s much harder to appreciate the pressure it puts on you to behave a certain way— dance like nobody’s watching, but be aware that they are.

As you slowly walk to approach your friends (rule #32: no running in public spaces, you’ll look like an idiot) you feel a large hand brush softly against your waist. You turn to face your date for the night, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you take in his appearance. The only suit he’s wearing now is an all-black tuxedo with no tie, the first three buttons of his shirt opened. His black hair is brushed down smoothly, pieces of it falling just right to frame his glowing face.

“You clean up well,” you remark, circling your arm in his as you guide him towards the bar where your friends are sitting.

“I could say the same to you, pretty.” With the sleek black shoes he’s wearing, he’s a few inches taller. Slightly looking down on you, he gives you a subtle wink.

God, he’s such a heartthrob.

Your friends round up to give you hugs and kisses to welcome your presence, ever so politely. One of them acknowledges Peter’s companionship. “You must be the date.”

“That I am.” Peter returns the approach, showing off his adorably heart-shaped smile. “Peter Han, pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of the night runs as it does in your dreams the night before. By the time you had arrived, your friends were already buzzed enough to pay no mind to the way the leather is peeling off your only pair of formal shoes nor to the typo on your fake branded bag. Just the way it’s supposed to be.

Peter doesn’t leave your side the entire night, only lifting his arm around your waist to grab more drinks for the both of you. Occasionally you catch him absentmindedly rubbing your back, and occasionally you catch yourself wondering how someone who spends so much of his life fighting can be this gentle.

During a small bathroom break, one of your friends pulls you aside and whispers, “He looks at you like you hung the stars, you know.”

If you weren’t so swept up in the feeling of finally belonging under the subtle incandescence of a high-end bar in Manhattan, you would have noticed the way Peter’s eyes darken when he read a notification off his phone, or the way his lips press into a tight line when he gazes at you, laughing your heart away amongst your friends.

So you’re nothing short of confounded when he wraps his arms around your waist and leans down to mumble, “Baby, I have to go, there’s a work emergency. I’ll catch you later, alright?”

Your friends bid him farewell and you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, immediately turning away when you feel his body tense. When he walks out the door, you keep your eyes focused on how his soft hair loses its shimmer as he walks out into the night.

And you try to enjoy the warm liquid pouring down your throat for the fifth time tonight, savoring the way you can almost taste a bit of yourself pull away from reality each time, knowing at least one of the people around you will walk away tonight asking, “don’t you think that Peter is a bit cold?”

You sit on the edge of your balcony, something you never do unless you’re going through an existential crisis or drunk off your ass. Tonight it’s both. As usual, the distant sirens and exclamations of curses wrap a tight band around your head. You’re dizzy; either from the alcohol or situation or both.

The ocean of fluorescent lights from the streets of Queens drift your mind to recall just how you ended up here. Three years ago, you were a fresh high school graduate with a million opportunities in front of you. Now you’re broke and rely too much on the validation of your non-broke friends to fulfill the void inside you. The thought of eventually having nobody but yourself after you graduate makes you wanna vomit on a passerby’s head.

“Hey, baby.” A particularly resonant voice startles you out of your thoughts. Peter is swinging from your balcony railing, a pair of gray sweatpants and zip-up jacket slung over his Spider-Man suit. “Sorry for ditching early. I got pizza and flowers to make it up to you, though.”

He swings himself to sit down next to you, placing the box of pizza and bouquet in front of your crossed legs. When he pulls his mask over his head to remove it, your eyes glance over his cuts and bruises. They definitely weren’t there earlier.

“What happened?” You unconsciously bring a hand up to his face, brushing your knuckles tenderly over the sensitive areas. It’s only when he winces that you drop your hand back down to your lap.

“Some guy tried to rob a bank.” Peter shrugged, refusing to meet your gaze. “Turns out he brought a bunch of other guys to back him up.”

“Did you win, at least?”

Though his face is turned down, you can see Peter’s eyes crinkle into a smile underneath his tousled hair. “Yeah, ‘course I did. Who do you think I am, a loser? I’m fucking Spider-Man, baby.”

Ten minutes later you’re seated face to face, still on your balcony, with you dabbing a cotton pad onto his injuries. No words were exchanged; you just went in and out to grab your emergency medical kit and grabbed him by the chin. The pizza box is left unattended, but neither of you care much about the hunger puncturing your insides.

“Why do you look so down?” Peter inquires as you place a Hello Kitty bandaid on his cheekbone, giggling breathlessly as you do so.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” He brings his own hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair on your forehead. “I mean, you’re smiling now, but your eyes have this sadness to them. So, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

What the actual fuck? It literally takes you every nerve in your body to fight the urge to propose to this man right then and there.

“Hey, come on,” he urges, delicately pulling your face an inch closer to his. His thumbs run down your flushed cheeks, and it takes you a while to notice he’s brushing away your tears. “I said talk to me.”

“Well, you’ve probably already noticed that I’m different from my friends.” You wrap your fingers around his wrists. “I guess I thought I could pull off the whole socialite act, but I’m starting to feel so…”

When you can’t find the words, Peter finds them for you. “Lost?”

He presses his forehead to yours as you nod softly. “This might not be the best time, but I think you’re a star.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you shine the brightest amongst everyone else’s shadow. And your friends probably see you that way too. Also that I really, really want to take you out on a real date.”

“You were right, it’s terrible timing.” You fake pout, pretending as if your heart didn’t skip a beat at his words.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter laughs, setting distance between the two of you once again. There is no inclination to pull him back, though; the space devoid of someone else finally feels comfortable.

“My answer is yes, by the way, you can take me out on a real date. Unfortunately no blackmail this time, though, I think I'm gonna quit that dumb internship.”

Both of you share a fit of affectionate laughter. The temperate scent of food merges with that of the flowers and caresses your senses as Peter opens the box of pizza. “If they ever make fun of you for not being rich, we can always stage one of them as Spider-Man. We'll even get $1,000 from it, then you'll actually be rich."

“I’ll take you up on that offer, Spidey.”

#🕸️ SPIDERHANzZz !!!#stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #han jisung #han x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction

154 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 17 days ago

Text

In the Still of the Night, ch 1

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Just absolute fluff. We're starting strong with a chapter full of flirting. Summary: In the first few weeks working in the kitchen of a cruise ship supper club, Zach has developed a crush on the club's jazz singer. Notes: Welcome darlings! We're so excited to welcome Zach Wellison and Shane 'Dio' Morrissey to the soulmate universe!

There’s a peace that come with the early morning hours. The darkness is only cut by the lights from the interior of the ship. The sound of the water and waves are all Zach can hear from where he is standing against the rails, looking down at the faint waves as they rush by the hull of the cruise liner.

It’s been a long hard road to where he is right now. Clawing his way up from depression, despair and anger. Slowly starting to believe that he deserves to be happy, deserves to do more than sleep on the ground and cart everything he owns in a backpack and be on guard with a pipe in his hand.

Now he has a room – although he had a roommate – with a bunk that is all his own. A small, but growing, collection of personal items plus a bank account that has more than a few dollars in it. It has made him think about other things. Like the mark that he wears, the link between him and the soulmate that happens to be out there somewhere in the vastness of the ocean that would be between them.

******

"Behind! Hot!" The calls come frequently and loudly enough to count as orders these days, the chaos of the kitchen being calmer than the battlefield but sometimes not by much. Today there is extra incentive to be on top of their game because of some VIP reservation, but Zach is able to focus on his task. All of his focus goes to the job at hand, because it isn't the customers he's cooking for this afternoon, but his coworkers.

Since getting a second chance at life after hitting rock bottom, Zach has worked his ass off. He still is the live-in maintenance manager for the little apartment building he lives in, but he has found that working in a kitchen was where he was truly happy. Taking a job that had at first been about having that extra cushion and security, then had developed into the passion that made him eager to rush into the chaotic kitchen where he seemed to thrive under pressure. It was almost cathartic, to be able to work through stress, although this stress doesn’t involve someone shooting at him.

"You good, Wellison?" His boss is across the kitchen accepting a shipment, and the answer is pretty much always yes, but he still checks in.

“Yep.” Zach narrows his eyes as he continues to whip the cream to the perfect consistence before folding it into the broth. “Good as gold.”

"Heard." He knew the answer but he's still glad to hear it. It means he's able to sign off on this delivery and shake the hand of the other man standing outside with a smirk on his face. "You're lurking, dude," he laughs, moving past the back door to greet his brother.

“Just making the most of my short time off.” Chuckling, and relieved to be back on land, he pulls his brother in a crushing hug. “Smells great in here.” He huffs. “Must not be your recipe.”

"Har har." Rolling his eyes, the chef waves off the jibe. "How long are you on leave?"

“Two days.” Snorting, he shakes his head. “I have to interview a bunch of knuckleheads to try to find someone to fit the vibe of my new dinner club.”

"That's the jazz thing, right? Rat Pack Vegas vibes?" As long as they're outside, he'll take the chance to smoke a cigarette. It's murder on the taste buds but so fucking necessary for getting through the day. "You have a menu yet?"

“Not yet.” Running a new concept on a cruise liner is hard. “They gave complete control to us since this is the first if it’s kind.”

The older brother snorts. "They handed you a restaurant and you have two days to hire staff to cook a menu you haven't written yet? Cruise ships make no sense to me."

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” He laughs. “I’m think something family style, but with a twist?” He offers, knowing his brother would understand. “Maybe timeless classics? Old style American?”

"Like supper club style?" A drag off of his cigarette is time to think, and he nods. "Pluck a place right out of the 60s and stick it in the middle of the ocean. Oysters Rockefeller, steak Diane...French sauces and strong drinks?"

“Very strong drinks.” He grins. “Our cocktails will only be available in the club.”

"Sounds like a place Dad would have loved." Both brothers laugh at that. They had followed their father's footsteps into culinary work and never looked back. So why stop at just the profession?

“Smoked gin and tonics for the win.” He steals the cigarette from his brother and takes a drag, groaning in pleasure. He doesn’t have time to smoke most days, so he’s pretty much quit, but there’s something about a good puff on a cigarette that touches his soul.

"You wanna come in?" With his little brother off on a cruise ship serving from a floating kitchen every single day for years, they don't get to see each other much. "Family meal's almost ready. Hang out a while."

“Sure.” He had been to many family dinners at his father’s restaurant and enjoys them. “Thanks.”

The smell only intensifies when they go back inside, and it becomes clear that this particular family meal is more like a family feast. A hotel pan of Monterey Chicken made with the odds and ends of slab bacon and Monterey cheese blocks smothered in the end of a batch of scratch barbecue sauce looks like a masterpiece, and the scraps of vegetables that have become a medley rather than ending up in a stock pot are beautifully roasted. The cook who went after this feast has even made rolls studded with the stems of fresh herbs, and the entire staff are salivating over the offering.

“I’m impressed.” Looking at the meal that is laid out, it looks like something that would be prepared for a special event rather than the family style dinner that had become such a tradition when their father had been alive and running his restaurant. “You’ve stepped up your game from the meals we ended up making.”

“By outsourcing,” the older of the two brothers admit with a laugh. “Zach, come here a second.”

Zach might be annoyed by the interruption, but no one would ever know it. He finishes wiping the rim of a four inch pan and quickly strips off his gloves, wiping his hands as he turns around. “Sure thing, chef.” He notices a man standing beside him and nods. “What’s up?”

“I want you to meet somebody.” His chef explains, gesturing to the look-alike younger man beside him. “My brother Sam. He’s—” It will be such a loss if Zach decides to go that he almost doesn’t want to do it, but the kid deserves something good after the hell he’s been through. “He’s got a new place opening that I think you might like the sound of.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows lift and for a split second, he wonders if his work has been lacking and his boss is trying to get rid of him. But Toby isn’t like that, so he looks over at the other man. “A place like here?” He asks.

"A little different." Sam leans against the nearest wall with one shoulder. Hands in his pockets, he surveys the man in front of him with interest. "Supper club on a cruise ship. We're doing old school Vegas all over the ship so the vibe is classic dishes revamped. It's an experimental sort of thing where we'll have entertainment during service. But the fun part is that we pretty much have free reign on the menu as long as we work within our genre."

“A ship?” Zach has been on a ship before. When he was in the Marines, he was assigned as the Marine detachment to a battle group for six months. It was the best sleep he had ever had. “A supper club?” He hums. “That sounds like a challenge, a fun one. Live entertainment? What kind?”

"A four-piece band and a singer. The intention is to evoke the Rat Pack days on the Vegas strip, so the band will do jazz standards and jazz covers of contemporary songs. There's that..." Sam struggles for a moment, trying to remember the name of the band. "Is it...Postmodern Jukebox? That style." He can tell the kid – alright, he’s not a kid but he's definitely younger than Sam is – is interested so he nudges a little. "It would be six months on the Mediterranean for the maiden voyage. Living and working and everything else on the ship with occasional trips ashore. Sound like an adventure you might be interested in?"

His eyes shift towards Toby to see what his boss thinks about all this, but all he sees is that his boss is smiling and nodding along as if it sounds like a great idea. “I loved being on ship in the Marines.” He admits, more willing to talk about his service now that he had when he first started. There were a couple of vets in the kitchen with him and they had bonded over hard work that was still better than being shot at. “You need a prep cook? Something like that?”

"Actually?" Sam is feeling nearly fucking victorious about this little introduction, but he tries not to show it too much. Not yet, anyway. "I'm going to be executive chef of two restaurants on the ship, so I'm going to need a hell of a Chef de Cuisine to run this club for me. Think you might be up to it?"

Zach nearly chokes in surprise, sure that this is some kind of joke. “Just like that?” He asks, looking between the brothers.

"I wouldn't have even mentioned you if I didn't think you could do it." His boss promises. "It would be a hell of an opportunity for you." It's good experience for his resume, and it's a chance to save money. Toby won't mention it out loud in the middle of the kitchen but he knows that will be good for Zach.

"And I'll take my brother's recommendation over anything else." Sam nods. "I've got some interviews to do for the rest of the kitchen staff. If you want to be a part of this process, we'll sit down to family meal and then we'll get out of here. Work on a menu before we start those interviews."

There’s almost a surreal feel to this entire moment. As if he’s dreaming because opportunities like this don’t just fall into people’s laps for real. That’s for the movies. He takes a moment and nods. “Yeah- yes.” He corrects himself. “I would love that, When would I expected to be on ship?” He asks. “I’m - I have another job as a live in maintenance guy for my building.” He explains. “Would want to give them as much notice as possible.”

"I've got two days before I have to be back." Sam tells him, but laughs and waves one hand when Zach looks gobsmacked. "I have to finish out another contract. We've got a month before we've got to be onboard for this one. So you'd have plenty of time to give notice and we'll have time to work on our menu. I just have to get these interviews done while I'm on dry land."

Again, Zach looks towards Toby. “I don’t want to leave you shorthanded the next couple of days….” He tells his boss. “Do you want me to see if I can find someone?”

Toby shakes his head though, seeing how badly Zach wants this thing he never even knew he could have before. "I'll call my guy at the CIA and see if he can send me a student for a few days. I'll move one of the prep cooks up to your line position while you get this done." He pats the younger man on the shoulder twice – his standard display of affection – and smiles. "This is gonna be good for you, man. And if you decide it's not your thing and you wanna be back on land after giving it a try, you just come on back."

There’s a feeling of security in being assured that he would be welcomed back. “Okay.” He agrees, looking over at Sam. “I’ll do it.”

"Fantastic." Sam puts out his hand and they shake, sealing the deal with enthusiasm. "Let's go eat. If your food is half as good as it smells, this club is going to be packed."

******

Even though the quiet of the night is soothing, it’s been a long day. Eventually Zach heads inside and takes the elevator down to the lower levels where the crew quarters are located. Knocking on his door twice before opening so he doesn’t see anything he doesn’t want to from his roommate.

"Hey man." Shane is on his bunk, phone still in hand, though his relaxed posture says that he's just finished this nightly phone call rather than been interrupted.

“Hey.” He moves over to his clothes cabinet and starts to immediately remove his toiletry kit. He needs a shower before he can crawl into the sheets. A far cry from when he didn’t know when he would be clean.

"Diana says hi." The other man waggles his phone in the air. Even though his bunkmate and his soulmate have never met, she's a fairly gregarious extrovert who can make friends even second hand – so she always sends her greetings along with every phone call if Zach isn't in the room to respond at the time.

“How’s she doing?” He smiles to himself, grateful that his roommate has been an easy friend and his soulmate even friendlier. “I know she’s counting down the days.”

“She started counting the second we left New York.” Shane had a certain amount of very real pride in his relationship with his soulmate. It’s the healthiest thing in his life without a doubt, and that’s a life that hasn’t had too many healthy things. “No surprise she’s been working doubles while we’re out here. It’s not like there’s a single Emergency Department in New York City that doesn’t need extra doctor all the fuckin time.”

“That’s the truth.” Zach snorts and closes his locker. “You need in the bathroom? I want to jump in the shower.”

“Nah, go ahead.” The older of the two men shakes his head. “I’ll take a cold one in the morning and wake myself up. Got some new material to rehearse.”

“It sounded good from the kitchen.” Even with the heavy din of clashing pots and clinking plates, the sounds of the band can be heard when the wait staff flow in and out of the kitchen.

“Thanks, man.” Shane stretches, groaning slightly and privately cursing crossing the age of thirty. Everything has hurt since. “We’ve got some new numbers and transitions and things to work out, but it’s coming along.”

“That’s great. Let me know if we need to tweak the menu for the new set.” Zach tells him. He’s already swiped some shorts and he heads into their shared shower.

Shane will tell him later, but he’d sooner pull teeth than change the menu at the club on ship where they both work. His bunkmate is a hell of a cook to the point where the band’s singer is obsessed with nearly everything that comes out of that kitchen. He can’t blame her. That’s the kind of food he used to dream about it the chow line when he was locked up.

The bathroom is tiny but efficiently set up. Serving the needs of both men without wasting space and the best part was that there was unlimited hot water coming through the pipes. Zach turns on the water and stares at his reflection. He’s tired, but at the same time, he’s been having a great time.

There is never a shortage of things to do on the ship, mostly because the staff party hard in their downtime. Most of the staff work multiple positions so they’re constantly busy. It makes that downtime they have both precious and very necessary. In the two weeks since they came on board there have been parties every night. It’s a lot, but it’s also a lot of fun.

As quick as he jumps in, he’s jumping out and opening the door to vent the steam. “Are we drinking tonight?” He calls out, wondering if his roommate was tired or if he’s gotten his second wind.

“You wanna go?” Shane calls back, and Zach can hear movement from the other room. “Wouldn’t take much to talk me into it.”

“I could use a beer or three.” Zach admits. He’s careful not to over indulge and develop a habit, but he actually likes socializing with the rest of the crew.

“Club’s empty.” Shane suggests. He’s hopped to his feet and thrown his boots back on, and is now inspecting his eyeliner Ina small wall mirror when Zach comes back in the room. “I’ll see if anybody wants to meet us there.”

“The bar would be easy to access.” All of the terminals are set up to become the crew bar for the night.” Zach tells him. “But you are not going to play.” He warns. “Just let someone use their playlist.”

“But what if I want to play?” Shane poses, waggling his eyebrows in challenge. “Musicians are impossible to stop, man. We just go and go.”

“Good for you, I guess.” Zach snorts, rolling his eyes playfully. “I just figured you would want to set me up with another girl.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.” This bunkmates claps him on the shoulder with a smirk after he’s shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Ready to go?”

“Sure thing.” His latest obsession is with a new cologne that Toby’s wife had given him as a birthday present - early - before he left, so he adds that to the pulse points and hums when he rakes his fingers through his hair. “Now we can go. I smell good.”

“Now we can go.” Shane teases, but play-shoves Zach out of their little cabin and toward the stairs without hesitation. For all the bullshit he put himself and the people around him through as a kid and as a young man, ever since he got released he’s made the active decision to try to be a better influence. More positive. For himself and for the people around him. Sure he slips up here and there, but he’s only human. What matters is that he tries.

Shane Morrissey is a good man, upfront and honest. He had told Zach that he wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to bunk with a former felon, Zach had relearned to judge a man by the weight of their character now instead of the mistakes of their past. He knows all too well what happens when you are too harshly judged and looked down on. It had actually be a perfect situation since Zach didn’t feel the need to hide his own past and had not seen the pity or judgement that might come from others. “I need a beer and like- three shots man.” Zach groans as they trail down the hallway towards the elevators.

“And someone to flirt with.” Shane insists, still steering the way. Truthfully, Zach needs to get laid just to fucking relax a little but both men know it’s not always that easy.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve flirted?” Zach snorts, shoulder checking his friend. “I would embarrass both of us.”

“All the more reason to get back in the fucking saddle,” Shane points out. He jams his finger into the call button for the elevator and leans against the wall to wait. “If I kind find my soulmate in a fucking ER bay, you can flirt with drunk coworkers. I believe in you, man.”

He chuckles at the confidence the pianist has in him. “Keep it up.” He teases. “I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

Playfully, fraternal, Shane rolls his eyes when the elevator to his right dings and slides open to admit them. “Get in the damn elevator, kid,” he gripes to the man barely two years younger than him.

“Sure thing, daddy.” Zach bites his lip playfully, completely enjoying the way Shane turns beet red at the mention of that nickname. He had accidentally heard that part of a conversation when he had come into his cabin without knocking the second day on the ship.

“Shut the fuck up.” Shane mumbles, now jamming his finger into the button to select their deck. “Diana likes it. You think I’m gonna tell a woman that smoking hot who wears all my stupid ass scars no?” He likes it too, it’s just not easy to admit. It’s not easy to bare even the smallest parts of himself sometimes.

“I’m just teasing.” Zach reaches out and pats the other man’s shoulder. “I only wish I had a fraction of what you and Diana have. I’m fucking jealous. And if my soulmate is half as pretty, she could call me daddy any time she wanted.” He adds with a snort.

“You’ll find her.” The vote of confidence Shane has in the other man really comes from just knowing that life works in weird fucking ways most of the time. But instead of getting philosophical, he elbows the former Marine. “Maybe one of those room keys you get slipped every fuckin day will be the one.”

“Shiiiiiiiit.” It’s the craziest thing that he’s ever seen in his life. He would have never expected to have passengers slip him a room key and ask him to join them before. Some are older, obvious cougars on the prowl, but a few of them have been his age and he’s been tempted, but he couldn’t risk his contract, his job.

“We get them too, the band, but not the sheer fucking quantity you do, man.” The elevator jolts to a less than smooth stop and Shane grins. “Excellent.”

“Someone needs to look at that.” Zach huffs as he steps off the crew elevator. “I think they expect me to cook for them in the room or something.”

“Some of them, probably.” The two men make their way along the hallway with purpose. “But there’s worse things in life than getting fucked and making somebody breakfast after.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Zach snorts. He’s never been a very casual person when it comes to sex, but he’s had some flings. “Maybe I will.”

“If there ever comes a night that you don’t make it back to the room, I’ll celebrate for you.”

“Thanks.” The entrance to the club is a large circle, the double doors exactly half of each side and the brass handles are trumpets. Immediately making Zach relax as he knows the inside of this place better than anywhere else on the ship.

The inside has been decorated with a combination of plush-looking fabrics in rich colors and art that invokes the best sixties nostalgia, with just a dash of Sam’s native New Orleans to top the whole thing off. It feels welcoming and luxurious for guests, but those same open arms are here to embrace the staff as well.

“Anybody here yet?” Shane calls from the threshold, seeing as the lights are already on.

Zach doesn’t spend much time in the actual lounge, he’s too busy back in the kitchens making sure each plate is perfect before it’s sent out to the passengers. It’s still new, but so far, every seat in the house has been booked and the reviews have been raving.

"Shane!" Two of the other members of the band have made it there first, and they appear from around the corner with drinks already in hand. "Zach! Hey man, what a fucking day."

“It was pretty busy.” He admits with a grin. The band often plays out on the main deck for the passengers lounging around the pool, even though the space is covered, it’s hot out there. “I swear the breakfast buffet never stops sometimes.”

“Never.” The band’s bassist, Rick, shakes his head as he reaches over to pat Zach’s shoulder. “How you been, man? We don’t get to see you much in that kitchen.”

“Busy.” He chuckles. “Gotta put them in a good mood with the food so you can croon to them and make them feel like they are in a jazz club just for them.”

“You don’t want me doing any of the crooning.” Rick jokes. “That wouldn’t put anybody in a good mood.”

“It’s true.” Shane agrees, coming up behind them both. “Come on, we need drinks.”

“Yes we do.” Zach nods. “Especially after today!” He had nearly half of the supper club wanting the special so he had been busy.

"You have to bring that special back." Shane insists, making his way over to grab beers for himself and his bunkmate. "I think our singer was drunk on the smell. That's like all she talked about between sets, was how good it smelled."

“Did she get one of the plates?” Zach always makes some extra plates for the crew and the band, wanting them to be able to know the menus as well as they can.

"Nope." Rick shakes his head and takes a swig from his own beer. "Gave hers up to a waitress who had had a shitty table. I think that's why she was so fixated."

“Man, that sucks.” Zach has only caught glimpses of the headliner, often too busy to really introduce himself - it’s not because she’s insanely beautiful and he’s developed a bit of a crush just from the way she seems to sing to him, but he would want her to have some. “I’ll have to make sure she gets a plate next time.”

"You should hand deliver it." Shane waggles his eyebrows. "For bonus points."

“No way man.” Zach scoffs. “There’s absolutely no way she’d be interested in me.”

"Who?" The band's drummer, and Rick's bunkmate, Keo, emerges from the kitchen with his own drink already in hand, looking a shade guilty. Like the bottomless pit he is, the youngest member of the band has probably been rooting around for unmarked things to snack on.

Zach chuckles and shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t tell me I need to do a club snack for us?” He teases.

Keo and Shane's faces light up, like this is a possibility they had never considered and now it's the thing they want most in the entire world. It's Shane, though, who pulls the trigger. "But what would you make?" He asks, already knowing his bunkmate can't resist that sort of challenge.

Zach knows the galley pantry like the back of his hand and what he has left over from the meal tonight. “Prime rib croquettes with creamy horseradish sauce and tempura Tiger prawns with Thai chili sauce.” He decides.

"Duuuuuude." Keo groans, wide-eyed and sounding like someone just taunted him with the greatest richest in some magical kingdom. "You can't just say things like that, man!"

Zach snorts and claps him on the shoulder. “Tell you what, you go get me a drink and I’ll fire up the cookers so we can drink and eat.”

"The hero of the hour!" Another voice from the doorway proclaims, only having heard the words 'drink and eat' come from someone they recognize as kitchen staff. This won't be a large party but it will be a party, and a few more people spill through the door in turn.

"I'll make you something good, man." Keo promises. Musicians who were bartenders in previous jobs are not rare but they are good to have around, and Keo was a hell of a bartender.

“I’ll hold you to it!” He has free range over his space and there are a few more ideas that he can try out tonight and use the crew as his test dummies. They never hold back their opinions on the food and he loves that, always striving to make it better.

The large handful of people who flood into the space ends up totaling more than a dozen within just a few minutes of Zach disappearing into the kitchen, but the last one through the door is finally dressed down after a day of performing and being on for passengers.

Jeans and a sweatshirt. That’s all it is for you after dark, though you would stay dressed up if you had someone to impress. When it’s just Shane and the boys, though? They can stand to see you without full hair and makeup.

Shouts of your name ring out because the music hasn’t started yet, Zach hearing it from the kitchen. He perks up slightly and hates how he feels his pulse picks up knowing you are here.

"That's a hell of a welcome," you tease, gratefully accepting a cocktail when it's pressed into your hand and doling out hugs to your bandmates. These guys have become your family in just a few short months, so much so that taking this adventure on the ship together seemed like a no-brainer. Each of you had things that had brought you into New York City but few of you have any ties to bring you back there, which makes this floating madhouse all the more fun.

The ship was the best decision you could have made, in a lot of ways. There is a camaraderie here that you couldn't have anticipated and it soothes you in equally unexpected ways. While you love spending your regular time with the guys in the band, you've found a friend in your bunkmate as well, which is great when River is just as excited to do to these staff parties as you are.

In the kitchen, the fryers are heating up and Zach works quickly to whip up a tempura batter. The fried prawns won’t take but a minute, but while it's resting, he's mixing up the shredded prime rib with some leftover fresh breadcrumbs and making meatball sized bites to stuff with cheese. Coated in panko, it will be a delicious little appetizer and something that he had been thinking about adding to the dinner menu one night.

The party is starting to kick up in the club. He can hear music start to play and people chattering over each other while he works. The atmosphere is laid back enough and it’s not too late at night that they can be assured of a few hours of uninterrupted revelry — just the way everyone likes it.

The music starts to filter back into the kitchen, making Zach wish that they had installed speakers, but he can hear the music every time the door swings open. He hears the door behind him, and he calls outs, “where’s my drink!”

“It’s right here.” The door thwaps shut behind you and you juggle the glass in your hand so the ice rattles. “But you have to be nice or I’ll drink it myself.”

“Oh!” He hadn’t been expecting that voice, whirling around to find you, the girl that he’s been crushing on the smokey smooth vocals being performed every night, standing on the other side of the stainless counter with his drink in your hand. “I— uh, I thought you were Shane.” He flusters, feeling his cheeks heat up as you smirk at him.

“Not last time I checked.” In fact, that little shit had been teasing you mercilessly lately about the crush you’ve developed on the hot chef at the club and specifically shoved you through the door with his drink just to bust you up about it. “It’s Zach, right?” As if you don’t already know. As if you hadn’t found out his name right away.

“Yeah— uh, that’s – that’s me.” The fact that he’s stumbling over his words makes him want to kick Shane’s ass, as well as his own. He used to be able to talk to pretty women with confidence. He says your name easily. “Of course I know the voice I hear every night.”

“Should I apologize?” You ask, mostly rhetorically, and set his glass down on the counter between you. “If you can identify it already, you’ll be sick of hearing me before too long.”

“Not at all.” Zach snorts. “Sometimes your song sets are what power the kitchen through the night.” He tells you. “I wish I had them put speakers in here.”

“Really?” The tips of your ears are immediately on fire and you try not to look too pleased at that, imagining him in here listening to you sing whenever the doors open and close. That answers your silent wondering if he had ever cared to listen. “Do you…have a favorite? Something I can put into the set on busy nights for you, maybe?”

“Crazy.” Zach immediately says, before he coughs and turns back around to his mixing bowl to continue to roll out the snacks. “It’s unique and I swear the first time I thought it was a recording of Patsy Cline, but then you changed the words.”

“I thought the last verse deserved a little hope,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat to match your ears. “A song about broken love and broken trust can be beautiful, sure. But life without hope is just too sad for me.”

“That’s why I love it.” Zach admits, glancing over his shoulder at you and then back down at what he’s doing. “I heard you sing it from the depths of your soul.”

With your glass halfway to your lips, you can only pause and hope you don't look nearly as flustered as you actually are. "It's for you, then." You tell him, wondering what the hell has gotten into you. "Anytime you hear it. It's for you."

Zach is so damn grateful that his back is turned so you can’t see the way he flushes hot. “There’s been some times I’ve needed something to cling to, and that song….it reminds me of that. Beautiful melancholy.”

"Same." Gently, deliberately, you slide up to the counter to lean your elbows on the stainless steel. "I don't know what you're doing in here but everything you make smells so fucking good."

He chuckles, preening slightly and his shoulders straighten slightly. “You should have sent word you needed another plate.” He looks back at you again. “I would have made sure you got a new one.”

"I didn't know I could call in special privileges." Sure, you're teasing. But his cheeks have pinked in the most adorable way and maybe just maybe you won't murder Shane for shoving you through the kitchen door after all. "Giving me that power might be dangerous."

He laughs as he drops the first round of croquettes into the fryer. “Yeah?” He turns around and smirks slightly. “You would abuse the power?”

"Constantly." There is an accidental groan in your voice, but it's honest so you just shrug it off. "I swear that chicken thing you did last week with the herby butter inside it? Best thing I've ever had in my life. Hands down."

“I bet I can change your mind on that tonight.” He lifts the basket out of the grease and shakes the cooking food slightly and checks the color. The cheese will melt and become a wonderful gooey surprise in the center. The only thing that would make it better is if he had horseradish cheese. Maybe next time he will grate the cheese and mix it with horseradish for the desired bite. But for tonight, the cream sauce will be a good substitute.

"Oh yeah?" A man who cooks for you is already your favorite man at any given time. That's probably where this little crush came from originally, but it has clung on over the first few weeks on board instead of shaking off like it usually does. Like glitter holding onto your hair with every ounce of determination, this crush is making you giggly and flirty like you're in high school all over again. "What are these?"

Zach waves you behind the counter as he pulls up the fryer basket again. “Prime Rib Croquettes.” He tells you. “Shredded prime rib meatballs basically, stuffed with white cheddar, breaded and fried.” He grabs two of the balls and drizzles the horseradish sauce on a plate before he lays them on it carefully and wipes the plate clean out of habit before turning and presenting it to you. “Tell me what you think. This is my first time playing with the idea.”

“So I’m your guinea pig?” Why that theory delights you so much, you’re not really sure, but you lean on the counter with a very serious expression. “Well they look beautiful. Let’s see if they’re as good as they look.” The little nuggets are bite sized and crispy, and when you pop the first one into your mouth the first thing that happens is the bone-rattling groan that rolls through you. The flavor is incredible and the outside crunches while the inside melts in your mouth — salty, unctuous, spicy, creamy, umami goodness making you close your eyes and hold onto the taste while you eat.

“That.” You still have your eyes closed but you point in the vicinity of the plate. “Is the best thing ever.”

You make the food sound sexual which makes Zach’s body react if a very primal way. Shifting slightly, he picks up another one from the basket and squirts the sauce directly on it. “Yeah?”

“Seriously.” You nod enthusiastically. “Eat one. You’re a genius.”

Zach pops it into his mouth and chews. Groaning while he’s analyzing the flavor profile and wondering if anything needs to be added. “Would you want a red wine au jus reduction dipping sauce if there was horseradish in the croquette or leave it as is?” He asks you seriously.

Laughing is probably a self-conscious reaction, but you look up at him with a slightly cringed expression. “I don’t have any idea what a red wine juice—whatever you just said,” you admit. “But I like wine and I like horseradish, and I like this, so probably.”

He chuckles quietly, nodding as he motions to the other one. “Well, when I put this on the menu as an appetizer, why don’t I offer both and see what you think?”

You have absolutely no shame in picking up the other fried nugget of delicious glory, and practically hold it up to him in salute. “I promise you a full report, and look forward to finding out whatever a red wine juice is.”

“Au jus.” He smiles as he watches you eat the next bite. “It’s French.” He explain. “It means ‘with juice’.”

No power in the world could stop you from finishing and thoroughly enjoying that second bite, but when you do you grin at him unrepentantly. “So I was right. It is red wine juice. Just fancy.”

“Fancy.” He chuckles. “It’s actually the drippings from the prime rib, reduced down with red wine until I make it the best tasting sauce you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“Oh my god.” Even just explained, it sounds amazing, and you groan at the thought of it, though the sound turns to laughter after a second or two. “That sounds amazing. You can probably tell that I know nothing about cooking.”

“That’s okay.” He chuckles as he drops another round of the croquettes to fry and then turns towards the prawns. “I know plenty.”

Warmth curls in your belly, low and teasing and curious, and you suck a drop of the cream sauce off your thumb with a flashed grin under intentionally lowered lashes. “Is this where I suggest that you teach me?”

Zach watches you for a moment, wondering if you are flirting with him, because it feels like you are flirting with him. "Somehow I think that you wouldn't really want to learn how to cook." He teases.

"Fuck, that was awful, wasn't it?" You laugh, dropping your cheek over to one palm in a sort of sheepish expression of apology. "Unless you like cheesy flirting, in which case it was totally intentional and I'm owning it."

"Then you own it." Zach snorts, grinning at you happily as he waggles his brows. "I'm so out of practice flirting that all of it is cheesy."

"All flirting is cheesy anyway, that has nothing to do with being out of practice." As if to dispel any idea that it could be otherwise, you wave one hand and scoop up your drink with the other. "I am interested in learning to cook, for the record. But...call it a secondary interest."

"Okay." He nods and lifts a brow playfully. "Are we at burning water skill levels? Or can you at least feed yourself?" He asks. "What am I working with here?"

"I can follow reheat instructions, make macaroni and cheese from a box, and make a hell of a sandwich. But anything past that?" You shrug, but the whole thing stays playful and you flash him a grin. "I can proudly say I've never burnt water."

"Now I'm sure that I'm supposed to be horrified that you eat mac and cheese from a box...." Zach shrugs. "But that shit is good sometimes."

"You would be more horrified if you had seen my one attempt at making it from scratch," you promise him, though you're absolutely able to laugh at your past food follies. "Do you know that show Worst Cooks in America? I would be an excellent candidate."

"That bad?" He can't help but laugh, but you are grinning with him. He pulls the rest of the croquettes out of the hot oil and smirks as he starts to batter the fresh prawns in the airy batter and dropping them into the grease to start bubbling.

"I've got a lot to learn." He has the most fantastic laugh, and it rolls through you until your stomach flips all over again. "About cooking anyway. Not—not other stuff." Yeah...maybe you're out of practice too. That's okay, though. "So...what are those?"

“Uh.” Zach clears his throat as his thoughts when decidedly X-rated and he looks down at what he was doing off of muscle memory. “Tempura prawns.” He tells you. “Gonna toss them in a chili sauce.”

"Oh, come on." A delighted moan of anticipation slips from your lips but you don't care. "That sounds incredible."

“I thought it would make the best kind of party snack.” He admits. “And give me some feedback.”

"You were absolutely right." You promise him, watching as he moves around the corner of the kitchen with confidence and a graceful economy of movement. "I've never met anybody more consistently hungry than a bunch of musicians, and that's who is out there for the most part."

“Ha!” Zach snorts. “You’ve never met a bunch of marines.” He tells you as he rushes to get the chili sauce. It would be better to warm it up.

"No, can't say I have." Self-consciously, your fingers brush over your shoulder where the aged lines of a warrior's tattoo are forever marked in your skin. Thankfully Zach is looking away in that moment, and doesn't see the flicker of something longing and unknown in your eyes. "You served?"

“Yeah.” It’s taken him a long time to come back to being able to talk about his service even casually, but he doesn’t feel the need to be defensive with you. Despite being the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, he’s comfortable with you. He starts to warm up the sauce and finally picks up the drink you had brought him. “Six years.”

"I'm getting the sense that 'thank you for your service' is maybe not your favorite thing to hear?" He finally steps away from cooking to come back over to the counter you've been leaning on and for the first time you catch the little flecks of gold in his eyes.

“It’s okay.” He promises softly, wincing as he hopes he didn’t come off as angry like he used to. “It’s just- it didn’t end well.” He admits. “Still feel guilty sometimes.”

"Well..." This doesn't seem to be a very happy topic and we were flirting just a minute and a half ago, so you try to steer things back to a more upbeat direction if you can. You know all about making sacrifices for the thing you thought was right. It doesn't always leave the most positive feelings in its wake. "Hopefully now you're doing something that you love?"

“I love being in the kitchen.” Zach flashes you a grin as he looks up from stirring the sauce and moves back over to pull up the prawns. “It’s honestly soothing.”

"And you're amazing at it." Not that you mind watching, either. If you happen to catch the movement of his back muscles under his t-shirt every time he turns around to work on something? Well, that's just a fringe benefit for you.

“It’s about being able to execute and plan.” He tells you as he transfers the prawns into a bowl and reaches for the sauce pot. He drizzles the chili sauce over the fried seafood and starts to toss them in the bowl. “And adapt to overcome any obstacles that might arise.”

"Sounds like good organizational skills wrapped around a creative outlet." You observe, watching the deft, quick movements of his hands as he continues to work. If you maybe imagine other things those hands could be good for? Well, that's just for you. "Food is art, isn't it? I've always thought so, anyway."

“It absolutely is.” He agrees before he plucks a prawn out of the bowl and offers it to you. “Tell me what you think.”

If you were ten years younger you might have nipped that bite right out of his fingertips and let your tongue linger just to tease, but you’re both adults. You’re a little past the point of overt horniness with total strangers.

Probably.

So instead you take the offering from him with two careful fingers, and pop it in your mouth with the highest of expectations. Expectation which are immediately met, as one more heavenly groan escapes you and you positively giggle with glee.

“You like it.” He can tell and there’s just a drop of the warm chili sauce on your lip, right in the corner that makes Zach want to lick it off your lips.

“S’that obvious?” You grin, practically giggling through the end of the bite and licking up the drop of missed sauce along with it.

“I guess you’re hungry since you gave away your dinner.” He supposes. “So you have to make up for it now.”

Curiosity makes your head pop up again, and your forehead creases in question. “How did you know about that?”

“Shane told me.” He admits, reaching for another plate so he can fix you more before bringing out the food for everyone else. “Said you had been drooling over the smells but you didn’t get to eat.”

“That’s a very attractive picture of me that he’s painted,” you huff, almost rolling your eyes. Of course Shane gave you up. He’s been telling you to talk to Zach for ages now but you hadn’t had the guts.

He chuckles softly. “I took it as a compliment. Like half of my staff mooning over you instead of working when you start singing.”

“To be fair…” A smart ass grin curls up the corners of your mouth so that you don’t end up flustered With the compliment. Sarcasm is an old shield and good friend when it comes to flattery. For you at least. “That’s just a standard issue Sea Witch enchantment. Very susceptible to magic, your staff.”

“Sea Witch enchantment, huh?” He grins back at you. “You don’t look like I remember Ursula.” He teases. “And I loved The Little Mermaid when I was younger.”

“Makes sense.” That smirk of yours blossoms, ending up in a grin. “You’re a dead ringer for Prince Eric.”

“Me?” Zach shuffles, trying his hardest not to blush but he’s probably failing. “Hopefully I’m not as dumb as he was to not know the woman in front of his was his soulmate.”

“Neither of them had any scars,” you remind him, but the two of you seem locked in a trance for an unexpected moment before your smile widens and the fluttering in your chest deepens. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“Well, they were cartoons.” He snorts, flashing you another smile as he tries not to preen because you think he’s cute.

"So what would a scar for a cartoon character be, then?" The question makes both of you laugh and you shrug. "A tear in the page, I guess?"

“An interesting question.” He hums, picking up his drink and taking a sip of it as he watches you. Thinking that you look so young, so carefree in your relaxed clothes. He’s caught glimpses of you in your gorgeous gowns you wear on stage, but honestly prefers this look.

You laugh, shrugging it off, and don’t let yourself reflect too long on how silly you feel gazing at him across a damn stainless steel counter. “It’s a silly question. But thank you for humoring me.”

“Not silly.” He sets the food into two large pans and reaches for one of the serving carts. “Want to grab a stack of plates and we will go join the party with the food?”

“The least I can do is help if you’re going to feed us magic food.” The plates he points out are nearby, and you help him stack up the cart with everything that’s needed. It’s probably silly to feel like he trusts you by asking — you are right here, you’re the obvious and convenient person to ask — but somehow stacking plates and finding napkins and helping him make room for all of the containers of amazing food he’s made makes you feel…special. It’s silly, but you don’t want to banish the warm feeling in your chest anytime soon.

Zach is grateful you didn’t deliver his drink and just rush out. “Well, maybe everyone else will appreciate it, but you made it magic with your reaction.” Damn, maybe flirting isn’t as hard as he imagined it to be after so many years. Seems to come easy with you.

"I'm very glad you liked it." Maybe you do tend to be slightly pornographic with the sounds of enjoying food from time to time, but there's no reason to be embarrassed about that when you're literally flirting with a chef. In fact, maybe you should have been flirting with chefs all along.

He hums as he motions you towards the door to leave the kitchen first. “After you, madam.” He says playfully. “I will let you lead our procession.” It sounds gentlemanly, but he also gets the added bonus of watching your ass as you walk.

The second the kitchen door opens there is an explosion of sound, and honestly you had almost forgotten that there is a whole damn party going on out here. Keo has music playing but it’s only a matter of time before the band hits the stage again. It doesn’t matter that they just performed for passengers an hour ago. This time is for fun and for them.

“Time to eat!”

If there is one thing that Zach can count on, it’s that the crew will always swarm where there’s food. He grins at your wide eyes with everyone is instantly at the cart he rolled out and surrounding you.

You scurry out of the way with a loud, barked laugh, and practically hurtle yourself into the corner so everybody else can get their plates. You’ve had some already, served especially by the chef, and want everyone else to try the incredible bites that Zach made.

Glad he made plenty, Zach explains what each appetizer is and quickly serves up plate after plate of food. Grinning whenever everyone ‘ohs and ahhhhs’ over his food.

“Isn’t it insane?” He overhears you saying to Rick, nodding enthusiastically a few feet away over another one of the prime rib croquettes. The grin on your face has stretched wide, making you glow.

He puffs up with pride, knowing that it might be silly that you are gushing over his food, but it makes him preen. He straightens slightly as he finally gives out the last plate and can leave the cart to be picked clean by the vultures he calls co-workers.

It’s easy to get swept away from each other in the sea of silliness and general merriment, and before too long your bandmates have dragged you up on stage in an entirely predictable show of what happens when performers spend time with friends.

They always, always perform.

“How did we all end up working?” Zach snorts, although he’s got a drink in his hand and his seat is as close to the stage as he could get without being on it. He never gets this view and he doesn’t care that there’s not a perfectly synchronized light screw working or you aren’t dolled up. Just music and the love to entertain shines and he watches as you laugh and grip the microphone.

Slipping back to the piano one more time to consult with Shane, there is a confident grin on your face when you return to the mic and take it off its stand to be more comfortable on the small rectangle where you perform night after night. "Everybody has tested out Zach's new recipes and now we're going to test out a few new songs," you joke to your coworkers, though it is completely true and no one minds at all.

Zach claps on the table top, eyes glued to you and it’s amazing how warm he feels right now. Like the alcohol in his system has set him on fire.

"This is something Shane and I have been toying with in rehearsals." There is no need for long or fancy introductions to songs, not when you're just having fun, and you turn to Shane to make sure you're starting in time with each other. The first chord on the piano is done in tandem with the first lyric, and the jazz arrangement that you have been slowly working on together takes shape for an audience for the very first time. "My lover's got humor...she's the giggle at a funeral..."

Zach sips his drink, leaning forward slightly and not even noticing it. Eyes fixed on you and ignoring everyone else in the club as they fade into the background.

Take Me to Church is a hell of a good song to begin with, but tonight it takes on an unexpectedly plaintive tone. Like rather than the passionate promise of someone already with the lover in question, you’re asking to be allowed to be with them. Making your case as a potential partner. Or maybe it sounds the way it always has to everyone else and the fact that you keep looking back at Zach in front of you is making your brain fog over with lust…and if that’s the case it would be extremely reasonable…

Completely entranced by the sultry, plaintive tone to your voice, he’s haunted by the idea - the hope - that you are singing to him. Knowing that everyone who sits in your audience probably feels the same way, he watches the way your eyes roam around the room and then land on him for a split second. He knows logically that you are just being a good showman, but he wants you to have the same desire and yearning that has him nearly aching. Even if he’s not physically hard, thank god, because it would be so obvious - his body is lit up with need.

They tug on you like a rope anchored deep in your chest, those few moments of eye contact. They steal your breath and buckle your knees, and when was the last time you had it this bad for a guy you barely knew?

It’s a miracle or a mercy that Shane calls the next song, but you could kill him for the choice. The intro he plays is a well beloved favorite, but the message makes you ache.

Maybe this time I’ll be lucky…maybe this time he’ll stay…maybe this time for the first time…love won’t hurry away…

Your words pierce his soul and make him bleed. He would close his eyes, but he can’t risk losing the sight of you clutching the microphone and pouring your soul into the words. Making him swallow harshly and nearly start to cry from the emotions you are exposing.

The end of the song is a belt, twisting you up as the intensity rises further and further, until the final blow out has you feeling as wrung out as a wet rag and practically sagging at your mic stand. There are tears in your eyes that get dabbed on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and you turn around to grab your drink off the nearby stool with a ragged breath. “Gimme a second,” you mutter to Shane, wondering why — after singing that song a thousand times — this is the one that makes you feel like you have ripped your heart open and left it shattered on the floor.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

No. You know why. That lyric and the man in the front row. Dammit. You really are a fucking sucker when you like someone.

Zach leans forward, wiping his eyes discreetly and hoping he doesn’t look like a wreck. It’s be so goddamn long since he’s had hope. Not hope for his future, but for his heart. His time in the Marine Corps had changed the course of his future and for a long time, he had believed he didn’t have a future at all. Roaming the streets had a tendency to make you hardened towards the ideals of love and life.

“You good?” Shane murmurs from across the piano, vamping to give you time to breathe. Normally a consummate professional, you’re pretty good at holding off your emotions until you’re off stage. He wonders if this is why you never drink while you’re singing. If it makes it harder for you to focus.

“Yeah.” You nod, wishing he hadn’t gone straight for the emotional jugular. “Something more upbeat this time?”

“Sure thing.” Shane nods and immediately transitions into a catchy, fun song that had been last years summer theme song and converted to a supper club song.

This is more like it. A pop song. The rendition of Katy Perry's Roar would go over well with the teens or other daughters of passengers that got dragged out to the supper club because their parents like jazz, and it's a lot of fun for the fifth member of your band. Cliff is a sax player and a hell of a fun guy, but doesn't always get to shine during all of your songs. He's been pitching a cover of Careless Whisper that is going to be a crowd pleaser too. Shane is a hell of a band leader and is working with him to make it phenomenal. For now, Roar is another good place for Cliff to show off.

Shane makes a playful face while you start singing, remembering how he would have at one time hated this song on principle. He was a rotten little fucker, but he has straightened up and he can’t help but admit that it’s catchy. Especially with you singing it.

This is the tempo most people were hoping for. You can see that in the crowd. People react unconsciously to things that make them happy and the brightened faces and straighter backs of your friends and coworkers is obvious. You look over to flash a smile at Shane -- who you know can't believe you talked him into pop songs – and give him a nod. This is the way to go tonight.

There’s something to be said for the energy of the crowd. Zach looks around, the place isn’t packed but there’s more noise coming from the staff in the seats than most of the customers in here most nights. Although they are normally busy eating full course meals, they aren’t up dancing like some are now.

It makes it fun. It makes it easy to lose track of time and enjoy yourselves. And it makes it more fun to sing for people who are also making a party out of it.

The dancing and drinking goes on, the party hits a stride, and before long a few people are pairing off and heading out for the night so that the party inside the club starts to naturally wind down. You have no idea what time it is when you come down from the stage for the second time tonight, although it's much nicer to breathe deeply and have the atmosphere of good friends around you instead of the awkward curiosity of the guests.

“Well I have to say that you definitely beat me out for the best performance of the night.” Zach scrubs his hand on his jeans as he comes up to you with a cup of ice water for you.

"Hardly." You laugh though, cheeks warm just at the sight of him walking up to you. When he holds out the drink you practically awwe out loud. "That's very sweet of you, though. Um...both, I mean. The compliment and the water. Thank you."

“Have to stay hydrated.” He knows you had drinks while you were on stage, plenty of others delivered them to you, but they were of the alcoholic variety. “Are you still hungry after basically working again?” He asks, grinning at you in awe.

“Fun fact about me,” you tell him, greedily sipping the cold water for a minute and enjoying the way you can feel it run down your entire body. “I’m always hungry.”

“Is that like…your superpower?” He leans in and whispers it playfully, like he’s asking in confidence. “Kind of like Bruce Banner is always angry?”

Zach’s breath is so hot on your skin that you almost flinch, a warm roll of anticipation chasing the cold feeling of the water all the way through you. “Maybe,” you tease back. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hangry.”

“Then I guess I need to keep you fed.” He snorts, the alcohol in his system making him a little more relaxed than before and it feels like this entire night has been one big dance to lead up to a ‘moment’.

“Good thing you’re very talented.” Fuck…what a terrible line. To avoid owning up to it, you take another sip of water.

He bites his lip at the compliment and watches as you fluster slightly. “Well, since it’s my duty to keep you fed, I guess you should be able to reach me, right?” He asks. “A bat signal for food?”

Instinctually, you’re about to refuse, until about two seconds later when you realize what he’s saying. What he’s offering you. And then the smile splitting your face open grows even wider. “I guess that would be good,” you tease him again and relish the feeling. How easy it is and how good it feels.

Zach pulls out his phone and opens it up to the messages to hand it over to you. “Here you go.” He offers, wondering if you are finding it a little cheesy how he’s basically asked for your number.

Typing your number into the top line, you tilt his phone away from him with a mischievous grin to type out a little message and send it to yourself. When your own phone dings in your pocket a second later, you pull it out and make a great show of reading the message before you react.

Gorgeous chef promises gorgeous singer to keep her fed and she promises to dedicate songs to him in return. Everybody wins.

“Why Zach,” you gasp playfully, one hand flying to your chest after you have his phone back. “You think I’m gorgeous? You flirt.”

Zach reads the message on his own phone and looks up at you for a moment. “And a little too self confident.” He practically giggles, butterflies swimming in his stomach at your description of him. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. Me? Not so much.”

“It’s all a costume. The hair, the make up, the gowns? All of that’s a mask to hide behind.” You may be dressed down right now, without your mask on and not ready to fight, but you know that that’s why you do it. Why you get dolled up every night. It’s not for the guests. It’s your armor. “I…was calling you gorgeous. Adding it for myself was just in case you didn’t mean this as flirting. I could say it was all a joke…”

He stares at you for a moment and shakes his head. “You look great right now. And I know you’re not in a gown or wearing a lot of makeup.” He points out. “So I meant what I wrote.” He tells you adamantly, even if you had technically written the text.

“And so did I.” Setting aside anything else, you add Zach’s name to your contacts and slip your phone into your pocket.

You let slip a yawn and he frowns. “It’s getting late.” It’s the early hours of the morning, and everyone has to be up soon to start the day over again. “Why don’t we get you a snack and get you to bed?”

“That is quite possibly the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” you tell him, grinning all over again. When your roommate calls out that she’s leaving you just tell her to go on. That you’ll catch up. You may be hoping a certain chef will walk you back, but you know he and Shane are housed on a different deck.

“So the way to girl’s heart is through her stomach too?” He turns back towards the kitchen and his hand hovers over your back again. “Interesting.”

Letting yourself be led by him is easy. Honestly it might be the easiest you’ve ever gone with anyone anywhere. “Anybody who claims they can’t be won over by a person who puts enough thought and care into to them that they craft a whole meal to take care of them with? Liars.”

He hums, smirking slightly as he guides you towards the refrigerators again. “What are you thinking you want to eat?” He asks, curious about your comfort foods.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you admit. His kitchen is so well stocked and his skills are so much more extensive than yours. “I basically survive on sandwiches if I have to feed myself.”

“So would you like a sandwich?” He asks. “I can make that happen.”

“Actually,” he sits you down on a stool at the counter and you feel a little dreamy just watching him move, but at least it’s honest. “That sounds amazing.”

He hums as he looks through the fridge and smiles. “Then I know exactly what I’m going to make you.” He starts pulling out ingredients.

“Did you…like any of the music?” It seems right to make conversation, especially since he is once again feeding you, and you are honestly curious. Any song he likes is going to get more play in the club, you can admit that to yourself plenty easily.

“All of it.” That answer comes easily and readily falls off his tongue. “I think you might be the best singer I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Oh come on.” The best you can do is a huff of disbelief so you don’t break out into nervous laughter, but your stomach flips and your whole body turns hot in pleased embarrassment. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No.” He shakes his head as he brings his treasures over to the counter to lay them out. “I’ve heard a lot of people. Some of the street singers came close, but you beat them all.”

Surveying him quietly, you don’t think too much about the comment on street singers since buskers are everywhere where you’re from. Instead you crack a self-deprecating smile. “Would you mind calling up some of the producers I’ve auditioned for and telling them that? I think I could use a spokesperson.”

“Give me their numbers.” Zach huffs. “Guaranteed in a few years you are headlining somewhere.” He tells you. “Vegas or something.”

"Then this is a perfect place to start." You motion to the ship around you. "Floating Vegas, if you will."

“It’s a good place to forget the rest of the world and all the problems there exists.” He agrees, methodically putting your sandwich together.

"And." Leaning forward on your elbows, you bite back your broad grin into something more flirtatious. "To meet gorgeous chefs."

He pauses for a moment, meeting your eyes and his own smile blooms over his face. “And sultry singers.”

For a moment you consider just trying your luck. Just leaning across the counter and kissing him and seeing what happens. But there is just enough of a hint of nervous in your system despite his red cheeks and hooded eyes that you hesitate, licking your lips and swallowing the lump in your throat. You can shoot your shot in a different way, without being too forward. Just in case.

"Would you..." There is blood pounding in your ears and you can't quite hear what you're even saying, but you press on. "Would you...want to go out sometime? With me, I mean? Like when we both have time off?"

Zach is stunned silent for a second before he remembers that he had to answer you out loud. He handed you the sandwich with a beaming smile. “I’d like nothing more.” He promises.

"Yeah?" Now you're both grinning at each other like idiots, and you nudge the plate between you accidentally before remembering he was just cooking for you like a damn culinary angel that dropped right out of the sky. The sandwich he made is a work of art, and you pick up one half before nudging the plate back at him to share. "Okay, um...just let me know when you have time off?"

“I’ll check the schedule and text you.” He smiles as you take your first bite and wonders how the hell he’s gotten so lucky.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Zach Wellison #Zach Wellison x female reader #Zach Wellison x you #Zach Wellison x f!reader #Brothers & Sisters #Shane Dio Morrissey #Shane Dio Morrissey x female OC #NYPD Blue #soulmate au #Soulmate Sunday #cruise ship au

77 notes · View notes

wuxian-vs-wangji · 2 months ago

Text

When All the Work is Finished (Part 1: PayuRain)

Summary: What's the best way to unwind after weeks of hard work? Rain and Sky skip the monthly races to finish some homework, but when Prapai and Payu go back to their respective homes, they find something very unexpected.

Part 2 (PrapaiSky)

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Part 1 (PayuRain)

“Rain, do you need help?”

“I’m fi- hey!” Rain was red-faced and exhausted as he staggered into Payu’s house one evening, weighed down by several packages.

Saifah ignored what the little man was going to say, taking several boxes off the top of Rain’s pile, enough that the boy could finally see what was ahead of him.

Rain groaned as he stumbled to a table and deposited the two boxes he was left, his arms trembling with exhaustion. He stretched his arms in front of him, felt something pop loudly in his shoulder, and smiled.

Saifah set his own boxes down and leaned on the pile, watching Rain with a bemused look. “You have a car. How far did you carry all of this?”

“I did it for the exercise.” Rain dodged the question. It was true that he had left his car at Payu’s when he went out to pick up the packages. But the problem was-

“What did you do to the car?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Rain insisted, then caved to Saifah’s raised eyebrow, “The engine light came on yesterday.”

The race had come at the worst possible time this month. Payu was spending most days- and weekends- at the office, and before that Rain had been consumed by exams and projects. He hadn’t seen Payu conscious in three weeks. Combine that with all the last minute checks Payu ran on bikes the night before a race, and a guilty Rain couldn’t possibly add to Payu’s load. When he finally slipped into bed at three in the morning, he’d been pale.

After so long apart, it was normal that they would play with each other’s bodies at least a little, but Payu only pulled Rain tight to his chest and was asleep within seconds.

Of course, Rain wasn’t the only one who knew the kind of pressure Payu had been under. Saifah only sighed, “Good call then. I’ll take a look tomorrow. Do you need a ride to the race?”

Rain was a fixture at the event, where he liked to wander with Sky or watch Payu run about and work.

But this time, Rain shook his head, “Sky is coming over to help me with an extra credit project.”

“I’ll leave the gate unlocked then. We had to do a surprise break replacement earlier and it threw the schedule off. I’m only here to grab a change of clothes.” Saifah straightened up and checked the clock. The sun was still setting, glittering just above the guest house roof. There was still a lot to do before the race that night.

Normally, Saifah would chat with Rain a bit, maybe tease his brother’s little boyfriend until his face turned bright red. But tonight was already off to a stressful start, so he just waved a farewell to Rain and left him in the foyer.

Rain pulled out his phone and pretended to be busy until he heard the gate clang and peeked out to make sure Saifah’s car was gone. Then, Rain walked over to the gate and quickly locked it.

Unless he reappeared suddenly- which wasn’t unusual for Saifah- Rain might have finally managed to trick one of the brothers with a lie. For his part, Sky would also tell Prapai that he was going to Payu’s later to work on the extra credit project.

The two friends had finished and handed in their projects days ago, but…

When Rain asked Sky to help him in this lie a week ago, Sky had thought about it for a long time as his ears turned pink and a blush came across his cheeks. And he’d gone with Rain to- well… Sky had his own order to pick up, and his own incentive to lie and ditch the race.

Prapai was out of town on business until recently. Sky needed a night with Prapai as much as Rain did with Payu.

Doubt nagged at the back of Rain’s mind as he returned to the house to ferry the packages upstairs. It was going to take time to get everything ready, that was why he needed a time when Payu was going to be away, but…

I didn’t know there would be a problem with one of the bikes.

Rain was still pretty hopeless when it came to cars, but he’d studied while Payu worked in the past, and he remembered when Prapai brought his beloved red Ducati in for a brake change months ago. It took a few hours- maybe not much time in all, but the day of a race was when Payu usually allowed himself a rare nap to prepare himself for the long night.

He slept deeply and soundly in Rain’s arms until long after the sun rose, but if today proved to be stressful as well…

This will make him happy.

He’ll hate this.

It’ll help refresh him.

He’ll be too exhausted.

Rain brought the boxes upstairs one by one. His footsteps were heavy, his mood was getting darker and darker. By the time he was done, he was no closer to deciding what to do than he’d been when Saifah first mentioned the brakes.

It was then that his phone chimed with Payu’s special ringtone.

[Your boyfriend is working so hard, don’t you have any pity for me?]

Rain smiled as he read Payu’s message.

If he was in the mood to be pouty, then things couldn’t be too bad, right?

Rain opened his camera roll and selected a photo from back when he and Sky genuinely were working on their extra credit projects- one showing the majority of the model assembled, only a few hours of work left to do. Rain saved the photo in case he needed to sell his lie- in this one, his bare leg was stretched out into the frame. Innocuous when he sent it to Sky, but for Payu…

His phone pinged again, this time with an audio message. Rain smiled and turned up the volume.

[“If you bait me like this, I won’t take responsibility for what happens later.”] A low growl from Payu.

Rain always knew Payu liked to play with his legs when they had sex, kissing and biting while Rain moaned beneath him. But it was only recently that he realized just how much Payu liked them. A naked leg sticking out from beneath the blankets could make Payu’s eyes darken with want.

Rain slipped into the downstairs bathroom, out of sight of the walls of windows, and quickly removed his pants to take another photograph of his unmarked thigh and send it to Payu as a provocation.

Alright… Play it is.

---

Darkness filled the house- but not the kind of darkness that would alarm anyone. It was a gentle darkness, broken by the occasional table lamp. The inhabitants were asleep, the light meant to guide a weary soul up to bed.

Rain spent hours preparing it all. The darkness he waited in was whole and unbroken, even if the room was brightly lit.

P’Payu will hate this.

P’Payu will love it.

He’s just going to pat me on the head, say he’s sorry, and I’ll have made him feel like crap. He’s already tired, he’ll feel like he disappointed me too.

He’s… he’s going to be… happy?

He won’t even come home. Remember how P’Saifah promised to fix my car? It’s because he knows P’Payu is too busy.

The sound of a car door closing made Rain jump. It was faint, but he’d been listening so carefully. His mind whirled- he’d just convinced himself Payu wasn’t coming home, so who could be here? Saifah? Saifah wouldn’t dare come into Payu’s room at nearly four in the morning when the door was closed… right?

Maybe Rain was mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t a car door, or it was a neighbor who-

The opening and closing of the door downstairs was not something Rain could mistake. His ears strained for even the slightest sound, and it wasn’t long before he heard weary footsteps. They were a bit slow, a bit too forceful, but Rain knew the sound of Payu’s feet on the stairs. Knew it as clearly as his voice.

His heart pounded so loudly that for a moment, Rain imagined he couldn’t even hear the steps anymore.

He listened in silence with baited breath as the footsteps became muffled on the rug outside the door.

The sound of the knob turning.

The kiss of cool air across Rain’s skin.

Payu’s surprise was marked by a soft but sharp inhale. Time froze for Rain as he balled his fists, trying to hide the trembling.

When Payu found his breath again, he remained frozen in place, unable to accept what his eyes were showing him.

Rain bit his lip, imagining the expression on his face.

Payu- who loved to do the most lewd things to Rain, and yet always controlled what happened. The charismatic and Dominant Payu… had the wind knocked out of him by his little boyfriend’s wanton display.

The first box Rain opened contained a hinged silver hoop, almost large enough to fit around both of Rain’s thumbs simultaneously. It was the object he was most nervous about- one that wrapped almost painfully tight around where his penis and testicles connected. If the salesperson was to be believed, it would make it almost impossible for him to release, no matter how badly he wanted to. At the same time, it would make him harder and more sensitive than even he usually was.

It wasn’t the tightness that scared Rain, it was the thought of going insane, trapped on the edge of cumming until Payu flipped the little latch on the side and let him free. Depending on Payu’s mood, that could take… hours.

Second came two tiny silver clamps that were tightened onto the pink buds of his chest and connected by chains of varying lengths- depending on what Payu would like Rain to do. For this display, Rain had used the smallest chain, which had three small loops in the middle for a series of weights that were set in a small box beside Rain’s form.

The third package contained something Rain knew Payu would love- a harness for his face that could either hold a ball gag or- what was dangling around Rain’s neck now- a rounded silicone mouthguard. Payu would be free to push the guard up so that Rain’s teeth rested on a special channel and his mouth was locked open for Payu to use as much as he wanted.

If the third package was something Payu would especially love, the fourth was something special for Rain- a vibrating plug that was sitting deep in his entrance- the control sitting beside the weights for his nipple clamps.

Only three pieces remained after Rain inserted the plug (and, to be honest, played with it a little.. Just to be extra sure it worked): the first was the tight black blindfold that Rain now wore. It was sculpted to his eyes, slightly raised at the center, and allowed not even a sliver of light through. He honestly didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed even now, which is why he could only imagine Payu’s face.

The next (and heaviest) parcel contained a firm message to Payu in case everything else was too subtle-- Rain wanted no say in what Payu did to him. A loop of padded black leather wrapped around each of Rain’s legs just above the knee and connected via metal chains to matching cuffs around Rain’s elbows, forcing his legs apart and his arms back as he knelt for Payu now, but on the bed, he would remain splayed and unable to move on his own. Leaving him utterly at Payu’s mercy.

As for the final box- it had a few smaller dildos, some flavored tubes of lube that Payu might enjoy, and a basic set of restraints that Rain had run under the mattress of the bed and laid out neatly- each with their own wrist and ankle cuffs, should Payu decide he wanted his boy tied up there.

Rain had been saving up for… quite some time.

It was such a lewd display that a piece of Rain’s mind worried Payu might just turn around and walk away. Or, more shattering, apologize and help him out of the various contraptions.

Rain had never dared ask Payu to play with toys in bed, and now he’d bought… quite a few. Would Payu like it? Or did it go against the kind of sex he liked- Rain submitting to him in body without anything else needed?

Doubt filled Rain’s heart as the silence stretched on. He shifted slightly, drawing an uncomfortable spasm from the vibrator in his rear. He was on the floor in front of the bed, but he couldn’t feel any footsteps to tell him if Payu left or remained. There was no sound of breathing. Even the cool air from the hall seemed to die away.

His stomach twisted and he shifted again, trying to close his legs and maybe preserve some decency. The silence only grew louder. He began to tremble and felt tears gathering at the corner of his eye, so ashamed that even though his mouth was free, he couldn’t bring himself to ask Payu to… to just forget the whole thing and help him get out of the cuffs.

“I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

A strong hand grasped Rain’s throat as Payu’s mouth crushed against his. Rain couldn’t do anything but part his lips and accept the vicious force of Payu’s kiss. It was hot and hard and brutally hungry. Payu held Rain’s head and neck tightly as he made the small man accept the tongue that probed deeply in his mouth.

Rain wasn’t braced for the ferocity with which Payu crashed against him, and he shifted back in a way that knocked at the plug in his ass, causing Rain to cry out against the pain.

The hands released Rain’s neck to feel his shoulders, ankles, the ring around his member- Payu found the ridge of the plug and knew what had probably caused the yelp.

Something brushed against the blindfold- Payu’s fingertips. He felt the dampness at the edges where tears were caught in the fabric. Payu often teased Rain to the point of crying in desperation, but he knew from Rain’s paleness that these weren’t tears of desire. Bound as he was, without eyes to read, Payu could still tell what Rain was thinking.

“You have no idea what it feels like, seeing you dressed up for me,” Payu hissed against Rain’s ear. He placed a knee on either side of Rain’s bent leg and ground himself against Rain’s thigh so the boy could feel how hard he was in his jeans. “You have no idea how perfect you look.”

“I don’t- Mmmph!”

Payu didn’t let Rain object. He slid the ring up into the boy’s mouth, pinning it open.

Rain’s body jerked and he cried out as Payu’s fingers traced the aching rim of his rear where the skin was stretched around the vibrator. Clearly, he found the controller on his own- Rain let out a desperate and uncontrolled moan as it began to vibrate softly inside him.

When he thought Payu was going to reject him, it was cold and unbearable. Now, with the heat of Payu’s kiss, it felt… amazing. The ring around Rain’s little tendon became even tighter as he hardened.

There was a low curse, and Payu’s warmth vanished, followed quickly by the sound of clothing hitting the ground.

“Idiot,” Payu hissed in his ear. Rain heard something scrape against the floor. Payu had picked something up. Desperate to distract himself from the tingling feeling in his rear, Rain tried to think of what it might be. His answer came when Payu set something cold and round on Rain’s thigh.

“Why didn’t you use this?”

It was one of several containers of lube that Rain had set aside.

“I wanted you to pick.”

Payu had felt the dryness around Rain’s hole and realized… the boy must have used his own spit to force the plug in, not one of the new bottles of lube. And he must have been waiting for at least ten minutes already (twenty, actually. Rain couldn’t feel his legs from kneeling so long).

Payu opened the cap on the lube and slid the bottle across Rain’s skin. He brushed the base delicately around his tied balls, and let the coolness press against the stretch of skin between them and the swollen, red entrance. Just as Rain began to whimper again, the bottle disappeared.

Something cold, thick, and wet dripped down Rain’s member as Payu pushed him back, back, back. Until Rain had to adjust his feet so that he could lay on his back, his legs parted, hands pinned beneath him, and fully on display for Payu.

He jumped at first, then sighed as the cold helped dull the pain. It was different from the lube he normally used, but with his mouth pinned open, it was difficult for Rain to get enough air through just his nose to try and smell which flavor Payu had used.

Sweat beaded on Rain’s skin and he broke out in goosebumps as the cold of the lube gradually warmed, then began to tingle.

One bottle wasn’t scented. It was smaller than the others, something Rain wasn’t sure about, but the boss at the shop threw in free, since Rain ordered so much. A lube that they said would make Rain more sensitive.

Powerful fingers pressed against the metal knot, then rubbed the liquid onto the stretched flesh. Rain closed his eyes (not that it mattered) and shivered as Payu began to pull and twist at the vibrating metal inside him.

It felt so big now- how had Rain ever managed to force it in? Payu paused a few times to retrieve the sample of lube and add more of the liquid, dutifully massaging the tight ring to convince it to open.

“Relax.”

It was the only warning Rain received before Payu took hold of the plug and pulled. Rain’s back arched and he shouted out around the mouthpiece as Payu began to slide it in and out at a steady rhythm- the vibration in it growing stronger.

“Nghnn!” Rain screamed as the plug was twisted so that it pressed hard against his p-spot, the pressure and shudder warming the lube that now filled his insides too. He shook his head side to side, writhing as Payu’s hand pressed hard against his stomach, until he could feel the metal inside Rain’s body shifting and moving.

Pain was crashing into pleasure, turning into a creature Rain didn’t know how to fight. He felt himself draw up, but the metal ring holding him closed prevented more than a few thin drops of precum from escaping his little snake.

It was agony- but the kind that made drool fill his mouth. Rain’s entire body was shaking as he tried to finish. He felt himself clenching around the plug so hard that Payu finally yanked it out, in case Rain hurt himself. Cool air mixed with the teasing heat of the lube as Rain’s entrance gaped, begging for an erection to tighten around.

Payu devoured Rain’s skin as the spasm passed, then creating more as he licked and sucked at Rain’s trapped length.

“Ah… ah! Ah!!” Rain could only yell, his mouth pinned open and his body too overwhelmed to do more than grind himself shamelessly against Payu’s face, sobbing and moaning without release.

Payu only sucked harder and harder, basking in the desperation of his boyfriend as the little one fought so hard against the restraints he himself bought.

Trapped in darkness, unable to beg for what he needed, and without the ability to climax, Rain was now in some kind of wonderful hell. His insides were melting under the heat of the lube Payu poured around his entrance, and the mouth around his tendon felt better than he could imagine.

If Payu spoke, his voice was drowned out by the high pitched moans and whimpers that escaped from Rain’s mouth. The tears that drenched the blindfold now were filled with desperation and need. Rain began to roll his hips in a way that drove Payu insane when Rain was astride him, trying to make him desperate. It wasn’t impossible for Rain to cum with the hard metal around him, but he’d need Payu inside him.

Then Payu suddenly stopped moving, and climbed away. Rain’s whole body was on fire and he screamed in frustration. Something hard and heavy set down beside his ears. Without warning, he felt pressure on the opening of the muzzle as something began to push in.

Even lost in a growing haze of desperation, Rain couldn’t believe his luck. Payu was lowering his burning erection into the little man’s throat. Rain tipped his head back and relaxed his throat, breathing through his nose as his mouth was filled more and more.

He couldn’t stroke the shaft as it eased in, close his lips around that wonderful, thick length, or taste the saltiness of Payu’s precum with his tongue. All Rain could do was lay there and let himself be used as nothing more than a hole for Payu’s pleasure.

If it was even possible, Rain thought he felt himself getting harder.

Payu knew Rain was in the mood to be taken roughly. He gave the blind, bound man only one gentle thrust before he began to pump his hips and fuck the hot, tight throat in earnest. Rain felt something wet and warm wrap around his own cock as he tried to time his breathing to Payu’s movement.

Payu’s teeth gently scraped against his most sensitive skin and Rain shouted around the length thrusting into his throat. The sensation on his tormented little snake was on the dangerous edge of tolerable- territory further from pleasure than Rain usually ventured. With the angle of the assault on his throat and the way his mouth was pinned open, the sound that came out was more sultry than intended.

Not an objection, but an invitation for another scrape of sharp teeth along his curving length.

A desperate groan escaped from Payu as his hips pumped into Rain. It reverberated around the base of Rain’s cock and drove bolts of pleasure straight through him. Whatever was left of Rain’s mind braced for the absolute agony that was pleasure without release.

His body tightened and he struggled to inhale. Payu was too big for his poor throat and Rain couldn’t breathe fast enough through his nose. As his mind filled with a desperate fog, Payu abruptly changed the teasing on his cock, opting to seal his mouth around it and nearly swallow the head. At the same time he reached down and began forcing the buzzing plug back into Rain’s hole with a smooth, unrelenting force.

Something blasted through Rain’s mind, shattering him completely as his hips bucked up to meet Payu’s mouth and release was ripped through him in spite of the metal ring. Every eruption of cum into Payu’s mouth brought a violent and viciously painful pleasure. Rain’s eyes rolled up into his head. His entire body seized up, shaking at the fire that ripped screams from his throat in spite of Payu still in his mouth.

If it weren’t for the guard on the gag holding him open, Rain wouldn’t have been able to stop his teeth from biting down hard on Payu’s most sensitive part.

Rain began to shudder and thrash beneath Payu as something even more powerful ravaged his body. His legs tried to kick, his hole constricted harder than he knew was possible around the plug that Payu still forced in and out of him, and that now-burning lube made him feel like his entire lower body was one raw, hungry nerve. Rain screamed again and a moment later was drowning in thick, salty musk as Payu cried out and released into him.

Fire and lightning danced beneath his skin. He wasn’t sure when he took the deep, shaking breath. Rain had no idea when he even swallowed the release that Payu’s bucking hips forced down his throat. Bright lights flashed in Rain’s blinded vision. His body was shaking uncontrollably.

Rain didn’t try to think too much- he wasn’t even sure he could anymore.

The sound that came from him was half-mad and weak. A shuddering, shivering whine.

His body was rolled over so that Rain was pinned on his stomach, but he didn’t have it in him to care. Cold air kissed his cheeks as Payu undid the clasp of the gag. A light touch pulled it away, but he felt a growing wetness around his cheek- Payu’s release, or his own drool pouring out from his open mouth.

The blindfold stayed in place.

A sudden, intense spasm at his hips reminded Rain that the plug was still inside him, no longer vibrating. It shifted and moved, grinding against his most sensitive spot. The throbbing heat of the lube made his sensitive hole ache, and the hot mouth kissing his shoulders quickly turned the post-climax shivering into fresh trembles of desire.

Payu fucked him with the plug, but it was the deep, desperate moan that Payu breathed against his ear that made Rain harden once again.

Rain wished his little snake stayed dead. He couldn’t move, could barely manage more than the softest of whimpers as- with a sudden wrenching motion- Payu yanked the vibrator from him at last. As metal slid over the liquid inside him, Rain shuddered. Were he free, he might have released again.

His toes curled and he whimpered once more.

Without the plug he felt empty, painfully so. His ass gaped where it had been stretched to the maximum. Rain could feel it twitching- opening and closing. Begging for something else to fill it.

He didn’t want it. He just wanted to be left alone.

No, wait. That was the opposite of what Rain wanted. He wanted to be filled, used, and fucked until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Rain was both desperate for and somehow dreading what he knew would come soon. Payu would bury himself inside Rain, their bodies fitting together as if made for one another. His mind couldn’t decide what it wanted. His body wasn’t sure which it needed- to be filled, or left alone?

That was why Rain bought the muzzle with the ball, and Payu knew it.

He left Rain twitching on the floor for a moment and returned to brush gently against Rain’s mouth. “Rain?”

His voice was hoarse, but soft and sweet. Rain offered the smallest of nods. With great care, Payu lifted his head and fit the new muzzle on, sealing off Rain’s mouth. Rain tried to swallow around the ache in his throat, but the memory of Payu taking his mouth without mercy made him shiver in anticipation.

The spread of Rain’s legs, thanks to the binds connecting them to his upper arms, meant his ass was raised and on full display for Payu. His hubby knelt beside him and didn’t hesitate for even a moment to bury his entire length inside with a single sharp thrust.

As much as the plug prepared him, Rain wasn’t ready for the sheer size and heat of Payu slamming into him. He screamed against the gag, then groaned loudly as Payu set a torturous rhythm. Pull out slowly, slam in hard, stir his hips to force the shaft to grind against Rain’s insides, then slowly pull out once more.

Payu’s hand slid up from Rain’s hip. For a moment, the delirious man thought he intended to take hold of the little one’s tendon and stroke in time with his thrusts. He’d forgotten about the other toy.

There was a sudden, vicious sting in the pink raisins of his chest. Payu had a tight hold of the chain. Now, every time he slammed into Rain, the force sent the chain swinging and delivered sharp twists to Rain’s nipples. He was almost overwhelmingly sensitive on a normal day. Between the still-tingling sensation of the lubrication and the pulsing of his vice-caught cock, he had no hope at all.

The screams and cries of Rain into the ball at his mouth drove Payu crazy. His slow and patient movements became faster and rougher. The thrusts shortened, but became wildly fierce as Rain tightened and screamed. He was calling out something, but even Rain wasn’t sure what it was. Not Payu’s name. Whatever it was, Rain was chanting it on a loop, over and over again as the gag prevented him from forming clear sounds.

Rain might not have been able to understand, but Payu could guess.

Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!

Rain was yelling that thing that drove his hubby crazy as Payu crashed against him. Heat erupted deep inside as Payu released without warning. He pumped his hips, driving the cum further into the little one. Rain rarely went a day without being filled by Payu, but three weeks had passed since their last time together, and his groans were vicious and hungry at both the sensation and the fact that Payu wasn’t getting soft.

Rain’s cock was nearly purple and dripped with desperate need. It twitched pathetically as Payu’s grasp bruised Rain’s hips and the air filled with the intoxicating musk of sex. Even Payu was gasping for air. His normally iron composition was breaking. He dropped against Rain’s back as the final ropes of cum erupted into Rain’s body, his voice ragged and groaning with every breath.

But he still didn’t stop thrusting his hips. Forcing himself to keep moving, keep torturing the boy beneath him who was trapped in his little vice and shaking so hard that he no longer had the strength to let it out against the force pinning him.

“I want you to watch this,” Payu’s voice was low and commanding again. He undid the blindfold.

Rain’s eyes had rolled up into his head. He was shivering and flush, his face shiny with the drool or release that had dripped from his lips. Still inside him, Payu bent down and left featherlight kisses along Rain’s jaw and neck. As he sucked at Rain’s Adam’s apple, the other managed to regain enough of his faculties to look down.

Payu noticed in an instant and he rose from Rain’s back. A darkness filled his eyes that both frightened and thrilled Rain, he felt himself clench around Payu’s cock.

Something was on the floor beside the two men- something Rain had set on the table with the lube when he set all this up.

The question in his eyes was clear enough.

“I’ve been thinking of doing this to you for a long time. I just didn’t know you were thinking of it too.”

An almost impossibly long cock made of ridged silicone, about half as thick as Payu’s own member.

Rain’s eyes went wide as Payu grabbed the tube once more and coated in the silicone in more of that lubricant that was already driving him (and probably Payu as well, buried in Rain as he was) insane. Rain’s tendon twitched and white liquid dripped from the head. He was terrified of the dark lust in Payu’s eyes, and yet already fantasizing about what it would feel like to have something so long- a couple inches longer than Payu himself- buried inside his body.

Payu’s free hand undid the latch holding the cuffs on Rain’s ankles and wrists together. Rain was still bound at the wrists, but the worst of the tension was off his shoulders, and Payu could flip Rain onto his back, his legs free to drape on either side of Payu’s.

But Payu didn’t insert the silicone cock into his hole. He pushed his own back in with a long, slow thrust, then held the false one beside him.

Rain finally understood what Payu was wanting to try- and it wasn’t something Rain had ever imagined.

He closed his eyes in acceptance and fear and braced himself. Payu grabbed his hair roughly and pulled until Rain opened his eyes wide. He shook with fear as Payu pushed the silicone against the side of his own cock, using his length as a helpful guide as he forced the second shaft into his boyfriend.

Rain screamed against the gag and thrashed his legs- but if it was in pleasure or pain, even Rain couldn’t tell. Payu had to release his head, and Rain hit it against the floor a few times as he thrashed, until Payu paused long enough to grab his discarded shirt and shoved it behind him to act as a pillow.

While he was bent over Rain, Payu raised an eyebrow in question, his dangerous eyes filled with barely contained lust. Rain loved to be taken roughly by Payu, but the older one always kept it just at the safe edge of his tolerance. This was something further than they’d ever done before.

Payu was offering to remove the second cock and retreat back within the realm of what Rain was alright with.

By then, all Rain could think about was his torturous need for release, however he could get it. He pushed his hips down as best he could, screaming into the gag as another few centimeters slid inside and forced him open. His back arched, which only made him feel even more painfully full.

Payu wrapped his palm around the base of the dildo and bit his lip hard as he shoved it in. The motion was fluid and unyielding, and Payu didn’t stop until it was fully seated. No matter what sounds Rain made.

Rain’s eyes bulged and he stopped breathing for a few seconds at the depth and pressure of the second cock. His toes were splayed, his cock dribbling, and he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. What fractured pieces of his mind that Rain had managed to pull together after his release were long gone. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the two long rods shoved so forcefully into his poor little hole.

He stirred with a gasping cry as Payu tipped him onto his side and straddled his leg, setting himself even deeper. Payu pulled the cuff entirely from the foot around Rain’s raised leg and hugged it tight to his chest to use for leverage. His free hand went to the chain still between Rain’s nipples, which he grabbed as if it were a convenient handle.

Payu began to thrust.

The pressure inside Rain was incredible. The two cocks sat on either side of his p-spot, and when Payu moved it felt as if it were being sawed between them. A kind of pleasure Rain didn’t even know existed burned through his body and made him let loose a primal, near animalistic scream into the gag. A scream so loud that, were it not for the object muffling him, it would surely have been heard throughout the entire house- and maybe even by neighbors outside.

Rain was by no means quiet when Payu fucked him- or if he tried to be, Payu took it as a challenge- but this was a new kind of sound entirely.

Something moist and soft traveled the length of Rain’s foot. He managed to turn his eyes only far enough to see Payu’s tongue complete its journey. Payu loved to kiss Rain while he fucked the boy. Deprived of lips to crush and bite, he concentrated on the sensitive skin between Rain’s toes.

Payu never stopped fucking him around the ridged cock, not even as he took three toes into his mouth and began to bob his head just as he’d done when he made Rain cum through the binding. He set the motion of his head counter to those of the thrusts and sharp yanks on the chain that connected Rain’s nipples.

Purple and swollen, Rain needed release so badly that it overrode all of the pain his lover was inflicting on him. He needed to touch his cock, to stroke it and force it to erupt in spite of the impediment he put around it. Rain’s hands were still trapped, so all he could do was scratch at his own back and scream over and over again as Payu gasped, threw his head back, and once again hot pressure exploded inside Rain’s body.

He was being filled with rope after rope of hot cum- something that usually made him finish in an instant.

But there was no relief. He didn’t have the strength to defy the metal binding.

Payu released his foot and leg. His ears were red and he was panting, but weariness lined his entire body. He was spent.

Payu pulled his withering length from inside Rain with a vulgar pop . He eyed the white cream that dripped out along the silicone. Even without the object of Rain’s desire still inside him he was shaking, nearly vibrating as he twitched and pulsed.

It took some time to undo the restraints on Rain’s wrists. His arms collapsed to his sides, utterly useless. Payu removed the cuffs from his arms and legs, then the gag.

His hand reached for the metal band tight around Rain’s cock. That was when the boy’s raspy whisper stopped him, “Don’t… take it…” he couldn’t form the words. Not after everything his mouth and throat had been through.

The meaning came through well enough as he tipped up the knuckles of a violently shaking hand, barely managing to touch the silicone hilt of the cock that still filled him. The one Payu planned to fuck him with and grant a final release.

But Rain wanted it out without achieving his own release. Payu obeyed, sliding the object slowly from inside Rain. The boy gave little response to even indicate he could feel that it was gone.

Payu’s hand returned to the metal clasp around Rain’s balls and the other nodded. Rain had moved his heavy fingers up to his chest to clasp the chain between his nipples.

When Payu flipped the small catch that released the metal, his other hand helped Rain yank down hard on the chain, ripping the clasps away from his nipples and sending a vicious and violent bolt of pain through his body. Another titanic scream tore from his broken throat as his cock was finally freed and tried to release- but the pain from his swollen red nipples slammed into the cresting wave and shattered it.

The need to cum was painful and raw. His cock was dripping onto his abdomen in a steady stream now. Rain wanted to cum so badly that he started crying in Payu’s arms.

Payu didn’t move a single muscle as Rain fought his battle. He just stared at him, confused and unsure of what his role should be. When the throbbing had eased, Rain twitched, trying to pull Payu down on top of him. The two men held each other, and Payu claimed Rain’s mouth with a deep, hot kiss.

His bites were gentler than they normally would be, the kiss not as aggressive and claiming. He gently rubbed Rain’s sore nipples, and massaged the bruises on his wrists from where he’d fought the cuffs too hard. After a moment, Payu offered a hot palm to rest against the bruised and aching base of Rain’s cock where the metal had set.

“Tell me what you want,” he broke the kiss to whisper to Rain after what felt to both like an eternity. The other member was still throbbing and purple, pinned at the very edge of release. He’d only had one true climax early on, whereas Payu managed three . And the lone orgasm was made more difficult, and intense, by the agony Rain endured with that clamp.

Rain couldn’t speak. He rolled his hips, hissing at the soreness that was rapidly settling in. It would have to be quick.

As he so often did, Payu understood without needing to be told. He rolled on top of Rain more fully and covered the boy’s mouth with his own. There was no biting this time as they kissed. Payu’s hair formed a curtain against Rain’s cheek as he stroked Rain’s tongue with his and wrapped a large hand around both his and Rain’s cocks.

Rain wanted to cum one final time not bound, but in Payu’s gentle embrace, with the heat of him alongside Rain’s desperation. For his part, Payu’s pace was slow and measured as he stroked the two together- though his own tendon wasn’t getting fully hard again any time soon.

When Rain’s breathing grew strained, he released his lips to nibble and suck at Rain’s ear. Payu rolled his hips, rubbing himself until- with a seizing gasp- Rain erupted across their stomachs and chests. Though quiet, the force of the release was hard enough to reach his neck, and his entire body shook so violently that he felt no different from the vibrator Payu had inside him earlier.

Payu pulled Rain up to sit in his lap as the boy’s body went limp and his eyes rolled up into his head. He brushed the strands of Rain’s sweat-soaked hair away from his face and licked the release from Rain’s throat and chest with gentle devotion. Rain stirred slightly in Payu’s arms as he worked, and he let out a thin and painful moan of thanks.

It would be a wonder if Rain’s voice recovered even in a week.

When Rain seemed somewhat awake, Payu carried them both into the shower, where he sat on the floor holding Rain’s shaking body as hot water rinsed them both. The only sign of life in the limp body was a flinch and a sob as Payu’s long fingers so gently scooped some of the release from inside his hole.

Payu toweled Rain dry afterwards and laid him gently in bed while Payu picked up the toys on the floor, cleaned the messy ones, and returned with a small bottle of gel to soothe Rain’s entrance somewhat. It wouldn’t spare him from a sore day, but it would make things a little easier.

Rain stirred as Payu’s fingertip pushed some of the gel inside. Rain felt as if Payu and the toy were both still inside him, he was aching in places he’d never ached before, and the growing stiffness in his groove was so deep that it felt as if he had been split in two.

“I don’t think I can walk,” his voice was so hoarse that Rain choked on the unexpected pain. Payu flashed a savage grin as he brought a glass of water over.

“After a rest, I’ll do what it takes to make sure you can’t.”

“Promise?” Rain smiled, but his eyes didn’t open again. He rolled onto Payu’s chest as the other settled into bed, assuming his position in Payu’s arms.

Payu wrapped himself around Rain, intertwining his legs through the other’s. He held him tight, safe, and close, “I promise. I have next week off.”

Payu kissed the top of Rain’s head gently and turned off the bedside lamp so that they could drift off to sleep the day away as dawn broke outside.

He had questions- so many questions about where Rain found his new haul of toys and what possessed him to try them all out at once, but that could wait for another day. This was the perfect end to a hard couple weeks of work. A heaven Payu couldn’t believe was within reach when he first opened the door and saw his submissive little Rain tied up on the floor, obediently waiting for his daddy to come home.

Payu breathed a laugh and ruffled Rain’s wet hair, squeezing him even tighter as they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

---

Part 2 (PrapaiSky)

#i said not even 2 hours ago that i was holding this until the weekend but fuckit #i haven't written in a really long time be kind please #mine #my writing #payu #phayu #rain #payurain #phayurain #love in the air #lita #love storm #fanfiction #fanfic

61 notes · View notes

strangerhottotties · 1 year ago

Text

Mad Sounds - Part 2 - E.M.

Part 1

Summaries: You get Eddie's assignments back for the week and you have a meeting in his van to discuss...

Warnings: Horny shit. Minors fuck off. Mentions of masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight heavy petting and VERY brief grinding.

A/N: Just on my whore shit. I'm finally evening out after coming off birth control so the engine's warming for the first time all year. I share this with you at your own risk. My husband, ever my cheerleader picked out Eddie's test scores for the first couple weeks. Please enjoy.

Special thank you to my bestie who edited this and gave music recommendations: Taylor Swift's 'I Can See You' and 'Dress'.

All week Eddie hovered over you, never was he more than five minutes late to a study session. His newfound eagerness to study had turned more than a few heads. But ever the attention whore, he had turned his audience to you exclusively as much as he possibly could.

Every visit to your locker to retrieve books, he was right there to smile at you brazenly, eyes sliding over your form. It thrilled you. You had an incentive that no one else had ever offered, it fed your confidence. Eddie, ever the flirt, always held doors open for you, now insisted on being as gentlemanly as he possibly could.

All week he's been flashing a crisp red folder at you. Every time you see it, a tingle begins beneath your skin. The flat cardstock you always expect to warp, but the only distortion was the exaggerated hand drawn font across the front. Inside contained every assignment he'd received a grade for this week.

When the final bell rings on Friday afternoon, you make your way to your locker. Your eyes draw up towards your locker and catch a glimpse of Eddie leaning against the set of your lockers. He's a constant in the flow of bodies eager to leave the premises. His eyes as you approach are downright insidious, utterly wicked as he notices you. He fans himself that red folder.

"Hey, Honey," he hums, smile twisting with false sweetness like he was made of Aspartame. "I do hope you're prepared to pay up. I worked hard for these grades."

There were only three classes you were tutoring him in. The remaining classes he needed to graduate. Mr. Allen's Chemistry, Mrs. O'Donnel's Advanced Algebra, and Mr. Jones's Government class.

Thankfully your blush is minimal as you stop in front of the blocked lockers. "Hand 'em over," you hum, holding out your hand. He passes the folder into your hands and you're a little surprised by just how thick it feels in your hand.

He pushes off the wall and leans in close enough to your ear to taunt you that you can feel the heat of his breath fan across your cheek. "I even did the extra credit in Chem." You quirk an eyebrow at him as he holds you in an intense stare just inches from your face. You try to suppress your smile as you adjust the books in your arms to give it your full attention.

It'd be a lie to say that you weren't utterly feverish to discover exactly how good. How many times you thought of him tucked under you comforter at night, aching for his promises that he made last Friday. Aching to know how he tasted, what those talented fingers could do, and how much eagerly he wanted to touch you. Late nights filled with desperate, muffled whines for him. Keeping quiet as you squirm in the dark, wishing for the relief that his skin would give you, craving giving him anything he needed, being by Eddie Munson.

He seemed pretty excited. "Extra credit, who are you and what have you done with Eddie?" You tease softly, your smile turning demure. Eddie's shoulders roll back as he tilts his head to the side, modeling his pretty neck for you. It reminds you of a brightly colored bird.

"What can I say, I really like my tutor." The hallways are beginning to clear as you flip open the folder and smile at the top page. His government test with a big, fat 'B-' on the top right corner. You flit your eyes over to his, where they burn with a darkness. He blows you a playful kiss.

"This is excellent Eddie!" You flip through his next couple assignments. "Two 'C's, a 'C+', 'B-', and a 'B', Extra credit..."

"I got full credit for it, does that count as an 'A+'." You flush as you consider. It certainly shouldn't go unrewarded if you wanted to encourage it. You draw out your consideration and his eyes light up with eagerness.

"I don't think this warrants that kind of reward," you answer honestly and he deflates, until you follow up with a... "but..." his head snaps up at that, "I kind of had a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" He asks. "Don't leave me in suspense, sweetheart." You glance around at the lingering student body.

"Can we go out to your van first?" You ask him quietly. His face goes blank and he snatches your hand to pull you towards the front doors. "Wait, wait, wait, Eddie!" you call and he halts as you dig the heels of your shoes into the tiled floor to yank him to a halt.

"What?"

"Let me get my bag first. It's in there." Eddie grins and turns around to sweep his hands at your locker. You smile and turn to open your locker, Eddie hanging over your shoulder.

"Do I get a hint?" he hums, but before you can answer, someone shouts his name from down the hall.

"Eddie, c'mon, what are you standing around for? We've got to set up!" You glance down the hall at Gareth and Jeff. Gareth is throwing his hands up in the air.

"Hold on!" He shouts and then turns his attention back to you.

"Do you need to go?"

"No, not even hellfire is getting between me and this surprise," he grins.

"Oh, you guys moved it to Friday?"

"Yeah, I figured we can tweak our schedule tomorrow. I can pick you up-"

"Hey, Eddie!" You giggle at the second interruption of the conversation. Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler's little brother, are jogging up to the irate metalhead. Eddie's mouth presses into a thin line as he regards the kids.

"What is it?" He sighs,

"What's up your ass?" Mike scoffs. You bite your lip to hold your laugh as you start filing through what books you'll need for weekend homework.

"Conversation, A," he points to himself, "B," he points to you, "see your way out of it!" You drag your bag out of your locker and close it. You hit him with an unimpressed look.

"Well, we wanted to ask," Dustin starts, "but I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Dustin, this is Mike." He holds his hand out with a toothy grin. You take his hand, shaking it with an introduction as Eddie slips up next to you.

"We're in Hellfire with Eddie and it's supposed to start in like, five minutes, would you like to join?" You blink with surprise.

"Oh, I don't know how to play D'n'D." You reply evenly. Eddie clears his throat softly.

"I could teach you," he offers, regarding you with playful eyes.

"Totally, it's actually super fun! It's based on strategy and there's a ton of different ways to play!" Mike encourages and receives a harsh look from the senior standing beside you. Eddie was being possessive of you, wanting your singular attention.

"Look, whatever this is..." He gestures between the two of them. "Lose it. I'll be in there. Give me... fifteen minutes?" He confirms with you.

"Be nice," you instruct him flatly before turning towards the two kids. "But fifteen minutes should do it." He rolls his eyes at the kids and grabs your hand to start dragging you away.

"Who'd have thought Eddie's girlfriend would be so nice?"

"Girlfriend?" You repeat in surprise to Eddie exclusively when he comes to a full stop at the word. The kids are walking away and thankfully don't hear your question.

"I never told them you were my girlfriend," he immediately discloses to you. You roll your eyes at him and continue you on, tugging at his hand but admiring the pretty blush that fans his cheeks.

"Come on, sweetiepea," you tease and he laughs awkwardly as you are both trotting into the parking lot.

"But, um," he rumbles in a far more sober tone, he pulls you to a stop, facing you directly. "I want to take you out." You tense as he says this.

"Oh." You sigh and glance around as you think. You shift on your feet as he tilts his face to the side. "You do?" You ask.

Eddie gives an awkward chuckle. "You don't?" He prompts. You teeter on your toes for a moment.

"I think it's more complicated than that, Eddie," you tell him softly, "but I'm... open to talking about it." He wets his lips and steps closer, eyes sliding across your eyes.

"Honey," he hums, "You don't have to go out with me, but... answer me this," he uses the knuckle of his free hand to nudge your chin up a bit, "Do you want... me?"

The air smells earthy. A contradiction in itself as dead leaves skirt across the asphalt of the draining parking lot. Eddie was washing his vulnerability across your skin with the trial of his voice. It was braver than you had any right to enjoy, but after a moment of thought you feel the need to meet him on that level, to share in that vulnerability so it wouldn't be quite so scary.

Your free hand drifts across his jean vest, taking in the coarse fabric as you reach for the collar. You grasp it firmly before pulling him closer to you. You breathe deeply before sighing out, "Yes."

It's simple as he nods. "That's so stupid of you," he responds with a nervous smile.

"Only if you make it so," you reply with a warning and he breathes shakily. You release him by the collar and continue pulling him to his van. He rushes to get to the passenger side for you, swinging the door open. "Thank you," you chirp and climb in. He trots around to the other side and slides into the driver's seat.

There is a heavy moment of silence as you glance at each other. "So, when I had you teach me something," you start as he twists to face you in the seat, "I wanted to model the studying after how you teach. I figure that's the easiest way for you to learn."

Eddie's eyebrows tilt up. "What was your conclusion?"

"Kinesthetic mostly," he gives you a crumpled look. "Hands on. You need to be apart of it, to tinker."

"How do you learn?"

"Writing and visually. The four main groups are kinesthetic, writing, visual, and audio. You are more audio and kinesthetic, if you're learning to play songs by ear." He tilts his head at you with interest. "So, that being said, you've responded the best so far to... motivation and you get distracted when your bored so I was worried that the motivation might get boring for you."

Eddie barks a laugh at you, eyes glittering. "Jeez, your brain is like a supercomputer, I swear." Your face twists at that and you bite your lip as Eddie's smile fades. "Hey, it's a compliment. I swear," he urges.

"I..." you start and fade off.

Eddie takes a deep frustrated breath and looks out at the parking lot. "I know I try to get under your skin," he starts, "but I hate it when you make that face. It kind of makes me sick to my stomach. It's not as fun as I expect it to be. So what did I say, that's the second time now."

You fiddle with the strap on your bag for a moment, fighting the tears away. "'I’m not a robot, Eddie. I have emotions and thoughts and... I don't always get... what's said in between the words. Logic is easier... that doesn't make me less human." A hand skirts across to brace on your knee and your stomach jumps.

"If anything," he coaxes, "it makes you superhuman. Better than the rest of us." You spare a glance over at him and find soulful, brown eyes glittering at you. "I've never met anyone who just... understands. I watch and I see, but you, you watch and you understand. I see the gears turning in your head all of the time. I wish I had that setting."

"It's not a setting, it's all the time. I can't just switch it off. My brain never stops." Eddie smiles at you, eyes crinkling with empathy.

"I think I understand that better than most. It's like fighting nature itself. Never a quiet moment." You nod at him, sighing out with some relief that he understood. He could conceptualize how you operated.

"Exactly."

Eddie's smile widens. "So, do I still get my surprise?"

It's your turn to smile at the way he defuses your tension. "Of course," you reply as he gives you a gentle squeeze of your thigh. You draw the cardboard out of your bag to reveal a spinning dial, expertly color coded. You present it to him as he laughs. "We could fill in with little things that if you're sick of my cookies or something you can spin for a possible change."

"I get to pick things out?" He chirps.

"Sure, as long as we both agree." Eddie grins maliciously and his fingers pinch the tender skin on the inside of your thigh, making you squeak and swat at his hand. His eyes widen.

"Are you ticklish?" He rumbles playfully.

"Eddie, you've got like five more minutes..." you warn sternly, pushing his hand away with an embarrassed glare. He pouts and leans in towards your face, eyes lit up like a cat that's noticed a mouse.

"Okay, okay... is that long enough for me to get the reward for my 'B-'?" Your cheeks flush further and you glance into the back of his van. That could be secluded enough you think.

"Okay," you hum softly and his eyebrows raise with delight.

"Really?"

"Mhmm." You nod your head towards the back of his van and he darts, snatching your hand to pull you after him.

"Please tell me I can unwrap you like a present," he begs and the way he asks makes your knees tremble enough that you wobble and stumble down on them after you've barely made it past the front seats. Eddie's eyes go wide as he tries to soften your fall.

"Ah, sorry!" You chirp, a little frazzled as you attempt to give him an embarrassed smile.

His grin etched across his face, full of salacious cues. "What, that get you excited, pretty girl?"

Your cheeks flare with heat as your brain sparks out and he must see it written on your face because his laugh is out right evil. He's corrosive to your steely exterior and there was nothing you could do to stop that. The only thing rotating through your head was Eddie's voice saying pretty girl on repeat.

Was that really all it took to fry your circuits?

"Uh-huh," fell from your mouth before you could stop it.

Eddie's face freezes, too as you cave into him. It was an excellent example of just how easy you were to bend under the right circumstances. Eddie swallows before giving you a possibly nervous laugh and kneeling down with you.

"I-I mean... shit," you say, hands covering your face in horror. Your nervous break has Eddie grinning and pulling your hands away from your mouth. "I didn't... mean to-to say that-that." You squeeze your eyes shut and your lip wobbles because the repeating words begin.

Eddie sets your palms down in your lap as he gives you a chuckle, wetting his lips. "I think I could use a little more of your honesty," he rasps and your breath hitches as he reaches for your waist, untucking your shirt and sweater with a wiggling motion from where they are secured in the waistband of your jeans.

You don't trust yourself to speak, not when he's staring right at you with those endless eyes. He's barely (technically not even) touching you and your chest is expanding deeper and deeper with each breath.

If you could only see inside his head, every ounce of delicate nervousness would be washed away. Every conscious moment had you. He felt like he was fourteen all over again, springing erections at the very smell of you or the curl of your shy smiles, the ones that had lingering of heat at the edges. The idea of you giving yourself over to him so easily.

If it had been any other girl, he'd have been excited, sure. He was twenty and a pretty girl offering her services as a reward would have simply been a brag. But it was you. You who had seemed so immune to his ridiculous boyish crush for years. You who had been impervious to every flirt he'd attempted throughout the years. You who was smarter than anyone he'd ever met. You who didn't give a shit if you were a cheerleader or if you were dating a jock. You who'd actually had a sense of justice. You... who offered yourself to him ooohhh so sweetly in his bedroom after a tearfilled confession.

It was torture.

He'd had to fuck his fist three times after you left that night just to be able to get rid of the ever-returning erection. Hell, you'd given him more than enough to work with.

"Fuck," he groans as he peels the sweater up over your head and you happily help but lifting your arms. "You don't even know how hot you look right now."

It makes you whimper.

Eddie freezes as he stares at you, his own chest rising and falling heavily. His fingers tremble as they work your buttons loose. The sounds of shaky breathing and the soft press of fabric sliding on fabric is filling the inside of the enclosed space. It's a little too stuffy in here but that makes your heart pound harder as his fingers glide gently over the skin of your shoulders.

It hitches your breath, the heat of his palms as he pushes the open blouse off your shoulders. Your brain, as if to prove your earlier conversation wrong, melts in the heat of the moment until you can't think. Those eyes scorch your skin as he takes in the silky hold of your breasts. He hooks his index fingers through the straps and drags them slowly down, savoring unwrapping you.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, face crumbling in distress as you feel the fabric flip under your breasts. His face is twisted as his eyes take a moment to dart up to yours. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that falls out is another soft, "Jesus Christ."

He looks closer to tears than you've ever seen. It's what drives you to lift up onto your knees and push closer, cupping his head in your hands. He's so close you can feel his damp breath breeze across your breasts. His hands rise to cradle your waist, sliding up you until with a jerk you're in his lap and gasping.

Your sternum collides a bit with his forehead as his hands start to creep upward. You smack his hands and he jerks away to stare at you like a kicked puppy. It almost works.

"What?"

"'B+'," you reply. "You... you've earned the right to... see them, and to... a picture, but you-you haven't earned feeling them," you whisper, voice already fighting to come out. Eddie's gaze softens and he nods obediently.

"Look so good," he sighs. "So good." There is a mutual understanding, the dangling that if he really wanted to, he could. He was inches away from his fingers gliding up to caress you in the way you ached for. Barely a breath away from scooping up your nipple with his tongue to taste. “Did you touch yourself to the thought of my rewards?” He asks, fingers dancing sweetly over your waist again.

A shuddering sigh leaves you and you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. Your thumbs trace his cheek bones. “Every night since you offered to touch me,” you manage on the edge of a sigh, cheeks deepening with color. Your eyes float up to gauge his reaction, flutter with the desire to turn away. His fingers tighten and knead the skin of your waist.

His mouth goes slack with want, eyes boring into yours. “I love your honesty. You’re being so good,” he praises softly.

It felt kind of torturous but as he adjusts you feel something nudge your center and your eyes snap down to the shape at the front of his pants. "He doesn't lie, you know," he promises you.

"No?" You find yourself smiling with mild amusement. "It's not like Pinocchio?" Eddie grins nearly drunkenly at your poor joke.

"The polar opposite... save for being woody," he rumbles back and juts his chin in your direction. He's staring at your mouth, his hands finding purchase on your hips, thumbs rubbing little circles over your skin, sending tingles down your legs.

You sink curiously down into his lap and his eyes seal shut with a rather deep intake of his breath. Your heart is hammering at the sight as you feel yourself pulse against him. As he breathes out his eyes hood at you, mouth tilting towards yours.

You lean back with your shoulders, just barely out of reach of his kiss. A taunted groan rumbles in his chest. "No?" He hums.

You wet your lips, a demure smile spreading across your mouth as you shake your head at him. You find yourself biting your lower lips to keep you grounded.

"What do I have to do to earn that then?" He asks.

"Add it to the-the wheel?" You offer and his smile is stretching affectionately across his face. He sighs softly.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Eddie! You better get your ass out here!" Gareth roars as you're both scrambling in the back of the van.

Eddie launches you onto your back beside him as he scrambles up to the driver's seat and rolls the manual window down. It nearly knocks the adrenaline out of you as he grumbles about 'these friends cockblocking him'.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Eddie snarls as you're sliding your straps back in place and searching for your blouse.

"My problem? Dude, get out here! We're ready to start our campaign and you said 'fifteen minutes' twenty... two minutes ago."

"Gareth," Eddie seethes as you button the front of your shirt, not bothering with all of them before scrambling to put your sweater on.

"No- Eddie, get the fuck out here? What's more important than-" but then you're making contact with Gareth as you're tucking in your shirt, hair still tucked into both aspects of clothing. Eddie glances in the rear view mirror as you flush with embarrassment.

"Shit," Eddie sighs.

"You're really boning the valedictorian?" Gareth demands.

"No!" Eddie snaps. "We're not boning, okay?"

"Really?" His friend scoffs. "Just get in here!"

With that, Eddie gives a frustrated groan and rolls the window up, Gareth already left your slot of the window. When he twists around you give him a little wicked giggle that makes his eyebrows creep up his face.

"You think that's funny?" He accuses, eyes glinting as you giggle uncontrollably harder, hand covering your mouth as you shake your head at him. "Are you sure?" He teases creeping closer to you. Your giggles are getting more wicked until he's moving fast and you're all but tackled to the floor of his van.

Eddie pins your hands to the carpet, hovering directly in your face. "You better get your ass inside," you hum, "your subjects are waiting."

"But you see, there's one more nefarious thing that I must do."

"What's tha-ahmpf!" Eddie's mouth is on yours before you can finish your question, eyes widening as he intertwines your fingers. That heat you were feeling starts flooding your body back.

He's straddling you, and yet somehow his weight isn't enough. He's not resting against the one place you need it. But your mouth parts to mimic his hesitantly, regardless of your lower protests. You copy him, gasping quietly into his mouth, before he pulls back.

He sits back then, grinning down at you on the floor below him, flushed and pouting. "Had to steal a kiss from the princess in secret," he jokes, "don't pout, I'll earn my next one."

"I... want another one," you murmur and his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas. His warm laughter bounces off the walls of the van.

"Next time, we've got to go," he chirps and pulls you up.

"Do I... look decent?" You ask untucking your hair and fluttering your hands over it, hoping it's not too obvious what you were doing in the back of the van.

"You look stunning," he urges with a wink and climbs up front.

More pounding startles you from the wall of the van.

"Not what I meant and you know it!" You hiss but he opens the passenger door and you both file out. You snag your bag from the front seat, leaving the unfinished wheel on the passenger seat instead.

"Oh, and Eddie," you call, turning towards the two boys, you fish your hand into the front pocket of your bag. "For that 'B'... and the extra credit." His eyes widen as you draw two polaroids out of your bag. You'd prepared six... just in case. Six you thought looked good. There were more among the ash in your fireplace at home that were awkward angles (close to twenty more).

You can't look as you draw them out, too indecisive on which ones he'd like. He's in front of you like an obedient dog in an instant, taking them like it's gospel.

"You were walking around all day with these in your locker?" He demands as Gareth tries to peek only to be met with a literal pushy Eddie. You grin, flushed deep pink, surely. His gaze goes gummy with heat again, melting under your soft seduction that you’re beginning to lean into. He was nothing but putty to your soft and genuine admiration of him. You’re finding how responsive he is to the warm and sticky center that he’s managed to find in the maze of your steel barricade.

"Bye, Eddie." You hum, thrilled with surprising and delighting him.

"Bye, Honey," Eddie teases back, dazed as you turn on heel.

"Have fun with your board game club," you toss back and manage to get Gareth to snort. Eddie's eyes narrow on your own form retreating towards your car.

"What's that?" You hear his friend demand.

"I'll take your hand off. You’re not looking." You smile to yourself, stealing glances over your shoulder as the boys roughhouse.

Your first kiss stolen with the most delicious thievery you’ve ever tasted; the ghosting memory enchants your lips. You can still feel the heat of his calloused hands drifting over your thrumming skin. The scent of him, wearing on the day, still clinging to you as you settle into your car.

Again, I'm not doing a taglist for this currently. If you want to follow this short series hit the follow and turn on notifications.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fics #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #mad sounds

657 notes · View notes

cheolhub · 2 years ago

Note

sar what are your thoughts on who in txt is more likely to be a camboy and enjoy the attention 👁️👁️

— seungschlong anon

TXT AS CAMBOYS

first, MINORS DNI 18+ second, let’s be serious.

CHOI SOOBIN

this baby loves the attention. i mean, they all do, but pretty boy soobin? he lives for it and would probably die for it too.

it’s less about the money and more about finding comfort in feeling pleasure <3

he cams about every 3 days, but sometimes he’ll get so hard while he’s out ‘n sneak away to do a live, in public cam sess and he’s all hushed asking, “d’you guys think you could make me cum really quick? ‘m so hard :(“ (yes, you can hear him pouting even though his camera is pointed at his dick)

and the sweet comments are what get him

all of them are a variation of the same thing— “you’re so beautiful 🥺” and “your cock is so big!” and, his personal favorite, “you’re doing so well, baby~”

absolutely thrives off the attention and validation and praise… it kinda turns him into a whore

and ahh, sweet baby would be like, “can i cum? will you guys let me?” he asks almost every show, resulting in hundreds of dollars in tips <3

the comments always tell him “yes” because how can they say no when he sounds so breathy ‘n sweet? :(

CHOI YEONJUN

i know i said soobin lives for it, but yeonjun? god, yeonjun loves everything about being a camboy

cams every few days, much like soobin, but his are always the same day and time unless something comes up

he does it for both the money and the fact that his ego is going to get stroked

and yes, his loyal viewers are well aware that they’re inflating his already large ego, but no one really cares

he’s so fucking slick. he’s reading the comments and he’s like, “oh? you think i’m hot? how hot, baby?” as is if he were talking to one person but he’s really talking to everyone.

and the comments always consist of quite possibly the most unhinged shit a comment section could have

and he just laughs at all of them and says some provoking shit back like, “if you want me to ruin you, why don’t you come over here ‘n try to take my cock then? bet you couldn’t even handle it~”

one of the top camboys in the group !! his tips pay for everything in his life xx

CHOI BEOMGYU

MEAN MEAN MEAN MEAN!!!!!

just so fucking mean, he doesn’t even care. he cams when he needs to blow off some steam so it’s sporadic but there’s at least one show a week (no set time or day or place)

and he literally loves the money and loves all the sluts in his comments getting all needy for him

he’ll be in his gaming chair, panting and moaning while reading all the needy comments and listening to the sound of tips being donated

everyone’s in heat and he’s just laughing at them, “you’re all so fucking pathetic? you like watching me jerk my cock? is it turning all of you on?”

and of-fucking-course it’s turning them on, he knows that, but he’s such a MEANIE that he likes reading the viewers agree to it

“aw, look at all of you in heat, that’s so fucking cute,” he’ll say in the most patronizing tone. “too bad you won’t get to watch me cum.” :(

he ends up giving the commenters an incentive, “oh you guys really wanna see me cum? wanna see me make a fucking mess? get me up to x dollars ‘n i’ll think about it.” sometimes he’ll cut the live as he’s cumming and sometimes he’ll let everyone watch all of it unfold— YOU NEVER KNOW AND THIS IS HOW HE’S RICH!!!!

KANG TAEHYUN

one of those sweet, soft doms. his words would make you melt every single time without fail

he loves giving!! cams for free because he knows there isn’t much content that guides people to their orgasms (but he still gets a shit load of tips that it makes up for it) and the attention makes him feel good! he’s doing god’s work tbh

like beomgyu, it’s weekly, but there’s always a time and place. thursdays at 10:45 p.m.

he loves talking to the chat before getting started. he’ll offer small talk with a soft, pretty voice. “while we wait for more people to join, everyone tell me how their weeks been.”

and then when he gets started, he’s being all sweet and praising the fuck out of his watchers. everyone’s crying in the chat about how they’re “gonna cum” even though he’s only been at it for 10 minutes

“you wanna cum for me? you know you don’t have to ask for my permission, but go ahead and let go yeah? imagine it’s me making you feel good and just let go for me.”

ah! and he moans so prettily when he cums unexpectedly after 20 minutes of talking up the watchers and languidly stroking his cock >////< always ends the live with a wink and cheeky comment like, “be good for me till next week, hm?”

HUENING KAI

WORLDS BEST CAM BOY- I DON’T MAKE THE RULES. he’s literally everything you could ever want!

does it for the endless love and attention, and he’s smitten as fuck with his viewers.

this baby cams every other night if he can because his stamina is ungodly… i’m telling you it’s literally insane

he’s a switch too and i can imagine him being kind of kinky? fleshlight, vibrator, strap, stuffed teddy etc. but sometimes he just uses his hand and that’s just as good. but, like, you never actually know what you’re going to be watching till the live starts— which he thinks is pretty fucking fun

when he’s domming, it’s really just him being a bratty top replying to comments and saying things like, “you want me to play with my nipples, too? you’re so needy. why don’t you play with your nipples, baby? bet, you’d look so cute all f’me.”

and when he’s being a sub, it’s so so cute. he’s in tears and he’s begging so bad, “please, please, please lemme cum! i’ll be a good boy, i swear!” and, of course, his watchers hold grudges so they have him edge himself.

he’s cute and hot and undoubtedly the highest ranking camboy online so we all know his tips are insane because how couldn’t they be?

always closes out with asking everyone how good they felt and smiles reading the endless comments about how he’s THE camboy

#[💌: seungschlong]#SEUNGSCHLONG STRIKES AGAIN!!!!#THAT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE OSBSHDB #not proofread #kinda crack?#but like also real #txt smut #soobin smut #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #taehyun smut #hueningkai smut

516 notes · View notes

hyperfixatedonthisnow · 1 year ago

Text

Love in the Rain

*not my GIF Summary: Nikolai is your best friend and you’re hopelessly in love with him, too bad he’s engaged to Alina Starkov. But maybe a storm and a love confession could change everything. Requested by: kateswone - Could you do a Nikolai x reader one, where there's a lot of pining and in the rain confession in the end? - This started as a drabble and somehow became 6000 words 🙈 I hope you like it! Word count: 6K ish Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Minor Alina Starkov friendship and brief mention of Dominic Vertov, mild angst/pining, fluff, idiots in love, smut, fem!reader, fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!), suggestion of oral sex. Fun fact, this was my first ever request! I had so much fun writing it, so if anyone would like to request something in the future please do, my inbox is always open and anonymous asks are on too 😊

You had always known you were illegitimate, born to a nobleman and his housekeeper. Though their union may have been scandalous, you believed with all your heart that they had loved each other.

You had few true memories of your mother, who had died when you were very young, but you remembered the happy years you had spent with your father, who had been warm and loving. He had always treated you as his daughter and never made you feel less than. Unfortunately when he died, yet another casualty of the Ravkan war, you had finally found out what it truly meant to be illegitimate. A bastard child could not inherit and your father’s estate had been entailed away to some distant male relation. The new master of the house had not wanted the trouble or expense of raising a child, and your father’s will did not include any incentive for him to do so. So you were promptly dropped off at an orphanage and at 8 years old, you had found yourself completely alone in the world. You had little to call your own except a book of fairy tales that had once belonged to your mother. Some of the pages were frayed around the edges and the cover was battered and worn, but it was your most treasured possession. The stories were all of a similar ilk, cautionary tales with brave princes fighting dragons and ogres, and princesses held hostage or locked away in towers. The heroes always triumphed and the damsel was always saved, and they all lived happily ever after. You would read the stories over and over, dreaming that one day you too would get your happy ending. Adjusting to life in the orphanage had been difficult, you were used to fine food, to goose-down pillows and silk, but now you ate meager rations, wore clothes of peasant rough-spun and slept on a mattress stuffed with hay. You tried your best to acclimate and vowed never to complain, but your high rank of birth made you unpopular, both with the other children and the staff.

They made it clear that they resented your good manners and education. They mocked the way you spoke and how you held yourself, deliberately excluded you from games and always saddled you with the worst of the chores. No matter how hard you tried, you did not fit in. So any time an opportunity presented itself that would allow you time away from the orphanage, you took it. That was how you met Nikolai. You were 12 and him 14, and you were on the Vertov farm for the summer to help with the wheat harvest. It was hard work but the Vertovs were good people and they treated you kindly. They invited you to eat dinner with the family every night and one night, their son Dominic brought along a friend from the palace. With his golden hair and shiny boots, Nikolai looked as if he had walked right off the page of your storybook. He took the seat next to you and when he engaged you in conversation it seemed like he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. You quickly found that he was as charming as he was handsome, a fairytale prince brought to life and you warmed to him immediately. In the weeks that followed that first meeting, Nikolai was at the farm almost as often as you were. He rolled up his sleeves and mucked in with the work, spending long days in the fields alongside you and Dominic. Sometimes the boys would tease you, but it was never mean-spirited in the way that it was at the orphanage and soon the three of you became firm friends, joking and laughing together as you worked. Nikolai in particular was easy to talk to and over time you confided in him about how awful things were at the orphanage and how much you missed your father. In return he had told you a bit about his life at the palace, his complicated relationship with his brother and the rumors of his own parentage. You both knew what it was like to feel that you didn’t belong, and having someone else who understood made you feel less alone. Before long you had developed a crush on the prince, though it wasn’t your fault. He was always looking at you, and smiling in that way that made butterflies take flight in your stomach, always telling jokes and trying to make you laugh. He insisted he sit next to you whenever he stayed for dinner, and he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room that mattered. As September came to an end, so did the harvest and you were to return to the orphanage. You had cried saying your goodbyes, and Nikolai had enveloped you in a hug, squeezing you tight and promising he would see you again soon. Just a few days later, a messenger had arrived to notify you that there was a place for you within the Queen’s household. It didn’t take long for the young prince to seek you out once you arrived at the palace, but when you thanked him for bringing you there he had acted the picture of innocence, declaring he had no idea what you were talking about. His mother chose her own ladies, he insisted, though his mischievous grin suggested otherwise. Although she was surely aware of your illegitimate status, the Queen graciously allowed you to adopt your fathers name at court, and the other ladies accepted you as one of their own without question. You found it was remarkably easy to settle into a happy existence at the palace, especially since Nikolai was a constant presence, always there to help and encourage you. No matter how busy he was, you could always depend on seeing him at least once a day. Sometimes he would seek you out at breakfast, stealing fruit from your plate and winking at you when his mother scolded him, or stop you in the hallway to ask about your day while the other ladies giggled behind you, but his favorite time to visit you was late at night, when everyone else was asleep. He would sneak into your room, face lit by dim candlelight and sit cross-legged on your bed, talking endlessly about anything and everything - palace gossip, an idea he had for an invention, places you both wanted to travel, dreams for the future. Even when he went off with Dominic to complete his military service, and then off to sea, he somehow still found time to write to you several times a week until he returned. Now almost 12 years had passed since he had rescued you from your life at the orphanage and Nikolai was no longer a prince, but he was still your best friend. Which only made the fact that your childhood crush had blossomed into unrequited love that much more difficult to bare. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The state banquet was in full swing and you were seated near one end of the long table. The Kaelish ambassador sat to your right and another man on your left, though you could not recall his title. Both men had been talking almost non-stop for over an hour, each competing for your attention, but you had long since tuned them out. You couldn’t stop your eyes wandering to where you knew the King sat, at the head of the table. He was deep in conversation with Alina Starkov, who held the place of honour by his side, but his eyes met yours briefly and the corner of his mouth tipped up into that boyish smile you loved so much. The Kaelish ambassador laid a hand on top of yours on the table, trying to regain your attention and Nikolai’s smile dropped from his face, a small crease appearing between his brows in its place. You turned away, breaking the eye contact so that you could politely extricate yourself from the ambassador’s grasp. When you looked back, the King had returned to his conversation, the Sun Saint once again holding his full attention. You watched as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, and she tipped her head back to laugh. You studied her as you sipped your wine. The Sun Saint and the saviour of Ravka. You wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t even allow you that you thought bitterly, because not only was she beautiful, she was also brave and kind. Even her laugh was pretty, a light, musical sound. Despite the fact that she had grown up an orphan like you, she had a way about her that just screamed royalty. She would make a perfect Queen for him. You pushed away your plate of half-eaten dinner, your appetite quite ruined. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai watched you from the opposite end of the table. Alina was talking and he knew he should be focused on her but in truth he was barely even listening. You looked stunning tonight, even more so than usual, and he was having a hard time taking his eyes off you. Your gaze finally fell on him and he smiled back at you, warmth blooming in his chest at having your full attention even in the crowded room, but then the Kaelish ambassador touched your hand with his and Nikolai’s heart sank. You were a beautiful and intelligent woman and yet you were still unmarried, so it was no surprise that any man seated next to you would be vying for your affections. Nikolai knew he had no right to be upset, given his own engagement to Alina, but truthfully, he was a selfish creature at his core and he did not want to see you with anyone but him. As you turned to the ambassador, Nikolai forced himself to shift his attention back to Alina, he couldn’t stand to watch the other man flirt with you. Alina was giving him a knowing look and he didn’t like it. The last thing he wanted was a lecture on the dangers of unrequited love from the Sun Saint. Humor was his favorite method of deflection, and it had always served him well in the past, so he leaned in close, quietly making a joke about the unfortunate looking man sat opposite them. Alina laughed and the moment passed just as he’d hoped it would. He made a concentrated effort to keep his eyes off of you for the rest of dinner. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After dinner, the King and his fiancé led the procession, their arms linked together delicately, as everyone moved to the ballroom. You trailed behind, tempted to just duck out altogether and go back to your room where you could be alone. Then the Kaelish ambassador appeared at your side, offering to escort you in and dashing all hopes of escape. You looped your arm through his reluctantly and allowed him to take you into the crowded ballroom. Your eyes swept the room involuntarily, seeking Nikolai out as always. You found him off to the side of the dance floor, talking with Alina again, their arms still linked and their heads bent intimately close together. You ignored the bloom of pain in your chest and forced yourself to look away. You turned to the man at your side instead, plastering a smile on your face. “Are you enjoying your time in Ravka, ambassador?” You asked. “Very much so,” he smiled, “but then, what man would not enjoy your charming company?” You looked away, feeling your cheeks heating up at the compliment. “That’s very kind of you to say, ambassador.” “Please, call me Cillian.” “I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” you demurred. “I insist,” he said, taking your hand. You caught sight of Nikolai in your peripheral vision, he and Alina were moving towards you and panic clawed at your throat. You didn’t have it in you tonight to pretend to be happy for them. “Alright,” you allowed, giving him the coyest smile you could manage, “but only if you will agree to dance with me.” The ambassador - Cillian, looked thrilled and you felt a stab of guilt, but you let him lead you away from Nikolai and out onto the dance floor all the same. The orchestra struck up a new tune, blending seamlessly from the last and Cillian pulled you in, one hand clasped with yours and the other at your waist. You tried to keep your eyes entirely on him, studying his features as you moved together through the steps of the dance. He was several years older than you, you determined, but not old, and he was handsome enough, with dark auburn hair and emerald green eyes. He wasn’t Nikolai, but then, no one could measure up to him in your opinion.

When the dance ended, Cillian disappeared to go and fetch you both a drink. You waited for him at the edge of the crowd, and watched as Nikolai escorted Alina out onto the dance floor. The music started up again, a slow, romantic melody and Nikolai held Alina as close as propriety would allow, one hand pressed to the small of her back. At first the two of them just swayed together in time with the music, completely caught up in each other, and then Nikolai whispered something in her ear and finally started to lead her in the dance. They moved beautifully together, perfectly in sync and suddenly you felt so sick, you couldn’t stand it. You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowded ballroom and towards the exit as fast as your feet would carry you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai stared steadfastly ahead as he led the guests into the ballroom, Alina on his arm. If he allowed himself to look around, he would only look for you. He stopped walking as he reached the opposite side of the room, deeming it far enough away from the door and other people to be acceptable. “You might as well look for her,” Alina said, leaning in to him, “I know you want to.” “Who?” he asked, playing dumb. “You know who,” she pressed patiently, “you should go find her and tell her how you feel.” “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice coming out entirely too high to be believable. He cleared his throat conspicuously and she gave him that knowing look again. “Oh come on,” she said, rolling her eyes, “a blind person could see that you’re in love with her.” “I’m not -“ he started automatically, but he cut himself off when Alina raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Okay, I am,” he admitted, “but I can’t tell her that. She’s my best friend.” “All the more reason to tell her,” Alina reasoned, “all the best relationships start out as friendship.” “No,” Nikolai insisted, “she doesn’t see me that way and I can’t risk losing her.” “With great risk comes great reward,” Alina shrugged, “that sounds like something Sturmhond would say, don’t you think?” “Sturmhond isn’t here,” he muttered, but a nagging voice in his head told him she was right. “Look, there she is now,” Alina said, and Nikolai couldn’t help himself. He turned his head, following her line of sight until he spotted you in your pale blue gown, talking with the same man who had held your attention at dinner. You were smiling and your cheeks were flushed as the ambassador took your hand. Before Nikolai had even had a chance to react, Alina was grasping his arm tight and dragging him through the crowd towards you, but by the time they reached you, you were already out on the dance floor. Jealousy coiled sharp and hot in Nikolai’s gut as he watched the other man hold you in his arms, moving you effortlessly across the floor. You stared into his eyes, as if he was the only person you could see and Nikolai’s heart ached. He couldn’t bare to watch and yet he found he couldn’t look away. As soon as the music ended, he pulled Alina onto the dance floor without even asking, determined to distract himself. “I can’t dance,” she hissed, clearly annoyed despite the smile fixed to her face, “I don’t know how!” He laid his hand lightly on the small of her back, helping her sway gently in time with the beat. “Sorry,” he whispered, “just let me lead, you’ll be fine.” He began to lead her through the dance, keeping his frame firm. Luckily the melody was slow and even, so it was not difficult for Alina to follow him, but he looked up just in time to see you fleeing the ballroom and then both their footsteps faltered. He murmured a hasty apology to Alina, abandoning her on the dance floor to pursue you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You ran aimlessly until you somehow ended up at the palace gardens. You just needed to get away, couldn’t bare to witness the happy couple for another minute. The rain was pouring down in sheets, the stormy weather a perfect mirror to your emotions. You stepped out into the downpour, and instantly regretted it as the rain soaked through your gown with every step you took, but going back inside was not an option. You kept your head down and ran towards the gazebo, seeking shelter there. Water dripped down your face, mixing with your tears as you finally allowed them to fall. The sound of the rain was loud in your ears and you were so caught up in your own misery that you were taken by surprise when he spoke. “Are you ok?” Nikolai asked, “what are you doing out here?” You whirled around, finding him standing behind you under the gazebo, presumably taking shelter from the storm as you had done. He looked just as wet as you felt, his blonde curls dripping onto his forehead and the white of his shirt almost translucent in places where the rain had soaked through completely. You wiped discreetly at your tears, clearing your throat but you didn’t answer him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. He removed his jacket, offering it up to you. “You’ll catch your death out in this storm without a coat,” he chided. When you made no move to accept it from his outstretched hand, he stepped closer, huffing impatiently and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think that’s going to do much good,” you said, and his face twisted in confusion. He looked down at the sodden garment in his hand, suddenly realizing how wet it actually was. “I suppose not,” he conceded with a chuckle. He moved to the low railing so that he could lay his jacket over it, then he leaned against it, swiping a hand through his wet hair to brush it back from his face. “What are you doing out here?” You questioned. He gave you a wry smile, “I asked you first.” “I needed a moment alone,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. He raised his eyebrows in question. Seeing you with Alina was killing me, you thought. But you couldn’t say that out loud, so instead you said, “The Kaelish ambassador proposed to me.” The lie tripped off your tongue so easily, you almost believed it yourself. Nikolai barked a surprised laugh, “Sounds like he’s had too much kvas,” he snorted, “I hope you let him down gently.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Actually, I told him I’d think about it,” you said, swallowing down your hurt. Was it really so unbelievable to him that a man could want you? “You can’t be serious?” He exclaimed, all trace of amusement suddenly gone. You shrugged your shoulders noncommittally and silence stretched between you. Nikolai scrubbed a hand over his face in apparent frustration, standing to pace uneasily. “You can’t marry him,” he said finally, his face unreadable. “Why not?” “He isn’t right for you,” he muttered. “You barely know him,” you bristled, feeling your temper begin to rise. What right did he have to decide for you? “Neither do you,” he countered. “Do you even love him?” “What does that matter? Marriage is an economic proposition,” you argued. “He’s handsome and rich, and he treats me kindly. As far as husbands go, I could certainly do much worse.” “As your friend, I am telling you that marrying him would be a mistake,” Nikolai insisted, his voice rising, “you cannot possibly be happy with a man you do not love.” “As my friend,” you spat, “you should support my choice, just as I did yours. Perhaps I do not love him now, but I will be well taken care of, and I may learn to love him in time.” Nikolai shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t believe that. I know you don’t. You’ve always wanted a love match.” “Yes well, we can’t always get what we want,” you said softly, looking away. “Not everyone can be as lucky as you and Alina.” “Alina and I are not a love match,” he frowned, “Surely you know that? Our engagement is purely a political alliance.” “Political, of course,” you huffed sarcastically. “It certainly seems that way when you’re fawning over her at every opportunity. Don’t lie to me Nikolai. You’re clearly in love with her!” “I do not fawn!” He objected angrily, “and I am not in love with Alina! How could I be, when my heart wholly belongs to you?!” You glared at him even as tears filled your eyes. “Now you’re just being cruel. To say such a thing when you know -“ you cut yourself off, your voice breaking. “When I know… what?” he demanded, moving into your personal space. Your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. You curled your hands into fists, fighting the instinct as you tilted your head back to look at him. “When you know that I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to admit it, but you were so tired of pretending. “I know no such thing,” he said, his forehead creased into a frown. He lifted his hand to push your damp hair back behind your ear and the touch made you shiver, “I am a man of many talents, it’s true, but mind reading isn’t one of them.” “Don’t be glib,” you muttered, bringing your hands up to his chest, ready to shove him away but he captured your wrists, tugging you against him instead. Your heart was pounding and you were sure he could feel it. He said nothing, just searching your expression for something, and then his face lit up in a bright smile, all of his righteous anger melting away in an instant. “Saints. I’ve spent 10 years dreaming of this moment.” “Don’t,” you warned, your tone sharp, and his frown returned. “Don’t pretend to love me back, that isn’t fair.” “I’m not pretending,” he promised. You eyed him skeptically. “I love you,” he said earnestly, “I have loved you from the very first moment that we met, and in every moment since then. Every time we have been together and every time we were apart. In every look we have shared and every word we have spoken I have felt it, I have known it deep in my soul, and I cannot go another second without you knowing it too.” You stared at him, willing yourself not to cry as you tried to process his admission. You waited for him to take the words back, to laugh and say he was joking, but he didn’t. He closed his eyes briefly, his expression serious. His mouth pressed into a thin line, like he didn’t trust himself not to say more and when he opened his eyes, they were so full of love that you could scarcely believe it. Your heart soared with joy. “I love you too,” you assured him and he dipped his head to kiss you, finally, reverent and sweet. You pressed yourself against him, needing to be closer and his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up as you opened your mouth to him. His free hand went to your hair, gently pulling out the pins that held it in place, until it tumbled down around your shoulders. Later, you wouldn’t be sure if it was you or him that had turned the kiss hungry, but the shift felt so natural, like coming home, even as heat spread through you like wildfire, desperate and out of control. When your mouths finally separated, you were both breathless. You panted, trying to catch your breath and he placed a kiss below your ear before he gently sucked and nipped a line down the column of your throat and across your breasts. His clever tongue swirled over your nipple through the fabric of your gown and you gasped, arching in to him. He tugged at your neckline, seeking access to more skin and growled in frustration when it didn’t give way. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled him back up so that you could cover his mouth with your own again. He reached around to the back of your gown, nimble fingers making light work of the dozens of tiny buttons tracing your spine. As he reached the final button, you suddenly remembered that you were outside. It was dark, and the storm made it improbable that anyone would happen upon you out here in the gazebo, but improbable was not impossible. “Wait,” you murmured. To his credit, his hands stilled instantly, albeit reluctantly, and he raised his head to regard you. “Not here, someone might see us.” “I don’t care,” he said, his mouth returning to your throat and you struggled to recall why you were objecting. “Nikolai…” you tried again weakly. “I must have you,” he insisted, his voice rough with arousal, “I cannot wait a moment longer.” And really, how were you to argue with that? You dragged your hands down his chest, grabbing the hem of his shirt and he smiled as he lifted his arms, helping you pull it up and off over his head. When he slipped your gown from your shoulders, he sank to his knees along with it, pressing teasing kisses across your abdomen as the fabric pooled at your feet. Your hands grasped his shoulders as he lowered your underwear, baring you to him completely and a sudden wave of shyness over took you. You carded your fingers through his hair, fighting the urge to cover yourself. “Perfect,” he murmured, raising his eyes to meet yours. The desire in his gaze was so intense that it seemed to simmer in the air between you and just like that, your embarrassment dissipated. He tugged gently on your hips, urging you downward and when you joined him on the floor he tipped you backwards so that you were laying on your gown. The damp fabric was soft against your skin, cushioning your body from the unforgiving wood beneath it. Nikolai lay down beside you, propped up on one elbow and ran his free hand across your collarbone and down your side, his fingers skimming the underside of your breast, tracing your ribs and fluttering lightly over your stomach until they reached the apex of your thighs. He circled your clit, slow at first, gentle, and then gradually increased in speed and pressure as your body responded. He slipped his tongue into your mouth at the same time as he slipped a finger inside you and when you shuddered, he added another, curling them just right in a way that had you moaning his name. Your whole body felt tense, every muscle straining for release and he dipped his head to capture the dusky peak of one nipple between his teeth. The extra stimulation was all that you needed to reach your peak, and you clutched to him desperately as the wave of your orgasm crested, your core clenching around his fingers as he coaxed you through it. “Saints, you’re so beautiful when you come,” he confessed, his voice low and gravelly. You wanted to kiss him, but he seemed so far away and you still felt fuzzy, your limbs not quite under your control, so you settled for pressing a kiss to his shoulder instead. Luckily he seemed to understand what you needed, he hovered over you, careful to keep his weight off you as he claimed your mouth again, but you were impatient for more. You nipped at his bottom lip, pulling him down on to you, wanting to feel every inch of his body against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him ever closer and swallowed his gasp when his clothed arousal made contact with your center. You reached a hand between you and tugged at his laces, eager to rid him of his breeches. He rushed to help, pushing them down so he could kick them off as soon as they were untied. He settled himself between your thighs, his cock dipping between your folds almost of its own accord and you suddenly couldn’t wait to have him inside you. You watched as he lined himself up with your entrance. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai pressed his forehead to yours, looking down the length of your bodies so he could watch as he entered you for the first time. The sound you made as he pushed inside was almost enough to undo him, and he had to close his eyes, fighting for control of his body. Only once he was certain he would not embarrass himself did he begin to move, burying himself in your heat only to retreat, over and over in a punishing rhythm that forced the air from his lungs and had you writhing beneath him. He groaned as you moved your own hips against him, meeting his thrusts on the downstroke, chasing your own pleasure as much as his. He straightened, raising himself up slightly so he could take you in, wanting to absorb every tiny detail of you beneath him. The way your hair was spread out around you like a halo, the pink blush that spread across your cheeks and down your chest, the perfect cupids bow of your lips, kiss swollen and cherry red. He wanted to commit the moment to memory, never wanted to forget the sight of you, sinful and gorgeous, and utterly wrecked. He lowered his head so he could nip gently at the expanse of skin just above your collarbone. You keened in response, tipping your head back to bare more of your throat to him and he felt a surge of something dark and possessive, an almost overwhelming sensation that made him want to sink his teeth in, to suck a bruise into your skin and mark you as his. But he would never do it without your permission, so settled for slanting his mouth over yours instead. He hitched your legs up higher on his waist, changing the angle slightly and allowing him to slide even deeper. You cried out as he finally hit that perfect spot inside you and he groaned. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made. He chased every moan, every sigh, like an addict looking for his next fix and he knew that even if he got to make love to you a million times over, it would never be enough. You were the sea and he was a sailor lost to the rip-tide, ready to drown in your depths. His hips began to lose their rhythm as he felt the first tendrils of his impending climax creeping up his spine and he was torn between the near desperate need to come and not wanting this to ever end. He slipped his hand between your sweat slick bodies to circle your clit as he worked his hips harder, determined that you should reach completion right along with him. Your nails dug in to his shoulder involuntarily as your orgasm hit you and you whispered his name like a prayer. The spike of pain only heightened his pleasure as he followed you over the edge, spilling his seed deep within you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - You turned on to your side so that you were lying face to face, so close that your noses were touching, your limbs tangled together and sweat cooling on your skin. The rain showed no sign of stopping and you knew that you should get dressed, go back inside before you both caught a chill, but you were content to bask in the afterglow for as long as possible. Nikolai seemed to be in agreement. He made no effort to move beyond stroking his fingers up and down the length of your arm in a slow caress, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. “Marry me,” he murmured and your tender heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t know what to say, so you settled for just a slight shake of your head. Nikolai sighed dramatically. “Before you give me your final answer, I should tell you that declining the King’s hand almost certainly counts as treason.”

“You’re already engaged,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “Not if I don’t want to be,” he said easily. “I don’t care about making a political alliance and I’m sure Alina doesn’t either. She’ll likely be relieved to be rid of me, as will her tracker.” “You’re the King,” you reminded him, “You can’t just marry whoever you want on a whim.” “Actually I can,” he smirked, looping an arm around your waist to pull you even closer. “I can do as I please, because I am the King. A perk of the position is being able to indulge all of my whims.” “We both know that’s not true. You have to do what is best for Ravka, and making a bastard orphan your Queen is not it.” “Why not? They already have a bastard King, why not complete the matching set?” he grinned. “Nikolai…” He sighed exasperatedly. “If you come up with any more objections, I’m going to get my feelings hurt.” “But your advisors -“ you argued. “Are just that, advisors. They give me advice, but I do not have to take it. In fact, I much prefer to completely ignore them whenever possible. It keeps them humble,” he winked. “Nikolai, be serious,” you admonished. “I am,” he protested, “I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I have given Ravka everything I have, I am allowed to be selfish in this. I want you and I shall have you as my wife, provided you will allow it.” Your stomach did a little flip and you bit your lip, trying not to show how affected you were by his words. “I don’t know,” you mused, your tone teasing, “I have had several offers for my hand this evening. I shall have to consider my options.” “Of course,” he agreed, nodding sagely before his smile turned wicked, “but perhaps there is something I could do to tip the balance in my favor?” He nudged you gently onto your back and shifted over you so that he could trail a path of teasing kisses across your collarbone and down the length of your body. “Mmmm” you hummed airily, pretending to think about it. You threaded your fingers through the mess of his curls as he reached the apex of your thighs. “Perhaps.”

#nikolai lanstov x reader #Nikolai Duology #nikolai lantsov #Smut #fluff #pining #idiots in love #Grishaverse #Zoya is my queen but not in this fic #i wrote this

320 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

Text

Alex Keller being readers gym buddy (scenario)

Masterlist

I have this feeling, he would be so good at that with his caring nature. Thought of something sweet for our golden boy.

Alex doesn't understand, why do you keep finding reasons to NOT join him at the gym.

Because you are always so lively, energetic, you absolutely live for long hikes, you can cycle for a good half a day through the fields and parks in good weather, and that time when you two got out to the lake... He had to pull you out of the water almost by force in the evening - you liked swimming so much, you seemed to decide to stay in water for the rest of your life.

In a word, you have always been active, on the move. But when the conversation went back to going to a gym together, you shied away.

Alex repeatedly listed the advantages of this idea. "It will be fun, you will have an additional incentive to go to bed on time, and after a workout you will feel like a new person!"

"And I'll be able to see you every week," this he doesn't say out loud.

You sigh heavily. "I don't even know, Alex." You went through this conversation many times, but this time he uses an absolute sucker punch.

He lowers his head, looks up at you and listens to your ridiculous excuses with a sad but humble face.

Those puppy eyes can make you do anything. This is not even a grimace, he doesn't do that intentionally. It's just the way his expression work: it's all very soft and subtle. But it makes you weak.

You pause and exhale. "Ok, I'll come. But don't say I haven't warned you, I'm no fun to be training with..."

He smiles sincerely, and you just wonder if he really doesn't see how easily he controls you with just his gaze. Those damn beautiful blue eyes with a mesmerizing darker border. As if he wasn't already perfect, he just had to get such a powerful people control lever, goddammit...

To be honest, you were just worried that you would make his workouts a lot more boring.

He was a soldier, a true hard ass warrior. And had quite a body. You understood pretty well, that even one tenth of his regular workout would very likely make you pass out.

And there were you, a silly happy noodle, who was capable only of (gladly) dying in his hands after the very first exercise.

So on the very first morning, when he met you at the front door of your house and almost took you by the hand to the gym, you immediately confess to him. "I have no idea how to exercise properly."

"We'll figure out your exercises, no worries," he is so determined and happy, nothing seems able to distract him right now.

In the gym, at first, he does not leave you even for 5 minutes. He shows you different exercises, explains how everything here works.

You desperately try to repeat each exercise as many times as he advises. At some point, Alex notices that you are completely out of breath, your face is red, and your hands are trembling.

"Hey stop, stop!" He appears behind your back in the very next second. "You need a breather." Alex makes you sit down on the bench and gives you a bottle of water. "Seems like we have a little overachiever here, am I right?"

You shake your head, trying to catch your breath. You are just trying so very hard to not be an embarrassment to him here.

He looks at you so attentively, his eyes are incredibly caring, it's hard for you to just relax and drink your water. And when he brushes a lock of hair out of your face, you understand, that you'll never calm down your pulse.

"Hey, why do you think, we are here? I mean, what's your goal?" His voice is soft and kind.

"I don't even know..." You point uncertainly at your torso and hips. "To get this in shape?"

He looks at you confused for a few seconds, then starts speaking seriously. "This all is ideal. Just the way It's supposed to be. There is nothing to get in shape in you." He notices, how you roll your eyes, and takes your hand.

"I meant it. Look at me. I mean it. I'm serious. I don't want you to come here to despise your body, to torture yourself. A little challenge is always good, but I don't want you to start hating it here. So how about we just... have fun here? How about you love your body for what it's capable of and not hate it for not being in some mythical shape?"

As much as you understand and approve everything, he's talking about, you still feel like a burden, like a newborn kitten, trying to run along with a cheetah.

So when you express your doubts, Alex makes it his personal mission to help you feel better about yourself while exercising.

He turns into the most caring and patient personal coach. Calmly explains and shows each exercise, praises you for everything, even for the fact that you realize that you are tired and stop the exercise a little earlier.

"It's okay. It's not a problem, it's an opportunity for growth." He smiles and gives you water.

Staying hydrated is perhaps the only thing with which Alex is strict and unforgiving. Hydration is the key, and he keeps an eye on your bottle constantly. Yes, you must drink a lot.

He remembers the exercises, that were the most difficult for you, and especially praises you for doing them. "Now let's do this exercise, which you always do so well!"

If the circumstances allow it, Alex stands behind you and blows softly on your neck and shoulders to cool you down as you are working out.

As an absolute gentleman, doesn't let the slightest drop of hunger slipping into his gaze, as he watches you working out. Neither is he blind, nor a saint, but he keeps his deepest fantasies and intentions strictly to himself until he is 100% sure, It's ok to share them with you.

That be said, there are some death glares here and there, when he sees someone approaching you and making you uncomfortable. But he keeps it quite and places himself behind you in such moments to not scare you.

Tactfully, "doesn't notice" when you stare at him working out for a little too long. Secretly thrives on such moments.

Overall, Alex is just on top of the world since you two started seeing each other more often, and he could help you find more confidence and love of your body.

239 notes · View notes

athleticbelly · 1 year ago

Text

It's not the fact that you've gotten lazier. You haven't really gotten lazier. Being lazy means you've taken to not doing anything.

You're sedentary. You have become so active at the task of staying put you've become so much more efficient.

It started when you moved your bed into the living room next to the front door. Makes best use of the space after all. Then it was putting the refrigerator next to it. Easiest to grab food while you work. And having your laptop on a small cart that can be wheeled to any part of your bed is so helpful! Of course you have the microwave and air fryer on your bedside table. Makes all of those meals so much more fulfilling.

Over time you have been enjoying this. Sometimes a little too much. You've bragged about how easy your life has become from managing everything at your bed. But there are things that require moving. Bathing, getting groceries, the bathroom. So you decided to do something that helps with that. You hired help.

It was hard at first. Nobody was interested in taking the ad. Nobody wanted to help somebody be more efficient with their lifestyle. That is, until you changed some wording. And added some pictures.

A flood of messages came for weeks. People offering to donate for mobility assistance. People offering to take care of your needs. And the praise for pursuing this venture was more than you expected! But most of it was centered around eating for others.

And you didn't mind.

You found someone that was more than willing to help you. Somebody that had diet plans, medical background, was a psychiatrist, and overall a pleasant person in emails.

And you ate out of the palm of their hands. They took care of all of your needs. They pampered you with decadent foods, massages, sponge baths, and compliments. And they praised your body.

You were so focused on being efficient you didn't grasp the concept of what would eventually envelope your once athletically average body.

All of this eating and staying in one spot led to you taking up more space on that living room bed of yours. The first month was unnoticed. Your belly only becoming slightly paunchy. Pushing your pajama bottoms down ever so slightly. It became a nice place to rest your laptop after month three when it started to cover some of your thighs. You didn't notice the rest of your body until you hired the help. When they had to take your clothes off to bathe you. Your legs widened so much and your arms were really restrained by your ill-fitting shirt. It was when they had to wash your neck under your second chin that you came to the realization you were at the point of no return. That you were destined for fatness.

And you didn't care. The compliments on how fat you've gotten were so nice. The food was such a good incentive to keep cultivating this body of yours.

You're not lazy. You're just efficient at being sedentary. And you are thriving.

#make me fatter #weight gain #fit to fat #soft belly #weight gain kink #feedism kink #getting fat on purpose #soft feedism #ethical feedism #wg text

47 notes · View notes

randomfandomlov3 · 1 year ago

Text

Price of love (Chapter 5)

Warnings: Angst. Crying. Let me know if I missed any.

Note: Thank you for reading! <3

Word Count~ 2110

He knew that his best friend just did what he thought would be in his best interest, but boy did it hurt to lose her. After he dropped you off at your room, Bucky went to find Steve. He knocked on his best friend’s bedroom door. When the door opened Steve is in shock to see Bucky standing there looking almost nervous. Steve welcomed him into the room and closed the door. “Hey Punk, I wanted to say that I am sorry for how I acted. It’s just that she was one of the best people I had ever met and felt comfortable around. I realize that I am just as much to blame for not telling you off sooner. But I was worried that maybe you were right, and maybe she deserves better than me. I did realize though, that I don’t want to lose you again.” Bucky put his arms out for a hug from his best friend.

Steve gave Bucky a soft smile before returning the hug. “I’m sorry that I meddled in things, Buck. I thought that experience would be good for you, but I knew you wouldn’t do it without incentive, I am really sorry if I messed things up. But just know anyone would be lucky to date you.”

He felt Bucky shake, as he felt tears on his shirt. “What if she was the only one out there for me, and I went and lost her.”

Steve’s heart ached. “I promise things will work out how they are supposed to.” They stood like that for a few minutes before Bucky collected himself and apologized. “You don’t have to apologize for this, I will always be here for you.” After they went their separate ways, Steve knew what he needed to do.

Your bag was empty, and you were trying to get a feel for the room when a knock interrupted your thoughts. When you opened the door, you saw Steve standing there. “Look, I wanted to apologize. I was the one who came up with the stupid idea of paying Bucky to date someone. I was just trying to get him back out there, and more comfortable with others. I can tell I was wrong though; he is heartbroken over this. Did you know he even refused the money after?” His words made you feel heavy.

“But then why didn’t he turn down your offer in the first place?” You were still unsure whether he cared for you.

“He was afraid. He thought that you deserved better than what he could give you. Someone with less baggage. But I promise he is worth getting to know.”

A soft smile graced your face. “I know, I had just started to get through his hard exterior. But I wish he would have let me make that choice for myself because I think that he might be it for me. Why am I telling you this? It doesn’t matter anyway; he would never see me like that after how I reacted.” You went to close the door on Steve, to go cry into your pillow.

He put his hand on the door to stop you. “I disagree, he is very much so still into you. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he just spent a good 10 minutes crying into my shirt about you.” This shocked you; the unfazed assassin was crying over you. “Just think about it.” He took his leave, leaving you with your thoughts. Did Bucky really feel that way about you?

Probably one of the most terrifying things to do was to be seen entering the medical wing by the team. You were bombarded with questions about why you were going to the med bay, and if it had anything to do with you having been away for a couple weeks. Too tired to answer them you allowed them to follow you into the room where Helen said for you to meet her.

She looked around at all the people and back at you to make sure that you were okay with all of them being there. “Yeah, I don’t have the energy to explain everything to them right now so I was hoping you could,” You said with a big grin on your face, to keep up your sunshine persona.

"Well, okay then. How's your shoulder been feeling?" You gave it some gentle movements.

"It's been a little bit sore, but definitely better than it has been," you said, taking off your sweater to reveal the bandage.

"That's to be expected, you were shot in the shoulder, just 2 weeks ago. Now, let's take a look to see how it's healing." The room filled with gasps when she mentioned that you were shot. You didn’t notice Bucky leave the room. Dr. Cho took the gauze off and gave it a gentle wipe to not only check your pain response but also to remove any of the leftover cream. "It looks like it is healing just fine, and you should be able to get your antidote shot at the scheduled time. It doesn't look like you need any more antibiotics, but if anything about it changes come back to see me. And you can take ibuprofen for the pain from here on out, but once again if it doesn't work come back and see me." She reapplied the dressing and told you when she wanted to see you next. You went to the kitchen and smiled upon seeing Bucky standing there, but your bubble burst when he glanced at you before leaving the room. Maybe he was just trying to give you space to figure things out.

He never stayed in the same room as you over the next few days. What if Steve and Sam were wrong? What if he didn't like you anymore? What could you have done to upset him? Spotting Bucky across the room as you set up your station for the injections made your heart ache, you wanted to be happy, but he seemed to hate you. The first thing you did was give yourself the injection and shock so that you could be ready when everyone else arrived. “Agent Roberts? What are you doing here? Didn’t you get your shot already?”

She nodded as she came over to you. “One of the people who have an appointment today requested that they have anybody but you. I’m sorry, but after the agent you shocked, some people are a little wary of this.”

You faked a smile because you had a suspicion that that was not the case, but rather it was personal. She listened very closely to the instructions you gave her for the people who were there for accommodations not just because they were not able to get the shot the other time. Bucky overheard you and his chest hurt, hearing how much you cared.

You left the room trying to hide your broken heart. You decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air and clear your thoughts. Feeling your phone vibrate, you pulled it out to see a text from Natasha. “I heard that you left before the shots were given out is everything okay?”

You wondered who told her because the only one she really knew from the room is Bucky. “Everything is fine it was just requested that I don’t give them out.” You sent back, hoping she would drop the topic.

“Did you get yours though?” A sigh left your lips, you knew that she cared about you, but you didn’t want to talk about that anymore.

“Yes, I did.” You then turned your phone off to have a little bit of peace. The walk ended up leading you to a small café that you went to with Bucky on one of your dates. Feeling nostalgic you decided to go inside and get something to drink.

The lady at the front counter recognized you, but also the look of sadness on your face. “You need a chocolate milkshake, but if you ask me no man could ever be better than a chocolate milkshake.” She said to make you laugh.

“I do like me a chocolate milkshake. Alright, I’ll get one.” A newfound smile graced your face. Taking the milkshake, you went to sit in a booth by the window, to go through your thoughts.

As you were staring out the window a certain redhead comes to sit across from you. “You’ve been distant lately. Is there something on your mind?” Wanda asked setting down her milkshake.

That earned a smirk out of you. “You tell me.”

She looked down at her hands. “Okay, so your thoughts haven’t been very quiet, but I promise I only looked at them when I was concerned for your well-being. I hate seeing you so upset.”

You took a sip of your milkshake before answering, “I understand, I was just teasing you. I don’t mind you peeking in every now and then, it makes me feel cared for.”

The smile that covered her face made you smile as well. “I truly do care about you, which is why I think that you should focus on yourself right now because you are still trying to heal from the injury that you sustained on the battlefield. You need to do what’s best for you, and I promise to help you in whatever ways I can.” She lifted her glass to cheers yours.

“Thank you, Wanda. This means the world to me.” Once you both finished your milkshakes, you stood and hugged her. “I will see you back at the tower shortly, first I want to grab some things from the store.” You said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Re-entering your room you dropped the bags onto the floor. In the first bag you opened, you pulled out baskets. You arranged them all on the floor careful not to step on any as you went to grab the next bag. Bag by bag you built up these baskets to say thank you to the Avengers for how welcoming they had been, and essentially saying goodbye. Each of them was signed with a sunshine 🔆. You had to do what was best for you, and right now that was not staying here. They all had training right now, so it was the perfect time, you grabbed the baskets and placed one by each of their doors. Then you grabbed your bag and left the tower.

They were all very confused to see cute little baskets outside of each of their doors. Natasha picked up hers and read the note. “Thank you, Habiba. I need to do what’s best for me but let’s stay in touch.”

Sam also read his. “Thank you so much, for everything you have helped me with lately Sam. I will be gone for a while, but I would love to stay in touch.”

Each of the notes was personalized at least a little, but all Bucky’s said was, “I’m sorry.”

Wanda was proud that you took her advice, but she was going to miss seeing your bubbly face around the tower. “Does anyone’s say where sunshine is going?” Tony asked feeling slightly sad that you wouldn’t be around to randomly bring him coffee when he stayed up in his lab way too late.

Everyone just shook their heads. “Just that she will be away for a while,” Sam said, looking between everybody.

Bucky’s brow furrowed when he realized that you left longer messages on the others’, but he just got an apology, but he didn’t even understand why.

“What about you, Buck? I imagine she left you a longer message.” His heart shattered at his best friend's comment.

“All she wrote were the words ‘I’m sorry’ that’s it.” He then entered his room closing the door behind him. Why were you apologizing to him? He was the one who messed up. He was the one who got you shot. He was the one who broke your heart. What could you have had to apologize for?

You were not quite sure what you wanted to do forever, but right now, a vacation was needed. “Hey, Fury?” He hummed in response. “I was hoping I would be able to take a vacation for a while, you know, get out of the city and maybe find myself.”

You stared at your shoes, wondering what would be worse, being allowed to go, or being made to stay. “I think it would do you some good, we will miss you around here, but you being at your best will be what is best for your team.”

Chapter 6

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

55 notes · View notes

sanstropfremir · 6 months ago

Note

Hello i hope you don't mind but in your opinion what do you think makes a good survival show. I know you talked about wild idol and 0 year 0 class but i wanted your in depth thoughts on the topic.

ohhhh i looooooove when people indulge my bullshit god bless you anons. before i talk about what makes a good survival show, i want to illustrate why the produce format makes a bad survival show. and we can start that by asking a question:

why is fan voting allowed?

obviously you can give the typical answer of 'if fans are engaged than it will drive up numbers' and that the shows are basically only made for fan engagement because we all know that kpop is profoundly and tragically numbers driven at the end of the day, but let's instead live in a world where the producers who pitch and head these shows actually want to make a talented group. so why are the fans involved? at all? sorry to say it, but fans are stupid. they aren't trained professionals in this field, so do you actually think they're going to be thinking carefully about the trainees that they see on screen every week and how their skills fit together? about the fundamentals of group direction and management? no of course they aren't, they're just going to vote blindly for their precious meow meow of the week. so already, we're at a deficit. and if you include the fact that these companies will rig the shows to their own biases (that are not artistically motivated), a double deficit.

second issue: the 'challenges'. they're trash. yes you do want to test an idol's vocal and dance skills, but just because you put a group of the most talented people in a room together does not mean that they will get along or have good chemistry. a huge part of being in a performance group (of any kind) is how well you communicate with each other, and that requires you to know how to compromise, how to be kind, how to take feedback, how to work collaboratively. but when you run trainees through week after week wringers of difficult choreo and tough vocals with very short deadlines, how can you expect them to actually be able to internalize and act upon any of these other skills? they may on a surface level, but the priority is not placed on it. AND when you add individualized voting into the mix, trainees have no incentive to actually meaningfully work together.

what makes wild idol and 0year 0class different from this typical formula is that the emphasis of both these shows was actually on making a well rounded group, so the shows were structured in order to faciliate that happening. both had limited trainee numbers (wild idol 40ish down to 16 in the third episode, 0y0c 15), have little to no fan voting (none for 0y0c, only in the last few rounds for wild idol) and both had challenges that were about testing 'non traditional' idol skills (throwing fuckin logs around, doing fashion shows and photoshoots, writing poetry/rap, doing a lot of repetition, etc). personally i think 0y0c is the better show in general because it does everything the way i would do it, but also it would never be watched by a korean audience so i think wild idol is the best a korean survival show is gonna get.

the difference that makes the biggest impact on how effective i think 0y0c over wild idol is the fact that the producer (avu chan) is a significant part of the show itself. she's literally there with the trainees in every episode, giving them assignments and evaluating them, talking to them about the issues they're having and why they aren't succeeding. there's discussions with her about why she chose to do the show and what type of group she wants to make, she's incredibly transparent about what characteristics she's looking for in the trainees and also about how difficult the industry is; the tagline of the show is 'welcome to your nightmare' bc that's literally what she told the group in the first episode. she's honest about the fact that it's hard, that you will have to work with people you don't like, that you will be rejected many many times, and that people won't always like you. she puts them through challenges that are meant to bring out how well the trainees understand themselves and also give them opportunities to grow and develop into well rounded people with good communication and emotional skills. watching 0y0c actually made me realize that i sincerely believe that the lack of a visible producer with a goal in kpop survival shows is actually a huge reason why i don't think they work. 99.9% of these shows are transparently just making groups to make money, so they have no artistic focus, no creative leader, no drive except to be the lowest common denominator to get the most fans. why wild idol worked for me was bc the producer was clearly trying to make a 4th gen group in the second gen model. even though it wasn't explicitly stated by anyone, the mentors they brought in, the songs they had them cover, even the styles of original songs they did, made that very obvious. i know people say kpop isn't supposed to be serious but like. the people who make it, the fans who enjoy it, we ALL deserve to have something with creativity and drive to enjoy, not just a race to the bottom of the capitalist money pit.

#honestly tldr is that i actually dont think survival shows should exist at all. yes it was nice to see avu chan's processes #but did we need to? no of course not. IF they are going to exist at all they should exist in isolation with no audience influence.#just as a window into the process. that's it #there was a reason that sm never did a survival show for any of their groups until the company fell apart. bc they dont fucking matter #kpop questions #survival shows #text #answers #wild idol #0 year 0 class #genuinely cried my way through the last two episodes of 0y0c #like avu chan saying she got to make the school she wished she had as a student BROKE me. i will never be the same

9 notes · View notes

fran-in-the-deep · 1 year ago

Text

Mind-maps and PowerPoint presentations

1,2k words | mostly fluff, a little angsty, just Hange being Hange | Collage AU

To Hange there was nothing more frightening than attending a party. Okay, maybe getting lost at sea in a storm while out on a research vessel and then all the lights shut off and they’re out of power and it’s all dark so they don’t see the wave coming that would tip over the boat and catapult them out into the open water where streams would pull them under and- Okay, maybe a party wasn’t so bad after all.

Dying from a heart attack would be though, something Hange felt they were continuously getting closer to as their heart rate jumped from mountains to valleys while trying to figure out how the hell they would make this work. Asking you out, that is. Asking you out to that party. And being that Marine Biology major most famously known for accidentally shutting down the faculties lab for a day after mixing sea floor sediment with substances it turned out they should not be mixed with, was not helping their case on why you should go to that party with them. To be fair, it helped figure out a lot of cool stuff, but not like anyone but Hange was invested in it. Well, and maybe you.

Hange had to this day no idea how or why you - different faculty, absolutely popular, good looking, they could go on - decided to help them out when there was no incentive to except the absolutely pure goodness of your heart that Hange just absolutely fell in love with. You had somehow convinced the faculty to not ban them from the lab and had even asked and listened when Hange told you about their findings that turned into a thirty minute impromptu PowerPoint presentation.

Speaking of which, what if they made a funny PowerPoint to ask you to the party? Hange frowned, pen grasped tightly in their hand as they searched for a free spot on the page in front of them that was filled by unintelligible scribbles. Finally they managed to squeeze the point between Cultivate colourful bacteria to spell the question and show it to you and Bribe Levi with an expensive bag of tea to ask you whether you even wanted to go to the party at all. It was all grouped between the point of Asking you to the party indirectly which was another branch under the question How do I ask you to go to that party with me? in the centre of this abomination of a mind-map.

Despite sitting at the back of the cafeteria and working on this for what must be legitimate hours on this point on a Friday afternoon, Hange was no closer to even a working hypothesis. Why did this have to be so hard? They had gotten so far already - making sure that it was the kind of party where there was actual stuff to do, which the one organized by the student council always had, that it was during a time where the next day was free, that they had their good button up shirt with the shrimp pattern (that you had complimented every time they wore it) washed and ready. Of course that was overdoing it, but Hange wouldn’t be Hange if they didn’t. And their way of approaching things had brought them this far already, so they were out to do at least something right.

With an exasperated sigh they pushed the paper out of the way, resting their head on the table between their arms. They still had a full week, not like it was the most urgent matter. Yet with every passing day the chance that someone else would ask you was growing. You were pretty popular after all. Even if you kept texting back and forth with them and spend lunchtime and the walks back to the dorms together. Hange didn’t know why you even stuck around in the first place, they were just this weird and overly excited person- Hange didn’t get to turn in their self-deprecating spiral for too long as they heard steps approach. Couldn’t the world at least let them wallow in their self pity for longer than a minute for once? Bet it would be Levi or Moblit to tell them that they should just ask you. As if it was that easy.

So as they lifted their head, prepared for another round of unsolicited advice, the last thing they expected was of you to stand there, looking absolutely gorgeous and perfect in the setting sunlight of course. The same rays of light that perfectly illuminated the scribbles on the page in front of you, that even though your eyes were fixed on Hanges you definitely must have seen. At least the How do I ask you to go to that party with me? headline in those bold letters. Maybe freezing in the ocean after getting shipwrecked wouldn’t be so bad. Or a heart attack. Or a spontaneous sink-hole, would be great if the ground could just swallow them whole as to avoid the most embarrassing moment of their life, right?

Hange tried to casually reach out and grasp the paper without it being too obvious.

“Hey, didn’t expect you to be here.” A nervous laugh, gaze constantly flicking between the page and you as they finally grasped it.

“Class ended early, so I thought I’d look whether you’re still here.” You gave them the most beautiful smile in this world, nearly making Hange forget their embarrassment for a split second.

“Oh, yeah, I see. I was just thinking about what would be the best way to ask you out for that party next week.” Another nervous laugh in the hopes that being casual about it would make it less obvious how weird and stupid that had been. Your reaction was - honestly, Hange had no idea. Reading body language in people was never their strong suit. What they knew though, what that it approximately took you four and a half seconds to answer.

“And you made the whole mind-map for it?” You asked and Hanges brain just froze, but luckily you continued. “That’s really sweet, actually.”

You didn’t just say that. But then, Hange hadn’t been near any substances in the lab that could cause auditory hallucinations, so it must be real.

“Hah, not really. I mean, it’s really embarrassing. That I’m too stupid to just ask, you know?” There was no getting out of that. But then you just shrugged as you sat down opposite them and Hange just stared like a fish.

“You’re definitely not alone in that. And the whole mind-map and thinking so much is just your thing, which also why you’re so much fun to be around. I would have taken a PowerPoint presentation and still said Yes. Well, that would have been really exciting.”

“So you’re saying you want to go out with me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Hange blinked. Huh. So it really was that easy. But then, it was you. And you just said that you liked them, that you thought they were sweet, you agreed to the date. And that was just everything right now.

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

A/N: As promised, the other scenario to Wait, really? because I misread the prompt and got really invested so I did both. Will I be able to resist the urge to draw that shrimp shirt for Hange? No promises. but it's likely it will happen eventually. I'm again living vicariously through them because my shirts aren't that cool (yet)

#hange x reader #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe #hanji zoe #aot fluff #fran-fiction writing #hange fluff

41 notes · View notes

wirewitchviolet · 10 months ago

Text

Do experience systems do more harm than good?

Earlier today I saw someone talking about the common wisdom that you can't make an RPG without SOME sort of system where after you finish a session (or maybe an adventure), the GM gives you some sort of points that, whether automatically or based on assigning them, makes your character better at doing stuff. Not only do I strongly disagree that that's something every game needs, I'd like to present the argument that even in games you'd have a hard time imagining without them, experience points might actually be doing more harm than good.

Before I even get into this, let's take apart the obvious perks to having experience systems:

1- It helps maintain longterm interest in keeping a campaign going when the players are getting some sort of regular reward.

This is true of certain campaigns, but I don't think I'd really ever want to be in one. In a good campaign, everyone involved should be having a fun time just hanging out with each other, putting themselves in the shoes of the characters, building up a story and a world together, and generating cool memorable scenes. That should be more than enough incentive to stick with a game, and if you don't have those things going on, you should really stop and work out what's going wrong, not try and pave over it by powering everyone's characters up. I don't need to boost some Watcher Score when I marathon through a good TV show or a movie, and I'm not even getting to influence how those unfold, you know?

This is also one of those many things where what we have today is sort of a twisted ghost of what was originally conceived back in the early days of D&D. I had an old project on this very blog where I was reading through the books for 1st edition AD&D with a critical eye, and a huge takeaway from that was that Gary Gygax seems like he was just the absolute worst kind of GM (also backed up by reading message board posts of his, and various accounts). Back in his day, leveling up wasn't the expected inevitable progression as a game went on necessarily. You'd roll your stats, with some harsh restrictions, be forced to play what you had, roll your HP too, and the game was just kind of inherently hostile to the PCs, so you had a good chance of dying in a given session. Not only that, but when you did, there was no real coming back from it, you make a new character, starting from scratch, with 0 experience, and see if you can keep this one alive long enough to get up there again.

And aside from the carrot of maybe getting one of those elite high level characters if you stuck with it, there was the stick of characters partying their gold away. Seriously, by AD&D 1e rules, characters would just kinda burn through... I want to say it was 100 GP per level per day. And not in-game day. Real life day. You'd better show up for every session, because a week from now, your character's going to have 700 less gold in their pocket whether you show up to play or not.

We don't really play that way anymore. At least nobody I know does. Leveling up is planned out in advance by GMs, characters level up at the same time as everyone else even when the player misses a session, and if you need to make a new character or you're just joining the game late, obviously you come in at the same level as everyone else. I don't even want to dignify the arguments against doing that with discussion. It's even common for people to start games at levels other than 1 because people just don't like low-level play.

And you know, this is way outside the scope of what I was sitting down to write, but I've gotten into the jobification of video games before, right? Where people keep doing stuff like daily login rewards and weekly challenges just so there's a sense of obligation to log into games every day? That crap doesn't actually make things more FUN, it's in there to keep players compelled to play regardless of how much fun they have, and that's... literally the argument behind experience as an incentive to keep a game running.

2- It good when number go up!

Funnily enough, this is the hardest one for me to refute. There is some basic direct release of the good brain chemicals when you have numbers, and they go up. And I mean... sure, but in a tabletop game you're not generally seeing a number climb on its own, you're getting points thrown at you that you have to jot down or mark off or otherwise track and do math with, and like... there's plenty of other results from playing the game good to release the good brain chemicals. You don't explicitly need this one.

3- It's cool when you can have a story where like some dorky little kid starts off barely able to do anything and all unconfident and then gradually gets it together and gets more confident and competent as time goes on!

Oh yeah, everyone loves that sort of thing, and there's a strong case to be made that this is the primary reason people feel the need to put an experience system in basically every RPG, but those systems are all kind of just the worst at actually delivering on that, is the thing.

D&D and its derivatives are the absolute worst with this. The way I put it in this earlier conversation, you start out all, "I am a poor peasant child, barely able to afford the clothes on my back, a length of rope, a week's worth of food, and this dagger here" and then a few months later "I am basically a god and any amount of money less than 1,000,000 times my starting net worth isn't even worth stooping over for." And when I made this point someone corrected me that if you really go by the expected pacing, a campaign without big stretches of downtime between adventures with the recommended combat pacing is going to get you to level 20 in a month.

Now, I don't want to completely spit on the D&D power curve here (the economic one though can absolutely go to hell, stop making me a billionaire as a side effect of killing monsters and do all that bookkeeping). I do enjoy the eb and flow, campaign to campaign, of playing the same characters as wimpy little nothings and demigods over however long it takes my regular group to finish a campaign. But as far as having characters with arcs to them? It is AWFUL!

First off, it's just too damn fast and abrupt. When our little ragtag band heads off into the swamp to deal with those goblins or whatever, we're going to come home from even that little speed bump of an adventure tougher than all our neighbors and absurdly wealthy, to a point where it feels almost inevitable that you leave your old life behind completely and look down on everyone you grew up with.

It's not IMPOSSIBLE to have some sort of long or medium-term personal quest to avenge my parents or show I'm better than some bully, but it takes a real delicate touch to do it right, since you really have to decide up front when exactly I'm going to have that confrontation, make the villain something of an appropriately challenging nature for the level I'm going to be when I settle things, and that I don't manage to arrange that confrontation much earlier or later than planned, because again I'm pretty quickly going from dealing with food rationing, animal attacks, and slippery ravines, to taking down monsters four times my size without breaking a sweat, to like changing the course of history and rivaling evil gods. There's a very small window where it makes sense for me to get back at that owlbear who put me in the hospital or whatever.

And that's not even getting into the problem of how I've got these other three humble little kids from home experiencing all this rapid growth at the same time. Can't really have a wise old mentor if we're using experience as experience. We're either never going to catch up, or we're going to leave them in the dust if they're not leveling with us.

Now, again, D&D is kind of a huge exception here. Most RPGs I've played instead go with a starting setup where you don't start off as some starry-eyed youth who can't do anything, but instead have some skill-based system where every character is an expert without peer in a handful of skills that fit some archetypical theme, and for anything else, they need outside help, either from fellow PCs, or making arrangements with NPC experts. Standard with this is a little drip-feed of extra skill points, but this... really doesn't work for what we're looking for here. If I want to be the party's hacker, I'm going to start off as an excellent hacker. I'm not going to put all my points into shmoozing people and then expect the rest of the party to put up with me looking for the any key over a dozen adventures before finally working out this make or break ability.

4- You gain new abilities as you level up!

So... first off this actually isn't generally all that true. If you're playing a wizard in D&D, sure, every couple levels you get access to a new tier of spells, and hey that's a big game changing deal maybe. Most level-ups though are just about numbers going up. All of them in most games. Hitting harder, more often, in bigger areas, maybe. Skills and abilities work more consistently. You maybe get more HP.

For now though let's focus on when you do level up and get cool new abilities. One moment you're some kid with a stick, then you bonk the magic number of goblins with it, and now suddenly you can make all your friends fly, unbound by gravity, or you can read the thoughts of everyone around you, or you can teleport home where it's nice and safe no matter what the situation. Well that actually really sucks for the GM!

Let's say I'm doing what everyone ever making an 8 or 16-bit RPG did and lifting plot concepts shamelessly from Laputa. We've got our big floating continent. Maybe we've got some kinda evil emperor up there, raining terror down on people or something. Nobody can get there and confront him... until they hit level 7 or whatever and have access to the fly spell. I better get any air superiority based adventures out before then. Also anything where there's a tower that has windows, or dangerous terrain, etc. Better get mysteries and hidden agendas taken care of before that mind reading. Better not think about trapping the party or them getting word of an attack somewhere else before that teleporting. And that's assuming I'm being on the ball about that sort of thing. I might have this whole thing planned, where the party desperately needs to get to that flying continent, and it's this whole quest hook where maybe they have to befriend a dragon or help build an airship or get some kinda rubber bones potion and access to a powerful cannon. Whole adventures about getting that power of flight, and any of these might just totally fizzle because oh whoops, the party leveled up and they just do that now.

Less dramatically, what if we're playing of those skill point games. I'm already a super great seductive femme fatale sneaking past laser sensors and stealing keys off people I'm charming right from the start of the game, and hey, cool, that's a nice simple archetype, everyone knows what I'm good at, we can plan missions around me being all sleazy over here while someone else sets up in a sniper position and someone else is in the basement hacking and all that. Several adventures down the road, well, I have all these skill points, I haven't been able to put them into the stuff I'm good at, so now I'm also a combat monster. The original combat monster can also hack. The original hacker can also charm the pants off everyone. We're starting to develop a lot of redundancy, but that's not necessarily bad? But then we play a bunch more adventures. Those secondary concepts capped off, we're working up more. Nobody is unparalleled at the thing they originally did. Have the party is equally amazing at a given thing. If we keep going like this, eventually everyone is going to loose all sense of unique identity, and there isn't really a strong in-game reason we need this whole ragtag crew anymore. Anyone of us can take on any problem solo, really.

5- The power fantasy of being super amazing.

This is kind of a point I've already hit but I'm stuck with this format, but the thing with experience is, again, sometimes sure you gain new abilities, but usually all your various numbers go up, and that actually kinda sucks in practice. First off, it's a lot of tedious bookkeeping, in basically any system you can name. It also doesn't generally really make a difference in the grand scheme of things?

I'm level 3. I've got a +7 to hit, doing 15 damage a hit, and an AC of 18. I'm fighting some orc with 40 HP, 15 AC, and attacking at +5. I level up a few times. Now I'm level 7. I've got a +13 to hit, doing 30 damage, and an AC of 24. I'm fighting crustaceanoids now, with 80 HP, 21 AC, and attacking at +11. Objective numbers wise, crustateanoids are way way tougher than orcs, but in my experience this is the EXACT same fight. I hit on an 11. I need 3 hits to take something down. It's bad news for me if my enemy rolls a 13 to hit me. All we've done is a bunch of annoying math refactoring with nothing to show for it but cosmetically reskinned mooks.

Now here, interestingly enough, I ONLY have the D&D type example here. Again, most other RPGs I have don't have that same sort of rampant power creep. You start out absurdly skillful at whatever your specialty is, and there's little if any room for growth, numbers wise. So here, if we go from orcs to crustateanoids to hellborn cyberdragons as enemies, not only is this technically a set of progressively scarier enemies to have to deal with, they actually ARE more meaningful threats to the party. Maybe those orcs were all show, they never really hurt us because we're awesome secret agents or something, but now things are getting serious because these crustaceanoids are just as good at sick flips and firing machine guns in two different directions as we are, so we have to take them much more seriously. And oh damn, after this we have to deal with a hellborn cyberdragon? Those are so scary if we all just rush in we're probably all gonna die. We need to come up with a whole complex plan to avoid directly engaging that if at all possible, and run for it if that doesn't pan out, or something.

And hey, we don't need something even more epic than a hellborn cyberdragon to top that. One of those is still going to be harrowing no matter how late in the campaign we bust it out. We can establish a power balance early on and keep it relevant like that. PCs gotta get more innovative and clever not just kill most monsters until demigods are easily punchable.

6: Revenge of 3- Well character growth is still important!

So, I really shouldn't be trashing experience points' ability to deliver cool character growth if I don't have some alternative to it, right? We need some way to change things up so the game doesn't stagnate. Well sure, but we can do better than experience there.

Just off the top of my head, how about we go with plot relevant respec-ing? Like at any given time a character's got their main spotlight thematic kit. Your best of the best at being a hacker or wizard or whatever. Maybe also a secondary skillset. And then definitely some number of slots for stuff they're into but it's not their main thing. Maybe we have a few variant minisets for those. Like if someone just unlocked their psychic powers and haven't fully figured them out, you have access to this here set of abilities. Once you have your big dramatic power mastery moment, that becomes their main thing and we demote their previous main thing to a secondary thing... and if we don't like this psychic stuff in the end, we demote it back down and fill a tertiary slot with like Lost Psychic Powers, where you still get to be all knowledgeable about how this sorta crap works and maybe have some battles of wills but your cool telekinesis is all locked away. At least for now.

I don't want to sit down and fully design a game at the tail end of a blog post here, but feel free to try this out with whatever system you like. Just pick whatever level feels like the good one, build characters with that as their basic kit, let'em have a few dips into secondary and tertiary angles, do a lot of getting thrown out of orders and taking major injuries and getting temporarily possessed or infused with mystery things. And you can do the plucky young kids in over their head thing with this sort of system easily enough. Start off with just the tertiary interest/mini-skill-packs, and once whatever you want to grow into starts coming up, rapidly grow into that over the course of a few adventures, no needing some big dramatic status quo change like this usually calls for.

Oh and I haven't been talking about video games here, but kill experience there too. If I'm not doing the whole Metroidvania/Zeld'em Up thing to pick up new powers as I explore, just gimme the whole kit from the get-go. Have traditional difficulty curves. We're good. Leave the skill trees and the level-grinding out of it. What are you holding back for, replayability? It's been raining free big-name big commitment games for years. Quit demanding that much of our time.

Oh and I keep forgetting to beg for money while I write these. I went 24 hours here without eating because I was just out of food and couldn't afford to go to the store. Someone took pity on me and hand delivered a big bowl of soup. Things are getting real bad. Patreon link.

#game design #experience points #leveling up

11 notes · View notes