#it’s the fucking magenta lighting I swear to god

[needlittlepiggiesinmymarket]

I thought this was an image from the Jerma doll house stream and then I looked down and it was THE FUCKING SAW MUSICAL???

#jerma #jerma985 #jerma dollhouse #Jerma saw musical stream #it’s the fucking magenta lighting I swear to god

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

i hate to say it but

southern motherfucking democratic-republicans

#a big mess in the tags #THAT PART IN THE SONG IS SO *bangs on table* #ITS LITERALLY????????? #AND YOU CAN *hEAR* THE CROWD IN THE BACK #YOU CAN *HEAR* THEM #ITSOSLSJISJHSIJDUFIUDHFUHUIGJHJIJBHNJIGHJBNJGIJN NJKGHN NJGIHJN BHNIJHN #ooooooooooh anyways i love their harmony and the OH right after where the audience chips in and says it too to make it even louder #really amps up the intensity #and the cheering from the first OH after Jefferson's/Daveed's rap is so amazing i don't care what anyone else says #you can just feel how tense it was in that crowd and how energetic everyone was #best villain song i swear to mf GOD #i also like the mixtape-y sound when they block out the curse #but if they didnt block it out i wonder if it would've been even BETTER #like its already so intense. and then a SWEAR???? oh my god #their colors also mesh so well with the villain feel. like #a dark velvet-texture magenta. #a dark dull blue with undertones of bold yellow. #a DARK blue-purple with hints of pretty royal purple #their fucking little dance together at the height of the chorus / Southern Motherfucking Democratic Republicans is SO good #the lighting makes it even better #i dont care what ANYbody says or thinks. that moment is not only the BEST in the song but also one of the best in the entire musical #if not THE best #is this me rooting for the villain trio/the Southern Mothefucking Democratic Republicans?? Yes. What about it #their name is so goddamn good and awesome #fuck everyone else. SMFDR for the win #we need a villainy movie on them RIGHT NOW thank you very much #hamilton #FINALLY the real tags #hamilton musical #thomas jefferson

[rouge-the-bat]

tagged by @thatoneweirdhumanisback owo! the other post is CRAZY fucking long with the reblog chain so im just separating my own lol

(and im glad u think im cool hehe :3 n i get being afraid to reach out to Cool Online People but if u ever wanna chat with me or somethin im down owo! i swear as a cool as hell person im also Just Some Guy. i contain multitudes JGKBZJF)

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

Relationship status: im dating my wonderful girlfriend @ megalo-station :3 shes the best i love her so much ♡♡♡ (also shadow the hedgehog and hiei are both my husbands-)

Favourite colour: pink!!!!!!!!!! hot pink, light pink, dark pink, reddish pink, purplish pink, magenta, bubblegum, fuchsia, i love every kind of pink!!!! pink like this specifically is my fave (this exact color is what i use as my name color on discord owo!):

Favourite food: my fave food of EVERYTHING would be hard to pin down so im gonna go for Categories-

if im going savory, then 1000% pasta. like any kind of pasta is fucking amazing. whether its more like spaghetti, alfredo, ramen, simply buttered, or anything else, im gonna eat the FUCK out of that.

with sweet stuff... ough man i love so many sweets. strawberries are probably my fave fruit, and i love having them added to or dipped in various stuff (like put on cake or in brownies, dipped in chocolate, sugar, or cream cheese, etc).

and i fucking LOVE desserts man. i cant even decide what my fave kind of dessert would be bc whatever id prefer just depends on the moment. cookies, cake, brownies, fudge, cheesecake, its all DELICIOUS. i just recently made some rasbperry brownies and ohhh my goddddd they were so good. mixing fruits with dessert is the gd best. adding coconut to them is Top Tier

Song stuck in my head: its only vaguely in my head atm but animals by architects! i just discovered the song yesterday and i fuckin LOVE it. actually i think im gonna listen to it again now lol. addendum: listened to a couple more songs afterward and now i also have god complex by vira and nightmare by megumi ogata going thru my head

Last thing I googled: well, lol. i was looking up a site i could get a quick pic of the color i put up there ^ and apparently #FE0071 is also some sorta technical number for an electric fuel pump?

Time: it is 1 minute after 2am as i get to this part. i just woke up like an hour or so ago. my sleeps fucked up rn lol (i really dont like waking up this early, i much prefer waking up at like, anywhere between 10am and 2pm)

Dream trip: id love to go to japan someday with my girlfriend- once i actually like. learn some of the language lol. theres so many cool things over there related to series i love n i wanna experience them soooo bad. i HAVE to go inside a pokemon center some day!!!! miku concerts!!! series themed cafes!!! and id LOVE to go to the cat island and fox village, i love those animals sooo much.

Something I want: since im a huuge rouge and kurama kinny and have gotten ear, wings, and tail phantom limbs, i sooo badly want to get these:

tho id be ordering the ears without the lil slices on the ear. but OUGH i want these. so gd fucking badly. once i have these ill be unstoppable. ultimate kinny mode

as for people to tag, uhmmm... perhaps @pinkcatminht @yoko-kurama-the-sex-god @hiei-doesnt-like-waffles if yall wanna? :'3

#do i have a tag for these kinds of posts. i cant remember lol #tag game #anyways thanks for the tag :'3 these r so fun to do

[here2bbtstrash]

love the way you wear that (explicit)

genre: fully 100% smut, not a shred of plot to be found

pairing: trans m!jimin x reader

summary: you can't resist the handsome stranger that approaches you at your favorite gay bar, especially not when he's wearing that skirt.

word count: 4k

contains: jimin is Bi, Trans and in a Skirt (that's what BTS stands for right), jimin has a vagina and so does reader, alcohol, set in a gay bar/club, sex with a stranger, grinding/thigh riding, semi-public sex (club bathroom), jimin is a needy slut, reader is lowkey a dom, dirty talk, teasing/begging, fingering, cunnilingus, a little bit of hold the moan/orgasm denial, a pinch of pussy slapping, also there's a vibrator, and as previously stated, NOT ONE OUNCE OF PLOT

A/N: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH BITCHES!!!!!! please enjoy this insanity, i swear it was meant to be a drabble and then oops. i couldn't have written this without @jjkeverlast and @gimmethatagustd getting me hooked on sub!jimin and @kookiecrumb and i having a TRULY WILD conversation last night that has forever changed me as a human lmaooooo 👀

thanks as always for reading, queer & trans lives fucking MATTER 💜

this is also on AO3!

~*~

God, you love pride month.

Even though you go out year-round, the energy of your favorite local gay bar completely changes on the first night of June. Everyone is even more feral, even more unapologetic, whether that’s dressed up or undressed, bedazzled or leather-clad, gay or bi or trans or yes, please. Everyone is sweaty and drunk and fucking beautiful.

Still shivering from the shot you just downed, you turn away from the table only to realize your partner in crime has vanished, which is admittedly par for the course with them. You do your best to squint through the dim lighting and mass of bodies until your gaze finally finds them, halfway across the club. When you realize they’re busy playing tonsil hockey with a tall blonde femme with a sleeve tattoo, you can’t help but smirk. Good for them.

You’re only a little jealous– you’d be down to touch tongues with someone, too. But the night is young.

Making a mental note to check in again with them before you leave, you slip back into the center of the crowd, your favorite place to be. Bodies press and bump you this way and that, and when the unmistakable tongue-popping of a club remix of Janelle Monáe’s Make Me Feel comes over the speakers, you think the place might explode.

A full smile breaks across your face, and when another surge of movement shifts you deeper into the crowd, you almost collide with someone.

They turn around, and you catch a glimpse of a he/him pin fastened to the collar of his black crop top. You’re glad to know you’re gendering him correctly in your head when you think it, because fuck, he looks good.

His deep red, nearly magenta hair is cut short on the sides but kept long on top, enough that a few sweaty strands dust over his forehead. He reaches up to brush them away, still moving fluidly to the beat, when his eyes meet yours.

You realize you’re probably in trouble when just one glance makes your core throb.

When he bites down on his full bottom lip and gives you an appreciative look up and down, taking his sweet time with it, you have to remind yourself how to breathe.

For a brief moment you wish your wingperson was still with you– they’re so much better at initial flirting, even to the point that they can do so on your behalf– but then his arms slide around your waist and you swear sparks radiate off your skin at his touch.

“Hi,” he says with a smile that would almost seem shy if it wasn’t so damn flirtatious. Your face heats up and you giggle, entirely flustered by the attention, and he takes the opportunity to press his hands to your back and pull you flush against his body.

You know he doesn’t miss your sharp inhale because he laughs softly in your ear.

“H-hi,” you finally manage to stammer. His hips roll into yours as if to reward you for a response, and you think you might melt into a puddle on the dancefloor. Or at the very least create one– you can already feel yourself getting wet for this complete stranger.

Gay bar, gay bar, you have to remind yourself. This has happened before, a gay man who’s a few too many drinks in getting extra handsy, and you having to detach him from your tits because unfortunately you know he isn’t really interested.

You will yourself to simply enjoy this stranger’s attention while you have it, and not read into it any further than that.

“Do you come here often?” You have to nearly press your lips to his ear to ensure he hears you, and you can’t help but wince a little as you use the oldest line in the book. You’re sure he doesn’t; you’ve never seen him before. You’d definitely remember.

He shakes his head, his hips still rolling against yours, aggressively enough now that it takes every brain cell you have to process his words.

“Just visiting.” His voice is light, almost musical. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

You tell him and he repeats it into your ear in a whine that’s unabashedly sexual, his hands slipping from your waist to your ass. You’re dying to make him say it like that again. You have to fight to keep your tongue in your mouth.

“I’m Jimin,” he purrs, and he shifts slightly as he says it so that your legs interlock, giving each of you a firm thigh to grind against. You welcome the friction and let your head drop onto Jimin’s shoulder as you roll your hips over him.

It’s only once you glance down that you see the black miniskirt he has on, and above that, the warm golden skin and solid muscles of his stomach that his crop top doesn’t even attempt to cover.

Fucking hell. You’re about to soak right through your jeans if he doesn’t stop.

When Jimin gives your ass another squeeze, you know you have to shut it down. Otherwise you’re going to end up coming on this very nice gay guy’s thigh.

“Whoever gets to take you home tonight is a lucky man,” you tilt your head up to murmur against his skin. A chain is looped around his neck with a long, silver pendant dangling from it that catches the light as he moves.

For less than a second, the pace of his hips falters, and you see a small smile toying at the corners of his plush lips. He doesn’t respond, only hums a little sound that’s almost a sigh.

Jimin’s hands relent from your curves and you really could whimper at the loss, but rather than leave, he turns around so his tight little ass presses into your core. You can’t help yourself– your hands slide up along the smooth, firm muscles of his thighs, and you’re just barely flirting with slipping them up past the hem of his skirt.

His legs are so well-defined, you realize; he must be a dancer. Honestly, maybe a sex worker. If he isn’t, he should consider it. He’s too fucking good at this.

He leans forward, throwing it back against you in a way that renders you fully stupid, and as his hands slide up over his own hips, that’s when you notice the tattoos on his arms. Two of them, to be specific, inked in identical placements, one on each tricep. Two pride flags that you instantly recognize: bisexual and transgender.

Holy shit.

Jimin must be able to tell that you’ve gotten the message– your hands and hips freeze as you try to process the information, and he turns back to face you, this time looping his arms around your neck cutely. You could be slow dancing at prom, if prom was in a packed gay bar.

“Does that work for you?” He bats his lashes as he asks the question. You wonder if literally anyone has ever said no.

Instead of trying to string a sentence together, you respond by taking advantage of the chain around his neck and using it to pull his mouth to yours.

His lips are soft and warm, and when you feel him start to kiss back, you’re glad to be the one to raise the stakes this time. You tilt your head and slip your tongue into his mouth, and Jimin responds by fully moaning into yours. His hands move down your shoulders to clutch at your back.

Oh, he’s needy. This is going to be fun.

Responding to his eagerness, you slip your hands entirely under his skirt this time. He’s either in a thong or fully commando, because you only feel smooth skin under your touch. His ass is so firm and perfect that you just have to give it a little smack. He whines loudly at your touch, and you can’t help but groan, too, at the way his ass jiggles under your palm.

Jimin breaks away from you, breathless, his face flushed. The flirtatious facade is totally undone now– you can see how desperate he really is. It looks so good on him.

It’s funny how quickly the tables have turned, you think as you grip him tightly in both hands. “I like your tattoos,” you murmur, your face still so close to his that your lips are nearly touching.

His gaze is locked on your mouth. “I like you.”

You’ve had your fair share of one night stands, but nothing’s ever gone quite this fast. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, or the arousal, or perhaps the spirits of your queer elders that possess you to ask the question, but ask it you do. “Should we go somewhere?”

He pauses, just for a second– it’s the first time you’ve seen him look hesitant all night. Your stomach flips a little, and you wonder if you went too fast.

Jimin blinks his big doe eyes up at you, then moves his lips to your ear so you can hear him clearly. “For my own safety, I need to confirm. You do understand that I have a vagina, right?”

You reach for one of his hands with your own, the other still firmly cupping his ass. Shifting back to look him in the eyes, you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Yes,” you confirm, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music because you don’t want to break eye contact with him by leaning in. You want him to see how much you mean this. “And I’m very into it.”

He keeps you fixed in his gaze, giving your hand a squeeze. “Come on, then.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as the two of you press your way through the crowd, and you lead him towards the bathrooms. You see a little more worry cross his stunning face, and you give his hand another affirming squeeze.

“Best part of a gay bar,” you call over the din. “All-gender bathrooms.”

The one you stumble into is empty, but you still push Jimin towards one of the stalls, locking it firmly behind you. As soon as you’re sure the lock’s in place, you pull him to you with your still-joined hands, turning around to press your hips into him and slam him up against the door.

“Fuck,” he gasps as you rough him up. His pupils are blown with lust, his full lips just barely parted. You’re going to go insane if you can’t have him right now.

“Wanna taste you so bad,” you murmur into his neck, and Jimin whines again, his head tipping back against the wall.

“Please,” he hisses. “Do whatever you want with me.” All the possibilities that sentence offers to you make your head spin.

You bite down on his shoulder as you hike up that pretty little skirt, and your own cunt floods at the sight of him. He is wearing underwear, after all– a lace thong that’s pale blue in color, light enough that when he spreads his legs, you can see it’s completely soaked through.

“See what you did to me?” Jimin can barely get the words out; his voice is shaking with need. You pull him back in for a heady kiss, both of you moaning as you lick your tongue over his.

When you hook your fingers under the lace band of his panties and push them down, he cants his hips up toward you in pure desperation, clearly unable to stop the soft noises that fall from his lips. You slide one hand slowly up his thigh, teasing, stopping just short of where he needs you.

You can’t help yourself. The power trip is too good.

“Beg for it.”

Jimin’s back arches up at the order, his head nearly slamming into the wall. “Please, please, please. Make me come on your fingers. Let me be a little slut for you.”

“Yeah?” You’re pretty sure your own arousal is dripping down your thighs at this point, but you’re too focused on him. “Is this what you want?” He practically sobs when you slip a finger into his drenched cunt and rub hard against his front wall.

“Yes, yes, fuck, baby–” Jimin’s knees threaten to give out, his hands fisting in the fabric of your shirt like he’s hanging on for dear life.

Any trace of your initial shyness is long gone as you fully embrace the way you’re making him unravel. You can’t help but smirk. “It’s that good, huh? You want another?”

He bites down hard on his bottom lip, like he’s just remembered you are technically fingering him in public, but still whimpers encouragingly as he rocks his hips up to meet your touch. You have to drop your head on his shoulder as you press a second digit into him. Your own desperation is nearly overwhelming, especially now with the way he’s soaking your hand.

“God, you’re fucking wet. My pretty little slut,” you grunt against his neck, and you can hear him gasping for breath. “Couldn’t even wait for me to take him home. Had to come all over my hand in the bathroom instead. So fucking needy.”

Jimin seems to lose the battle to keep quiet, moaning something that you think is supposed to be words but is thoroughly incoherent. You glance up to see his eyes roll back in his head, and you take that as your cue to bring the pad of your thumb to tap on his clit.

His hips jerk wildly into your hand when you do, and you keep your touch as light as you can in case he’s extra sensitive there. He’s breathing through clenched teeth and whimpering with every exhale, and he doesn’t have to be able to speak for you to know he’s insanely close. The way his cunt squeezes tightly around your fingers tells you everything.

You open your mouth to say how good he looks, all fucked out like this, when you hear the bang of the bathroom door being slammed open.

Shit. Honestly, you’d really lucked out for making it this far without anyone else coming in. Jimin’s eyes widen and you falter for a second as you hear the footsteps of someone going into one of the other stalls.

You pray they aren’t curious enough to look down and see two pairs of feet next to them, clearly not using the bathroom for its intended purpose.

When you glance back up at Jimin, you can still see the desperation painted all over his face, and it looks almost painful now considering how close he must have been. Rather than pulling out, you bring your other hand up to cover his mouth and lean in, bringing your lips as close as you can to his ear.

You just barely breathe the words, praying the ambient club noises are enough to keep them from your neighbor. “Can you be quiet, my little slut?”

Jimin nods so hard you think his head might fall off, and you can’t help but smile. He really is so fucking cute. You’d kiss him if you weren’t afraid of him moaning at the feeling.

You’re more aware of your surroundings than you’ve been since you laid eyes on Jimin, enough for you to realize that you vaguely recognize the Becky G song that’s currently bumping in the club. Even in here, the thud of the music thrums through you, and you set the pace of your fingers inside Jimin to match, your other hand still clamped over his mouth.

Keeping your movements aligned with the music helps cover the sound a little, but Jimin’s pussy is so slick that there’s still an unmistakable wet noise of your fingers working inside him. You pray whoever’s next door is fucked up enough not to notice, or that they think it’s just a leaky faucet somewhere.

Jimin’s eyes flutter closed again, his hips rolling up to match the rhythm perfectly. Definitely has to be a dancer. You can feel his jaw fall slack, his full lips pressing open against your hand, and you reward his obedience by returning your thumb to circle his clit.

Your focus should really be on making him come as quietly as possible, but you can’t help it. He looks too fucking good, ruined panties around his ankles and skirt hiked up to expose his dripping cunt.

You lean in and lick a stripe up his neck before you can tell yourself not to.

He pants hard into your hand, brows pinching together with the effort of staying quiet, and you dip your head to his neck again, sucking hard on the delicate skin there. His whole body shakes as you leave your mark; you swear you can feel him drooling.

After what seems like a fucking eternity– they were probably drunk, to be fair– you finally hear your neighbor stumble out to the sink to wash their hands, and then the sound of the door creaking open and closed again.

You release Jimin from your grasp and he’s laughing as he gasps for air, heading rolling side to side against the wall of the bathroom stall. You press your fingers a little harder into him until the laugh turns into a moan. “Fuuuuck, oh my god. That was crazy.”

The hand that’s no longer covering his mouth slides down, just barely ghosting over his throat but applying no pressure. “You did so good. Ready for your reward?”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth again as he whines and nods, and it’s all the encouragement you need to drop to your knees.

This time Jimin’s head actually does smack against the stall wall as you throw one of his legs over your shoulder and knock him off balance, but he’s whimpering loud enough that you figure he’s alright. His cunt is gorgeous, swollen and glistening with his arousal, and you smack it lightly a couple of times, if only because he’s too fucking fun to torment.

“Please, don’t tease me,” he groans. “I need to come so bad.”

As much as you enjoy the sound of him begging for you, it’s nothing compared to the high-pitched noises he makes once you finally bring your mouth to him. It’s enough to make your own cunt throb, which just makes you suck that much harder on his clit, your fingers slipping back inside him.

Without you there to steady him, Jimin has to brace his hands on either side of the stall, shaking violently as he tries to stay upright while you absolutely go to town on him. You groan against his cunt at how good he tastes and the vibrations shudder through him.

“Fuck, fuck–” you hear him gasp, and you don’t change a single thing: you just keep humming and sucking and fucking him with your fingers as he comes undone around you. When he finally climaxes, it’s with a moan that’s nearly a scream. You press your tongue flat against him and let him ride it out, feeling his walls flutter around you and his clit twitch as the aftershocks ripple through him.

When he can finally open his eyes, Jimin fixes you in a look of utter disbelief. “Who the fuck do you think you are, making me come that hard in a fucking club bathroom?!”

You laugh, unhooking his leg from around you and wiping at your chin as you stand back up. Before you even have time to process what’s happening, he’s grabbing at your shirt and turning to press you up against the wall, his lips crashing into yours. You kiss him back as best you can, though your jaw is a little tired, and he hums appreciatively when he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Jimin pulls back, still keeping you close and watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. “I taste good.”

You have to laugh. “You would think that, you little slut.”

His hands are already fumbling to unzip your jeans, and you lift your hips up to help him, your eyes fluttering closed. You feel like you’ve been edged the whole night just being around him. You might come the second he touches you.

“Can I get you off?” He murmurs as he pulls your pants and underwear down at the same time, and you whine because you want it so bad.

“God, yes.”

“Can I use this?” You open your eyes to focus on him and realize he’s holding up the thin silver cylindrical pendant of his necklace, which he’s slipped off from around his neck. For a second you wonder if he means to put it inside you, but then he presses a hidden button and you can just barely hear it start to vibrate.

Fuuuuuuck.

“I promise it’s clean,” he laughs, and it’s your turn to beg. You can’t do even one more second of pleasantries, not when your pants are off and that thing is buzzing in his hand.

“Please, please.” You spread your legs as wide as they’ll go, and you feel his hand come to cup your jaw. He doesn’t say anything, only watches you intently as he nestles the vibrator between your folds, the tip of it pressing into your clit.

“Oh holy shit–” you gasp, your back arching violently at the feeling of finally, finally having contact where you need it most after so much anticipation. 

“Mm-hmm,” he hums in agreement, and then he presses the button again and the intensity increases. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“N-n-no,” you can barely get a fucking word out, and when you do it’s more like a shattered moan. “It’s perfect.” A fresh wave of arousal floods your pussy; your juices are fully running down your legs now.

When he presses the button a third time, tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes. “Jimin, Jimin,” you wail, and he tilts his head slightly, pursing his lips a little.

“Too much?”

You shake your head so violently the room spins. Your whole body is trembling from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of the vibrations running through you as he grinds the toy into your clit. “No, no, I’m gonna– oh my god, Jimin, I’m gonna fucking–”

Your orgasm doesn’t wait for you to finish the thought. This time it’s your turn to bang your head on the wall as you come so hard you see stars behind your eyes.

Your hips buck and shudder against the vibrator in Jimin’s hand until you make a strangled whine of overstimulation, and then he relents and turns it off. The sensation of his full lips pressing kisses along your jaw is the perfect gentle welcome back to reality. You slowly open your eyes again, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“I think–” your voice cracks embarrassingly when you try to speak, and you clear your throat as Jimin fails at attempting to bite back a giggle. “I think we’re even now,” you try again. “On the whole coming hard in a bathroom thing. Dear god.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “This was fun.”

“Very fun,” you agree, and you tilt your jaw up to gently kiss him. He’s smiling when he pulls away, and you can’t help but do the same. “Now get your skirt back on, slut.”

You help him pull up his panties and readjust his skirt as he tucks the used vibrator into his pocket. Once he’s put back together, Jimin reaches down to tug your jeans up, giving your butt a firm smack while you fumble to zip your fly.

As you slip out of the stall and the bathroom entirely, you find his hand in yours, your fingers interlacing just as they were when you entered. You head back to the dancefloor where Rihanna’s S&M is absolutely blaring, and it’s somehow the perfect closing soundtrack for this crazy fucking encounter.

You can’t help but echo the thought you had earlier in the night: god, you love pride month.

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #love the way you wear that

[lovetorn]

Life Was A Willow [Part 1]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 2 Part 3

Summary: it's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings for part 1: violence, swearing

A/N: AHHHH !! It's finally here !! i'm going to be posting this in parts, originally 2, but looking at it now, it may even possibly be 3 parts. i've been working on this for months and i'm extremely happy with it !! i hope you guys love it as much as i do !!

The leaves of the willow tree rustle loudly whilst Y/n kneels in front of the raspberry bush. With each piece of the fruit, her fingertips are stained with a deep magenta as she plucks them off of the branches. Bark and twigs dig into her knees sharply when she reaches forward to grasp one last raspberry, but before she has the chance to pick it, the sound of horse hooves galloping on the dirt startle her.

“Ma’am! Are you alright?” A deep voice calls. Y/n sighs, standing from her spot on the ground before she turns around.

Five men on tan horses surround her. Her heart skips a beat when she recognises their uniforms. Witch hunters. With the nod of her head, Y/n smiles. “I’m doing just fine, gentlemen! Thank you for your concern.”

Although, she doesn’t recognise any of their faces—especially the man in a mask. The girl tilts her head at the sight of it; hardly any hunters wear a mask. But, what confuses her more is the taunting smile drawn lazily across the white ceramic. “Are you sure? There’s a whole lot of danger in these parts, sweetheart!”

Y/n almost rolls her eyes but stops before they catch onto her. “I promise, I’m completely fine.” She wishes she could see the expression of the man in the mask.

None of the hunters reply before they kick the sides of their horses and ride off in the opposite direction they came. Panic sets in as Y/n drops her basket of berries and sets off into a sprint, her skirts catching under her feet.

Being this far from home with hunters close-by is risky, Y/n knows this. But the raspberry bush had just ripened and she promised Wilbur she would bake him a raspberry cheesecake in return for repairing her wand.

Her lungs burn as she pushes open the small wooden gate that surrounds the house.

“Niki!” Y/n yells, her voice cracking slightly in fear. Her friend spins around from her spot in the garden. “Y/n! Take a look at the rose—“

Y/n only shakes her head, turning back in panic. “Hunters.”

“Quickly then, get inside, we must inform Wilbur.”

The pair rush into the cottage, Niki’s rose bush and Y/n’s basket of berries left behind.

The back door slams against the wall, only to be shut and locked as soon as it was opened. Wilbur stands from his spot at the dining table with a puzzled expression.

“How many?” Wilbur runs a hand over his face.

“A whole army. The King’s been busy; there’s a lot of new faces.”

The man sighs deeply. He turns to face Niki, who sits on the kitchen stool with a look of fear on her face. Y/n swallows and peers out of the small window. She sees a flash of white and the sound of an arrow cutting the air. “They’re here. They’ve followed me.”

—

Niki is the first to exit the house, her hands out in front of her. She clenches her jaw as she feels tingles through her muscles, her eyes shaped like crescent moons. The sound of branches cracking and leaves crunching makes her throw her hand to her right, which earns a distant cry as a hunter is thrown backwards.

Wilbur hurries around the house in search of his staff while Y/n whispers angrily at him to hurry up. The man lets out a quiet squeal when he spots it leaning against the living room wall and faces Y/n. He exhales, nodding once to tell her to go out the back door.

Y/n moves silently whilst passing windows and eventually through the door. Her eyes dart in every direction as she steps onto the dirt beneath her. The only sound is the snapping of bows and faint cries from the front of the house.

“Witch!” A voice calls. Y/n lifts her hands up, flecks of glitter-like sparkles falling from her fingertips. “We come to you on behalf of the King; he wishes to discuss potential alliances with you.”

Y/n struggles to distinguish where the voice comes from before there’s a hand on her back and she’s being pushed to the ground. She scowls and turns to face the person behind her; a man with a white bandana tied around his head.

Y/n jumps up instantly, moving her finger in a circular motion until the man’s feet begin to lift off the ground.

“Hey, hey! No!” He yells, scrambling to grasp the sword attached to his back. Y/n raises an eyebrow as she gets a closer look at the weapon.

“A diamond sword? Huh? Did Technoblade give you that?”

The man visibly stills, his hands fumbling the sword as he brings it up beside his face. “Yeah, what about it?”

Y/n shakes her head, a sad smile on her cheeks. “Nothing, Techno’s an old friend of mine. Tell me, is he well?”

The squeal of an arrow stops the man from answering her question. Y/n steps back when the sharp object swizzles past her head. “That wasn’t very nice.”

She chooses to pay no attention to the other hunter, who hides behind a tree and instead focuses on the one in front of her.

“Are you new?” Y/n asks calmly.

The man nods before Y/n lowers him back onto his feet. “Name. Now. That’s not a question but a demand.”

“Sapnap.”

Y/n squints at him. “Odd.”

“Y/n! We need help!” Wilbur calls from the opposite side of the house. Y/n sighs and places her hands back to her sides. The man with the diamond sword narrows his eyes at her, jerking his neck to the side to stretch it.

Y/n sighs in annoyance and sweeps him to the side, the roots from Niki’s rose bushes wrapping tightly around his body; not enough to hurt him, but to keep him immobile.

Y/n goes to step in the direction of the front of the house but is stopped by the man in the mask. A bow and quiver sit on his back and Y/n glances at them, planning on destroying them. “Don’t even think about it.”

Y/n is taken aback by the man’s forwardness and watches as he draws a dagger from his boot. Y/n raises her hands again, her eyes turning to slits as she awaits the man’s next moves.

As anticipated, he lunges forward, the knife tightly held in his fist. Y/n swiftly dodges, her hands moving majestically around to form a divet in the ground for him to fall into. However, she is quickly mistaken when he spins on his heel and steps over the growing hole.

“Nice tactic,” The man teases. “But not good enough.” Y/n is annoyed that she can’t see his face—she'd love to see what it’d look like after this.

Y/n rolls her eyes, a bored look on her face. She sighs deeply and steps into a fighting stance. She notices the man doing the same.

“Nice footwork,” Y/n says, stomping one foot into the earth before it starts to vibrate. “But not good enough.”

The man’s face falls and pales behind his mask as vines come to conceal his feet. Y/n smirks as he falls onto the dirt with a thump. The man lays with his back against the ground and his arms outstretched as Y/n stands above him.

She smiles at him—her grin is more genuine than usual, which is odd considering the circumstances—and leans down and places her mouth near his ear. “You know, you did pretty well for being a new hunter.”

The man scoffs then laughs in response. “Thanks.”

—

A hunter draws his sword, one made out of netherite, and Wilbur’s eyes grow in shock. “How did you get that?”

The man smirks and lifts the weapon high into the air. He brings it down towards Wilbur, who quickly matches the hunter’s strength with his staff. The two objects clash against one another and white light begins to seep through the lines in the staff.

Wilbur inhales sharply at the sight and pushes the man away with all his might. His staff starts to vibrate and soon the wood cracks in various places.

“Wil, move!” Y/n comes from behind him, her hands out wide as she lifts the hunter into the air and towards a tree. His body slams against the bark, making pieces fall onto the grass before branches weave around the man, enclosing him in a cocoon.

“Thanks,” Wilbur smiles, although it falters when he notices his staff becoming weak. “But I think it’s the end for this guy.”

Y/n frowns, her fingers caressing the cracked wood. “We can’t repair this. You must go to Quackity, he’ll be able to fix it.”

“I can’t fix this.”

Y/n’s jaw goes slack before she stands from the long table. “Alex! Why not?”

Quackity stifles a sly laugh as he rounds the table, picking up the broken staff on the way past. “It’s beyond repair. You see, when netherite and magical objects mix, the netherite completely destroys any magic within it. Therefore making it impossible to fix.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes, “We know that already, Sherlock, which is why we brought it to you thinking you could help us. But you clearly can’t, so we’ll be on our way.”

Quackity’s eyes widen and he drops the stick onto the table once more. “No! I–I can fix it, just give me a few days.”

Y/n raises an eyebrow, suspicious of his sudden enthusiasm. She slams the staff onto the table from Quackity’s hands and looks him in the eye. “No fucking around, okay, Alex? You fix this staff or there will be consequences. Got it?”

The man looks around his cave in search of something. Y/n squints as she watches him duck under rocks and dodge around cauldrons.

“Karl? Have you got any wands?” He calls down a hallway. Y/n and Wilbur meet gazes, his eyes moving towards the staff before Quackity returns in a hurry.

“Well, I haven’t got a wand to cast a promising spell, but if you come back in 2 days, I’ll guarantee this staff will be good as new and back in business,” He smiles, snatching the wood from the table. “Free of charge, just for you.”

Wilbur nods hesitantly, glancing at Y/n before he stands. “Okay. See you then, I guess.”

Quackity grins. He slowly shifts his weight to his other foot as he waits for them to leave. But Y/n isn’t finished.

“If you trick us, Alex. I swear to god I will take that little hat if yours and shove it right—”

The younger man shakes his head, “There will be no need! I’d never trick you! I just want to help my friends.”

Wilbur winces on the word ‘friends’ and ducks his head as he exits the cave. “See you!” Quackity says before Y/n follows in suit.

“Karlos, we’ve got work to do!”

“Down this way!”

Dream’s eyes drift towards the small cottage he and the hunters were at yesterday. Sapnap rolls his neck and groans in pain. “You’d think they’d wait a few days before going out again.”

Dream ignores his friend’s complaints as the group nears the house. The tidy garden and ivy that intertwined along the roof are torn and disrupted, and Dream feels slightly guilty looking at the damage they did. But, upon arrival, the house is empty.

“It’s been abandoned!” A brunette hunter yells in confusion. Dream twists his lips and narrows his eyes at a faint snap a few feet away. The silence is deafening as he realises everyone else heard it too. “Don’t move. We’ve been ambushed.”

The men look up towards the trees above them; the canopy appears darker than usual. Suddenly, a hunter behind Dream yelps, and as he turns around to see what happened, the man is gone. This causes a collective gasp amongst the group, fear coursing through their veins.

“Hello, boys!” A voice calls from the trees. The hunters whip their head around, trying to decipher which direction it came from and readies their swords. However, Dream remains calm. He only raises his eyebrow at the sound of the voice continuing. “Lovely seeing you here.”

Another yell echoes through the group and another and another until only Dream and Sapnap remain.

“Hey, Snapmap. Can I call you that? Or is that only reserved for your friends?”

The younger boy furrows his eyebrows as his eyes lay on Y/n, floating down from the trees. Dream watches the same girl he fought yesterday, fling Sapnap’s sword away with the swish of her fingers. The pair tilt their heads at the action and remain quiet when Y/n begins laughing. “Calm down, you’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dream feels someone behind him and then he turns around and swings his sword in one movement. He’s met with a slightly taller man, who immediately forces his sword backwards and onto the dirt.

Dream’s eyes widen before he brings his fists up. “This isn’t a fair fight.”

Wilbur struggles to contain his giggle as he meets Y/n’s gaze. “You want to take this one?”

Y/n nods and lifts her hands to drag Dream across the forest floor towards her. Dream is startled as he regains his balance. “Nice seeing you again, mask boy.”

“Can’t say I feel the same, witch,” Y/n smirks at his serious tone before she shoots her hand to the side to gather a sword from one of the hunters who sits tied to the branches above them.

“Get your sword, it’ll be a fair fight.”

Dream bends down to pick up his netherite sword, its purple aura intimidating to the iron one Y/n holds. “No magic.”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “Got it.”

And with the sound of metal scraping against metal, the fight begins.

Y/n steps back as Dream moves forwards. He bounces on the balls of his feet and adjusts his grip on the sword before he lunges forward. Y/n is quick to sidestep the sharp edge before she retaliates with her own movement. The pair continue barely missing each other, the interaction being a friendly fight rather than a deadly one. Y/n shifts her weight to her back foot as she watches Dream’s sword swing between them.

“What’s your name, anyway? I know Sapnap’s, so what’s yours?” Y/n asks, out of breath slightly. Dream squints as he dodges her swing at his abdomen. “Dream.”

“Well, Dream, you’re good with a sword. I’m Y/n, by the way.” Y/n mumbles, and what she doesn’t see is Dream’s cocky smile. She doesn’t question his odd name like she did with Sapnap yesterday, and it makes his stomach turn.

The pair stop for a second, staring at each other before Dream’s blade cuts the air and barely misses Y/n’s shoulder. The girl gasps at the closeness and scolds him.

In Dream’s moment of victory, and distraction, Y/n thrusts forwards, her sword coming to a halt at Dream’s throat. “I win. Again.”

Dream gulps. The feeling of the sharp point so prominent on his skin scares him. But, the soft look in Y/n’s eye tells him she’s not going to kill him. And as she begins to lower her sword, Dream’s foot sweeps under hers, causing her to tumble forward. There’s a dull thud of bodies hitting the dirt, and Y/n knows exactly where she is.

“I—Uh,” Dream mumbles, his hands hovering over Y/n’s hips as she lays on top of him.

“Thanks for that.” She murmurs. Dream hums and tries to help her maneuver off of him. The pair eventually stand and avoid eye contact, despite keeping it for close to 8 minutes straight previously.

“Get a room!” Sapnap yells from the tree. There’s a small grumble of laughter from the other hunters and Y/n shakes her head.

“How do you plan on getting down, Snapmap?” The youngest boy’s expression turns sour. Dream tilts his head back to observe the other hunters and laughs lightly—his throaty chuckle making Y/n look at him.

“Well, have fun!” Y/n calls as she slips away, but not before she bids Dream goodbye.

The hunters trudge through the castle gates with defeated expressions and their outfits muddy. The group share collective groans of pain as they walk the grounds, their muscles aching.

“What was all that between you and that witch?” Sapnap asks Dream whilst they enter the Hunters Wing of the castle. Dream shrugs and strips himself of his jacket, hanging it on the peg on the wall next to them.

The Hunters Wing of the castle is a large area with corridors of bedrooms and even more rooms for dining, training, cooking, reading, and more. The training room, however, is the largest out of all of them. Its high ceilings and concrete pillars make for a great place for target practice, surprise attack run-throughs, and performing hand-to-hand combat.

Dream spends most of his time here; Sapnap pokes fun at him for his constant preparation for new opportunities, but their other best friend, and the Prince, George, just applauds him for his determination—which eventually makes Sapnap agree.

“Nothing, and her name’s Y/n.” Dream’s lack of answer causes Sapnap to sigh loudly as he sits on the bench to untie his boots.

“Bullshit.” He exasperates. “There was definitely something there and you know it. But you better get over it, it's forbidden.”

Dream rolls his eyes and shrugs one shoulder. “Not forbidden, just frowned upon.”

Sapnap drops his shoes onto the cobblestone ground abruptly, groaning at his best friend before he stands and walks towards his bedroom. “You are such a—”

“Sapnap!” A new voice startles the boy, and Dream grins as soon as he recognises it.

“Georgie, don’t scare me like that, you idiot,” Sapnap whines, jogging over to the Prince to lightly punch his shoulder.

“Please, if that scared you then I’d consider you a—” Another light punch to his shoulder stops George from continuing.

“No swearing, Gogy,” Dream snickers as he walks towards the pair, heaving his duffle bag he collected from the cubby hole. He reaches his hand down to George’s cheek before pinching it. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your image.”

George shrugs both of the boys off of him with a scowl. “Get off of me, the both of you.”

Sapnap only giggles at George’s attempt at swatting their hands away, his own hand coming up to cover his smile. Dream places his bag on the floor, smirking, before letting out a soft laugh.

“Anyways, Dream had a moment with one of the witches today.”

George’s eyebrows raise as he turns to look at Dream, who rolls his eyes at the topic again. “Is she pretty?”

Dream goes to reply, yes, and she can fight really, really well, but Sapnap is quick to shut down his chance.

“George, it’s forbidden, why don’t you disapprove of this?” Sapnap’s brows furrow as he throws his hands around. Dream crosses his arms over his chest, irritated that he’s brought it up again, and now to the Prince.

The eldest shrugs. “I find magic more interesting and worth learning about, than dangerous. It would be so cool to have powers like that, don't you think?”

Sapnap groans again. “Ugh! You guys are so weird. Talk to me when you come to your senses about how it's destroying our world rather than helping it.” And ignoring Dream and George’s calls, he stalks to his room, leaving the pair in the training room.

“He’ll come around.” The Prince mumbles.

However, Dream doesn't say anything, picks up his duffle bag from the floor and takes off in the opposite direction, leaving George alone.

“Pricks.”

Y/n sits on the rocking chair on the patio of the cottage, a spellbook in her lap and a mug of lavender tea in her hand. The wind picks up slightly, making the leaves rustle and the trees sway around her. The chair rocks softly and the creaks of the house comfort her—especially in a time when everything is unknown.

As she goes to bring the cup to her lips, Y/n is startled by an object flying at her. She throws her opposite hand up to stop it before it hits her, the force causing the rocking chair to tilt backwards.

Y/n feels a sharp edge on her palm and her heart skips a beat. As she moves her hand away, she notices that the object is, in fact, not a dagger, but an envelope. She exhales loudly and feels her heart rate slow down from its once rapid beating.

Y/n examines the letter as it floats in front of her face and then grasps it in her fingers. The envelope is crisp and white and is closed with a red wax seal. The signature can only mean one thing: the Castle.

Opening the letter, there is a single white card with black calligraphy: Y/n, wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark, at the abandoned cottage that is East of the castle. We can talk then. –C

The witch furrows her eyebrows. C? Who is C?

She chooses against notifying Wilbur and Niki about the letter, and instead, slots it into her spellbook and takes a sip of her tea.

But, Y/n notices a return address on the card before she tucks it away, and flicks her hand back over her shoulder to summon a pen and paper. The pen stills in front of the card, waiting for Y/n to instruct it on what to write.

“Dear, C,” Y/n starts, she ponders for a moment before continuing. “I’ll be waiting for the signal, I hope it’s grand.”

Puckering her lips, Y/n swirls her finger around to fold the letter up and sends it back inside to package it.

The envelope, now sealed with periwinkle wax, flies out of the floor and then up into the sky and out of sight. Y/n sighs, mindlessly fiddling with the corner of the card she received.

Ok, she’ll meet them after dark. Whoever they are.

#lwaw #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dream smp imagines #dreamwastaken x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #life was a willow

[cobaincreates]

touch pt. 3

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (female receiving), 18+

count: 4k+

final part of touch! thank you so much for reading!

— — —

“just get the silver one with the straps. i think the purple is a bit too close on the magenta side.”

“i can wear my heels with this one.” sarah agreed, turning her hips. “do you still have those silver earrings from work? the long, dangly ones?”

“i think so, yeah. i’ll bring them over later.” you nodded at your phone screen, watching sarah fiddle with the dress she had on. the lighting from the fitting room made the dress look darker than it really was in the picture she originally sent you.

“what’s kie trying on?” you asked just as a notification popped up at the top of your screen.

rafe:

meet me on dock @ noon?

your stomach twisted as a smile immediately graced your lips. you quickly swiped out of the facetime session, hoping sarah didn’t see, as you went to reply.

“i think she’s looking for a pair of jeans she saw the last time we came. the ones with the stitched back pockets.” sarah said.

okay :), you sent.

you were met with the ceiling when you went back to facetime, staring at a small orb reflecting from the light.

“hopefully she finds them,” you said and checked the time again as you started to think about changing out of the pajamas you were still in.

you had the day off today, which so far had amounted to you skipping out on a shopping trip with sarah and kiara and settling for being lazy around an empty house. it wasn’t so bad, but you were ready to get a move on, rafe’s text motivating you.

“john b’s calling me. i’ll talk to you later?” sarah’s face suddenly appeared on the screen as she picked her phone up, her shoulders now bare. you held a peace sign above your messy bed-ridden hair and tossed your phone aside when you hung up.

it was impossible not to be smiley and giddy as you scoured your dresser for clothes to wear. who could blame you when you’d spent nearly every night this week staying up late to text back and forth with rafe. it felt like you were dreaming, like you were living in an alternate universe where you actually got something you wanted. a month ago, you never would’ve guessed that you’d be getting ready to meet up with rafe, much less be fooling around with him.

it was difficult to describe how you felt about it. obviously, you were happy and bubbling with excitement, so much so that you thought you were going to throw up anytime you reminisced on the time spent with him. you tried not to dwell on the fact that you were technically sneaking around with him, but it had only been a few times so did it really constitute as such? you knew you had to tell sarah; the only thing stopping you being that you just weren’t sure when a good time would be.

when you had gotten home the other day from the marsh, you quickly closed yourself in your room. there was no reason to hide the grin within the privacy of your own space, so you let it stay there, your cheeks hurting so much by the time you went to sleep. you couldn’t believe you’d finally kissed rafe and you even caught yourself pressing your lips together, trying to trap the sensation of it there, and closing your eyes. 

and rafe finally getting a taste of you? fuck, it was perfect.

back in your room, you quickly finished getting ready. as you sprayed some perfume just for the hell of it, you thought about where you were going if he wanted to meet on his dock. you tried to picture him waiting for you. would he smile when you were too far away to see it? would his skin tingle with vibrant energy, just waiting to touch you? you swore you felt that same sensation every time you thought of him.

by the time you pulled up to tannyhill and grew closer to the house, you spotted him patiently waiting on the dock. his dad’s boat was there, rocking ever so slightly in the water. rafe looked up at the sound of your car and you parked it beside his truck, a fast-approaching heat spreading up your neck at his open windows. it was like they were encouraging you to have the thoughts of being in the back seat.

you only brought your keys with you as you got out, your phone sitting in the cup holder along with a few receipts you’d been meaning to throw out. rafe watched you as you walked over the grass and toward the wooden planks of the dock. he squinted an eye shut to watch you and you wanted to tell him that that was what the hat on his head was for, if only he turned it around. instead, you smiled at your feet.

“where is everyone?” you said over the few yards you hadn’t closed yet between you. your feet brushed over the planks, going down the small slope to where rafe was standing at the back of the boat.

“ward is out of town,” rafe said, lifting his chin a bit. “rose is doing whatever rose does with her girlfriends, wheezie is on the computer, but she’s leaving soon.” you came to a stop a couple steps away from him, fiddling with the keys in your hand. “and sarah is with kie today, which i’m sure you already knew,” he smiled at the end, like he was satisfied to have you all to himself.

“mmm,” you hummed humorously. “are you taking me out?” you asked, jutting your chin to the yacht.

rafe looked over, giving you time to run your eyes quickly down his chest and lower half. you adored the blue button up he had on, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. wasn’t he hot?

“we can’t exactly go anywhere since ward would kill me,” he looked back at you, smirking, “but i figured we could hang out here.”

“hang out?” you smiled, biting the inside of your lip slightly and tilting your head.

he nodded, his hand slipping from his pocket and extending out to you. you stared back at him as a familiar feeling pooled in your lower abdomen, one you’d felt many times around him. you never wanted it to go away, and maybe it was ridiculous to think in such a way, but you never wanted to feel it for anyone else.

pushing your keys into one hand, you reached out for his and held on. he held it firmly as he turned and went to the back platform to step onto. you followed all the way inside, feeling the cooler atmosphere in the shade. it didn’t look any different than the last time you’d been on it, just tidied up a bit more.

you set down your keys on the dining table and turned your back to lean against it. rafe was already watching you curiously.

“are you going to come over here?” you weren’t sure where it came from, but you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

he broke out into a smile and stepped closer until his feet were in front of yours. you laughed, almost nervously, and let your eyes trail up his form. stopping at his torso, you put your hand out to touch one of the buttons on his shirt. he touched your waist, causing you to breathe in shakily. he shuffled closer, your hand now pressed against his stomach and spreading a warmth up your arm. you could see his forearms flex for just a split second.

“i’ve been having a lot of fun with you, you know.” he said.

“have you?” you smiled.

you let your eyes resume their trail up his chest, gliding over the hollow of his neck, skimming his jaw. finally, your eyes connected with his.

“yeah, i have.”

“sneaking or fooling around?” you asked, moving your arms to circle around his neck. your chest pressed to his, nearly having you breathe deeper as your shirt exposed a sliver of your stomach. rafe could feel it, his palms warm over your skin.

“mostly the fooling around part.” he said proudly, holding back a smile as if it would scare you.

you had to admit that’s what you’d been enjoying too. fuck, there had been nothing more thrilling than having rafe cameron between your legs, in his truck, with no one around. it wasn’t like you to sneak around, and while it had been fun, you knew sarah needed to know.

you hummed, looking up at his hat and teasingly taking it off to place upon your own head. he brushed his newly disheveled hair then smiled down at you, his head slightly tilting. you wondered if you looked as good as he did in the hat.

“do you think sarah would kill me if she knew?” you asked seriously, not wanting to put a damper on the mood, but it had been something on your mind lately.

“no, she’d probably kill me.” he stated.

you laughed, glancing out the door to the bow of the boat, knowing he had to be right. “i have to tell her,” you sighed, imagining it for a moment. you didn’t want her to be upset.

but you had known sarah for so long that you knew in your heart she wouldn’t be mad at you. she couldn’t. if anything, she might be a little weirded out, but she would embrace it, just like you embraced john b. it had been so weird, but so right for them to get together. maybe she’d feel the exact same way about you and rafe. then again, you and rafe weren’t dating, were you?

“i’m having fun with you too,” you said, quieter this time as if another person might’ve been on the boat with you.

you looked back up at him, searching his eyes. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so scared, so anxious for saying that aloud. he had already admitted the same thing, so what was there to be afraid of?

a soft gasp fell from your lips as rafe pulled you closer, his hand slipping over your bottom. his eyes seemed to darken, although you couldn’t exactly tell if it was from his face moving closer. either way, it added to the pooling in your abdomen.

“sucking my dick or me eating you out?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

you couldn’t help the blush sparking in your cheeks, heating your skin up faster than if you were to sit in front of a fire. you opened your mouth to answer him, instead watching as he disappeared and moved to your jaw. his mouth was warm and slick over your skin. you slipped your eyes closed and tightened your hold around his shoulders. god, you didn’t want him to stop.

“both,” you remembered to say, answering his question.

rafe squeezed at your ass, simultaneously moving your hips closer. you let out a breath when you brushed against him. he moved from your jaw then and found your lips.

“i thought we were just hanging out?” you teased, continuing to kiss him back in between the words. he was insatiable at the moment, never once letting you get too far away.

“we can if that’s what you want.” his breath was hot and growing heavy by the second. you smiled at the double meaning of his reply and pulled away slightly to shake your head. fuck no, you didn’t want to just hang out.

dropping your hands to the table behind you, you lifted yourself up and sat before tugging him in between your legs. you locked him in place with your thighs and reached up to connect your lips again. he obliged, running his tongue along your bottom lip in question. you happily allowed him access, making a small noise as you felt the pooling seep to your undies now.

his hands settled on your thighs for a little, gliding against your skin and sending shivers in each direction. you pushed your chest against his, wanting nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, to have his hands everywhere on your body. you nearly groaned in agony just wanting to ask him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. but it wasn’t long before he brought a hand up your side and rested over your breast. it was so warm and cupped you so nicely that you contemplated just letting it stay there, but your arousal told you differently.

pulling away, you managed to take your shirt off fast enough that you should’ve won the world record. you knocked rafe’s hat off while doing so, hearing it fall to the table behind you.

“fuck,” rafe swooned over your exposed chest.

he slipped an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and simultaneously against his bulge. you moaned and arched into his hand on your breast again, his grip gently kneading over your bra. what would his lips feel like there? you almost wish you could’ve found out the other day in the truck, but this…this was better.

feeling rather curious, or just very horny, you decided to rub your hips into rafe’s, feeling how hard he was. you felt the muscles in his back turn to steel, the noise against your lips contradicting it. his hand dropped from your breast to join his other at your lower back and you reveled in the way he gripped you tighter against his own body.

“fuck, i want you rafe, please.” you said, feeling the throbbing in your lips from kissing so much. you felt it just as much behind your shorts, your undies were practically drenched. you were so wet and you didn’t want to wait anymore for him to know it.

“i-i want you too,” he panted, loosening his grip.

he was very reluctant to pull away, to lose touch of you, but he was quick and excited as he pulled his shirt off, ripping some of the buttons. it made you laugh, your chest heaving for breath as you watched. he reached for your shorts next, moving fast and taking them off with your underwear at the same time. you didn’t mind, drawing your lip between your teeth, lifting your hips as you watched him do so. he pushed his bottoms off, fishing in his pocket for a condom he cleverly packed.

you drank in the sight of him, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his arousal and the dark curls surrounding him. for a second it felt like you shouldn’t be looking, that this was too private and not meant for your eyes, but once you looked up at his face and took in the way he was doing the same exact thing to you, you melted.

“you’re fucking pretty, you know that?” he said as he came back in between your legs, pushing your hair out of your eyes, and giving you a firm kiss.

“seems like you tell me a lot.” you answered and reached out to touch him gently. he sucked in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, your fingers registering that lovely vein again.

you could probably stare at your hand all day and revel in that vein, but instead you lifted your head and attached your lips to rafe’s neck. his hands went behind you so he could open the packet and it probably would’ve taken him a shorter amount of time if you weren’t sucking a mark into his skin and slowly rubbing him. he moaned lowly before getting the packet open successfully. you spent a few more seconds on his neck, then licked over the spot and pulled away.

rafe’s hand came over your wrist. he squeezed lightly then pulled your hand to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to your palm. he held your hand for a moment while he leaned in to press a kiss to your mouth. “can i taste you first?”

“o-okay,” you nodded quickly. “yeah.”

you practically reeled as he crouched down to his knees in front of you and brought a leg over his shoulder. you moved to the very edge of the table, having a slight thought of falling completely off, but you had a feeling rafe would catch you or you’d both laugh it off.

those thoughts completely disappeared as rafe put his mouth on you. you pulled a lip between your teeth, watching him as he did.

“fuck, you’re so wet for me.” he noted and gripped your thighs before licking a long stripe up your folds.

one of his hands slipped from your leg and you wondered what he was doing for a second, before you saw the muscles flexing in his shoulder. that got you even hotter, knowing that he was touching himself while having his mouth on you. you nearly couldn’t think straight as he licked you again. he dipped into your entrance and you swallowed a whimper when he decided to leave you like that.

you watched him stand back up and lick his lips as he rolled the condom on, your stomach flipping and rolling in anticipation. you swallowed thickly and looked up at rafe when he was ready, his hand gentle as it appeared on your hip.

“are you ready?” he asked in a deep breath. “if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“okay,” you nodded with a small smile.

you spread your legs wider and looked down at the same time as rafe so you could watch him. you breathed slowly to relax, watching as he guided himself to your entrance and slowly moved inside of you. your mouth fell open as a result, your arms nearly giving out. he opened you up the more he slid in, his palm on your thigh pressing more and more until he was completely inside.

“s-shit,” you panted and let your head fall back for a moment.

you breathed, closed your eyes. you tried to remember everything. you wanted to remember everything about this moment, about what it was like to have rafe inside of you. christ, you’d been in this same spot a week ago, daydreaming about his damn arms and veins and whole entire being. you’d lusted after him, tasted him, had him taste you, and now here you were. how the fuck did you get here?

you took a deep breath and leaned your head up. rafe’s mouth was open, his grip now like a vice on your thigh.

“fuck, you feel so good,” rafe said. “just like i imagined.”

you nearly whined at that and pressed your thighs into his hips to hold him in place. you licked your lips and pulled his mouth to yours, inviting him to move finally. he pulled his hips back slowly, holding onto you before moving back it. he did it a couple times, trying to get you used to him. fuck, he felt amazing.

rafe set a pace, his hand making a home on your lower back while his other held your leg up behind your knee. you couldn’t get enough of his praises each time he pulled away from you.

“god, you’re perfect,” he moaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth. “you fit so nicely around me, baby.”

you also couldn’t get enough of that damn pet name. it sounded even better falling from his lips in this exact moment.

“you’re taking my cock so well.”

with that praise you couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, squeezing him tightly and causing both of you to moan. he almost lost his rhythm for a moment but got it back as he kissed the corner of your lips down to your jaw. you kept your eyes closed, you found it easier so you could focus on just feeling him.

he pressed kisses down your neck, stopping at a few places to nip. it tickled you and aroused you at the same time, if not more. a minute later, he found his way to your breast, your back arching again to push into his mouth. his tongue appeared, flicking over your nipple.

“rafe,” you moaned louder than before and tightened your legs around him as you felt that coil wind up. “go f-faster.”

he groaned against you, the vibrations traveling all the way down to your core. he picked up the pace and groped you now, giving your breast a squeeze while his tongue flicked again. his teeth skimmed over it before he bit down gently, making your hand fly to his hair to keep his head where it was.

his thumb appeared on your clit and you had a feeling that he was about to completely ruin you. his mouth popped off of you and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips wet and swollen. wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you cried out as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip and picked up the pace, your skin starting to smack. you felt yourself squeeze around him as his tongue played with yours and it was almost too much that you had to pull away from the sensation.

“holy— f-fuck. rafe, i'm s-so close.”

“you gonna come for me?” his breath blew across your face, overly warm and heavy. “come for me. i want to feel you come on my cock, baby.”

his thumb timed up with his hips now, making your eyes prick with tears as you squeezed them shut tightly. you gripped rafe’s shoulder, trying to hold onto something as you felt it coming.

“that’s it, come on. i got you.” he coaxed you through it so gently that it made you want to sob.

instead, you cried out as you reached your climax, feeling yourself pulse and squeeze around rafe as you came over him. your whole body twitched and tensed as rafe kept circling your clit, helping you through it. you moaned lowly from your chest, your head falling backward and your eyes relaxing. you had no idea rafe was so close behind until his forehead fell to yours and his thrusts slowed. he pulled out and thrusted hard, doing that a few times until he came undone too. you felt him pulse inside of you, emptying into the condom in spurts. you wished you could taste it again.

you drew your face into his neck, still gripping his shoulder. your palm was sweating against the table behind you and you wondered how you lasted so long holding yourself up the whole time. your heartbeat gushed less in your ears as the minutes went by and your body relaxed against rafe’s. you still felt so full, wanting to keep him there longer.

pressing a kiss to that hollow between your neck and shoulder, rafe rubbed your back soothingly. “you did so good, baby.”

you hummed into his skin then pulled away to brush his hair and kiss him softly. “thank you,” you said quietly, not exactly for the compliment.

you made a noise close to a whine when rafe moved out of you. you knew he had too, watching as he pulled the condom off and tied it closed. he went to the trash bin in the kitchen to toss it while you reluctantly moved off the table. you slid, looking back to see a small mess you made with rafe on the surface.

just when you were about to ask rafe for something to clean it up with, he came back with a rag already in his hand. he held it out to you and you smiled, knowing he got it for you. you cleaned between your legs than folded the rag a couple times before wiping the table clean.

rafe’s hand came to your sides, caressing softly over your skin. you smiled at his chest, touching his arms and warming up at the thought of what you two had just done. he pulled you closer just to hold you, his hands roaming to your back. it was comforting to have the silence to touch each other, to just be for a few quiet moments.

“as much as i would love to just stand here with you, i'm a little paranoid that someone can easily see in here.” you said after a while, looking right at the open door to the back deck of the boat.

“maybe you should’ve thought about that before we fucked on the table.” rafe said and you could hear the stupid grin on his face.

you nudged him away jokingly as you laughed, but he switched to a serious look when he tugged you back by the hips. you swallowed as you felt him against your thigh, nearly ready to go again. you looked up at rafe, biting your lips together to keep the grin at bay.

“do you want to go inside?” he smiled softly, glancing down at your lips.

“yes,” you nodded.

you pulled away to pull your clothes on. rafe teased you with your undies, holding them out for you to take, then snatching them out of reach. you jabbed him in the side until he gave them to you, a teasing grin on his face.

your shirt settled around you and you looked at rafe just as he caught your wrist and tugged you closer. his lips connected with your cheek and he hugged you against him, warm and solid. it was familiar, something you didn’t think you’d be able to say about him. you looped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him back.

“what?” you asked when you pulled away, finding another dumb smile on his face.

“think we could do this again sometime?” he searched your eyes, glancing down at your lips.

you laughed and rolled your eyes, knowing that’s exactly what you were about to do once you got inside the house. why would he ask such a silly thing?

“of course,” you said anyways before pushing him away to get your keys.

you headed inside with him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you wondered how you looked, walking into tannyhill with him. you knew by the smile on your face that you were happy, and you guessed that he was too by the way he was holding you against him.

“wheezie?” rafe shouted into the house as he closed the door behind you two, his hand clasped tightly around yours.

silence followed his voice as you looked around the entryway, trying your best to hear for wheezie’s movements, or anybody’s voice. coast clear, you wanted to say but rafe beat you to it.

“fuck yes,” he sighed happily and pulled you by the hips to him. you laughed against his lips, kissing him back as you kicked your shoes off.

the next few seconds were filled with stumbling up the stairs like two drunks, pausing every so often just so rafe could kiss you, rafe making grabby hands at you and hardly letting you go. it’s a wonder how you even made it up the stairs. you giggled at him once you got into his room, him quick to toss his shirt to the floor, and closed the door.

—

“hello?”

your head snapped to rafe beside you, who was still working on catching his breath. sarah was home and you immediately panicked as you sat up.

“anybody home?” she called again, sounding so sweet like she was.

“up here!” rafe shouted, bare ass as can be and making your jaw go slack.

you smacked his thigh, the sound cracking sickeningly, before you scrambled off the bed to pull your clothes on.

“stop hitting me,” he laughed and lifted himself up to watch you stumble putting your shorts on.

“fuck off!” you whispered as if you had a chance at avoiding the impending situation. you pulled your shirt on roughly, completely forgetting a bra as you walked out of rafe’s room.

you managed to close his door completely and meet sarah at the top of the stairs. she looked up at you, surprised, carrying a few shopping bags.

“hey?” she greeted. “i could’ve sworn i heard my brother instead.”

oh beautiful, sweet, smart sarah. was there any way out of this? 

“i need to tell you something.” you said quickly and bit your lip anxiously.

sarah lifted an eyebrow at you, searching your face. you took an unsteady deep breath in. she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad. there was no way you could postpone this. this had to be done now otherwise you’d never forgive yourself. it’s so simple! you just have to say the words, just admit it. sarah, listen, i'm sl—

“you forgot this.” rafe’s voice came from behind you, making your stomach drop and sarah’s eyes completely divert over your shoulder.

turning slowly, you were absolutely mortified to see him holding your bra so comfortably. and he looked so proud too. god, you were going to kill him. that’s it, you were going to kill him. well, it had been nice while it lasted.

“oh my god,” you and sarah said at the same time.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron obx

[pascalpanic]

Ok I know cigarettes are like.. BAD ok. But I keep having this thot about riding javi on his stupid ass couch as he smokes a cigarette and you just take it from his lips and smoke as you quite literally ride him into the couch. He thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Hazy Vision (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: After a long weekend together, Javier has to go back to work. You really miss him.

W/C: 3.4k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), lots of dirty talk and innuendos, references to a lot of sex outside of what happens in the plot, creampie, language, mild overstimulation. LOTS of talk of cigarettes and smoking. brief mentions of food and alcohol. afab reader.

A/N: you broke my soul, anon. and for that I love you. p.s. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @theteddylupinexperience!!! hope u have an awesome day and that this is a sufficient gift lol

It’s hot as hell in Colombia, and your air conditioner broke.

Javier is gracious, of course. He’s your boyfriend. He cares for you. He’d do anything for you, even with nothing in it for him. It’s a bonus to him that you’ll get to spend the foreseeable future at his place, since every repairman in the country is working at full capacity.

Another bonus is you wearing his clothing. At first, it was funny to him. You didn’t grab any extra clothing when you first came over, so it was natural that you’d grab a shirt of his to sleep in. Then the morning came, and you wandered around his apartment in a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt. He had to admit, you looked stunning like that. So casual, carefree, painfully domestic. You’d pounced on him in bed after two coffees and insisted that you spend the weekend in bed entirely.

So you did. Saturday was spent mostly nude in his big bed, your head pressed to his chest or occasionally to his lips. When Javier asked if you wanted to run to your apartment for more clothing, you’d pouted. “But it’s hot outside. I don’t wanna go all the way over there.”

As much as you enjoyed your own clothing, there was such a charm to wearing Javi’s. His clothes were big on you, even as they pulled tight on his thick arms and broad chest. They were comfortable too, and smelled just like him. It was a perfect comfort when he was at work and you sat bored in his apartment.

Javi sighed and asked if you’d like him to go get some. You gave a wide grin, and he begrudgingly made his way to your apartment. He packed you a bag of enough clothes for a week, and promised you if the air conditioning wasn’t fixed by then, he’d do it himself. And when he got back, he’d absolutely wreck you.

When he returned, he made good on his second promise and the two of you spent the whole day in his bed. A few lazy rounds of sex, lots of little kisses, and murmured words of affection into the other’s ear.

It was so perfect that it was really no surprise that Sunday came and went the same. You’d showered in the early morning, and Javier joined you. Shower sex occurred. Then you made breakfast and ate it in bed with him. You dozed in and out of sleep together for a few hours too. When noon rolled around, Javier treated you to a wonderful hour of his face buried between your legs, eating you out and never stopping. More sleep. You watched some television, snuggled, talked about the week behind you and the week coming up.

You ordered and ate takeout for dinner, also in bed. You finally drifted off late at night and groaned as Javier’s loud alarm woke you.

“Don’t go to work, baby,” you whine, throwing your arms around him.

“I just spent two days in bed with you. What more do you want from me?” He murmurs sleepily, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair.

“All of your love and affection,” you say cheerfully, as if it’s not hard to give. Javier has already found it isn’t difficult with you. You’d had it since the moment you met.

“Cute, very cute,” he chuckles and taps your ass as he gets out of bed.

-

Even with the air conditioner pumping chilled breezes through the apartment at full speed, it’s as if the heat outside has settled inside of you. Your skin isn’t sweating but you feel flushed, stifled by all the clothing you’re wearing. So you strip down a little, heading to Javier’s room for something light.

As you remove your top, you smile as you see your favorite of Javier’s shirts. It’s a bright magenta, and you slip it over your shoulders. It’s a light material, but you leave it unbuttoned, exposing your lacy white bra beneath it. You keep the white shorts you’re wearing on. Looking in the mirror, you wish there was a way to show Javier how good you look right now. Instead, you settle for the fact that it’s… fuck, it’s only 4.30?

You’re restless. You’ve done plenty today: cleaned Javi’s kitchen, watched some telenovelas, read from an interesting book you were making your way through, organized his bedroom, and it’s still only 4:30. If you’re lucky, Javier will get home around 5:15 at the earliest. You know his job is demanding; he could be there all night.

Desperate for anything to do, you turn to one of Javier’s vices. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the counter, you make your way to the couch and plop down, resting your feet on his coffee table. You take out a single cigarette and ignite it with the little flick lighter Javier keeps on the end table.

For the next ten minutes, you breathe slowly, inhaling and exhaling the nicotine. Your eyes slip shut as your head rests against the back of the couch. You’re tired and lazy and still so fucking warm for some reason.

The night passes painstakingly slowly. You watch the 5:00 news, then the 6:00 and the 6:30. Finally, around 6:45, the doorknob jingles and Javier enters.

You’re cooking dinner by then, the stovetop sizzling with something good. It smells wonderful, he notes as he drops his briefcase and keys by the door, but there’s something even more enticing in the kitchen.

His radio is playing loudly, and you dance around the kitchen to the music as you cook. There’s sunlight filtering in through the windows, the last rays of the summer sun starting to descend. The large shirt fans out as you twirl, revealing the soft bare skin of your lower back. You’re already driving him crazy and you don’t even know he’s home.

He walks into the kitchen, and you look up with a grin as you see him. “Hi, Javi,” you sing as you wrap your arms around him, on your tiptoes. “Missed you today.”

“Missed you too… is that my shirt?” He asks, and you laugh happily, looking down at your outfit.

Javier finally processes the rest of the look and it sends a chill down his spine. Your breasts look so perfect, as if they’re perched there just for him. They are, but he doesn’t know that yet. “Yeah. I know we have the A/C pumping in here, but it still feels so hot,” you shrug, turning back and stirring something in the pan.

Javier wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin perching on your shoulder. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmurs.

“I think it’s making me pick up some of your habits,” you giggle and nod to a glass of whiskey to the right of the stove. “I’ll pour you one. You keep stirring these,” you tell him and kiss his cheek, sliding out of his arms.

He gets changed eventually, out of his work clothes and into a t-shirt and a rare pair of shorts you never knew he owned. It must be hot at the Embassy, you consider, and even though it’s cool in here, the effects linger. He must feel the heat the same way you do.

The two of you sip your glasses of whiskey as dinner cooks, and Javier’s eyes rarely leave yours. When they do, they’re on your chest or your ass in those little white shorts.

“Go sit down,” you tell him as the food finishes. “It’s almost done, and it’ll need to cool before we can eat it.”

He nods in agreement and meanders to his couch, lying down lengthwise and sighing. You glance over at him and smirk a little. You’d planned this all day, been missing his body and his strong arms. His warmth was missing when you attempted taking a nap in his bed. He was right where you wanted him, lighting up a cigarette. The food is done, just needs to cool now.

“I was so restless today,” you smile as you wander similarly to the living room. He takes in your legs as they stand in front of him, rubbing a hand up the back of your thigh and admiring what he sees.

“And why was that?” He asks before blowing out a cloud of grey from between his lips.

You shrug. “Missed you. Had nothing to do, really, since this isn’t my house. But mainly I missed you.”

He grabs at your thigh, thick fingers pressing into the soft flesh, and you smirk down at him. You straddle him, stealing the cigarette from his lips. You let it dangle between yours and smile down at him.

He looks up at you, dazed. Between your hips hovering above his and the nicotine slowly buzzing its way into his brain, he’s beyond contentedness. “Missed you too, sweet thing,” he murmurs, splaying his fingers across your thigh. Your hands are similarly pressed to his chest, fingers spread wide against the cotton-covered skin, skin that you can tell is warm and turning pink from a rush of blood. “Got to take you whenever I wanted this weekend. Had to wait all day to get home and fuck you again.”

His words make you shiver, and you pass the cigarette back to him. When he takes a drag in, you grind your hips across his slowly. “How was work today?” You ask, though you really don’t care. You know the answer when it comes to Javi: stressful, annoying, frustrating, tiring.

He shudders too, and you can feel his cock hardening beneath you. “Shitty,” he sighs. “Fuckin’ Stechner. I swear to god, I’d let the narcos take him.”

You chuckle softly, starting to drag your hips across his aching crotch. “They wouldn’t want him. They’d want someone like you,” you mumble, leaning down over him. “That would really bring the gringos down.”

He’s in Heaven, he really must be. Your tits hang in front of his face, and you steal his cigarette and take another drag, your hips continuing to grind into his. There’s the smell of cooking from the kitchen and in all honesty, Javier is blissed out already. “No they wouldn’t.”

You giggle and kiss the side of his face, giving him the cigarette again. “Mm, maybe you’re right. Too stubborn. Or your girlfriend might go crazy and go after them from withholding her boyfriend’s dick from her.”

Javier chuckles lazily, taking one last drag before stubbing out the remains in the ashtray. “Wouldn’t make it 24 hours before you’d kill them all. You know how you get when you’re determined.”

You nod, lifting your face to kiss his lips slowly. It takes a few moments, passionate and deep and tasting of cigarettes and that whiskey. You pull away and his eyes dart between yours. “I’m going to get up, and you’re going to take off your clothes,” you mumble, your lips only millimeters from his.

He smirks up at you and steals one more kiss. “Then get up and let me undress,” he murmurs, and you stand to the side for him.

He chuckles and sits upright again, pulling down your shorts and admiring the panties beneath. He rubs his fingers across your folds through them, and he can already feel your wetness gathering. “Oh fuck me, honey.”

“You can if you get your own clothes off,” you tease and pull off his t-shirt yourself. He pushes off his shorts and boxers, kicking them aside as it reveals his rock-hard dick. You smile and lick your lips a little. “Lay back down.”

He does exactly that, smiling. You slip your panties off and straddle him again, your breasts bouncing in your bra with the movement. His pink shirt follows you along, and he can’t help but run his hands up your sides, admiring you in the hue. “Pink is your color.”

“Only when it’s yours,” you giggle, dragging your hips into Javier’s erection. He shudders and you guide yourself to rest with his dick pressed into your folds. “You ready for me?” You ask, fingers splayed on his chest again. This time, they lay on his caramel-colored abs, making you smile at the juxtaposition between now and just a few moments ago; blue fabric separated your hands touching him, now you can only feel bare skin.

“Go ahead, baby,” he assures you, his large hands grabbing your hips and lining you up.

It doesn’t take more than a second for you to sink down on him, moaning and tilting your head back at the feeling as you slowly take more and more. “Javi,” you whimper softly, toes curling at the sensation. “You’re so fucking big,” you whine, and it’s true. He is, his dick almost painfully long as it presses up and into your cervix already.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, his eyes closed as he takes in the sensation of you on top of him.

“Light another cigarette,” you order him, his cock fully sheathed inside of you. He nods, sitting up to reach the pack, and both of you make soft noises at the grind it gives, the base of his cock against your entrance.

He flicks the lighter and holds it to the little white stick. The end glows orange. “Good,” you nod and begin to lift yourself up and push yourself down as Javier takes a long drag from the cigarette.

You involuntarily tighten at how fucking good he looks beneath you, a light sheen of sweat starting to form on his forehead, smoke trailing from between his lips. “Javier,” you groan, your eyes slipping shut as you begin to bounce on him.

He knows exactly what you want, what you need to make this all that much better. His free hand no longer rests on your hips but circles your clit with two fingers. “There we go, baby girl,” he moans out at the way you sound from the motion. You sound wrecked, and he can’t get enough of it. “Mm, fuck, take what you need from me.”

Javier opens his eyes to look up at you. The sight is fucking magnificent: your tits bounce against that white lace, the pink fabric of his shirt draped against your sides. Just when he thinks you couldn’t look even hotter, you snatch his cigarette.

You cry out his name again and again as you slowly take a puff, the sensation too much to bear. Gripping the cigarette with your teeth, you press both hands to his chest and ride him faster, harder.

Your face is furrowed in concentration, sweat sliding down one temple. A bit of grey smoke obscures your face to him, but it’s still a fucking sight to behold. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and needed and more, a girl like you wearing his shirt and smoking his favorite cigarettes while you bounce on his dick, that sexy body moving along with his.

He can’t even thrust up into you. You’re grinding your hips down with every time you bottom out, his dick pressing right against your g-spot. He can’t even try. It’s fucking amazing. One of his hands reaches up to allow you to take a drag from it. It’s incredibly intimate, not just the way you’re obliterating him but the way he holds the cigarette to your lips. He takes it away for you to puff the smoke from your lungs then brings it back.

It doesn’t take long with the combination of everything. You shudder and pass the cigarette off to him fully, too occupied with what you’re doing. “Fuck, baby,” you whimper, his fingers pressing faster against your clit. “Really close.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his own puff from the cigarette before stubbing it out to his side on the coffee table. His long arms can easily reach. With a hand now free, he grips your waist and guides you up and down on him, just the way you like it.

His hand drifts higher, reaching your neck. He doesn’t squeeze or grab, just rests it there. Holds you in place, almost. It feels good, his hands roaming your body, and you cry out in pleasure.

“Come on, honey. Cum for me,” Javier urges.

Only a few more seconds pass before your peak washes over you, sending you into sheer bliss. Javi’s fingers don’t slow in the slightest, and he takes this opportunity to begin thrusting up into you as your bouncing involuntarily slows.

Your hand slides over where his rests on your neck, lacing your fingers through his. You cry his name and your head falls against his hand, eyes fluttering with pleasure.

Javier is now the one in control once more. He brings both hands to your hips and thrusts up into you, his movements sharp and harsh. His hips smack yours and the tip, buried deep inside of you, hits your g-spot, sending you into a pleasant state of overstimulation. “Fuck, Javi,” you whimper, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Everything feels so warm and tender, your walls oversensitive now. It doesn’t matter to you in the slightest; rather, you relish it. You bring one hand to your clit and rub it yourself, shuddering. “Come on, Javi,” you plead, regaining yourself and working your hips back against his.

It’s all so good and so much and overwhelming. He can barely use any of his senses other than touch, can barely hear you as his head spins with the feeling of teetering on the edge. “Gonna cum, baby girl,” he groans, and you work your hips harder into his, desperate for it.

He can tell, and it makes him lose control. He spills hot and deep inside of you, the heat rushing through his body expunging the warmth that’s built inside of him all day from the goddamn Colombian summer. “That’s it, fuck,” he cries out as the orgasm rolls through his body.

The feeling of his cum spilling inside you is just enough, in tandem with your fingers. You cum a second time, your walls squeezing him tight, milking him dry of anything he can produce. “Javi,” you whimper, and he only notices you’re cumming for the second time when a warm gush rushes across his hips.

“Fuck, good girl, baby,” he breathes out as he comes down from his high, you equally as overwhelmed on top of him. After a few moments of heavy breathing, you remove yourself from around him and lie there, pressed to his chest.

Javier’s legs are bent at the knee, surrounding you on either side of your thighs. They press into you, and you lay on top of him with your ear pressed over his heartbeat. It’s still frantic, but it’s coming down. Javier wraps his arms around you, a finger tracing slowly up and down your spine through that damned pink shirt of his.

“Why do you love this shirt so much, hm?” He asks, breaking the warm and tired silence between you.

You chuckle. It’s certainly not what you expected to be asked, but you like it. “Kind of think I look like you when I wear it. I think what you saw just then is what I see normally. You on top of me, fucking me hard, sometimes with a cigarette.”

“Oh, you looked just like me,” he laughs sarcastically, shaking his head. “And when I have I ever fucked you while smoking?”

“Just like you,” you repeat in a soft and happy murmur, a small smile gracing your face.

“Jesus, you really must have missed me today,” he chuckles softly.

“Withdrawal, I guess. You leave me, I have to pick up another vice. I sat here smoking for a while today.”

“First of all, I did not leave you,” Javi chuckles softly. “And really?”

You shrug. “It just came to me to do it. It wasn’t great or anything, but it was something to do. To pretend you were there with me.”

Javi sighs and kisses the side of your head. “Well, should we go eat before the food is fully cold?”

You laugh. “I think it’s already cold, Javi.”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

#javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos #pascalpanic

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

Speechless- Nolan Patrick

AN: Is the ending literal trash? yes, do i care at this point? also yes, but not enough

Word count: just over 3k

TW: none that I can think of, but let me know if i need to tag something:)

i

Nolan is definitely bored at the bar. He is out and supposed to be celebrating a win, but third wheeling with Tavis and Karly, simply is not fun. Not that it ever has been, but as he watches them laugh at each other on the dance floor.. well he takes a deep sigh and an even deeper swig of his beer. Some of the team is gathered around the bar ordering another round of drinks, and as he is scanning the crowd a woman walks in front of him, making him look up at her. 

And stop dead in his thoughts. 

She is wearing jeans that cling to her curves just right, a deep magenta top that seems to wrap around her stomach, before it reveals a little more than he can handle, and he looks up at her and sees the ghost of a smile on her lips. She isn’t looking at him though. She seems to be looking into the crowded dance floor, and Nolan desperately wants to know who she is looking for. 

In any other situation like this, he would have swept her off of her feet and wouldn’t have put her down until they’d reach his bed. But her obliviousness to him has knocked him off balance it seems. 

“Hey Patty, me and Karly are gonna head home. Want a ride?” 

Travis comes up to Nolan, Karly in tow and the mysterious girl moves with a quiet sorry and a fleeting smile. Nolan can feel his eyes drift after her before he meets Travis’ eyes, which are brimming with amusement. 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

He answers, and Travis bursts out laughing. 

“What, so you can sit here and stare like some kind of creep the rest of the night?” 

Nolan sees Karly gently shoving on Travis, also having noticed Nolans lingering gaze. 

“As opposed to going home in the same car as you two rabbits? No thank you.” 

Travis and Karly bid their goodbyes as the rest of the team and their significant others appear back at the table. Nobody seems to take notice of the Nolans distantness though, pinning it down as just his Philly personality. Nobody really sees him staring at this girl dancing in vans and a pink top. 

As the song ends he watches her go up to the bar, so in normal Nolan fashion he gets up and heads in that direction. He takes a look down at his watch and in a second, a split fucking second, she is gone. 

ii

He’s so fucking tired. The game last night had been decent. They’d won in overtime and Nolan had the assist, yet he keeps going over the chances he had and the chances he missed making in his head. Driving to the rink is dreary but even more so than usual. It’s not until he stops at a red light that he wakes up. He’s supporting his head on his left arm and looking out the passenger seat window. His eyes widen when he sees who is in the beaten up truck next to him. 

The girl from the bar three weeks ago. She has her hair down her shoulders and is looking at him through her own window. When she catches his eyes, she gives him a wink. As if she recognizes him. And if this was anyone else he might have given her a half smile, or even a wink back. But no. He can feel his cheeks heating up and getting rosy. God how he wishes he could be as confident as he usually is. The girl in the other car seems to be laughing a little, a smile on her lips. Nolan swears she starts slipping away from view, and in that second he remembers. He’s at a fucking red light. Except it isn’t red anymore, made obvious by the boisterous truck behind him, basically laying on his horn. 

Quickly he presses his foot down on the gas pedal and looks for the beaten up truck, which is nowhere to be seen. 

iii

It’s still winter and Nolan for some reason unknown to him decides to take a walk in the park not far from his apartment. He blames it on his restlessness, which stems from sitting inside the entire weekend. It’s nearing Christmas time and the main section of the park is covered in fairy lights and christmas decorations. There’s even a stand that sells hot chocolate. 

He buys a cup, puts in his earbuds and starts walking. It is nice out, he decides, with all the people out enjoying the snow on the ground. There are even some kids out rolling big snowballs, which turn into snow men and women. He feels a sudden wave of content roll over him. And a smile subconsciously finds its way onto his lips.

Nolan walks a little further, and doesn’t really stop, until a ball of golden fur is at his feet, almost making him trip. The wagging tail is making the entire body of the dog move and he catches himself smiling and taking out one of the earbuds. Immediately he hears the voice of a girl shouting. 

“Akira!”

The dog at his feet, looks around eagerly as her owner sprints up to him. And Nolan can hardly believe his luck. It is the bar girl. 

“I’m so sorry, she usually doesn’t run off like that.” 

And judging by her attire she is out for a jog, which would explain how out of breath she is. Quickly she pulls a leash out of her pocket and hooks it onto Akira’s harness. 

“Oh there’s no worries.” 

Nolan manages to stutter out. He sees a little smirk on her lips and curses his reddening cheeks for being so obvious. He bends his head a little and scratches Akira behind her ears. The golden retriever leans into his touch and a soft chuckle escapes the girl standing in front of him. 

He is just about to ask the girl her name when a phone starts ringing. It’s hers. Quickly, from another pocket, she pulls out a phone and answers it. He watches with steady eyes as a frown starts to grow on her face. 

“Fuck, okay yeah, I’ll be home in a few.” 

She hangs up the phone and pockets it, before she turns to look at him again. With a wink she turns around and Akira follows. 

“See you around Shy Guy!”

And just like that she’s gone. His chocolate is no longer hot, so he tracks back to his apartment, with discouragement sitting in his chest like a rock.

iiii

The Starbucks is so full, the line goes through the door and that’s the reason why Nolan doesn’t even consider entering it. He turns and treks back a block until he sees this quaint little cafe he’s never really noticed. Which is no surprise, because it seems to be mostly inhabited by students. With the amount of computers and books up at the cafe tables and its location closer to UPenn it should come as no surprise. 

And maybe he gets a little hopeful that the bar girl will be there, so despite his logical mind, he enters through the glass doors and goes straight to the counter. The boy has to be around his own age, but a fair bit skinnier and with glasses on. It makes him look a bit too young in Nolan's eyes, but it doesn’t really matter. 

“Hey, what can I get you today?” 

The young boy asks as he wipes down the counter. 

“Ehh, just a large black coffee, please.” 

Nolan says and pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t completely register the bell over the door ringing, not until the gust of cold air washes over him. Instinctively he turns and spots a smaller frame entering the cafe. A hoodie over their head and a black jacket, lightly dusted with quickly melting snow.  And a pair of beaten up, black vans on their feet. His hopes rise, and yet again he is rewarded with the presence of the bar girl. She shakes out her hair a little as she pulls the hood off of her head. Nolan could swear his heart stopped right there. The evening sun shines through the window, making her hair appear as a halo around her. 

She hasn’t noticed him yet. So he turns and tries to calm his blush. The guy behind the counter has begun making his coffee so he doesn’t really know what to do. The bar girl comes up behind him. He can tell by the way the barista nods at her with a smile. 

“Hey Dylan, how are you today?” 

And Nolan is instantly a bit jealous of this Dylan, who gets to hear his name falling from her lips. 

“I’m good Rory, thanks, how are you?” 

Dylan answers, and it feels like his heart is in his throat. Her name is Rory? It suits her. 

“Could be better to be honest, this paper on existence due next week is really kicking my ass.” 

She answers as she comes closer, and Nolan moves further up the counter to give them room. 

“Tell me about it, you want the usual?” 

She nods and slings her backpack off one shoulder to unzip a pocket, and pulls out a card. Dylan finishes Nolan's order and places it on the corner of the counter. Nolan can feel his chance slip through his fingers and begins to panic a little. 

Until he spots a pen on the counter near his cup. Quickly he grabs it and scribbles his name and number on the cup. And he couldn’t have cued it better for AV to call him. He puts the cup down again and picks up the call. 

“Nolan, have you looked over the videos yet?”

Alain, straight to the point as usual. 

“Yeah, saw them yesterday, and I have some ideas in mind for me to improve.” 

He speaks into the phone, while he puts a hand on the back of his neck. 

“Good good, I will see you tomorrow then?” 

“Yes, sir. Bright and early.” 

And then they hang up. He sees that another cup has appeared beside his. He throws a quick glance at Rory, who is still talking to the barista,  and turns his cup the other way so the writing isn’t visible and grabs her cup. Then, he nods a goodbye to Dylan and exits the door. 

He’s almost half a block away when his phone rings. He hasn’t drunk out of the cup, but it smells a little sweet and enticing. He looks at the phone and sees an unknown number. He lets it ring twice more before answering.

“Hey, this is Nolan?” 

He tries to sound nonchalant. 

“Hey, Shy guy. This is Rory. You didn’t by any chance grab my coffee on the way out?” 

Despite the fact that he doesn’t actually know her, he swears he can hear a smile over the phone. And he is a little bit shocked by the nickname. 

“Oh, so this is who it belongs to?”

She lets out a little chuckle, before she answers. 

“Yeah, mind returning it?” 

He smiles at the laugh. 

+1

Nolan is different, not that he will admit it, but the team can tell. He seems to be more patient, more focused on practicing drills and getting them right, and also for some reason, more ready for practice to be over. At first it’s a subtle change, but after a while and two games where he plays over all very well, it seems to be more than just determination. It seems like he wants to impress someone. 

At first they shake it as him wanting to prove himself to.. well everyone. But one day when Oskar asks him who he is texting so frequently, Nolan can feel his cheeks and ears tint even more than usual. Damn her and the effect she has on him. He tries to play it cool with a casual shrug, but half the locker room seems to burst out laughing. Quickly he puts his phone in his pocket and heads for the door. 

“Have a good weekend guys!” 

He calls out behind him out of habit, as it is a weekend without games and he is taking a short trip home. Various chirps get called out behind him, but Teeks seems to be the loudest one. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

And all hell breaks loose as they all start on chirping Travis about how he can do anything then. With a fond smile, Nolan heads for his car, where he has a pre- packed bag as well as his passport and a carryon. 

He parks his car in the airport parking lot and he swears, there is something familiar about the truck beside his car. He shoves it to the back of his mind and starts crossing to the terminal. He’s late tho, and only half an hour to get on his flight, so as he anxiously stands in line for check in he pulls up his phone and sees a new text from Rory.

Hey, I’ll be gone for a couple of hours, text when I can:)

It was sent five minutes ago, and he groans a little at the fact that he has to wait faster, very bored. Finally he has checked in his bag and been cleared to enter the airport all the way to his flight. 

In a half jog, half sprint he manages to make it just shy of ten minutes before the gate closes. He pulls his cap further down on his head and puts his ticket and passport on the desk. The hostess scowls at him but lets him enter the already boarded plane. 

The smell of too many people and bad flight food smacks him in the face as he enters the plane with another nod to a different flight hostess. 

34B seems too far away, but he bites his tongue and keeps walking. He looks at the bald man in 34C and the hooded figure in 34A. He swears, there is something familiar about this too but his mind is a little fuzzy and he can’t quite place it. 

“Scuse me.” 

He mumbles to the man and he politely moves so Nolan can find his seat. The girl in the seat next to the window turns and looks at him, and finally it seems that he has steady ground under his feet. 

“Well, seems like I won’t text you in a couple of hours then.” 

Rory smiles at him. And he smiles back. 

“Nope you’re stuck with me for the next five and a half hours.” 

He teases and plops down in his seat. 

“What the fuck are you going to Winnipeg for though?” 

Nolan asks as he fastens his seatbelt and ignores the security instructions completely. 

“Oh I haven’t told you? My family lives there.” 

He feels flabbergasted, how in the living hell has he forgotten to ask? He always assumed she was from Philly.

“Why are you going there anyway?” 

Rory asks, but he sees the twinkle in her eyes, she’s just joking with him.

“I’m visiting my girlfriend.” 

He decides to reply dead serious. And the twinkle in her eyes disappears, a frown begins to form between her eyebrows and he instantly feels a little bad. 

“I’m- sorry, that was a really bad joke.” 

This time it seems, it’s her turn to get embarrassed. Neither of them get time to think it over though, because the plane starts accelerating and her hand immediately lands on his. He sees her jaw tense and feels her hand tighten around his knuckles. Nolan doesn’t want to comment on it though, and just lets her hold on. 

As they lift off the tarmac her hand slowly starts easing up and when they level out in the air, she seems to have realised that she’s holding his hand. Quickly she lets go, and Nolan already misses it. 

“Sorry about that, I get a little nervous about the take off.” 

She seems a little nervous to admit it, but he asks anyway. 

“How come?” 

“Oh, ever heard of the irresistible force paradox?” 

He shakes his head no, and that launches her into an explanation of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. It’s obvious she loves theories like this, with the way she talks and moves her hands. 

“- which stems from both a chinese and a roman legend. The roman is about Zeus and how he fixed the Teumessian fox, who can never be caught, and the hound Laelaps who never misses what he hunts to the sky in constellations.” 

She stops, and Nolan really wishes she wouldn’t. Her voice is so calming yet enchanting at the same time, he could listen and learn every day for forever. 

“But wouldn’t that mean that the fox wins? because it never gets caught?” 

He questiones. 

“Exactly! I’ve been thinking about it for days now.” 

And the plane ride goes on like that, until Rory has heard of most of the flyers and Nolan knows the name of almost all her professors. It’s closer to night time when she starts to slur her words, because of tiredness. She ends up with her head on his shoulder and his hair a little bit in her face. But the weight of his head leaning against hers is priceless.  

Nolan wakes up a little bit before her and sees that they’re landing soon. So he shakes Rory awake with a promise of a date in the morning. Since they don’t live too far away from each other. And she agrees. 

They step off the plane together, collect their luggage together, Nolan’s arm slung around Rory’s shoulder, and hug each other so long, before departing to their own separate families. 

“Hey, see you tomorrow shy guy!” 

She winks at him, rendering him speechless in front of his family. His sister glances at him with a questioning look as she watches the other girl walk away. Usually few people render Nolan at a loss for words. 

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick fluff #nolan patrick fic #philadelphia flyers #flyers imagine #flyers fluff #flyers fic #flyers 19

[finleycannotdraw]

Guess what? I’m re-binge-reading Good Omens. And here are some Obervations that I forgot about and some things I might put in fics. Also things I found funny. Basically my dumb commentary on the book.

Crowley actually flees Sister Mary. He doesn’t saunter vaguely away. He flees.

Ligur is rather more thoughtful than he’s portrayed in the show

Anathema likes to read about herself, and her teachers are confused because she spells words like Agnes Nutter

Crowley apologizes

By page 41, it is mentioned at least twice that Aziraphale and Crowley Do Not choose each other’s company for any reason other than that they are constants, that they have an Arrangement, and that they are Friends because being Enemies got boring.

Aziraphale blushes!!!!!!

The Drunk Scene is fuckin hilarious and it’s actually a lot longer than it is in the show, and really you ought to read it. (Book pages 47-50)

My mom (who has a PhD in human development) would probably like to talk to Crowley about upbringing because they seem to agree on how important it is

War has always looked 25, and had a vulture that died of fatty degeneration

Pollution is very cleverly compared to actual pollution

Warlock has Kermit the frog overalls, and Nanny Ashtoreth is described as someone who “advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines”. The tutors are present for about four paragraphs. Warlock is good at math and likes banana flavored bubblegum.

Crowley has a slice of angel cake. Aziraphale eats it. Aziraphale also eats deviled eggs. Hm.

Crowley calls Aziraphale angel casually enough to suggest he’s been doing it for a long time

Some girl at Warlock’s party calls Aziraphale a f*ggot

Crowley glares suspiciously at a gerbil. It is suggested that Hell has, in the past, sent hell-gerbils in place of hellhounds.

“Oh dear,” muttered Aziraphale, not swearing with the practiced ease of one who has spent six thousand years not swearing, and who wasn’t going to start now.

Adam and his friends play in a place called The Pit, where shopping carts go to die, apparently

Crowley is the first one to mention sides in the book!??!? Also Crowley goes on about how humans are more evil than Hell (but he calls himself evil—is he calling himself human already?)

Aziraphale yells “get off the road, you clown!”

“What’s a velvet underground?” *love confession???* “you wouldn’t like it”

Aziraphale is a bit rude to Crowley in the “flashes of love” scene and Crowley is less panicked about it

Crowley glares at the Bentley and it fixes itself

Anathema’s bike is called Phaeton

COULD THEY ACT ANY MORE MARRIED OH MY GOD

Aziraphale speaks like. Like ugh. “FlOUndeR on tHe rOcKS of inEquiTY”

“Thirty seconds later someone shot both of them. With incredible accuracy.” *cuts to a random pleasant story about Mary Hodges* *cuts back to where Aziraphale has fallen into a rhododendron and Crowley licks the paint before he knows it’s paint* dumbasses

Crowley does not slam Aziraphale into the wall

Crowley is actually pretty impatient and doesn’t argue with Aziraphale when he’s worried

“Nothing but dust and fundamentalists” “that was nasty” “sorry, couldn’t help it”

When the radio sings “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,” Crowley sings “for me” and then screams

Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’ll keep in touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t say tickety-boo, and then Crowley says “right” and feels very alone

the international express man is small and has glasses, and wears green woolen socks

The sword, which turns out to be Aziraphale’s, is described as having an aura of hatred and menace, which makes me think of how it could’ve gotten that aura from Heaven or from humanity or from War...

In the book Pepper has red hair and freckles, which makes it a cool comparison to War’s appearance and the defeat of War

Adam is excellent at slouching, apparently

Occasionally, as Aziraphale reads the book, he would very nearly swear

“He wouldn’t have said ‘that’s weird’ if a flock of sheep had cycled past playing violins.”

“If you had told him there were children starving in Africa he would’ve been flattered that you’d noticed.”

“...that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” (151)

Wensleydale watches David Attenborough programs

Shadwell’s voice is described as “the color of an old raincoat” and seems to fake smoking cigarettes

Aziraphales cocoa is moldy and solidified by the time he calls Arthur Young, and has a thin layer of dust on himself too

Newt says that the walls look like nicotine and the floor looks like cigarette ash, and he suspects both are, actually, coated with these substances

Newt looks a bit like Clark Kent, and people seem to like Shadwell for some reason, much to his annoyance.

Aziraphale calls Shadwell “dear boy” on the phone

Agnes Nutter called God a daft old fool #goals

Adam is wayyyy too good at video games

Smelling Anathema’s perfume makes Newt uncomfortable

Adam suggests that Pepper ought to have Russia cause of her red hair (huh)

Anathema and Newt actually have decent conversations?? Like?? Show??? C’mon, man. The show kinda butchered their relationship.

Trees, apparently, make a ‘vvrooooommm’ sound when they grow very fast

“He suspected that Crowley was from the Mafia, or the underworld, although he would have been surprised how right he nearly was.” Shadwell also thought Aziraphale was a Russian spy. Wow, Shadwell.

Aziraphale calls Crowley and actually says “shut up” to him, and then when the answering machine beeps, he tells Crowley to “stop making noises” and then he swears for the first time ever.

The fuckin’ footnote on page 227

“A sleek computer was the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have.” I like the word choice here. He’s not pretending to be a human, he’s trying to be one. That’s a really important distinction.

It never actually says what Crowley does to his plants.

Crowley’s flat is very white. Wow, Crowley. It just looks dark because of the lighting. Heaven imagery and symbolism out my ears, goddammit.

Why does Hell say Crowley’s name so much when talking to him?? Honestly, I think that’s an intentional dig at his chosen name, using it in their speech to scare him. Wow, Hell. (And wow, Finn, excellent sentence)

Whenever the book says something is shaped like something, it definitely isn’t that thing. “man-shaped” “dog-shaped” “car-shaped”... makes it pretty obvious they aren’t men, dogs, or cars, huh.

The code to Crowley’s safe is 4004. The year he “slithered onto this stupid, marvelous planet”... and the year he met Aziraphale, of course. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Crowley, my dude.

Crowley consideres sticking Hastur into his car until he turns into Freddie Mercury but then decides even he isn’t that cruel

Actual text that I feel like nobody really agrees with: “Madame Tracy was by many yardsticks quite stupid”

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” “...imagine me out of uniform, sir, and what kind of man would you see before you? Honestly?” “A prat.”

I’m crying. The fucking bookshop fire scene made me fucking cry. I’m literally crying.

“...on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.” “The police and firemen looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and stayed exactly where they were.” “...a crack of thunder so loud it hurt....” *the sound of Finley sobbing into their cat*

The shortest biker in the cafe thing is 6′2, what the fuck

War, Famine, Pollution, and Pop Trivia 1962-1979

“Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936. If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held.” HMMMMMMMMMMM

“There were no bitches in Hell either.” I know it’s talking about female dogs, but I rather thought Hell was full of bitches.

“Why are you talking like a poofter?” “Ah. Australia.”

“gOsh, aM i on teLEviSiON?” (Basically Aziraphale gets passionate about stuff and likes to talk).

Crowley is actually an optimist and doesn’t dwell too much on how sucky the world is. He doesn’t go get smashed in a bar. He just finds Aziraphale’s notes in the book and heads to Tadfield. And also, his new pair of sunglasses just... materializes out of his eyes. And he likes to whistle.

“Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking to Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty to Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping But Secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People traveled with them.”

“on top of the pile a rather large octopus waved a languid tentacle at them. The sergeant resisted the temptation to wave back.” Honestly dude, if an octopus waved at me I’d wave back.

Wait Agnes was apparently talking to Shadwell and not God when she said yowe daft old foole. I dunno

Madame Tracy: You old silly. Shadwell: 

Aziraphale does not know how to get rid of demons. Canonically. “Had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Aziraphale, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn’t it getting late? And Crowley always got the hint.”

The road to Hell is paved with frozen door to door salesmen, apparently. The question is where it is, because the demons always seem to just stem out of the ground.

“Heigh ho,” said Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway. I love this sentence during that scene. 

I bet Hastur gets really mad whenever he hears Aziraphale’s voice from now on

Crowley isn’t breathing the entire burning Bentley scene

ADAM. SAID. “But I reckon you can make your own side” AND WE FUCKIN IGNORED IT?

The temperature above the M25 was simultaneously 700ºC and -140ºC which makes me think of something I read about magenta not being real. The M25 is magenta.

I feel like “Agnes” is just going to become an inside joke between Anathema and Newt at this point, and it will drive Crowley insane because he knows who she is but somehow still doesn’t get the joke.

I’m six inches taller than R.P. Tyler, and apparently according to the back sleeve of the book jacket, I’m very similar in height to Neil Gaiman

R.P. Tyler thought Shadwell was a ventriloquist’s dummy, and then sees cows doing somersaults

“That’s terrific. Much obliged,” said Crowley. — “Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?” “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” “Probably because your car is on fire.” .... Also the fact that Crowley looks like a young man which I find interesting.

“The Four Button-Pressers of the Apocalypse”

“Where is Armageddon, anyway?” “I’ve always meant to look that up.” “There’s an Armageddon, Pennsylvania”

Famine is the one that says “that’s one big avocado”, and also, I find it interesting that War, more than once, talks about love. (All is fair in love and war much?)

Anathema threatens the guard with a stick, pretending it’s a gun

Aziraphale, of course, asks Crowley to sort it out because he, Aziraphale, is “the nice one” and then proceeds to sort it out himself. Because of course he does. Because what else could he possibly do.

I just ADORE THIS BOOK OKAY

I’M PROBABLY GOING TO READ IT AGAIN IN A MONTH

Aziraphale and Crowley are so fuckin married I can’t

#good omens #finley rambles #finley reads #I reread good omens and this is the result #live commentary #not even kidding I was typing this all down as I read the book and I noticed a lot more #aziraphale #crowley #Aziraphale and Crowley are married thank you have a nice day #book omens #book aziraphale #book crowley #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale & crowley #anathema device #newton pulsifer #shadwell #madame tracy #the them #adam young #brian good omens #wensleydale #pepper good omens #fuck I can’t even write a tag novel cause I had to tag so many characters #anyways enjoy my rambling #so long and goodnight #*listens to paramore moodily*

[tadpole-san]

in the aftermath ; dabi/t. todoroki   pairing: dabi x reader, touya todoroki x reader, established relationship  warning: spoilers for bnha chapter 301 (mild canon divergence from that one scene of dabi in chpt 301), inferences to an unhealthy relationship  a/n: horikoshi chose violence and heartbreak by releasing dabi’s backstory on valentine’s day weekend and i have a lot of feelings about it 

The couch is falling apart. 

It’s the first thing you notice when you finally step into the room, and then you take in the peeling wallpaper, almost rotting vanity, and finally, the man laid out on said couch. The fabric of it is peeling away in some places, revealing the plain white beneath - the sight of it makes you think of patches, and scars, and marred, magenta skin held together by madness and medical staples. Dabi’s eyes are closed, you realize, and you could almost fool yourself into believing that he’d finally decided to grant himself some peace, albeit in the form of a turbulent slumber. And then they slide open again, stark turquoise burning bright against the dullness of his stare. 

“Really roasted myself there.” His voice is hoarse, even jarring and harsh to your ears. There’s a crease between your brows as you take a few steps closer, reaching into your pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. Silently, you hold one out to Dabi. His gaze slides over it, and then over you. Somehow, it unsettles you - like somehow, he’s not registering that you’re there, or that he can even see you at all. 

You’re not sure which of those options terrifies you more. 

“Yeah,” you say, moving to pull it back. There’s a lighter, heavy in your other pocket, and if the absence of a blue flame at the end of your cigarette means that you won’t have to risk the experience of seeing the body and couch in front of you go up in a garden of blue flames, you’ll gladly use it. “You look like the fucking couch,” you add. There’s two ways his response to that could go; Dabi could find the humor in that and maybe laugh at your comment, or he could dismiss it (and maybe you) in a display towards not giving a shit about anything. Most days it’s like walking a tightrope between his mania and his complete and utter apathy. Most days it’s like choosing between two poisons, and you know you wouldn't be able to make a choice that doesn’t kill you. Because there isn’t one. 

This time, he doesn’t laugh. But a smile does tug at the corner of his lips - and god, it looks painful, because the miniscule action is enough for the staples to pull at his skin, nearly tearing into it even more as it flirts with the possibility of drawing blood. “C’mere,” he rasps, motioning to the stick in your hand. You pass it over. He takes it in his fingers, rolling it in between the digits. “Can’t feel anything.” 

“Does it hurt?” The question slips out, but you wouldn’t be able to hold it back anyways. Dabi hums, long and contemplative, and when he offers you the cigarette, the end of it is glowing a dull shade of blue. You accept it, and take in a long drag, tilting your head back to watch the smoke rise to the ceiling. 

You’d seen him smoke, a couple of times. Mostly on slow nights, when all the two of you would do was hide out in whatever shitty abandoned building served as camouflage from pro-heroes and cops. Or, later on, when he had joined up with the League and dragged you in with them, it would be nights where he could steal minutes to himself outside of the bar, and you’d pretend you didn’t notice because you were too busy nursing a drink at the bar. The part that always fascinated you the most would be when the smoke spilled out between the seams of his staples, and you could forget about the way his blood trickled out in the same way, and stained your hands when you had to help him force everything back into one piece. 

“That’s not what it fucking means to not feel anything,” he bites out, and you can see his jaw tense. So it’s a yes, and he won’t say it. “Don’t be stupid.” Your lips press in a thin line, and you sink to the floor next to the couch, leaning against its side to let your arm hang over your propped up knee. He’s not the only one to walk out, more than the worse for wear; you can’t move without a brief stab of white-hot pain, even if you know that it diminishes in comparison to the man still laying on the couch. It’s enough that you want to spare yourself the experience of biting back at him with equal venom. 

“And that doesn’t answer the question, either.” When he doesn’t say anything, again, you keep talking. “Those injuries.” Another exhale. “They could kill Endeavor.” A moment passes, and there’s a hand at your shoulder, squeezing it in a way that threatens to literally burn through your layers. 

“I wouldn’t allow it.” 

“I could’ve killed him.” There’s a calm behind your admission, the same calm of a deadly ocean masked by tranquility. Once - and sometimes, when you try, you can remember her - there was a version of yourself that wouldn’t have been able to say the words without falter, wouldn’t have been able to hold onto the idea of a murder quite like that. The grip on your shoulder goes slack. 

“I know,” Something in Dabi’s voice makes you tilt your head to look up at him, and you lock eyes with a man already staring at you. This close, you can make out the still-healing wounds on what remains of his unmarred skin, and there’s a patchiness to his hair where the black dye hadn’t fully washed off. Seeing it bothers you, just a bit, and you want to do something about it. 

“Get up.” The eyebrow he raises is equal parts disinterested and curious. Maybe even wary, but you’re not here to explore the nuances of what a single eyebrow can mean. 

“Doll, I can’t move.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I.” 

“Sometimes, I can’t really tell with you.” Half-lidded eyes open slightly as he comes close to grinning again, a thumb brushing over your cheek for the fraction of a second. It’s enough that you sigh, and you squash the cigarette against a white tile to extinguish it, leaving behind a spot of darkened ash. He watches you push yourself to your feet, offering a hand to him that’s pushed aside so that he can force his body to get up from the couch himself. The display is one that is already painful to an outsider - each movement is a Herculean effort, skin pulled taut and threatening to split open until he’s looming over you once more, overshadowing your presence in the room. 

Until wordlessly, you take an arm in yours and pull it over your shoulder.  His weight comes crashing into you like a wave, and if you weren’t so used to it - to needing to pull this body out of death - and if you were anyone lesser, you probably would’ve collapsed, too. 

For a second, you wish that you weren’t able to handle him like this. Because it would mean that you’d never been forced to carry him through moments like these. 

“Where you takin’ me, princess?” he drawls, the words sliding off his tongue as he sags against you. The light elbow to his ribs makes him tut in disapproval, but there aren’t any words said against the action. 

“Bathroom,” you mutter, because being used to him against you like this doesn’t make it any easier, and if you waste breath or lose focus, the both of you could end up on the floor together. And Dabi would really, truly reduce you to ash for the humiliation he’d suffer from it. 

“Bathroom,” he repeats, and you can hear the suggestion in the smirk he’s likely to be wearing proudly. So you choose not to humor him with an answer towards or against the insinuation behind his intonation. 

Using a foot to nudge at the bathroom door is - fortunately - enough to prompt it to swing open, and you maneuver him into the too-small space. Dabi hisses as you end up jostling him against the counter, and a few more muted swears escape his clenched teeth before you’re able to get him to sit against the tub. 

“Fucking shit.” You step into the tub as he lets the words out, kneeling in it and reaching for the shower head. 

“It’s your hair,” And as you explain, you take the risk of having him tilt his head back slightly. “You - I don’t know what shit you used to get most of the dye out in five seconds-” and that was really one of the only parts of his plans that you didn’t understand, but it was a detail small enough that you wouldn’t push. 

“Somethin’ wrong with my hair or some shit?” The tone’s abrasive, but he’s still sitting still, and he doesn’t move to lash out in a way that’ll end the conversation in its entirety. Tonight is - despite everything - shaping out to be a calm one for him, a rare in-between of the polarity and calm he lives his life with. Or maybe it’s because of everything that happened, because his scheming and plans that once felt like little more than paper towers finally burned to cripple the Japan’s now-former Number One. 

Dabi isn’t smiling. Instead, he allows his head to be further tilted back as he stares up at the ceiling, a pensive expression making it feel as though the body you’re sitting with isn’t really here with you at all. And it shouldn’t reassure you, but it does. 

Because that smile - that effortless, unfazed, half-thought out gesture on him - is synonymous to his lies. 

You still haven’t answered his question. You reach out, like someone blinded, to card your fingers through the mostly snowy white locks. You let yourself imagine that he leans into the touch because the gesture is a sweet one. If you were to pull yourself back to your reality, you knew it would be likely that he simply lay there and let you do as you wish. 

You turn the shower on, and lukewarm water replaces your fingers in his hair. His lips move and he murmurs something you can’t quite grasp, but it’s gone before you can think to ask. The moment suddenly feels just as fragile, as though a misspoken word, one wrong move, or anything that could be regarded as a mistake coming from you could shatter it. 

The tips of your fingers are becoming laden with black as the remains of dye works itself out from his hair, and its stark contrast against the porcelain of the tub makes the white look ghastly. It’s as you begin to press your thumb to the darkness to try and swipe it off that Dabi speaks again, and if your head weren’t angled down towards him, you wouldn’t have heard it. 

“This is what being evil is.” 

It should’ve been simple enough to take a hold of the meaning behind his words, and pull them in to understand it. But your movements falter, causing your already damp jeans to receive a wayward spray of water. 

This could be lying here, with him, carrying out mortal attempts to wash away traces of atrocities committed. 

This could mean living with the badge of honor labelling this society’s villains. You wonder if there would ever be a world where he didn’t wear it so proudly, flaunt it in the faces of any and all who cross paths with him. 

“I don’t think we’re evil,” is what you settle on finally saying, shutting the water off and placing the shower head back in its slot. You end up resting your head in your arms, turned to him as you balance precariously on the edge of the tub. When you close your eyes, you can see him at the forefront of your mind - spinning, deranged, falling into hell in a tango of death. 

“Yeah?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear in the single syllable, and you realize he shifted closer under the blanket cover of your shut eyes. “Then what the hell are we?” His forehead presses against yours, skin and piercings ice cold. As if it was the touch of death. 

“I think,” you start, letting out a breath before you open your eyes again, “I think we’re just people.” Sitting like this, with him, is an intimacy rarely granted. This close, and you can make out water dripping from strands of white hair, white lashes, the bridge of his nose. It’s all drowning in a sea of turquoise. He hums, and a hand presses against the back of your neck, keeping a grip there. Blunt nails dig into your skin, and they probably leave crescent indents. “Heroes are the ones like gods, and we’re just the ones trying to challenge them.” 

Dabi stares at you. You feel it under your skin, like fire ants biting at you and injecting enough poison to kill you. 

And then he laughs. The laughter belongs to a maniac, to someone so deranged there might not be a way of going back, and it grates on the years you’ve spent with him. With his madness. A madness that could be infectious, but you’re too afraid to peel back the layers of yourself to see if the infection has found roots in you. The sound of his laughter suffocates the pocket of space you occupy together, and you’re no longer lost in a sea of blue fire, but you think that maybe you’re drowning in something worse. 

Eventually, he stops. There’s an ache in your neck by then, but you still can’t move it. Dabi has to take a few more rasping breaths before he can think to speak again, and there’s rivulets of thick blood running down his face from his eyes and mouth. 

He cries tears of blood. 

You hate the sight of blood. 

“Heroes are gods,” he repeats, the traces of a chuckle leaving his lips. “You really fucking got me whit that shit, you know that?” An incredulous wheeze escapes his throats. “So then this is blasphemy? So then we’re sinners? Sounds pretty evil to me.”

“Only if sinning is evil.” His lips turn in a sneer, and you’re released. It’s like a breath of fresh air from the smoke and fire clogging your lungs, so you move to stand back up. “But sinning is just doing the things gods don’t like, isn’t it?” 

You smile, then, and you step back onto tile. Your hands go to your pockets, and fingers find the now-damp cigarette pack. 

“Hold it.” A lazy finger beckons towards you. It might be all he can do at the moment. You shouldn’t. 

You crouch down next to him anyways. 

When Dabi finally kisses you, it’s hard, and painful, teeth clashing and more blood drawn. You pull back with a line of it running down your mouth, and he brusquely wipes it away with his thumb. 

This will be the closest you come to a thank you from him. Somehow, you know that the day he finally says the sentiment to you out loud, it would very well be the last time he says anything to you at all. 

The final day feels as though it’s come too close to you. 

#🌙 #🔗.bnha #🔗.mha #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi imagines #touya todoroki imagines #bnha 301 #bnha imagines #bnha writing #dabi angst #touya todoroki #dabi is a todoroki #reader imagines #gender neutral reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x y/n #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x you

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

You don't know how lovely you are.- part VI

Tw⚠️: swearing, medical inaccuracies(on my part)

You moved your hair away as the cold Siberian winds freeze you to the bone. You were anxious to get back home so you can finally talk with Corpse on the phone. You been talking a lot since you last called him, embarrassingly to help you deal with a baby.

This week beat your ass, tests and assignments left and right like they are Oprah. You desperately wanted to go home where is warm and where you can chat your night away with Corpse.

You finally managed to open up a Netflix account so maybe you two could watch something or talk away while you had background noise.

"I swear to God..."

- Ştiu,nu? ("I know right?")

Sabrina said as she sat on the couch, a book in her lap and a hot coffee cup on the table near her.

"Heyyy!"

"Hello,girl!"

She got up to hug you,gasping when her warmth was meet by your cold grey coat , red bare hands and shaking legs dressed in a black striped suit pants and wearing platform heels.

"My , you are practically freezing. Come ,come!"

She grabbed the blanket she's been sitting on and wrapped you with it moving you to sit down.

She left towards the kitchen to your left , you could hear her taking the kettle from one of the cupboards. You shook profoundly as you harshly rubbed your hands, you stared at your dark grey nail polish, twisting it left and right to see the light bounce on it. You lost yourself in thought:

A tattoo on them wouldn't look so bad. Maybe...

"Here."

A cup of green tea, your favourite, was presented before you. You licked your crack lips as you moved your hand to grab it, only to hiss and curse when the heat proved to be double edged.

Sabrina tried to hold her laugh but one look of your pained and disappointed eyes sent her into a burst ,snorting and laughing like a jackass. You began to laugh with her shortly after.

She puffed as she took the armchair in front, the beige coloured of it and the blood red floral blanket draped all over made it stand out. She was so small in comparison with the gigantic size of it. Still you were the shortest of the group.

"How was your day?"

"Switching to English?"

She nodded.

"Hmm..fine.It isn't like I been speaking it for like 6 hours. My day went on,hmmm, ever washed a cat?"

"Ever washed a llama that simply disdain the idea of being even remotely washed?"

"W-What? Nu,deci,nu. You washed a llama?!"

"Yes,ma'am. Got the scar to prove it."

She jumped a bit off her bent leg ,to bring the polar white sweater up , a deep scar healed in a shaky circle stood there. Your eyes blinked in shock.

"Tell. Me."

"Of course, m'lady."

Her cheery tone lighted the grave tune of your morbid curiosity, you did like crime related shows after all.

————————————————————

"How?!" Corpse said in bewilderment, laughing in between.

"I know right? She said she felt every bone in her body putting itself back in the place. Even those in her ears."

Your hands covered by your oversized warm black sweatshirt went crazy as you said the story, stopping only to take a breath or to let the burst of laughter die down.

"Man, your friends are crazy."

"Pleease, when I was like 11-"

"I'm eleven so shut the fuck up."

"Shh, Corpse." You said smiling. "Anyway, when I was eleven years old, I used to play with some girls hide and seek or v-ați ascunselea and somehow my stupid ass managed to land into a tree branch."

"What?"

"Yeah, but not like with my chubby ass body ,noooo sir. With my eye."

"What the fuck, which one?"

"The right one, I have a scar running down it till the start of my lips."

"Wait,how? Do you still see?"

"Oh,yeah."You dismissed the question with a shake of a hand, getting back into the story.

"My folk were so scarred and they have a huge fight with my grandma who was busy with gossiping her neighbours. "

"Oh my fucking--Did it hurt?"

"Oh ,yeah but luckily it healed pretty quickly and now I got a sick scar."

"Do you have other scars?"

"Hmm, hella. My hands and arms are littered with them."

You laughed but stopped yourself when you didn't hear anything from Corpse.

"Um, my petit orchid? Are you..are you there?"

"Did you do them because you...you w-were.. um...um..." His voice ran on jittery and trembling in panic as he haulted to draw a breath and calm whatever nerves caused him to panic.

"Self harming?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Oh! No ,of course not. I hate pain. I have them because I cut myself a lot with my butterfly knife."

"W-With your knife?" He still spoke in shaky syllables.

"Yeah, I learn tricks like pinwheel , helix aerial, kiss goodbye and such."

"And you didn't taped the blade?"

"...I am a very chaotic and lazy person, Corpse."

You two laughed the intensity of the room. Your heart blooming at the idea that Corpse was genuinely worried about you but you sighed, getting ahead of yourself only landed you for disappointment and realistic bitterness.

"You...You were really worried about me there, weren't you Corpse?" You rhetorically asked in a shy manner, your mind and ,more,your heart needed to hear this for some reason.

"Y-Yeah, goofball. You got me there for a second. "

"Awww, don't worry my petit orchid. I ain't going nowhere. "

Not with my heart beating so fast and the pressure I have on my guts and the end of my lungs.

"P-Promise?"

"I would pinky promise the fuck out of you, my little orchid. Unfortunately ,I cannot. "

"Maybe some time in the future ?"

You could hear the smile in his voice, your own grin becoming bigger because of that. This manz raises my serotonin like no one's business.

"Of course, Corpse. Whenever you are ready ."

————————————————————

The rest of the night was spent watching cheap movies ,roasting the unrealistic characters and taking occasional breaks to regain your brain cells back.

"You been quiet."

You jumped ,stabbing your pointing finger with a sewing needle. You hissed as you moved to pull it out of your finger.

"Ghost ,what happened?"

"I was...ah shit...this will hurt."

You clenched your teeth and groaned as you pull the long glimmering needle out ,your skin reddening immediately as a bit of blood sprung out.

"Ghost? Goofball,please answer. "

"Y-yeah, I am fine. You scared me when you started to so the needle I am using went into my finger. It hurts."

"I am sorry,but what do you use the needle for?"

"Decorative sewing. "

"And whatcha making?"

"A flower ...for you!"

"Awww....that's so cute. You don't have to."

"BUT I WANT...I mean it's cool ,don't worry about it."

You stupid fucking dinosaur... You mumbled under your breath as you continued on your work, red cheeks of pure embarrassment.

Your pitiful attempt of covering your slip up was rewarded with one of his angelic chuckles, you seemed to make him laugh a lot. That's a good thing,right? Maybe he's just laughing at your clowny ass...

You huffed, eyebrows knitted in annoyance. Oh how you hated those belittling thoughts, they did nothing but ruin everything for you.

Or maybe you ruin them yourself..

"Shut up!"

"What?"

Ah,shit!

"Sorry ,Corpse, not you. I just...I lost myself in thought, hahaha...yeah thought. "

You slapped yourself so hard,your head was dizzy for it.

"Are you sure everything is fine ,goofball. I am always here for you."

Aww...

You sighed, tired all of sudden. "Yeah, orchid. I am fine,thanks for asking. "

"No need.I care about you, you know? A lot."

The last part was said in such a low tone that your ears couldn't pick it up. Unfortunately for Corpse who was busy playing with his sweater paws to calm his nerves.

"I care about you too ,Corpse. I think I will go. Good night !"

"'Night."

The reason why I am so worried about you ,Ghost, is because I don't think you realise ...

"... how lovely you are."

————————————————————

Hey, guys!💖

Hope you enjoyed the part six of this serie, it's bit shorter but I wanted it to be after the last part.

I am interested in what do you think will happen next.

Stay safe!💗

Tagged💖:@moolujk @magenta-skyline @cherry-piee @yoyoanaria @yikesyikesyikes95 @softboiicorpse @heavenly3308 @simonsbluee @mythicalamphitrite @gaysludge

#corpse husband x reader #fanfic #hopefully not cringy

[daydreaming-jessi]

Day Five: Wedding This... took... WAY TOO LONG. UUUUUGH.

anyways, Lydia’s tux is based off the amazing works of @acicadat and @thespacehatter who both made FABULOUS tuxes for her to wear, and I am but a lowly goblin who wanted to follow in their footsteps :’3

Now onto the story!!!

“Oh my god this is the wo-orst.”

Lydia paused, her finger poised to knock on the door when the gravelly groan of Beetlejuice drifted out of the room. She reconsidered her options, before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort and firmly tapped twice on the door. “Better be decent, Beej, I’m coming in,” she called, turning the door knob and stepping into her pseudo brother’s room.

Beetlejuice was laid sprawled out on the bathroom counter, hair a whirling mess of colors. He was mostly dressed, his kippah was in place, and he was properly cleaned up. It seemed the only problem he was only dealing with was a bad case of wedding nerves.

Lydia smirked and closed the door behind her, moving to grab Beetlejuice’s jacket off the bed and flung it at his prone body. “Get up, loser. It’s almost time for you to get married,” she ordered.

Lydia wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten to this point, holding a wedding ceremony for Beetlejuice and the Maitlands in their home. She knew Beetlejuice had a crush on the Maitlands. He told her all about it in return for her telling him about her crush. She knew that one day the ghosts finally all got together, after various nail painting sessions in which Beej bemoaned his feelings, and some rather obvious heavy flirtation from both parties. She knew that they had basically reached the gross domestic stage of dating, the trio basically sharing the attic and spending a ludicrous amount of time being gross and schmoopy together. But Lydia wasn’t sure when they all decided they wanted to all marry each other. She just knew that one random day Beetlejuice burst into Lydia’s room hollering about how she needed to be his escort for his wedding that was now on. She didn’t know how the proposals had happened, but of course, she was all in. And of course she’d be Beetlejuice’s escort, she’d be offended if she wasn’t.

Her parents were happily roped in to help plan out the wedding, and the three ghosts were a mess of love and nerves about the upcoming wedding date. It was probably odd from an outsiders perspective, why would a ghost couple marry a deadborn when they all were no longer alive and it didn’t matter anymore, and some people would look down on the polyamorous aspect of the relationship, because some people cared too much about matters that didn’t involve them, but to Lydia this whole thing made perfect sense. This was how their family was, and it made the three paranormal beings happy, and that’s all that mattered to Lydia.

Slowly Beetlejuice peeked out from his jacket mournfully, pulling Lydia from her thoughts. “What if they realize they don’t want to do it? What if I fuck up, or they hate me and they le-ave?” he whined.

Lydia sat down on the bed, shooting Beetlejuice a flat look. “Listen, bitch. Barb and Adam aren’t just going to randomly back out and just hate you. For some weird reason, they like you enough to marry you, Beej. If they didn’t back out when you tried to convince us to have Sandy as the officiant, they won’t back out now on the actual day of the wedding.” The sandworm seemed upset that she didn’t get the part, but she cheered up when they had her stand guard over the chuppah, in case any other beast wanted to try crashing the wedding. The honor of officiant surprisingly fell to one Miss Argentina, who somehow was certified as an officiant for any type of wedding out there. Apparently ghosts getting married to each other was a common occurrence in the Netherworld.

Beetlejuice looked away, but Lydia’s words seemed to be working as his hair bled into a lovely mix of magenta and green. “Maybe you have a point,” he admitted begrudgingly.

Lydia stood up and kicked his leg. “I’m always right, and you know it. Now c’mon, I got dolled up and everything to take you to marry my ghost parents. I’m not gonna let you make all my hard makeup work be for nothing,” she gestured to the thick eyeliner and pale white foundation, making her appear as a ghastly apparition similar to the bride and bridegrooms.

Beetlejuice slowly stood, putting his jacket on properly. He straightened his kippah and sucked in a quick breath. “Ok, ok. Ok! I can do this. I’m the ghost with the most! I got this!” He growled to his reflection, flexing his hands.

“Yeah, you married a fifteen year old once, two consenting adult ghosts should be a cakewalk in comparison,” Lydia agreed, smirking.

Beetlejuice spluttered at that, spinning around and jabbing a finger at the teen. “I already apologized like a billion times for that! You’re really gonna bring this up again now?”

Lydia grinned, and turned to the door, gliding away. “Creepy old guy, creepy old guy, my ghost parents are marrying their own creepy old guy!” She sang.

“I swear to whatever deity out there, I will have my vengeance on you, Scarecrow!” Beetlejuice raced after her, and Lydia sprinted out into the hall, cackling.

Delia was walking up the stairs, carrying a folded cloth in her arms when Lydia raced out, and the teen quickly hid behind her stepmother. “Fix his hair, get him prepared for Armageddon. Sure, the grooms both crawled out of a tomb, but hey, hey, it's a wedding!” Lydia sang as she peeped around Delia.

Beetlejuice appeared in his bedroom doorway looking ready to chase after, but froze upon seeing the white cloth in Delia’s arms. “Oh,” his eyes widened as he realized that she was holding a tallit.

“What are you two doing?” Delia giggled, looking back to Lydia who looked like the cat who caught the canary.

“I’m pumping Beej up for the upcoming ceremonies, like a good escort,” Lydia explained, batting her eyes innocently.

Delia hummed disbelievingly, but turned back to Beetlejuice who was looking uncertainly at the tallit in her arms. Delia smiled, and unfolded the white cloth. “I thought you would appreciate having this for today. Hasn’t been used in a while, but I’m sure my parents would be happy with me letting it be used again,” she explained, carefully setting the tallit around Beetlejuice’s shoulders. He carefully clutched the cloth, swallowing heavily.

“Thanks, D,” he murmured, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Of course, sweetie. Now, let’s get our creepy old guy married!” Delia grinned, grabbing Beetlejuice’s arm while Lydia grabbed his other and the three started for the stairs.

“So dim the lights, pick up some rice, say something nice. It's their day to shine, they’re getting hitched to our creepy old guy!” the two sang in unison as they glided down the stairs, dragging a put upon Beetlejuice with them.

“Goddammit you guys, why??”

They continued to tease him as they went, and when they met with Charles outside of the room they were going to sign the ketubah, they roped him into their impromptu singing. “Have you guys heard of Marston? This is like that, but supernatural!” He said as he opened the door with a wink, discreetly squeezing Beetlejuice’s shoulder reassuringly as they entered the room.

Beetlejuice felt ready to strangle hug them all tight at the same time, but then he saw the Maitlands, and if his heart was beating, it would’ve stopped right then and there. Barbara was drop dead (Hah) gorgeous in her dress, and Adam cut the handsomest figure in his suit, both just looking so… beautiful. What really made Beetlejuice happy, though, was seeing they were just as nervous as he was. Adam kept readjusting his kippah, and Barbara kept straightening her veil, but when the other four stepped in, the two locked eyes with Beetlejuice, and the biggest grins graced their faces. Beetlejuice never felt more ready for this in his entire after life. It was showtime.

“O.M.G. Dressed to a "T". Fancy and formal, I found me a husband and wife. L'chaim to life. This is so absurdly normal! I was ignored, but now, I'm adored! 'Cause I was real, honest and apologized. Give it up for my ghost husband and bride!”

The three almost cried when they signed the ketubah, and they actually did cry when they said their vows at the ceremony. It was disgustingly sweet, even Beetlejuice was shockingly sincere in his vows, his eyes only for the ghost couple he was marrying, the three of them draped with the tallit Delia gave them.

When the vows were given, the glass broken by the three, and everyone finished cheering, the three were quick to take their yichud before the reception. When the door was closed and they were finally alone together, they hugged, for a long, quiet moment. It seemed as if time had froze, and the moment would stretch on forever.

That is, until Barbara gently began to sing, “We are marrying our creepy old guy.”

Beetlejuice froze, before breaking down into laughter, shoving Barbara and Adam away as they sang “Creepy old guy!” at him with wide grins.

“I don’t even know why I married you!” He howled, his kippah almost tumbling off as he rocked back with laughter.

“It’s too late to back out now,” Adam grinned, wrapping his arms around the demon and holding him up.

“You’re a part of Maitlands 3.0 now!” Barbara added, throwing her arms around the both of them. The three laughed, the wedding jitters now long gone.

“Yeah,” Beetlejuice couldn’t help but agree, smiling back dopily at the two. Eternity with them was going to be better than any experience he ever could’ve had being alive.

#jessi doodles #beetlejuice #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice the musical #adam maitland #barbara maitland #charles deetz #delia deetz #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #lydia deetz #beetlelandsweek2020 #beetlelands #goldenbeetle #AAAAAAAAA. TUMBLR DELETED THE FIRST DRAFT SO I HAD TO MAKE THIS POST TWICE. UGH.

[deeahzee]

Chance of a Lifetime

Pairing: Lee/Carley

Summary: Weeks after a traumatic foster home experience, Clementine is called and is told a couple is interested in fostering her. Could this be her chance for a home?

A/N: NEW AU NEW AU, i’ve had this one planned for ages and i’ve finally completed the first part!!!! i hope you enjoy :,D btw this is a foster au, just in case ur curious. on my ao3 i have a better au description on the series so if you wanna check that out you can :<

Read on AO3

or read here on Tumblr!

They were fighting again. Downstairs.

Clementine could hear them through the floors. It sounded heated, as they usually were. Clem could’ve sworn something made out of glass was chucked across the room. She could hear it, shattering in an instant and swearing filling in afterward. She just wanted to sleep. That was her only wish.

Living with the Petersons was rough. One of the roughest foster homes Clementine has ever been in. They were found commonly strict and rude during the day, and brutal and violent during the night. Forced to work around the house Clementine got little to no time to herself, and by nighttime she could barely sleep due to the shouts and sometimes even screams blasting for the floor below her provided bedroom. She snuggles up tight into her blanket. The fighting was just growing worse.

Cursing. That’s all she could hear. Shit and fuck and dumb ass bitch. Common language spoken around the house. Never directly to Clementine, thank god, but to the adults it was daily. Dishes weren’t cleaned properly? You were called a whore. Laundry folded wrong? Useless piece of shit you were named. Every single day Clementine was shocked as to how these people were willing to try and adopt a child. A child that would most likely be living in a living hell, exactly like Clementine was doing.

A scream of agony erupted from below. That was a sound Clementine never heard before, and it had escaped from the man of the household’s lips, who usually treated everyone like they were pure nothing. Bits of silence passed before frantic apologies were spoken, and then a shout. A bang. Then nothing. The brunette had never been so scared. Her knuckles had turned white due to how tightly she grasped her blanket. Quietly she rose from her twin bed, blanket still in her grip, and tiptoed to the door of her bedroom. Her hand was shaking madly when she reached out to the doorknob and turned it to open the door.

The lightbulb from downstairs was flickering slightly, as if Clementine had just entered a horror movie. Blanket draped along her shoulders she ventured forward and descended the stairs, using baby steps the whole way down since she was so frightened, plus she didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to herself.

Finally she reached the main floor to the two story home and saw the light was still flickering. It looked to be coming from the kitchen, and silence still hung fresh in the air. It was almost unbearable. Taking tiny steps Clementine walked closer and closer, and eventually found herself standing at the door frame that separated the hall and the kitchen. Instantly her eyes widened in horror at the sight her innocent vision was forced to consume.

There on the tiled floor laid Mr. And Mrs. Peterson, both having gashes upon their foreheads and blood trickling down their faces. Some of it even got into their hung open mouths. Clementine screams. Louder than she's ever screamed. She feels her voice crack. She couldn’t bear to state at the sight, yet she found her eyes unable to peel away. Were they dead…? She couldn’t tell. She was frozen on the spot.

It had been at least four hours later when an ambulance and foster care arrived at the house. Immediately the two Petersons were driven to a hospital and Clementine was heading back to square one. Foster care. No matter what happened she always returned back. Always ended up in the same bedroom she was supposed to share with others, but always found her having it to herself.

All the other kids turned up being fostered for a long time, some even getting adopted. So why wasn’t she? What was holding Clem back from finally receiving a home? She holds back from breaking down into ugly sobs in the car. Her hope was running low. It was draining day after day. Her dreams slowly crushing into bits and pieces. She’ll never have a home, and that’s what made Clementine broken.

Sixteen years. Sixteen dreading years Clementine has jumped from foster home to foster home. And not a single one considered adopting the brunette. She was only a baby when her parents died, the foster care adults saying it was from some horrifying car accident. She didn’t want to believe it at first, but slowly as the years went on and on she accepted it. The fate her parents had to face and she didn’t.

One hundred fifty five. That was how many foster homes Clementine had been to. One hundred fifty five times she had been rejected for adoption. One hundred fifty five times she was forced to live under such harsh and bizarre conditions. Each house she entered those conditions grew worse and worse the more homes she stepped into. One child, that was it. A small girl with nothing but a small sack of hope at her side. Was it really that hard to take care of her?

Physical and mental scars littered Clementine’s body and mind. Every home she’s been in holds a traumatic experience that glues itself to her and her mind. Abuse was something she experienced a lot, physical and verbal. So many words she’s been called, so many ways of pain she’s been through. Clem can’t even remember the last time someone said “I love you” to her.

Clementine spent a lot of her time hidden in her assigned bedroom at the foster care after the Petersons incident. She didn’t have the courage to go join the other kids as they happily played out in the courtyard of the building, their laughs echoing from outside and bouncing back and forth off the walls of the room. How could homeless kids like themselves be so happy?

Her fingertips swerved along a dragged scar that sat on her left arm while she sat curled up upon her bed. How she got it she remembers too well. So many scars and nightmare-like memories, yet so little happy moments. Was Clementine really that unlucky? Was she really a black cat stuck in this cruel, unkind world?

“Clementine dear?” She hears a woman speak her name. Ms. Summers she recalls her name being. She didn’t even spot her at the doorway, let alone hear the door open. “Can you grab your bag? A couple is here and is interested in fostering you.”

The brunette’s head perked up slightly to the news. A couple wanted to foster her? She hadn’t heard those words be spoken to her in weeks. “They want to… foster me?” She asked, her voice faint.

The blonde woman nods, pushing up her blue framed glasses. “Yep, would you like to meet them? They already signed the papers and everything and are waiting outside to take you to their home.”

Clementine gave the woman a simple nod, racing off her bed to obtain her bag. She didn’t have much to pack, really only packing a blue jacket a past family bought for her and a pillow the foster care was kind enough to provide to her. Zipping the purple backpack shut she slips the straps onto her shoulders and grasped them tightly as Ms. Summers led them down the halls of the building.

Specks of color from drawings made by children in and out of the foster care popping out from the walls on their sides. Staff members every now and then passed by the two, only making small talk. Every window they passed children were seen outside doing some sort of friendly activity, like playing tag or drawing on the sidewalks with pastel colored chalk. Clementine was quiet the entire walk. She was still letting the fact someone wanted to care for her sink in.

Soon the pair found themselves in the front parking lot of the building. It was rather empty for this time of day. Staff cars were mainly littered all across the lot. One car stuck out the most however, a shimmering silver one with pitch black tires that stood out along with the car color. It glistened in the beaming sunlight and sparkled the whole parking lot. A couple, a man and a woman, stood close to the vehicle, too deep in a conversation to notice the two exit the foster building.

First Clementine took her attention to the man. He was tall, a beard worn on his face while a simple blue flannel hugged his chest and had a darker blue jacket topped over it. There was a certain glint in his eyes that struck out to the brunette the most, one Clementine rarely saw when a man fostered her. Kindness. Love.

Clem’s attention then turned to the woman. She was much shorter than the man, her outfit more put together and elegant. A knee length magenta skirt wrapped around her legs with a plain white blouse complimented along with it along with a fuzzy looking brown coat. Her short hair was half clipped up, and she along with the man wore that same shine in her eyes. That same look Clementine rarely saw. Could this be it? Her chance for a home?

Ms. Summers cleared her throat, which caused the couple to pause in their conversation and turn their heads to see the pair. Instantly smiles grew on the couple’s faces.

“Hello Mr. Everett, Mrs. Everett,” The blonde began before she settled a hand onto the teen’s shoulder. “This is Clementine. Clementine, this is Mr. and Mrs. Everett.”

“A real pleasure,” The woman, Clem learning to be Mrs. Everett, spoke. “But please, you can call me Carley, and that’s Lee.”

“My apologies. Well, she’s all yours,” Ms. Summers beckoned Clem forward towards the couple before turning to look at her. “You positive you got everything sweetie?” Clementine gives her a short nod. “Very good. I hope you have a fantastic time dear. And who knows, maybe this one will be it,” The blonde pats the girl’s shoulder sweetly before giving out her goodbyes and trailing back into the foster building.

“Well, looks like it’s just us three against the world,” The man, Lee, finally spoke. “Well kiddo? Wanna head home?”

Mentioning that word sent an unfamiliar feeling throughout Clementine’s body. Home. That word was so important to her. Something she was desperate to have for years. “Home?”

“Yeah, you know, the place you’ll be staying at with us. The place you may live at the rest of your-”

“Lee,” Carley’s voice cuts the man off. “Let’s not jump too far ahead.”

Lee visibly rolls his eyes. “You never know Carls, you never know.”

“I think she clearly gets the idea, right Clementine?” The adults turned to the teen, who was briefly staring at them as they exchanged conversation. Seeing their attention was now on her made her panic slightly, simply shrugging as her answer. The couple shared frowns to the silent response from the brunette.

“I can tell from you both you don’t wanna stand around here anymore, so why don’t we head home?” Lee broke the sitting silence around the three of them. “We’re excited to show you where you’ll be staying.” The last part Clem figured was specifically for her.

Clementine nods to the idea, letting the couple lead her over to the car. Lee opened the door for her and she slipped inside easily, patiently waiting for the other two to get in before deciding to speak up and ask some questions burning in her mind.

“How far away is the house?”

“Not super far,” Carley answers her question. “Is that alright? Or do you wanna go the long way?”

“It’s okay,” Clem speaks softly. “I don’t like long drives anyway.”

“Good to know.” Lee speaks as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road. Clementine watches buildings and nature fly past out the window. Silence came back upon the trio. It was unsettling at times, them all wishing there was something to break away the awkwardness.

Clementine took the opportunity to look around the inside of the vehicle. It was fairly tidy, especially for a car that was the model for a family. She half expected to see a snack bag of some kind tucked deep within the seats of the car. But alas, she found nothing. All that caught the brunette’s eye was a simple pink water bottle left in one of the car door cup holders on Clem’s side of the vehicle. It didn’t look like Carley’s, and it definitely didn’t look like Lee’s. Unless it was the man’s, Clementine wouldn’t judge. Her main guess was they had a daughter waiting for them back at the house.

“You alright Clem?”

A nickname being formed for her, and being used, caused Clementine to stiffen suddenly, tearing her gaze from the bottle of water to see Carley was looking back at her. Eyeing her sudden change of state caused the woman to frown. “Sorry, should I not use that nickname?”

Clem was fast to shake her head. “No… it’s okay. I just… no one’s ever called me that before.”

“Clem? Really?” Lee joined into the conversation, not removing his eyes from the road. “Figured that nickname would be common for you.”

“Nope, past homes have just called me Clementine.”

“Well we’d like to change that. If that’s alright with you?”

The brunette nods, which seemed to make the adults in front of her happy. Something about her name having a nickname… she liked it. She felt like she was a kid that belonged. A kid that might possibly have a chance at receiving a home.

“Lee, I love you very dearly,” Carley suddenly spoke, her voice tickling with a hint of anger. Such a tone caused panic to fill in Clementine’s body. “But did you put deodorant on this morning?”

Lee audibly gasps from the driver’s seat before he lets out a small chuckle. “Of course I did! What, you saying I stink?”

“You smell like a fucking rotten egg sandwich made on a gloomy Monday morning!”

“Carley!”

Bickering. They were bickering, at least that’s what Clementine thought it was. She can visibly see they were joking, something she rarely saw couples who fostered her do. Such sight made the brunette let out small giggles.

“Clem, please tell me I don’t smell like a rotten egg sandwich.” Lee begged at the teen, which made her grin softly.

“I can’t smell you from back here, so I can’t say anything.”

“Ha! Girls win!” Carley cried out with a grin on her face as well. Her grin widened when she spotted Lee sticking his tongue out at the woman. Clementine couldn’t help but keep her grin present on her face. The fuzzy feeling continued to swim through her skin. She felt like she belonged, she had a family.

The rest of the car ride went by like a sunny summer day breeze, and soon Clementine found themselves entering a neighborhood, a neighborhood in which was gated shut by a large dark grey gate and had to have an ID out and ready in order to get in. Once past the gates the teen instantly began looking out the window and trying to guess in her mind where she would be staying.

House after house they passed, and the more houses they passed the larger they grew. Clementine’s eyes were at the edge of popping out of her sockets when Lee pulled up into the driveway of quite the house. The home looked as if it was transported from one of those Victorian styled murder mystery tales she read years and years ago. The cream colored bricks stood out along with the grey roof tiles, and Clementine half expected a butler of some sort to walk out and greet the three, but no one came out.

“Woah.” Was all that slipped out of the brunette’s lips. Carley and Lee smiled at the teen’s reaction.

“You like it?”

“It’s so… big.”

“Yeah, that’s our house,” Lee stopped the engine and swiftly took the car key out of the ignition. “You ready to go inside?”

Clementine looked back and forth between the two adults before giving them a brief nod. Easily the three got out of the car, and Clem got a better look at the home. Rose bushes stood tall near the front door of the house, and a decently sized fountain ran smoothly upon the driveway. She felt so small compared to it.

“You have a fountain…?”

“Sure do, had it installed a few months after me and Lee bought the place,” Carley unzips her coat. They weren’t even inside yet and she was already getting settled back in. “Ready to head inside?”

The brunette spares a look at the couple before she averted her gaze over to the house before them. It was so large… so overwhelming. Clem was sure she’d get lost in it. But it was her home for who knows how long, and she was grateful for that. Taking in a deep breath she nods, grasping her backpack tightly while Lee and Carley led the way to the front door. Clementine was about to enter a world she had never entered before, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for it.

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdg au #twdg foster au #twdg fanfiction #twdg clementine #twdg lee #twdg carley #twdg carlee #carlee #slight tw #strong language #graphic description (sorta) #foster care #foster family #foster home

[wthelvetica21]

Linked Souls / Prelude

Staff Member 1 : So do we remove it or not.

He (DrunkGuy) couldn’t move at all after that bad bender. He could vaguely feel his neck was in something and could barely feel his right arm. All he could do is hear disjointed conversations between whom he can only assume is the hospital staff. He could’ve sworn that he fell into a red river that smelled like blood and the glasses of drinks he had that night. 

Staff Member 2: Maybe we should wait, he’s not consenting and we can’t get a hold of his attorney, if he even has one.

He wonders if he should be dead by now given how much alcohol he had that night, about 20 or 30 if he could remember correctly. 

Staff Member 1  : sigh… I swear to god this guy is an animal, this is the third or fifth time this week he’s been admitted here. Hell, he was only discharged a few hours before. Maybe we should….

He then hears white static over powering his ears like he was really close a tv with the volume up. 

this is the way we talk

a synthetic voice said as he felt himself jolt awake 

DrunkGuy: Who’s there? What was that? What kinda shit do they have me on to be…

Then everything goes black again. He hears the voices of various people in his life.

“When are you going to act your age already? You’re in your twenties for God’s sake.”

“Are you doing this shit on purpose? Don’t drag us into your shit okey.”

“You do know that alcohol is a depressant right? This coping mechanism is going to turn into an addiction.”

“Why are you squandering your talent on something so dumb?!”

Synthetic Voice : You can be somebody new. You can prove all those who had doubted or belittled you wrong.

DrunkGuy: WHO SAID THAT?! What are you?

All the sudden he found himself in what looks like a mainframe of a computer with the only source of light coming from a bright orange pillar of light. 

Synthetic Voice : You can also get out of the rut you fond yourself in. And find companionship again.

DrunkGuy: Oh please, I’m not buying that for one minute. Also I don’t really need any body, I’m alone and I’m free.

There was a long pause of silence until he got to the source of light, it was something he didn’t really expect. 

DrunkGuy:  A skull mask? What is this shit? I already have on my huh…

DrunkGuy catches a glimpse of his real face in one of the mirrored walls. He then noticed that he was in the same clothes he had during that night. The most off-putting thing about the room was that he could feel that mask calling to him by a name in binary code no less. 

zero_one(hostless) : I am zero_one and you have the choice of either becoming one with me or returning back to your ordinary life if you managed to recover at all.

DrunkGuy: Recover? What the fuck happened?! gasp Holy fucking…

He sees himself in a hospital room with various medical equipment attached to him. He still had that white skull mask but it was partially obscured by bandages around his head. He also had a neck brace and a cast on his right arm. 

zero_one(hostless) : You fell down a flight of stares in the city streets. You would’ve certainly died if Helvetica didn’t intervene the way she did.

He sees a glimpse of a woman with a skull mask similar to his but half of it was inverted. She was grabbing on to his left arm while he was unconscious. 

zero_one(hostless) : Helvetica and one of my hosts (WIW Guy) drove you to the hospital soon after. “

He was left speechless, DrunkGuy thought he had a falling out with WIWGuy over something he could barely remember and now this woman named Helvetica (whom according to zero_one is a tombsona like they are and is apparently partially influenced by it’s host’s emotions.) Then something came to him.

DrunkGuy: … I don’t know if I’ll end up regretting it or not but… what the hell. You said something about being somebody new right?

zero_one(hostless) : Yes, to clarify you’ll become one with me and gain something you’ve be yarning for well over a year; a purpose. You wished to become a musical artist with a specialty of making mashups.

DrunkGuy: How… did you know that?

zero_one(hostless) : Well it’s happened before, at least to me. As a tombsona, I am not anchored to one linear timeline. I’ve encountered countless individuals of various nationalities, genders, and yes even species who seek greater understanding of the world around them. Helvetica’s current host in another timeline is one such person and so is your friend, WIW Guy.

This decision was something DrunkGuy couldn’t believe was even real. He wondered if it’s from the cocktail combination of the anesthetics and pain killers the hospital have him on or just the cocktails he got a little too creative with. He held the skull mask in his hands, it was jet black with some circuit lines pulsing orange to a unknown rhythm. DrunkGuy puts it on and feels his whole being being assimilated with zero_one. It felt like he had lived a thousand lives at once.

All the sudden he could see glimpses of a woman doctor in blue clasping her hands anxiously. She looks like she’s in the middle of a ritual of some kind.

A troubled teen in a green tee shirt running with what looks like a helmet and riot armor in his arms. It looks like he’s running in a heavy wooded area.

An astronaut with red markings reentering the atmosphere of another planet. It looked like Mars.

And what looks like a guy who’s hunched over with something magenta in his hands. The strange with was that his hands where very hairy and had long nails

And then everything turns black again as DrunkGuy hears someone or something sing

Has me feeling like a ghost 

Unknown Voice: This is going to be interesting to say the least. These Linked Souls.

 All the sudden that blackness was met with extreme panic as DrunkGuy felt his body start to change into something else. 

DrunkGuy : What’s happening to me?! Why do I feel like an…

ANIMAL

End of Transmission

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#linkedsoulsau #the living tombstone #zero_one

[gguksgalaxy]

Champagne Popsicle | KTH | Bottoms Up

You’re not a fan of social gatherings, especially not the ones where you have to show up in a stupid dress that you didn’t pick while it’s a 100 degrees outside. However, a handsome stranger with a popsicle that matches his pink hair might be able to turn your frown upside down.

›› Bottoms Up Masterlist ›› Genre: Smut / Fluff ›› Rating: 18+ (sexual content) ›› Pairing: KTH x Reader ›› Word Count: 10.1k Warnings Include: Alcohol, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, blowjob, mouth fucking, food play, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, slight dom!Taehyung, almost getting caught.

A soft breeze catches your hair and you’re forever grateful for it. The magenta dress you’re wearing sticks to your skin in the heat and cooling down seems almost impossible in the middle of the summer. The wedding below you is bustling, your friend dancing in her ivory dress with her husband. You’ve escaped to a higher floor — social gatherings aren’t your thing and neither is the hundred degree weather. This is way past your comfort zone.

You toe off your heels, stepping down onto the tile floor in the hope to cool down a bit. Your friend Sooji really had to put you in a skin-tight silk dress of one of the most hideous colours. The pink doesn’t suit you and it’s painfully obvious.

“I see I wasn’t the only person who decided to escape?” A voice sounds from behind you and when you whirl around you find the groom’s friend with the pink hair. The one Sooji definitely mentioned in regard to not wanting him at her wedding because he’s too wild.

His suit jacket has been discarded, the first few buttons open. The slight sheen of his skin makes it apparent that he is just as hot as you are. However, unlike you he has a refreshment. The popsicle in his hand is filled with fruits and your mouth waters at the sight. He catches you gawking and holds the treat out to you.

“Want a bite?” He smiles and it contrasts with his demeanour.

You remember how he had caught your eyes during the ceremony. He’s handsome, full lips with eyes that hold something you can’t quite define — intimidating is a word that rises to the surface. Yet, right now with his hair mussed up and smiling like that, he looks much more friendly.

“Uh…sure.”

He chuckles, stepping up beside you and handing it over to you. It’s cold against your lips, but you’re not prepared for the taste. You frown as you bite into it, ice cold and sickly sweet almost.

“Not good?” he asks.

You shake your head with a hand covering your mouth as it melts on your tongue. It’s odd but not in a bad way, and he laughs at the sight of you holding the way too big bite of fruit and ice in your mouth. “Hmm, what is this made with?”

“Champagne.”

True to your character, you almost choke on a large piece of peach, completely embarrassing yourself. “They’re made with champagne?”

He nods, taking the popsicle back. “Good, isn’t it?” He pops it back into his mouth and you catch yourself staring for a few seconds too long at the way his lips pucker. You avert your attention back to the people downstairs who are mingling and dancing. The heat doesn’t seem to bother them as much as it does you.

“So, what’s your excuse for escaping?” he muses, leaning on the balustrade beside you. The wind catches his pink hair, revealing the dark set of his brows.

You huff, the slight cool-down from the ice already subsiding and the warmth seeping back into your skin. “Too hot.”

“Too many people?”

“That too…”

A silence falls over the two of you — his mere presence alleviating your bad mood a little. He starts humming along to the music, a low and pleasant sound. You try to think of his name; you’re positive Sooji mentioned it to you when she was freaking out over him coming to her wedding. Like this, he doesn’t seem wild, but the feeling you’d gotten from him might be a hint at what she knows that you obviously do not. You’re pretty sure she referred to him as the blue-haired demon before. Though, right now it would be pink-haired.

His mouth is busy with the fruit, the red of the berries tainting his lips red just the slightest. It doesn’t make him look any less handsome — on the contrary, your mind easily drifts to the thought of kissing him. God, the heat must really be getting to you.

“Say,” you trail. “I can’t remember your name for the life of me.”

He chuckles again, something that comes from deep within his chest. “I’m hurt, I surely remember yours. How could I not? You looked stunning in that dress.” The fact that he has you blushing so easily without even looking at you — you need to get a grip.

You shake the feeling. “Thanks, but I’m entirely certain this dress is the ugliest thing I have ever worn. I mean,” you shiver your hands into the pockets, “it has pockets, which is a crime on it’s own for a dress this tight.”

The sight of you angrily stuffing your hands into the fabric sends him into a fit of laughter, almost dropping his popsicle in the process. “I mean, yeah this one’s pretty hideous. I’m sorry to say but pink is not your colour.” He takes the last bite off the stick. “I mean the summer dress you arrived in this morning. That one was gorgeous.”

Truly, he must be joking. This morning you ‘d been royally late to the venue and Sooji was ready to just kick you out of the wedding. Your hair had been barely combed, pulled up in a useless piece of a bun as you had dragged the dress from the previous night off the chair and slipped it on without much thought. A light piece of white fabric that hung off one shoulder. “I — Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.” He emphasises your name and the way it rolls off his tongue holds implications you must be imagining.

You smile at him. “So, are you going to tell me your name?”

He takes a step closer to you, brushing his pink hair out of his face. “On one condition,” he says lowly with the slight raise of a brow. “Dance with me?”

“I —“ You damn your cheeks for being able to turn more red even in this heat. It must certainly be matching the colour of your dress by now. “Dance with you?” The second the words leave your mouth you regret them. It doesn’t at all sound like what you’d intended.

It doesn’t seem to faze him, he merely chuckles. “I mean, you don’t have to. But it’s a wedding and it’d be a shame if you’re going to be up here moping the entire time when there’s free food and drinks downstairs.” He has a point, and you’d take him upon his offer if it wasn’t for the sun beaming down your back. You might actually get sunburnt at this rate. “You know what,” he starts to walk away, “it’s your loss. I know where they’re hiding the popsicles.”

Now that is a good tradeoff. “Fine, you got me.”

He stops, looking at you over his shoulder with a wide smile. “Follow me, my lady.” Politely, he holds out his hand for you and you take it with a slight shake of your head. The skin of his hand is soft, surprisingly so. It completely envelops yours and the metal of the rings he wears contrast against the warmth of his palm.

You shouldn’t be this frazzled by holding a near stranger’s hand, yet he has an effect on you that you can’t explain. It’s as if you’ve met him before, like there’s history — a strange feeling settles in your chest as you look at him.

He is exuberant, laughing as you stumble down the stairs on bare feet. When you stop him to put your shoes back on he grabs them from you. “You don’t need those, the grass is much cooler.” Your shoes get hooked onto the umbrella stand as he drags you outside.

The grass is cool against your feet and you sigh at the feeling. There’s people around you, though not many are dancing to the soft music that is now playing. The man holding your hand however, doesn’t seem to have a care in the word as he twirls you around and catches you gently against his chest. You laugh, freely, and it feels so good.

His hands settle on your waist, warm, guiding, and you dance in close proximity with him — it’s cheesy but it almost feels like a movie. He’s even more gorgeous up close, thick eyelashes framing his eyes that light up when he smiles. The way he laughs when he dances with you is child-like and you wish you could be like that some more. He seems enamoured with the moment, purposely living the fairytale feeling almost.

“Say,” you hum, placing your hands on his shoulders. “How did you manage to get Sooji to agree to let you into the wedding after all?”

“Jin wasn’t joking when he said she didn’t want me here?”

Maybe it was a mistake to tell him this, but you doubt he’d actually be hurt by the notion. “Well, I don’t know your name, but I know of you. Sooji refers to you in many ways but that blue-haired demon was definitely one of her favourites.”

He laughs, throwing his head back at your words. The line of his jaw is sharp like this and he lowers his head again to look at you with a joking raise of his eyebrows, only to ask; “What do you think, am I a demon?”

The way he speaks, there’s a slight drop in his timbre. The lop-sided smile that lingers has you entranced. If he is a demon, he’s most certainly one in disguise. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen enough of you. I mean, I still don’t know your name.”

He grins and you swear you can feel it in your chest. “It’s Taehyung.” When he twirls you around you bump back into him, feeling his warmth. He is firm beneath your touch as your hands land on his chest.

“Well Taehyung,” you trail, looking at him grin. “How’d you manage to get into the wedding?”

He flicks his hair out of his face, a simple gesture. “Easy. Sooji made a comment about my blue hair clashing with the theme of her wedding. So I stole Jungkook’s tie and asked my hair dresser to match it. Blue looked better, but I don’t hate the pink.”

You snort, what an odd thing to do. It’s not something you would ever do but you can’t say that the colour doesn’t look nice on him. Blue however, that’s something you’d want to see. With his features you’re leaning towards taking his word for it, especially since pink already looks this good.

“What?” he asks.

“I mean, that’s certainly chaotic.”

Taehyung laughs and the sound makes your stomach tingle. The heat is long forgotten as you watch him dance with you. He’s tall and you spot a small mole on the tip of his nose. “Not demonic?”

You shake your head, playing with the collar of his shirt. “I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“Well,” he starts, grabbing your hand and turning you so your back is against his chest. His voice vibrates as he whispers in your ear. “How’s sneaking into the kitchen for some champagne-laced popsicles?”

“Sounds more like it.”

Taehyung’s hands are on your hips, holding you firmly against him. Every breath he takes pushes against you and you’re fearful he can notice your increasing nerves. It’s the first time a guy has gotten under you skin like this by merely…being. You shouldn’t be this affected.

Your breath hitches at his next utterance of words.

“There,” he points towards the entrance. “If you go through the double doors, straight past the lobby and third door on the left. Wait for me by the bathroom.” You can feel him look at you over your shoulder. “Go,” he ushers, pushing you forward.

You look back at him. He smiles and winks and you swear that for a second he looks younger. A true enigma.

Inside you grab your shoes from the stand, slipping them back on and wobbling to get your footing. High heels are not your favourite, but at least you’re aware that they make this hideous dress look a little better. The fact that Taehyung chose to approach you regardless of the ugly garment is luck on its own. You should thank your alarm clock for making you oversleep.

It’s not hard to find the bathrooms, you’re surprised that there’s nobody here right now. This back hallway is empty and you lean against the wall, waiting for him. Why didn’t he just follow you?

“There you are!” Sooji’s voice sounds from your left. She’s waddling over to you with the skirt of her dress gathered in her hands. “What are you doing?”

You look around, you could just lie right? You doubt you’re doing anything wrong by standing here. “I’m taking a breather, it’s hot outside.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know, you’ve complained about that enough. I mean what are you doing with Taehyung?”

“What?”

“You know, pink hair, the guy I’ve repeatedly told you to stay away from?” She ushers her words with haphazard gestures. “Do I need to tell you again?”

You frown at her. “Okay Sooji, sweetheart, it’s your wedding. You shouldn’t be worrying about me. Just have fun with Seokjin, that’s what today is about.” You do not understand why she’s so worried about you on her day. She doesn’t show this much concern for your hook-ups normally. Taehyung isn’t even that — he must’ve done something serious to piss her off this much.

She shakes her head at you, sighing deeply. “Do you really not remember what happened last time?”

What is she on about? Last time, what last time? You’re entirely sure you’ve never run into Taehyung before and he’s not someone you think you’d just forget. “I — Sooji listen, Taehyung’s just being nice and frankly,” you pause to take a deep breath, “if I want to flirt with him that is my decision.”

Sooji brushes stray strands of hair out of her face. “Y/N, listen. I’m going to take your word for it but…do you remember when you got really drunk at my engagement party?”

Oh do you remember. Or well, not remember is maybe a better way to say it. But you surely remember the raging headache you woke up with the next day, and the gap that is still left in your memory. It’s the one time you go so drunk that you just blanked out. None of it came back and — oh.

“Do you remember now?” she asks.

“No…” you trail off. Truly, you’re trying to but you cannot recall anything aside from the horrid taste of tequila.

“You don’t remember making out with a certain blue-haired person? In my bathroom, may I add.”

If there was one thing that could make you choke on air, that is it. “Excuse me?” Taehyung…and you…what? There’s no way. You’d remember that for sure — he doesn’t look like someone who’d let you forget.

Sooji sighs. “I’m not going to paint the picture for you, but let’s just say you were very drunk and swallowing him whole in my bathroom. I stopped him right before he could fuck you over the sink.”

Your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen in shock. “I — Please tell me you’re kidding?”

“No, I wish I was. I can’t believe he’d—“

“Wait,” you stop her. “You thought he was taking advantage of me?”

“You were drunk!”

“Both of us?”

“Yes!”

It’s not that you don’t get where she’s coming from. If you’d found her with a random guy while she was drunk you wouldn’t have just let him do that. The difference is that she knows Taehyung, he’s a close friend of her now-husband and you just don’t believe he was going to do something like that to you. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be anything but kind and the picture she’s painting seems a bit warped. You are her friend after all. Though, if Taehyung was as drunk as you were then you don’t see the need for her to act like this.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. “Why did you never just tell me this?”

Sooji smooths down the material of her dress. “I thought you were lying when you said you didn’t remember, that you might’ve been ashamed or something.”

You try to weigh your words properly. “I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, but I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. If me and Taehyung were both drunk then I get why you broke us up but you have no reason to treat him like a villain because of it. That said, we can have this conversation any other day that’s not your wedding. Until then I just want you to enjoy yourself and stop worrying about me.”

Sooji purses her lips, probably realising that you’re right. You doubt she wants to have this conversation today, the fact that she’s looking out for you on her own wedding says a lot about her as a friend. She has always been a great friend, and she has stopped you from making bad decisions. However, today is not the day, and this decision isn’t that bad. You hope she knows this.

Taehyung…you wonder if this is why he is flirting with you, if you even took it the right way. He probably remembers kissing you, nearly bending you over your friend’s sink — you blush at the thought. Simply looking at him has made your skin heat up, the heft of his gaze simply palpable. Yet, imagining kissing him seems foreign, out of your reach.

This is why you’re not surprised that you can feel him before you hear him as he walks up behind you. An undeniable presence. “Is everything okay?” Taehyung asks.

You look up at him and you can swear the corners of his mouth twitch when your eyes meet. “Yeah, Sooji just needed help with her dress.”

Taehyung puts a hand on your waist, pulling you a little more into his side as he looks at Sooji. Her eyes fall to where he touches you, something he’s doing so comfortably even you struggle to not let it faze you. His touch is like a constant static noise in your periphery as Sooji and him share looks. “Are you okay now Sooji? Jin is looking for you, he misses his wife.” Taehyung chuckles as he speaks and you note that he does this a lot. It’s as if he’s unaware of Sooji’s grudge. That, or he knows and doesn’t care — you hope he doesn’t.

Sooji’s face does perk up at the mention of her husband, and she gathers her dress in her hands again. “I should get going then, wife duty calls!”

Uncertainty floods your veins as soon as she leaves, giving Taehyung one last look over her shoulders. The way his fingers tighten around your hip is enough to tell you that he does remember. Even if that hadn’t been so, the way he leans down to whisper in your ear again speaks volumes.

“I got the key to the kitchen.” Taehyung’s voice is rough and you can feel it.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, aware of the proximity of his mouth. “Is lock-picking not part of your demonic abilities?”

He dangles the keys in front of your face. “Pickpocketing is.”

A gasps leaves your lips and you whirl around to face him. Something about it makes him laugh. “You what?!”

“I’m kidding,” he says, lowering his face to yours. A shiver runs up your spine despite the heat. Like his closeness, his gaze is heavy. You still can’t describe the air that rolls off him, but you’re entranced to say the least. “Though, persuasion might be in my skillset.”

Who would’ve thought? You seem at his mercy, even if you’ve barely touched him The thought of having kissing him — of kissing him now — remains at the forefront of your mind. Especially with his face so close to yours.

Taehyung’s lips are full, they look soft, and there’s a small mole dotted on the bottom one. It’s barely there but you can see it and — you’re staring.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, lips pulling up in a lopsided smile. “Cat got your tongue?” He totally caught you.

“I — I,” you stammer.

It doesn’t help when he reaches for you, hand smoothing down your back to press you that much closer. You’re almost certain he’s going to kiss you, his intentions are clear from the way his gaze settles on your mouth. Yet, he stops mere inches from your lips. “Lets go get those popsicles, hmm?”

There’s no way he’s not playing with you, but you don’t know if he’s aware that you don’t remember him. Without a doubt you should tell him. If you really had a full on make-out session with him in Sooji’s bathroom that was borderline drunk-fucking, you should talk to him about it. The only thing that’s stopping you is the possibility of scaring him off. You want to remember. You want him to — you’re not sure what, but when he grabs your hand again and pulls you along you know that you want him.

His behaviour makes all the more sense knowing that you’ve had a previous interaction. How comfortable he is around you, reading between the lines now shows his flirting. It’s not obvious, because you’re already well past the initial flirting stage. No, he’s just being playful, and you want him to kiss you again. You want him to make you remember.

As much as you try to crunch your mind while he guides you into the kitchen, you can’t pull up the image from that night. The one thing that pops up is his blue hair, a bright azure hue framing dark eyebrows and playful eyes. The same eyes that spark now as he opens the door of the freezer and reveals to you what seems to be an abundance of popsicles.

He stands there, arm resting on the door, white shirt tucked into his black suit paints to frame narrow hips. The light frames him and you can just see the soft dip of his chest where his shirt is unbuttoned. “Come on,” he ushers with a smile. “Grab one.”

You shake yourself, reminded that you keep ogling him and it’s rude, even if he doesn’t seem to mind. The popsicle is cold in your hand, but the first bite is so soothing. You can taste the faint leftover fizz from the champagne, and the peaches and strawberries mix so well — they’re good. Taehyung grabs his own, closing the freezer and leaning against it as you haul yourself up on one of the tables.

The popsicle is cold and it takes only a few seconds for it to start melting over your hand. You find yourself licking the drip of champagne off your finger and the second you do you meet eyes with him. The change in his eyes is so visible a shiver runs up your spine. Your stomach lurches and you almost choke on a piece of apricot.

“Hey, hey,” he laughs. “Easy there. There’s plenty left over. Jin said that it’s too hot to put them outside so they’re waiting till later.”

You nod, treat between your lips, enjoying every bit of it as he eats his own. The silence that falls for a moment is not uncomfortable but it’s full. Full with the presence of him, and the history between you. Watching his lips move over the popsicle definitely isn’t helping.

Call you biased, but Taehyung might honestly be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever met. His features are so alluring, almost too perfect and you want to trace them.

“You’re so strangely silent.”

You blind at him, lips parted and popsicle by now long finished. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m just weird but, I constantly feel like you’re going to say something and then you don’t. This kitchen is a judgment free zone. You can say whatever you want, do whatever you want.” When he turns away and opens the freezer again you sigh deeply. He grabs another popsicle for you, this one has more berries than peaches and you can’t help but realise that the hues match his hair. Especially when he gets close enough for you to see them side by side.

Your hand brushes his as you take it from him, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he remains close to you, searching your eyes as the popsicle threatens to melt in your hands. From here, you spot the other moles on his face. One below his bottom lip, and another hidden in his lashline. Sitting on the table, his face is level with yours and you almost hold your breath.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he whispers.

The sinking of your heart hits hard, your hand trembling against his as you let out that breath you might’ve been holding. “Sooji told me.”

Out of all things, you do not expect him to laugh as a reaction to that. Yet, he doubles over, chest vibrating with laughter only to look at you with bright eyes. “You were really drunk.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean!” you squeal, pulling the stick from his grip. “You were drunk too!”

He shrugs. “True, but I remember everything. Did you actually black out?”

You puff out your cheeks in displeasure. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, it’s a little funny. I can’t believe this. I thought you were playing with me, Seokjin told me you were so ashamed you were pretending to not remember. I didn’t think you actually didn’t. Oh my God.” Taehyung wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and you give him a shove with your foot in annoyance.

“Stop! Sooji legit thought I was pretending! I don’t remember, I don’t even know how that’s possible!”

He comes up, grabbing his popsicle from where he’d discarded it on the table beside you. “Well, let’s start over then.” He extends his hand to you. “Kim Taehyung, theatre major.”

You scowl as his hand, chewing a berry in annoyance. “Y/N, fool.”

“God,” he exclaims. “You really are cute.” Taehyung reaches for you again, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I can’t believe you don’t remember that you cited an entire scene from Hamlet to me back on the balcony at Jin’s place.”

“What?” You suckle on the popsicle as you think. There was more than you just making out?” “I thought that we…you know?”

“I suspected that Sooji would only tell you the nasty details. To be fair I’m not entirely proud of almost fucking you like that. Though, in my defense, were both drunk and I did have condoms.”

“Taehyung!” You push at his chest.

He shakes his head. “Anyway, we didn’t just haphazardly start making out like two horny teenagers. We hit on from the moment we got talking, or at least that’s how I felt. I know you don’t remember but, we spent the entire evening talking outside and I was so enamoured with you that I kissed you. Three tequila shots and some other nasty liquor later and we found ourselves in the bathroom.”

You stare at him, frowning with your mouth half open. On the edge of your memory you can feel him, a faint sense of familiarity. It’s the longing in your chest that you couldn’t place. The weight of his gaze as it fell on you time and time again. It has a purpose, as if your body remembered him but your mind didn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out.

Taehyung smiles. “Don’t be sorry, happens to the best of us. I mean, I can’t believe you forgot about me, but no hard feelings. I just hope I can get another chance.”

He is too nice. That he sought you out after a forgotten make-out session in your friends’ bathroom was strange enough. Yet, if it is true that you had such a nice encounter before that, maybe it does make sense. He looks at you with questioning eyes, continuing to much on whatever fruit he last pulled from the popsicle. The pit of your stomach is lifted a little, and when your eyes land on his mouth again you know you want to kiss him. You want to relive him for the first time.

Taehyung reaches for the third batch of popsicles and you find the alcohol simmering in your blood just a little. His gesture is cheeky, as he holds it out of your reach and asks for you to close your eyes. You have other ideas.

It takes a hard tug on the fabric of his shirt to get him standing between your legs, almost nose-to-nose.

“Can I help you?” Taehyung muses. His breath smells of champagne and peaches and you want a taste of it.

“Kiss me,” you breathe. “Kiss me and make sure I won’t forget this time.”

He doesn’t, but he smirks. The narrowing of his eyes is dangerous as they zone in on your slightly parted lips. His are coated red, as must be yours. Slowly, he lifts the popsicle he was holding, tracing is over the seam of your lips and making you gasp. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”

The way your body reacts to the drop of his voice is violent. You shiver, thighs clenching around his as he stands there. Your fingers are still curled into the fabric of his shirt and you swear you feel his heart race. The drawl of his voice is so deep and almost hollow, it settles in your chest and you can’t properly answer.

“I mean,” he starts, leaning in close enough to almost kiss you. The tip of his tongue traces your lips to have the slightest taste of the popsicle flavour. “You are asking to kiss a demon.”

A breath passes from your lips against his and he holds you to closely to him. His hand is hot on your lower back and your fingers tighten around his shoulders in certainty. “Did I stutter?”

His mouth captures yours before you can register it, a hand winding into the hair at the back of your head and pressing you so close there is nothing around you but him. Taehyung tastes like berries and peaches and champagne — divine. He smiles into the kiss, lips smoothing over yours teasingly as your hands slide down his arms. The groan that leaves his mouth is so low it sends little jolts through your body and your legs tighten around his waist.

This is kissing — you think — as Taehyung grazes his teeth over your bottom lip, pulling it lightly. His hands roam, chest brushing over yours as you gasp into his mouth. It’s delirious, addicting — kissing him is a push and pull motion. He guides you and lets you go only to catch you right before the fall and dips deeper.

When his tongue traces the seam of your lips you moan, and he halts at the sound. Your gazes meet, lips parted against each other. Both of you breath heavily in the warmth. The scent of his cologne hangs heavy in the air, something sharp and woody. You swim in it, as he lets out a breathy little sound before he reaches for the popsicle that laid melting on the table. What would he — oh.

He pops it into his mouth, eyes not leaving yours as he bites down hard. When he kisses you again your eyes fall closed on instinct. Taehyung cups the back of your head, tipping you back and parting your lips with his. The sensation of the ice cold piece of fruit passing from his lips to yours makes you moan. You grin, tasting the fruit as his tongue glides along yours. It melts quickly and when you part to swallow, Taehyung stares at you intently.

“More?”

You shake your head and pull him in again. The kiss is toe-curling, passionate — moans spill from both of you within seconds. It’s strange, the sense that you know him, that you’ve felt this before. The feeling of his chest warm against yours, his lips devouring you — you recognise it.

He is hot, firm, and you’re pliable in his grip as he kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. The moans that fall from him come from so deep within his chest it only fuels your quickly growing arousal. “God,” you groan, throwing your head back as you part from him.

Taehyung wastes no time, full lips kissing down your jaw to your ear. “Do you remember me yet?”

“Maybe,” you whisper, holding onto him for dear life. You’re painfully aware of how far your dress has ridden up, and how close he is standing to the juncture between your legs. The only thing stopping you from grinding against him is how far you’re scooted up the table. “Gimme something more to go by.”

The glint in his eyes says it all, framed by thick lashes and slightly flushed cheeks. You yearn for more of him as you slide your hands down his clothed chest. His pants fit snugly around his hips but you manage to slip your fingers into the waistband to pull him closer.

Taehyung kisses you, hands finally slipping down to grip your ass and slide you closer. The breath is knocked out of your lungs as you’re forcefully pulled into him. He chuckles at the little whine you let out when he grinds into you. He’s hard and he’s purposely making you feel him. You lean over backwards, one of his hands holding you up as his mouth busies itself with yours. He absolutely has you spellbound, it’s wicked and you want nothing else but him.

His lips are soft but his sounds are rough. His hands are firm and steady where his tongue is languid. The movement of his hips against yours drives you insane. You can feel the outline of his dick clear as day and it’s nothing to be shy about. He is big.

Every sound you make he swallows, and by the time he’s done kissing you your world is spinning. You’re panting as you stare at him, trembling legs still. Your lipstick is smudged over his lips and his hair is messed up on all sides. Yet, he smiles so wickedly you can ’t help but burst into ecstatic laughter.

“Wow,” you gasp.

He laughs with you, a release of tension. “Yeah, wow.”

You lean back, hand sliding into something sticky and wet. “Wha — oh, ew.” Beside you, there’s a puddle of fruit and molten champagne. It clings to your fingers, stains them red and purple where you squished the berries.

Gently, Taehyung’s fingers circle your wrist and you stare as he lifts your fingers to his mouth.

“Tae—” you start, but you can’t find the rest of your words as he licks a stripe up your palm. He holds your gaze, steady and with a spark of mischief. You watch him wrap his lips around two of your fingers as he’d done with the popsicle earlier, and suck them clean. His tongue is rough against the pads of your fingers and the sensation sends a flood of wetness between your legs. He swirls his tongue between your digits. It’s obscene and all your inhibitions are thrown out the window as you moan at the sight. “Taehyung,” you try again.

He pulls off with a pop. “Time to find a room?”

Sexy, persuasive, witty, an amazing kisser, and a mind-reader? Maybe you should put demon back on the possible lists of explanations for his behaviour because it might be the only solid one. “I—“ you halt as he pulls you off the table, straightening out your ugly dress.

“Moving too fast?”

You shake your head. The fact that you want him stands, you can feel it in the way your underwear clings to you. Truth be told, you can’t think of anything else aside from fucking him right now. There’s nothing to worry about. “Let’s go.”

Taehyung grabs one last popsicle from the freezer before your leave. He haphazardly tries to get his hair back into shape in case anybody sees. You definitely don’t miss the way he adjusts his raging boner through the pocket of his pants. Both of you are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the hot air from outside does not aid you.

You find yourself standing by Taehyung at the front desk of the hotel. To others you must look like an absolute mess, even Taehyung still looks roughed up. All you can hope is that nobody from the wedding sees you. Or that nobody notices the wet stain on the side of your dress.

Speaking of, Taehyung hands his popsicle to you, and you pop it into your mouth to ease your nerves as he speaks to the woman behind the desk.

“Listen, the bride has an issue with her dress and she desperately needs to get into the bridal room but she lost her key.” Taehyung rushes his words, making gestures and running his hands through his hair.

She frowns at him. “Sir, we can’t just give you the—“

He points at you. “My girlfriend is not wearing that dress for her own enjoyment. We’re part of the wedding party and we need to get into the brides room!”

Girlfriend? You blush.

“Sir, listen, the br—“

He slaps his hand down on the desk. “Do you want to argue with a newly-wed woman whose dress just got ripped?”

The woman lets out a deep sigh, obviously annoyed with the situation but not ready to argue with Taehyung whose ravished state matches his act. “Fine,” she says, reaching behind her and pulling out the extra keycard. “We do need both keys back tomorrow or we will—“

“Yes, yes,” Taehyung brushes her off. “I know, thank you!”

You stare at him in awe, popsicle half eaten and having melted down your fingers again. He really is an enigma of talents and surprises. Though, you should’ve expected so from a theatre student.

His eyes fall on your hand, and you know what he’s thinking as you lick down your own fingers. You’re thinking about it too.

It takes too long for both of you to reach the suite and get inside. What doesn’t take long is for Taehyung to push you up against the wall and lift your dress enough so he can cup you through your underwear. “Fuck, you have no idea how often I’ve replayed kissing you in my head.” His voice is muffled into your skin as he nibbles at your earlobe. You find yourself grinding down into his palm, warm and unforgiving as he grinds it against you.

You let out a trembling sight, letting him work his palm into your mound, head falling back against the wall. His mouth trails down your neck, licking along your exposed collarbones, all the while he rubs you so close to the edge you almost scream.

“Taehyung,” you whine when he stops.

“I don’t want you to come yet.”

You pout, meeting eyes with him. “But I do.”

A curse falls from his lips as he stares at you twirling the popsicle in your mouth. He fixates, and you feel it — use it. You flatten your tongue, suck it deeper. Pushing it in and out, slowly, and you can almost see his eyes darkening upon the sight. The fingers of his free hand tighten around your hip but you don’t stop. You push deeper, the cold prickles against the back of your throat and his eyes widen when you don’t flinch.

“Fuck,” he growls, fingers snapping up to pull it from your mouth. “That’s enough, I want to fuck you. Now.”

You keen when he lifts you, wrapping both your legs around his waist. He’s still hard and like this you can feel the outline of his dick press against your dripping core. The feeling sends you reeling way past normalcy. You’re already so close to coming and he’s barely touched you. You haven’t even shed a single article of clothing. The idea of feeling him inside —

“Taehyung?” you mumble into his mouth as he sets you down by the bed. “Condoms.”

He stills, cursing as he realises the fault. “Fuck — Fate really isn’t with us.” Taehyung snags the popsicle from you, pursing his lips as he trails the wet tip of it down your neck. “Are you clean?”

You frown at him, fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. “Yeah, but I’m not on the pill.” The first button slips free, you’re unable to help yourself.

“Okay, good, me too.” He’s hurried by arousal, an undeniable force that you feel too. Maybe it’s the sudden realisation that you’re in the bridal suite and anybody would literally walk in right now and see you. They’d see Taehyung licking the drips of champagne from your neck with your dress ridden up way past your ass. The idea excites you a little more than it should.

That it’s Taehyung out of all people who’s bringing this out in you isn’t surprising. Getting caught has always been something that makes you that little bit extra sensitive. You’re hot, burning, and the way he laps at your chest to clean wherever the popsicle had run doesn’t help.

Your surprised when he sinks down on his knees without a word, taking the zipper of your dress with him. He doesn’t ask for your permission, and he doesn’t need it. The view of him sitting on his knees in front of you is mouth-watering.

The dress falls from your body, breast springing free from their confines. His focus wavers, trailing the popsicle down the centre of your stomach and looking up at you daringly. It takes a small nod for him to slide your underwear down your legs. He kisses your skin, a trail of champagne running down your stomach and threatening to reach your now exposed folds. The drop is caught on his tongue, following it all the way up until he decides he’s had enough and discards the popsicle all together.

“Hold on,” he whispers into your thigh before lightly biting the soft skin. He soothes over the mark, looking up at you briefly.

You grapple for him as he slings one of your legs over his shoulder. There’s no lingering, no anticipation. No, his mouth is on you within seconds and you have to muffle your own screams with your hand.

He dives in as if he’s done this before, replacing the sweetness of the frozen treat with the hot taste of your juices. He licks up your folds, quickly finding your clit and zoning in on it so hard you teeter on the edge immediately.

“Tae.” His name comes from your mouth in a pathetic whine, and you can feel him smirk against you. Taehyung’s tongue is certainly twice as devilish as his lips. He flicks at your nub, circles it until your legs are shaking and you’re held up by him. He keeps going, but stops you right before the fall.

Then, he kisses your skin again, another small nip at your inner thigh to catch your attention. He tenderly kisses your pubic bone, a brief pause as he comes up for air. His hand slides between your legs, locking eyes with you as he starts to glide his fingers between your folds. It’s teasing, keeping you so close to your orgasm you’re sure you might go insane.

“Please,” you beg. “If you make me come I swear to God I will suck you off until you see stars.”

He nips at your thigh again, a third mark added as you squeal. “Are you that impatient?”

You whine. A needy little sound as you pull at the pink strands of his hair. He doesn’t listen to you, just keeps circling your entrance over and over again. You must be dripping down his fingers by now, you’re clenching and entirely certain you’re about to come from just the slightest of touches. He circles and circles and when you’re certain you feel your orgasm start to slip away from you, he plunges two fingers inside of your dripping core.

You cry out, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes at sheer pleasure. He shows you no mercy.

Your moans don’t stop falling. It’s no avail trying to hold them in. One of your hands is tangled in his hair as leverage, and the other is a fist between your teeth. He fingers you so quickly you see stars. The pit in your stomach builds, the squelching sounds from between your thighs only adding to it.

“Look at me,” Taehyung growls, a menacing sound.

You gaze down, watery eyes and flushed cheeks, your impending orgasm the only thing on your mind. He flattens his tongue against you without flinching, letting you rock down into his mouth and onto his fingers. The way he looks at you — darkly and so boldly — is enough to make you —

He stops all his movements, fingers stilling and tongue withdrawing as he grasps your hip and shoves you against the wall. You whine, clenching down hard on his digits. The edge of your peak sits there, you hover and you can’t feel anything but the ridges of his fingers against your walls. You tremble. He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t need to — to your own surprise you come.

Your thighs quiver as you let out a soft moan as it washes over you. The feeling is foreign, orgasm so unsatisfying but so good in a more way. It falls quickly, ebbing away and leaving you panting in his hold.

He stares up at you, waits for an answer as you try to grasp what just happened. All you know is that you want to come again. You came, and you barely felt it — it’s indescribable.

“Fuck,” you whisper, the only word you can form.

Taehyung kisses your thigh, tongue laving over the marks he left. Finally, he withdraws his fingers and the feeling sends a throb through your core. He sucks his fingers clean as he stands up carefully. “How’s that?”

You push at his shoulder and he chuckles. “Least you could’ve done is let me come properly.”

“Oh.” He brushes your sweaty hair away, cupping your cheeks and kissing you. The taste of yourself on his tongue isn’t unwelcome. “You said, make me come and you’ll suck me off.”

The roll of your eyes is half-hearted, matched by your fingers making quick work of his buttons while his mouth busies yours. His skin is smooth and sticky with sweat. It’s so nice to finally get to touch him. You pinch his nipple, and he moans weakly upon the touch. Something you’re going to save for another time.

You kiss down his tan chest, leaving his shirt hanging halfway off his arms as he watches you intently. The idea of a blindfold pops into your head. Would you buckle as easily if he wore one?

Another time. Right now, you busy yourself with undoing his belt as you scrape your teeth over his stomach. You’re so keen on tasting him that you don’t even pull his pants down. The sight of him straining against his underwear makes you pause, he really is big.

The way he hisses when you slip your fingers past the fabric of his boxers hint at how much he’s been holding back for you. “God, I want to feel your mouth.” He curses as you stroke him lightly.

That, you can do. Your tongue laves over his tip and pulls a sound from him that so near a growl you shiver. With your hand wrapped around his cock you steady yourself at his hip. He braces himself against the wall, one hand gently winding into your hair.

“Fuck, just—“ He falters when you take him inside your mouth. “Yeah,” he sighs.

Like him, you don’t waste any time. You flatten your tongue, sucking on the tip as you slowly slide him deeper. It’s a feat, but by his moans he doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t take him all the way. After a few slow bobs up and down he hits the back of your throat — you moan when he grips your hair harder.

The ache in your jaw is delicious, and the vibrations of your moans cause him to twitch on your tongue. You hold him there, steady breaths in and out your nose as you tap his hand. He grunts, eyes falling open and meeting yours.

They almost roll out of his head as he sees you. There you sit, on your knees with his cock in your mouth, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

The way he pauses makes you pull off slowly — making him feel the slide of your tongue as you suck harshly. “Go on,” you whispers, voice hoarse as you kiss his tip. The taste of his precum collecting on your tastebuds is salty. “Not too fast.”

He nods eagerly, grabbing your hair and sliding himself back into your awaiting mouth. The lack of breath is so worth it once he starts shallowly thrusting. He does go slow, holding himself back for your sake. The way he moans, how he doubles over as he fucking himself in and out of your wet mouth. You find yourself closing your eyes, letting him use you. Your own fingers slip between your bare legs to touch yourself.

Taehyung stutters when he hits the back of your throat and you gag a little. You hum into him, sucking in your cheeks to tell him not to stop.

That’s when you hear voices outside. Taehyung pulls out immediately at the sound, looking at you with slight panic in his eyes. You’re about to get caught — you’re actually about to get caught sucking off a guy in your friend’s bridal suite.

“Up,” Taehyung says, voice absolutely wrecked from moaning. “Come on.” He grabs your arm half lifting you and half pulling you.

You stand on trembling legs, listening to the sound of the door knob jiggling. “Did you lock it?”

“Fuck, I didn’t.”

“Uh…”

“Grab your clothes,” he ushers, sprinting over to the closet with his dick still out. “Here.”

You rush, finding yourself pressed against him in the dark as the sounds of your friends’ voices reach your ears. It’s not Sooji, but a few of the other bridesmaids probably looking to refresh themselves in this heat.

Speaking of, Taehyung’s breath is hot as it fans against your face, both of you sweating profusely. The way you can feel his cock pressing against your hipbone does nothing to ease the lingering ache between your own legs.

“Tae—“ His hand flies over your mouth, shushing you as the girls move through the room beside you.

You want to listen to what they’re saying, but your ears are rushing with excitement. What comes over you, you don’t know, but you find yourself trailing a hand down his chest. He doesn’t protest, all he does is let out a heavy sigh when your fingers wrap around his shaft.

He’s still wet with spit and precum and you stroke him experimentally. From what you gathered when you sucked him off a few seconds ago, he likes it tight. As you twist a little his head falls onto your shoulder with the tiniest of sounds. He’s holding himself back, you feel it in the stutter of his hips as you keep gliding up and down his member.

You slide a fingers over the tip, dipping into the slit. His teeth sink into your shoulder, biting to stifle his own moan. Sharp pain pricks shoot through your shoulder and you hiss at the feeling — it’s so good.

Your objective is getting him off, uncertain of whether he’s as turned on by the possibility of getting caught as you are. He does seem more on edge, breathing heavily through his nose as you focus on twisting your hand just under the crown of his cock.

What you don’t expect is for him to part your legs and slide his fingers back to your cunt. “Is this okay?” he whispers softly, tracing a circle around your clit.

Hips bucking into his touch, you nod, letting out a quiet yes as you pause your movements on him. You can’t see whether he grins but you swear you can feel it as he starts drawing figure eights between your legs.

His movements are practiced, and it takes you a little to catch up to his rhythm. Falling into tandem, he rubs you while you stroke him. Almost silent, you’re muffled by the darkness and the closed doors. The voices of the people outside are apparent and loud enough to signal that they don’t hear you — the threat is so exciting. The hairs on your arm stand up, and Taehyung shivers.

Your eyes are closed even in the dark, focused on the feeling of his fingers between your legs and his dick in your hand. It’s wet, all of it, and the slick sounds are definitely amplified by the emptiness. Taehyung’s mouth remains on your shoulder, sucking, biting — that bruise is going to last. He lavishes over it with his tongue, fingers not ceasing their movements for even a second. Both your hands are moving on their own, minds blissed out.

His grunts become deeper, hips losing their rhythm and you know he’s close. He must be with how fast your stroking him. It matches the pace at which he abuses your clit. It’s delirious, senses heightened by the little pricks of fear in the back of your mind.

You strain your neck, trying to keep in your voice as he increases the pressure. His fingers slip around your mound so easily, you can feel your arousal start to drip down your thighs. He notices the strain in your silenced moans, hand coming up to cover your mouth again.

You’re back on the edge so quickly you don’t even feel it coming. You come so hard you find yourself biting down onto two of his fingers. It shatters through you, throat straining to stay as quiet as you can.

Taehyung comes with you, groaning into the crook of your neck as his dick twitches in your grasp. You feel his cum splatter on your stomach, hot and sticky. Both of you tremble in each other’s hold as you come down.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

He holds you, arms coming up around your waist in a very slippery embrace that you sigh into. You’re totally smearing his cum over his stomach and probably his shirt — he opts for sucking his fingers clean.

Taehyung has ruined you. He has utterly and totally ruined you. You came, twice, with people on the other side of the door no less. And it was hot. And you might want to do it again.

You hold in the laughter that bubbles up and you feel him smile once he kisses you. He tastes of you still and you’re certain he can also taste himself on your tongue as he seeks it out. His hands have slowed, tender as he soother over your naked body. It’s contrasting, goosebumps erupting all over your skin.

The door clicks, you’re alone again.

“Good lord,” you exclaim.

He throws open the door, shrouding the both of you in the bright light. You were right, his cum is smeared over your skin, and your dress lays crumpled on the closet floor.

“You might want to put on something else,” he chuckles, running a hand through his absolutely ruined hair. It’s soaked with sweat, sticking to his forehead in strands.

You sigh, slipping into the bathroom to clean yourself off and cover yourself. “Did we just…?”

“We totally did,” he grins, shirt off and standing by the open window. It’s the first chance you get to properly admire him. He’s tan, lightly toned, and his shoulders are broader than you thought. “And I hope you enjoyed it because I definitely want to do that again. And,” he walks over to you as you’re midway into pulling your underwear back on. “I still want to fuck you,” he growls as he kisses you.

You blush, suddenly uncertain. “I — not the closet thing.”

“Okay, maybe not the closet thing but fuck, I’d give a lot to come in that pretty mouth of yours.”

His words sound so casual but they’re not. You’re not entirely sure how to react to him.

“Too much?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I’m just…a little out of it.”

He nods, giving you a knowing smirk as you find your bag with your dress. “Understandable, I’m sorry if I—“

“No!” You stop yourself at the sound of your own voice. “No, Taehyung please. That was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever done and I definitely am up for doing it again. It’s just that you made me come twice, once ruined and once in a closet nonetheless. I’m also still semi-naked and am going to have to explain that I changed dresses.” You’re stressing out.

Taehyung chuckles, a sound that is already growing on you. “Well,” he says, twirling you when you’ve got your white dress on. You find yourself chest to chest, him kissing you a few times, just softly. “The story goes that I spilled wine on your dress and you had nothing else to change into but this. Oh, and you spilled your drink on my shirt too, so I’m going to phone Jimin to come help me out.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of his friends name. “You’re not going to tell him are you?!”

“What do you take me for?”

“You lied pretty convincingly to the lady at the front desk!”

“Oh stop,” he says, kissing you again. His lips are swollen, as are yours, but they’re soft and you keen into the gesture. “I don’t lie to the girl I like.”

He…what? He can't be  serious right? You scoff, pulling away from his grasp and fishing a pin out of your bag to put up your messy hair. “The girl you like, sure Kim Taehyung. Do you fuck all girls you like in a closet?”

He scowls at you as you walk to the door. “I most definitely do not.”

“Well then, how does my makeup look?” you ask as you wipe under your eyes. Not that you had much makeup left to begin with.

Taehyung gives you a look, one that speaks volumes in a language you can’t discern. It’s not like before, it’s changed. There’s a small smile playing on his lips as he observes you — almost fondly. You must be imagining it. “You’re makeup looks fine.”

You smile. “Thanks, I’ll see you around.”

When you close the door behind you, you lean against it, thoughts falling over you. What you just did was so wrong but so good and the thought of doing it again is enough to excite you. Yet, you can’t just let yourself fall for Taehyung while you barely know him. Yes, you might click but what relationship is going to come of this now that you did that. Even if you’d want to — do you?

You ponder over it as you walk back down the stairs to where the party has started to come to an end.

The chime of your phone stops you mid-flight.

Unknown: You. Me. A week from Saturday. 7pm. Dinner. I’ll pick you up x Tae [18:43]

Your heart flutters as you see the sign off of his name at the end. Maybe he is serious about this. You realise that you can’t let him slip between your fingers. Technically, you already did once.

He isn’t like others guys, you shouldn’t treat him as such. Taehyung is mysterious and sweet, but also has an air of — maybe not danger but he's alluring. It asks for you to give him a chance.

But maybe, not too easily.

You: Okay, but you’re paying [18:45]

You: Wait, how did you get my number? [18:47]

Taehyung: Demonic powers ;) [18:48]

Taehyung: Wear that dress next week [18:48]

© GguksGalaxy 2018-2020

Special thanks to: @jeonkookd @lapysllazuly @btsaudge @bubypjm @sunshineangelhobi 

LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKED IT!! <3

@flowerymoonlight @mooniva @lunyua @jimini-chim @bts-reveries @pyschxdxlic-sugaaflower @mrcleanheichou @leavingthegroup @burgeoninggirl @taechnological @4dtaelien @multisong @shreya-pjm @queen-ofthe-lunar-dreams Sorry to those I couldn't tag!!

#btssmutclub #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #mywriting #champagnepopsicle #bottomsup #taehung fic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung story #taehyung au #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts stan #bts au #smut #fluff #taehyung fluff #bts fluff

[beetlebitchywitch]

Blease, may I have incubus!beej with maybe some choking involved and leaving bruises/marks (all consensual obviously)? You write him so well I'm dying.

Hi when did you sneak into my house and find out all my kinks, because you could’ve just knocked, I would’ve baked you some cookies or something

But still I’m gonna write this fic because how can I resist? Also, I’m so glad you like the way I write him, thank you so much!

Warning: slight daddy!kink because come on, he’s got one, extensive hickeys, dirty talk, etc etc 

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you felt was sore. Having an incubus for a partner meant this was a normal occurrence, of course, but this morning felt suspiciously different. The soreness, normally localized at your very center, was instead spread throughout your body, almost to your fingertips. Just pulling yourself out of bed made you wince, though not loud enough to wake the demon slumbering soundly beside you. Really, the only reason you were even awake was because somebody snored like they were attempting to wake the dead, and somehow only managed to wake the living. Grumbling, you made your way to the bathroom, feeling your body protest with each step. It was only when you stood in front of the bathroom mirror that you finally realized where your pain was coming from. 

Your normally unblemished skin was haphazardly littered with dark purple bruises, splotchy and misshapen. You gasped softly, unable to stop staring at the marks so clearly left their by your Beetlejuice. Nearly in a trance, you removed your tank top to expose even more bruised skin, the revealed bruises suspiciously fingerprint shaped on and around your hips. You dragged your fingers between your breasts and down to your stomach, your breathing quickening as your pressed your fingertips lightly over a particularly dark hickey. You dropped your shorts as well, not at all surprised to see full handprint-shaped bruises marring your skin, along with several bite marks. You looked like you’d gotten in a fist fight, except the fist fight had ended in a very rough bout of sex…and you weren’t complaining in the slightest. Especially when you looked up and finally noticed your throat.

There, wrapping so beautifully around the base of your neck, was the perfect imprint of Beej’s hand, splotchy and bruised and beautiful. 

If he hadn’t beaten you to it, you would’ve rushed into the bedroom to wake him up and see how many more marks he could give you. But as it stood, Beetlejuice had grown sentimental, and found it hard to sleep without you in his arms, so you slipping away to the bathroom was bound to wake him up eventually. He padded quietly into the bathroom, tail flicking slowly behind him as he rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes. When he finally saw you, he paused, widened eyes dragging up and down your body. Mm, this was gonna be good.

But in less than a second, Beetlejuice’s hair flashed a brilliant crimson, matching the burning of his eyes and the growing scowl on his lips. 

“Who the FUCK did this to you?!” he exclaimed, descending on you to check every inch of your body, his rage only multiplying with each bruise he saw. “Did you go out alone last night after I fell asleep or some shit? Because these weren’t fuckin’ here before that, and I swear to God whoever laid a hand on you is gonna pay, they’re gonna wish they were never fucking born-” 

His enraged ranting was quickly cut off by you, doubled over in hysterical laughter. Oh my God, you could not fucking believe this.

“How the fuck is this funny, Miss Shit-for-Brains?” he exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair that had gone purple at the roots. “Someone fucking assaulted you, why the fuck are you laughing?” 

“Because, Beej-ohmyGodmystomachfuckinghurts- you did!” you retorted, doubling over once more in belly-busting laughter. When you finally managed to collect yourself, Beetlejuice’s confused face only sent you into another uncontrollable peal of giggles. God, incubi could be so incredibly dense, couldn’t they?

“Me? But you know me, morsel, I’d never lay a finger on you! Unless you asked, of cour-…oh.” His voice trailed off, his eyes reexamining your body in light of his newfound insight. “Oh.”

“Who’s the shit-for-brains now, asshole?” you teased with a light giggle, covering your breasts with one arm when you realized how exposed you were. Of course, Beetlejuice was having none of that.

“Come here, snack cake, no need to be shy,” he drawled, magenta slowly crawling its way from root to tip in his hair. “Let Daddy get a good look at what he’s done to you.”

The mood in the room instantly changed, the air between you two dripping with desire. You averted your eyes as he dragged his clawed fingers up from your hips to your shoulders, pulling a whimper from your lips when he prodded at one particularly sensitive mark. His mouth stretched into a shit-eating grin, his attitude oozing self-satisfaction. 

“Do they hurt?” he asked, looking at you with both curiosity and lust. 

“Only a little,” you admitted softly, leaning into his touch. “And in the best way.”

He chuckled darkly as he pulled you into him, sealing his lips over yours in a deep kiss. He laved your lower lip with his tongue, making you groan against him. 

“That’s my girl, all roughed up and still so desperate. I can smell it, you know that? There’s lust pouring off you, smells so sweet. Whatdya say I take you back to our bed, hmm?”

You were about ten steps ahead of him, bolting from his arms and nearly leaping back onto the mattress, clad only in lacy black panties and yet simultaneously lacking shame. You didn’t need it, not when you had an insatiable demon at your beck and call. Speaking of, he strolled into the room behind you, staring down at you in amusement. 

“I was mostly messing with you about the whole ‘desperate’ thing, babes, but you’re provin’ me wrong,” he teased, his teeth glinting dangerously behind his lips as he grinned. “Feel like bein’ a little slut for me this morning, hmm? Well, Daddy can handle that. Question is, can you handle what I’ve got in store for you?”

“Yes,” you groaned, reaching up to grab his hand and pull him to the bed to hover above you. “Come on, Daddy, aren’t you hungry?”

“Ohhhh, sweetness,” he snarled, reaching down to rip your panties off you and toss them in the corner. “I’m always hungry.” 

You chuckled as your legs were spread roughly. He dove between them, dragging his tongue slowly between your folds. You whined, taking a firm hold of his hair with both hands, your fingers curling and uncurling as hot waves of pleasure rushed through you. Beej sucked on your clit while digging his fingers into the marks he’d left on your thighs barely half a day ago, the pain and pleasure intermingling beautifully inside you. He really knew exactly what you needed at any time, and he was more than excited to give it to you. 

“Fuck, Daddy, feels so good,” you moaned. “Come on, harder.”

You felt him smirk against you as he gripped your thighs harder, aggravating your bruises deliciously. 

“You’re doing so good for me, morsel. You want more? Come on, tell me what you want.”

“Gimme more, Beej,” you groaned, pulling him up by his hair to press his lips to your belly. “Wanna know I’m yours, please.”

As much as Beej always knew what you wanted, you were just as good at appealing to his desires, particularly his insatiable possessiveness. You wanted to know who you belonged to? Well, who was he to deny you? With a rough growl, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh above your belly button, sucking your skin into his mouth and worrying it between his teeth. You nearly choked on a yelp, your hands scrambling to grip his shoulders. He let your skin loose with a pop, laving his tongue over the reddened flesh that was already starting to go purple before moving on to another open patch of skin. You couldn’t stop him now- he was dragging himself up your body, littering hickeys over your stomach and chest in his wake. If he could find empty space, he was leaving a mark there, his mark, because you were fucking his and no one could ever change that. 

When he finally reached your throat, he paused, smirking down at you as you caught your breath, your breasts heaving with each inhale. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” he drawled, tracing his fingertip around the handprint marring your throat. “Wanna tell me what this is doing here, sweetness?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know, asshole,” you panted defiantly. 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly how it’s gonna be.”

“Hmm. Well, alright then.”

In a flash you were flipped onto your stomach, two fingers probing at your entrance while his other hand wrapped firmly around your neck. Your moans were reduced to a soft croak as he slid his fingers into you, not giving you even a second to adjust as he began fingering you in earnest. 

“I remember now,” he said, entirely too casual for what he was currently doing to you. “You talked back to me last night. Strutted in here actin’ like you owned the place, determined to be a fuckin’ brat. Well, guess you deserved what you had comin’ to you, huh? Although, it doesn’t seem like the lesson stuck. Too bad I have to teach it to you again.”

His words might as well have been gibberish sloshing around in your melting brain as he assaulted it with pleasure, adding another finger inside you and insistently prodding at your g-spot. You couldn’t tell if your head was spinning from how good he was or the lack of oxygen, because you couldn’t care less when you could hear him snapping his fingers to juice his boxers off, his hard cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. He positioned himself behind you, not letting up on his grip on your throat for a second. 

“You want me to fuck you, snack? Come on, beg for it, be a good girl for me,” he groaned, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

“Beej, plea-” you tried to beg him, but he tightened his grip on your airway, cutting it off nearly completely and leaving your voice a bare squeak. 

“Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you, babes.”

“Please,” you mouthed, your voice no longer able to escape as he tightened his grip once more. Your mind was foggy, your chest burned, and your pussy ached to be filled, and it was so exquisite that you could’ve cum from the lightest touch to your clit, if he’d been willing to give it to you. But no, he was too busy laughing at your frustration as you tried again and again to beg him for what he already knew you wanted. Finally, he let up a bit, giving you enough slack to take a shallow breath. God, he was such a fucking prick, but you loved him for it. 

“Alright, alright, babycakes,” he chuckled, pretending to wipe away a tear. Asshole. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you called out hoarsely as he slid into you, pumping his hips with little thrusts as he eased his way into you. 

“Mm, I’m gonna need two hands for this one, baby girl,” he hissed, overcome by the way your pussy clenched around him. “You’ve got one, maybe two seconds tops.”

His hand quickly uncurled from your throat, and you took a true deep breath, feeling the burn in your chest dissipate for a moment before Beej’s slender tail took his hand’s place, pressing once more against your airway. The sound of your choked-off moans as he thrust into you only egged him on, of course, and soon he was pounding into you with abandon, dragging his nails down your back and leaving angry red lines in their wake. 

“Fuck, Daddy, you feel so good,” you murmured shakily, your voice a rough whisper. “Oh fuck, right there, yes-” 

“Yeah, does that feel good, snack? Come on, I know you can cum for me, gonna feed me so good, give me that cum, sweetness,” he commanded, letting one hand trail down between your legs, circling your clit with the tips of his clawed fingers. You couldn’t have kept yourself from cumming if you tried, not when his deep, commanding voice forced itself into your brain and dragged the pleasure from you. You clenched around him as you let out a rough scream, trembling beneath him as your orgasm washed over you. He fucked you through it, dragging every ounce of pleasure out of you as he could before finally spilling into you, roughly groping your breasts as he groaned into your neck. You both shook as you collapsed to the mattress, panting and utterly wrecked. 

After a solid minute of silence, you finally snuggled into Beej’s chest, chuckling and out of breath. 

“Did you really not realize how much you marked me up last night?” you teased, your voice more hoarse than expected. 

“Oh fuck off, snack,” he chuckled good-naturedly. “You fed me so well last night it was like I’d had a Thanksgiving feast. I nearly passed out with my dick still in you! Forgive me for being a little forgetful.”

“Well…” you drawled, leaning up plant a soft kiss to his lips. “Consider this dessert then.”

“Dessert for breakfast, hmm? How naughty of you.”

“Wanna have an early lunch?”

“Come here.”

I’m an actual literal slut for getting choked so forgive meeeeeee

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice nsft #beetlejuice smut #beetlejuice headcanon #beetlejuice hc #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fanfiction #smut warning #beej hc #beej headcanon #beej fic #beej fanfic #beej fanfiction #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #incubus!beetlejuice #incubus!beej #incubus au #incubus beetlejuice