#(i like it mostly but i dunno about the lips and how forward facing the eyes are. the heart hooves are great)

[capslocked]

DEPARTURE

male reader x hwang yeji

13k words

So far as you can tell, Yeji never loved you. A wish beyond your reach.

-

April, and you were barely seventeen. It was spring, but the weather hadn’t gotten wind of that just yet. So—cool, rainy, just like every April before it.

Yeji’s voice stuck a perfect landing in your ears. "You know what’s crazy?"

"No?" you responded cautiously.

"Apparently this stuff starts out as a wheat, or a rye. You believe that?"

You paused. "What the hell is rye?"

"It’s… well, it’s like a wheat."

The wood crackled again, embers sent flying into the chill night air. Now that the fire had already begun burning out in front of you, you pulled your jacket tight around your shoulders.

"Okay. Ready? On three."

"Wait a second." You raised a finger in the air. "One, two, three?—or, one, two, three go?"

"Who on earth does one, two, three, go?"

"I dunno."

Yeji twisted an eyebrow without saying anything and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. The coals and dying gasps of the bonfire between you illuminated the sharp, perfected features of her face, casting a set of even sharper shadows.

"I mean some people do," you added.

"Do I look like some people?"

That mischievous smirk again pulled at the corner of her lip. It was dark and hard to see, but you could feel it.

"You look like you’re trying to get me sick," you said.

"Don’t be such a baby about it. Just do it with me."

"On go?"

"On three." She curled her lip, dissatisfied with you yet again. "One. Two. Three."

Eyes closed, you tilted the cup back against your lips. A dark, dreadful liquor pooled in your cheeks. And against your better judgment, it finally seared its way down your throat. For a moment, it sat woefully in your stomach, like a question mark. Your eyes watered, your chest heaved, coughing and choking.

It took a beat, but eventually you would make peace with it, the beverage equivalent of a kick to the head. You were just thankful it had not elected to leave the same way it came.

"Ugh," you sputtered, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. "I swear it’s like someone wondered what would happen if you tried to drink dirt." Your eyes drew over the bonfire—or at least what was left of it—to find a face beaming with the smuggest grin you’d ever seen, the drink in her hands entirely untouched.

"Gotcha," she lilted.

"Oh of course, you ass."

Yeji’s hand covered a laugh, the corners of her mouth sneaking out from behind it. The sound of it alone made nearly puking worth it. She stood. And in one uninterested motion, tossed the contents of her cup—a kind of alcohol you’d only learn later in life could probably be used to start a car—right out into the grass. Twisting the insides of her jacket pockets, she sauntered around the pit, briefly lit in the spits and licks of the dying fire.

"Think there’s any room on that tree stump for one more?"

Her eyes, sharp and magnetic, always pulled you deeply into her. She held you in them for a moment, a long couple of moments, and the flickers of the fire painted bright streaks of gold in those whirlpools of deep, earthen brown. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes creased, snapping at your attention.

"You deaf?"

"Dunno. Depends," you said, still clutching your chest and clearing your throat. "Who’s asking?"

Hwang Yeji. Your first kiss. Your first a lot of things actually. However for the sake of this story, your first kiss. It was somewhat crude how she’d stolen it off you too. Though still that was your fault mostly. It’s only fair that you got what was coming to you for the way you had dragged your feet.

A playful slap landed on your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You think about it less and less now, and as a result, the actual details of it have begun to elude you. Obviously you remember kissing her—or rather her kissing you—but that’s just about all you remember. There’s the way it started; her fingers under your chin, dragging your eyes away from the pile of embers that glowed in the fire pit. And of course how it ended; a wide smile dimpling her cheeks as her lips pulled away from yours. But everything in between? Years after the fact? God, your guess is as good as anyone’s.

Still, in spite of their incompleteness, Yeji shows up in a lot of your memories, the good ones anyway. You tease them through your head time and time again just to make sure they’re still there, intact.

She’d been around for a lot of the growing up you had to do in school, persistently dissatisfied you wouldn’t do it any faster. Never before had you gotten that close to anyone, let alone someone as vibrantly charismatic and beautiful as her. Allowing yourself to think back on it, there was a lot of downtime, time where nothing in particular was happening at all—the walks home after classes and clubs, Saturday afternoons just spent hanging out on your parent’s couch, not to mention all those late night runs on the local Pelicana for more chicken wings than anyone should ever eat—it all seemed like such a big deal at the time (though arguably, Pelicana is still a big deal).

To be clear, no, the two of you never dated. It was far too difficult to describe it like that. When one of you would turn eyes to the other for comfort, for compassion, for a sincerity absent in those everyday flirtations, you’d always find her—or she’d find you—with eyes pointed away, thoughts elsewhere. Though that didn’t mean you wouldn’t get teased about it, relentlessly you might add. Your friends would see the Friday evenings and Sunday mornings you’d spend together on what must’ve looked like nothing other than what they were: dates.

But the truth was more complicated than you ever cared to explain. So—you let them think what they wanted. You’d always return back to them and field twenty questions about what the two of you got up to, if she was good at kissing, what position she liked, how she was down there, whatever the color was of the underwear she wore that day. You’d make up your own answers, the ones they wanted to hear. It always did shut them up.

So, officially, you were friends. And you were the first person she came to when she got the news.

"In Seoul, huh?" You shoved your hands in your pockets.

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"No one knows." She twisted at the collar of her shirt, pulling and turning it into a tight knot. "For some people it’s a year and then they know it's not really gonna work out. For others it’s a whole lot longer."

"Well, it’ll get pretty quiet around here then won’t it."

Yeji smiled. "You’ll survive. I know you will."

A brief silence hung between you, different from any of the other lulls in conversation or times just spent quietly in your thoughts. Dry leaves crunched and mashed as you walked, and you could hear the wind shake old tree branches of whatever was still left on them.

"I bet you’d be good at it."

"What’s with that?" A muted laugh and Yeji’s eyes were again pointed up to the sky, as if she were counting stars. Always she was looking at the sky like that. You knew it. Maybe she knew it too. She didn’t belong here.

You let out a short sigh and shrugged your shoulders. "Just a hunch."

-

Five years had passed now, and you still remember vividly the conversation that had become your last. A fresh blanket of snow over the street hadn’t yet been disturbed by the morning traffic. Yeji’s hands were balled into two tiny fists, hidden in the long sleeves of the overcoat of her school uniform, a hand-me-down from her older sister ostensibly. Her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, a pair of white earmuffs sitting atop it, and for the first time you’d ever known, she searched and searched for that bright smile—only she came up empty.

She told you she was leaving. She told you she wasn’t coming back. And then without skipping a beat, tears welling in her eyes, she told you not to wait for her.

See, our memories are a rather peculiar thing. In the backyard of that party neither of you belonged at, when the two of you were kissing beside those dying embers, you thought it’d be the memory you always play back in your head, clutching it tightly to your breast like your life depended on it. But truth be told, you can’t even tell at this point what’s fact and what you’ve since fabricated to fill the gaps.

As fate would have it, it’s that scene—in the middle of your driveway at four-fifteen in the morning—you remember it perfectly. While it played out, you made no special notice of it. You’d never stopped to think what a lasting impression it would make on you, how five years after the fact you’d manage to recall it in excruciating detail.

You had paid no attention to all that scenery around you either, the stars disappearing to make way for the sun, the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet, the gentle hum of the electric generator heating your home, or the white puffs of air that leaked off your chest. No, you were paying attention to yourself, the things you felt. You were paying attention to that unfairly beautiful girl standing arm’s length in front of you. Your thoughts wandered about the two of you together, and then again, retired solemnly back to yourself.

To make matters worse, you were in love. A troublesome, frustrating, complicated love.

With very little to say, you said very little. She said she’d call. She didn’t. You understood. Time passed. And then some. Later, you’d hammer out a drunken text message on New Year’s Eve the next year. A final albeit clumsy effort to hold your world together. Sent, but never opened.

And that was it. There was little else to do about it. You figured it was time to move on. Not that you had even an inkling of an idea how. Playing it back again in your head only ever filled your teary eyes with an almost unbearable sorrow. Realizing you’d never know if Yeji loved you.

-

It’s October and you’ll soon be twenty-four. The seat belt sign above you lights up. The cabin shakes and struggles. And your ears ring as the aircraft begins its descent onto a runway at Heathrow Airport. You typically enjoyed the window seat to get a good picture of where it was you were arriving—even if it wasn’t new—the layouts of highways, parks, train stations, large construction projects, all the things that made a city unique. But by the time the aircraft breaks through dark cloud cover, the only thing you can see beyond the ground crew in rain jackets and the chain linked fences around the tarmac, beyond the cold autumn rain beating down upon it, is that unyielding, gloomy sky. Again—London.

Buckles unlatch and passengers stand, gathering their belongings from the overhead bins. You remain stuck in your seat, chin resting on your hand, gazing at the backpack of the woman across the aisle—the contents that peek out of it blindsiding you: a copy of Vogue magazine with five unbelievably gorgeous faces on it, Yeji’s most noticeably staring back at you.

You’d groan out loud if you weren’t surrounded by people. It was becoming untenable.

Most of the reason you’d taken your job abroad was to keep from seeing her at every turn. There were the advertisements, the billboards, the promotional material you’d find on buses, subways, anywhere with decent foot traffic really, and that’s just what you could see. Her voice was always in your ear, and her name on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

And now it seems that even all the way out here, on a short flight from Zurich to London, that plan to escape her is already now showing delicate cracks in its optimistic veneer.

Perhaps it was the way your lips twist, or how your eyebrows furrow—you’ll never know—but a stewardess feels it within reason to check up on you, to see how you’re doing. She asks first in German, and then in French, and then finally in English that you can understand.

"I’m okay—just a little lightheaded."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m fine, thanks," you say, pulling your gatherings together from beneath your seat.

-

You’re not crazy, no more than anyone else. So it logically follows that you don’t believe in ghosts. At least certainly not in the colloquial sense. And the queue for immigration and customs at London Heathrow Airport has to be about the last place on earth anyone would choose to loiter about for eternity. But those ones you create for yourself? The ones that haunt you?

"I told you! I packed them in a little gray bag! The one you threw across the room at me!"

Those are real.

"Why the hell would you pack them away—when it’s the first thing you’re going to need to get off the plane?"

"Maybe I packed them away safely because we’d need them first thing."

Yeji waves her hand flippantly at the girl beside whose hair was dyed a garish blonde. She rolls her eyes with enough disdain that it drags her face over her shoulder. You watch her do a double, a triple take and your eyes lock with hers. Be it accident, be it fate, it doesn’t matter—it makes it hard to breathe. You shake your head, blink your eyes, but the two of you are stuck in each other’s gaze like it were a finger trap, unable to look away.

Nevertheless there’s some part of you still that refuses to believe in what is now a few feet in front of you. The same scene, playing out back home—assuredly there would be no end to the camera flashes and people chasing and begging for autographs. If anything, the only interest it gathers here, halfway around the world, is impatience from the scowls of grumpy travelers who’d rather be anywhere else.

"Yeji?" The girl beside her, whom you now absolutely recognize—god, you wish it was a mystery to you, what all Yeji had been up to since she walked right out of your life—she asks again, frustrated, "are you even listening to me?"

"Hang on. Give me a second."

She walks with purpose, an insatiable curiosity gnawing at her thoughts. Those heeled boots that tucked in the bottom of her jeans tap loudly against the concrete beneath your feet. And her hair bounces in place against the shoulder of a beige knit sweater on each step. The baggy garment’s sleeves are long, just as she always liked them, hiding her hands in their cuffs as she marches toward you.

Each step leads into the next with such grace and poise it leaves you frozen. Yeji had always been easy on the eyes. And of course you’d seen her everywhere, seen the beautiful woman she’d grown into, taking mental note of it more times than you could count. But even your most particular memories—no matter how bold you chose to remember her—they never could’ve imagined this confidence, the way she carried herself with such raw assurance and certainty.

She sweeps the hair out of her face, looking up at you, confirming exactly what it was she thought she saw. Glistening, her eyes widen, and she holds you in them for the first time in years. You can feel your chest tighten and your stomach twist—she’s so unbelievably pretty it hurts. It’s something like the way you experience a master painting, a Rembrandt or a Hals, by not only letting it steal your breath from far away, but also up close, where you might appreciate the brush strokes.

Shaking her head, laughing quietly to herself in disbelief, she leaps headlong into the silence. "What are you doing here?"

See, this had been a scenario you’d puzzled over a million times in your head already. She’d find you, or perhaps you’d find her, and the two of you would smile, before saying something cute, something that would instantly return you to where you left things five years ago. But even in the pages of your most speculative efforts, it would never quite look like this. You struggle to remember any of those quippy one-offs you thought you’d say. In fact, the breath you draw in, swirling knots of air in your chest, it simply finds no words to speak at all. Upon realizing its uselessness, it falls off your tongue, silent.

After all, you hadn’t talked to her in years. What reason do you have that makes you think you’d start now?

"Yeji, I—" Even her name is a cursed utterance at this point, the way it makes you strain and choke. It takes you a moment, but a dry laugh leads your response upon realizing the absurdity of the question. "Yeji, I live here."

"You live here?" Her eyes open further in shock. "What? Why?"

"Work." It wasn’t a lie, but the simplest answer conveniently hid the fact you’d picked up your entire life and settled thousands of kilometers to get away from her.

She furrows her brow and tilts her head inquisitively. "You’re pulling my leg."

"Well, I’m certainly not on vacation."

She crosses her arms, thinking for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came to her head as she was so often wont to do. Raking her fingers through her hair, gathering stares of everyone around you, she finally responds, "I’m just—I’m having a hard time—I really had no idea."

Accusative, "I mean… Yeji. Does that surprise you?"

Her lips narrow and tuck against her teeth. She twists the collar of her sweater between two perfectly manicured fingernails, painted dark with meticulous white detailing. Further and further, she knots it beneath the pale skin of her neck. It’s the same anxious tic she’d always indulge. 

Her voice, tender and choked up, reaches out to you "I’m sorry."

You hadn’t much to respond to it. Your thoughts were tied and shackled to the fact that you were now suddenly eighteen again, staring down the barrel of the girl who broke your heart. Again, tongue-twisted, you search the look on Yeji’s face—eyebrows knit together, and the corner of her lip pulled back into an unsure smile. It defies logic—and reasonably so—it’s beyond the grave, the relationship you thought you’d buried years ago.

-

"And so when we got off the plane, we were still missing the better half of our passports." Yeji pulls her shoulders up into a hopeless shrug, her hands still in her pockets. "I guess they’re just going to sit and wait in customs until someone can do something about it."

"Bleak."

"Tell me about it."

"You’re just gonna leave them there?"

Yeji laughs to herself. "Trust me, I need a break from those girls. And now you’re here? Talk about a silver lining."

The two of you had made a loop around the terminal concourse god knows how many times now. You could feel the strain of walking the circuit start to make your knees ache and your muscles sting, but you weren’t about to complain.

Things felt different, but also not so far off from the way they always were. Both of you were older, more mature, found more interesting things to talk about. Your words carried a certain edge to them, a cleverness that might not have been so present back then, but still—Yeji talked, and you listened. That’s how it always was. And Yeji could talk for hours.

She stops short, finding a railing to lean herself against. And she asks, "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Well believe it or not, I passed the national service exam—" You pause with your mouth agape, remembering just how badly you wished you could’ve told her while holding a shredded letter in one hand and the results in the other. "And now I’m here."

"Like in an embassy or something?"

"Yep."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

"It’s half as cool as it sounds," you say, running your fingers through your hair, "I stamp visas for a living."

"Ugh." Yeji punches playfully at your shoulder. "I could’ve used you about two hours ago."

That’s not how any of it worked of course, but you weren’t about to correct her.

She quickly shoves in front of you a more interesting question, "so you’ve gotta live pretty close to here I imagine."

"I dunno. How close is forty minutes?"

"Close enough." Nearly jumping, she stands herself up onto her feet. "C’mon. I’m not going to forgive you if you don’t show me your place."

You study her face for a clue, a hint, a tell—surely she was joking. Though you realize it soon enough: those arching brows above her eyes remain resolute, cheeks refuse to dimple, and her long, dark eyelashes don’t even dare to flutter. Nothing moves an inch.

You swallow hard. "You don’t have anywhere to be?"

"Manager told me to go straight to the room and read a book or something."

"Then shouldn’t you go to your room and read a book or—"

"Uhh-uh. No way." A smirk and her eyes sharpen. "I’ve got the rest of my life to follow the rules."

-

So, now—there you are, your jacket drawn over both your heads, a poor excuse of an umbrella. Holding open the door to the backseat of a cab for the most spectacularly gorgeous woman you’d ever known, the girl who shattered your heart into a million pieces and then some. In your pocket, a text message on your phone, curious about your flight home—the girl you’d been casually seeing for the past couple weeks—waits for a response.

Though truthfully, you haven’t a clue what you’re doing.

The ride to your apartment is mostly quiet, listening close to the sounds of rain against the windows and the occasional turn signal from the driver’s seat. And for the first time you’ve ever recognized, the silence between you makes you feel uneasy. You had a thousand questions burning a hole in the pocket of your heart and you didn’t even know where to begin. Those questions, they weren’t interested in her schedules, the places she’d been, the things she’d seen, her life in the limelight, how she’d eventually introduce herself to all the heroes and idols you’d known as a kid. In fact, it’s the same way a map that has too much information is effectively useless at helping you navigate. You needed to ask her where you were. Where you stood. Where you were going.

It’s been ages since you’d both had a girl in your apartment and the two of you weren’t immediately en route to your bedroom. You struggle to call back to how your parents might host a guest in your home.

"Yeji," you yell from in front of your refrigerator, "can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"It’s a little late for caffeine don’t you think?" The cushions of your couch groan as Yeji collapses into them. "A beer would hit the spot if you have one though. Especially after today."

You scan the contents of a mostly empty fridge and find it, raising your eyebrows at the six pack on the shelf in front of you, one beer already missing from its cardboard holder. It was mostly the thing you were hoping to avoid.

"It’s nice," she says, grabbing the beer out of your hand and taking in the view of your apartment. "Cleaner than I expected too."

"That’s not really a compliment now is it?"

Her shoulders shrug as she pops the tab of the drink and lifts it to her lips. A refreshed ‘ah’ precedes her. "It does feel a little like I’m sitting in an IKEA showroom though."

"Yeah. Well, guilty as charged I guess."

She laughs, head on a swivel, taking note of—silently judging—your furnishings. "I mean you are probably the only person I know—" She stands, wandering through your apartment to the wall between your living room and your kitchen. "With a calendar that has no pictures, words, or anything." She rifles its pages with her thumb. "It’s just a damn calendar. You don’t even mark it or anything."

"It’s functional."

"It’s weird."

Rain continues to pelt down on your windows, permeating the brief silences between your conversations, but soon you can barely notice it. It becomes so natural the way you wrap yourself up in her stories, and hers in yours. And if the hour hand moving quickly about the face on your clock above the mantle was at all an indicator, neither of you had any deficiency of things to share.

Though still, there remained something noticeably off. You’d spent a lifetime listening to Yeji, and it was always so effortless the way she commanded your attention. But the nature of her speaking, it was although she were a machine struggling with a loose bolt or a stripped screw. See, it was the space between the stories that had your curiosity piqued. She’d start to tell you about subject A and move quickly into subject B and then before you knew it you were in subject C with no real rhyme or reason. You recognized the incongruity immediately, but it took a few beers and hours of listening to pinpoint the cause.

She’d start. Her voice soothing and relaxing. You’d both reminisce. And the moment the story began to find itself concerned with you, with the two of you, she’d swerve around it. Like a car trying to avoid a squirrel that foolishly darts across the highway.

It’s what makes it all the more surprising when she asks a simple question, "So—are you seeing anyone right now?"

You have to clear your throat before you can answer. "Kinda. On and off. You?"

"Yeah; kinda. On and off." She sinks her gaze into her lap. "She nice?"

"She’s fine."

"Good." Her eyes, glistening up at you from under her lashes, find you again. "You deserve a nice girl."

It had been one of those questions aching to leap off your heart and onto your tongue. And now that it had been asked—and so succinctly answered—you felt robbed of everything it was supposed to give you. A deafening silence fills the room. The clock ticks mercilessly and you listen again to the rain coming down on your windows.

You can feel it. You’d be shocked if she couldn’t feel it. That unceasing tension. Yeji stands, pulling the hem of her sweater around her thighs, selfishly hiding the curves of her hips along with it. "It’s late. I should probably get going."

And then with hardly any flash or fanfare, she hugs you. Her arms refuse to linger and the purposeful gap between your chests remains obstinate and unmovable. You show her the door and she takes a long step through it. She smiles, her eyes creasing, but her mouth barely moves.

"Till next time," you say, wondering when that might ever be.

"Till next time—good night."

You wave. She waves back. And the door closes—the evening along with it.

That was it. Again. Sifting like sand through your fingers. So consistently she could just walk away from you and be done with it. Every time you’d imagined this miracle meeting in your head, it would start like it did. But then ultimately the two of you would always tear each other’s clothes off in frustration. So that two broken souls might ever become whole again.

But you know it now. Yeji was never broken. For as long as you’d ever known her, she was like a rocket, launching onto a journey to the furthest stars in the night sky. Face pointed away. Thoughts elsewhere. She never really looked at you. And because of that you often wept.

So far as you can tell, Yeji never loved you. A wish beyond your reach.

Your head hangs against the wall beside the door and you gaze at your feet, maybe hoping to find some comfort hidden away in the striped pattern on your socks. You consider for a moment simply just standing outside on the balcony, letting the rain soak you completely in your clothes.

A knock at your door holds you accountable for at least a moment longer.

You sigh. It’s unfair really. Cruel even. She stands in front of you again. Only this time her hair slightly damp, raindrop stains on the shoulders of her sweater. You feel the stitch on your heart—a delicate, haphazard patchwork of time—its last suture coming undone. And boy, does that hurt.

"Hey, sorry. I realized I have no idea how to call a taxi. Can you lend me a—"

It can’t be instantaneous. But you don’t quite know how it happens either. Something pushed you to drag her through that opening and your hands held Yeji’s face, backing her against the door, now shut. Her eyes become stuck on you and her lips part. If she says anything, it’s far too hard to hear beyond that dull drum of blood, beating loudly between your ears. A shared breath, slow and purposeful, fills your lungs and hers.

Boldly, without reservation, you leap. Thousands of kilometers apart, reduced to a distance known now only by breaths hot across your cheeks, you find her again.

It’s soft the way you kiss her, as though you hadn’t done it hundreds of times, more of a question than it could ever be an answer. Her lips are soft, cool and wet, unbelievably perfect. A breeze through your hair on a hot summer day. In fact, they’re everything you remember, even competing midst those memories you’d embellished. Your fingers run through the smooth locks of Yeji’s hair that bundle in your hands, cold to the touch. It quickly becomes a handle, a grip, tilting her head up toward you as you pull her tight into your chest.

Her lower lip quivers gently against yours, and in a single shuddering breath, gathers itself enough to kiss you back. Hands grabbing tight around your shoulders, she lets a soft cry sink into your mouth.

You could listen to her talk for hours. And you did. But you needed to hear her say it—the way her lips capture yours, the way she tells you she missed you. It’s not some grand romantic gesture. There is no sunset, or gentle call of the ocean waves, no extraordinary vista, no candlelit room to bathe you in its soft glow. There is only Yeji, and that alone makes it perfect.

Her voice falters against you; the sound it makes whenever she’d need to hold back a tear or two. "Thank god the dumb taxis are so confusing…"

You kiss her again. That's all you know. The only way to possibly make right of this strange world.

It’s wild. Pressed firmly against your face is hers—the one you couldn’t stop seeing; the one that demanded so selfishly the attention of cameras and eyes around the world; only it had managed to seize your heart so very long ago. The roundness in her cheeks spreads around you and her nose struggles against yours. You hold her lips tight, the ever persistent worry they might disappear from you again forever biting at your thoughts.

Even though it’s not within your means to fall for her any harder than you have, you do. You always do.

"Mnph…" A quiet smack arrives on your lips. Another one. She starts to find an old rhythm, the way she used to kiss you when she was angry, when she was overwhelmed, or whenever she was just plain wound up. You grab a fistful of a sweater and turn her away from the door, stepping slowly into the foyer of your apartment.

The only thing more desperate than the lips pressed against yours becomes Yeji’s fingers, clutching tightly against the fabric of your shirt. Hums and moans pour from her throat to meet yours. She sways and sinks, leaning against the closet door you’d left open in the middle of the hallway. Her mouth tightens and you recognize the shy smile that fills across it.

Her cheeks, rosy now, burn bright against you and her voice rasps. "Don’t you dare go anywhere."

You had nowhere to be. Hell, you were already home. It’s confusing when you think about it. So you choose not to as best you can. Instead, you tease gently at the backs of her thighs, the roughness of denim meeting your fingertips. It’s Pavlovian perhaps, the way she jumps into your arms at your touch—never forgetting those secret traditions shared between you.

Her arms around your neck and her thighs over your elbows, you grip as timidly as might ever be possible onto the two handfuls of Yeji’s ass filling out between your fingers. Though you realize quick that whatever worries you harbor still are unnecessary, that strange boundary between clearly crossed. A soft moan, and her tongue begins to invade your mouth, marking and claiming the space she determined might just as well belong to her.

There’s this instant familiarity your hands find on Yeji’s body. Her svelte frame beneath that baggy sweater is the same perfect shape you’d held onto god knows how many times. The way she kisses you, pulling and massaging at the swell of your lip, it’s as though you’d never missed a beat, as though it had been Yeji’s kisses alone you found comfort in for the last five years. Though now, the flavor of her lipstick is noticeably different. It’s far more muted than the cheap fruity stuff she used to buy, but you recognize that taste of need and want off her lips still all the same.

Your fingers squeeze at the soft, pliable flesh that stretches all along Yeji’s thighs and rear, still protected by that sturdy pair of jeans—an obstacle now to be overcome. Feet and legs swing behind you as you step your haphazard union down the hallway. With any luck, she won’t knock any of the pictures or posters off your walls.

A light bite at your lip sends a surge of fiery pain down your neck. At that, you push Yeji’s back to the wall, another door behind her rattling in its frame and a soft moan escaping her chest.

She whispers against your cheek, "This your bedroom?"

"No. Not quite. Laundry."

"Ah. Well, as nice as that sounds; I’ve already got a washer at home—isn’t there some place that’s better for—ya know—the two of us?"

Thoughts stuck on the idea of Yeji sitting atop yours, hers, any washing machine and getting herself off makes your pants tighten. You groan softly, repositioning her weight in your hands and pulling her away from the door. "Bed or sofa?’

"You tell me."

You consider it for just a moment, unable to remember the state you’d left your room in before your trip. Is your bed made? Are your clothes put away? No idea. So you don’t tell her. You show her. Holding her tight, you navigate a brief waddle into your living room and your hands release her from their grips, sending her into the cushions of the couch beneath you.

"Really? On the leather—"

"Don’t care," you stop the complaint before it has time to marinate in your head. You knew she was right.

Her voice rattles at a faux concern, "what would IKEA think?"

"They’d be wondering who the two good-looking people on their couch are. Or how they got a free promotion out of you—who knows."

She stifles a laugh and motions her hands to your shoulders. "Come here, you."

She fits underneath your weight—your arms around her shoulders, and her legs entwined amidst yours—with such incredible ease. You sink into a kiss against the pale, tender skin that you find beneath her jaw. It’s delicate, easy to bruise, and it begs for a roughness only your lips could ever hope to provide. The more-than-welcome touch coaxes a moan, breathy and sudden, from her chest—a sound you’d only heard in your thoughts for so long.

Her fingers tease at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up along your chest and off over your head. "I missed you."

"You have no idea."

"Well—maybe some idea," she says, a hand quietly brushing against the hardness she finds at the front of your pants.

You trail up along her neck, the ridge of her jaw, until again you find your way back to the swell of Yeji’s soft, plump, ever-so-kissable lips. Your knee between her thighs, pushing her legs around you, legs that wrap and hook onto the backs of yours, knocks on the rise of her jeans. She lets out a quiet whimper, the sound reverberating through your chest.

There’s this thing about the way Yeji kisses you. Her hands run along your scalp, burying themselves in your hair. And she steals kisses off your lips with such an immediate urgency, with a hunger of someone who’d been starved for so long. You’d have chalked it up to the lapse of time you spent apart, years spent finding, failing love in different places, but she has always been like this—needy.

"Ugh," she sighs, amusing her hands on the shape of your chest, your back, your neck. She’s careful not to let the pointed tips of her fingernails scratch deeply at your skin, lightly caressing her way down to where your pants sit on your waist. Though you admire the thought, you had no intention of letting this woman undress you first.

Defiant, you lift your lips off hers. And a suspicious expression fills in the sharp features of her face. You can feel the skepticism building in those eyes that look you over.

"What’s the matter?" she asks, quietly trying to pull your shoulders back down to where she wanted you.

"I, uh—" You give your throat a good, solid clearing. "I’m going to take your clothes off. Right now."

Yeji raises an eyebrow, scooting up and resting on an elbow. "Talk about forward."

"No real use pussyfooting around it now."

Yeji twists her lip between her teeth and then slowly, she draws a line with her finger from your belly button, along your stomach and up your sternum until it holds your chin, making you look down your nose at her. "Someone teach you how to finally be direct with your words while I was gone?"

Maybe. Maybe not. You’d spent a good deal of time now practically inoculated to the fear of rejection from other girls—considering you’d already seen the worst of it. "Something like that."

"Then tell me Mr. Straight-shooter. What do you want to take off first?"

"First?" you say, letting a smirk drag at your mouth. "Well—no shoes on the sofa. House rule."

One thud, and then another as Yeji kicks off her boots onto the floor behind her. She keeps the intensity in her eyes locked on you—smoldering. "What else?"

"The sweater has gotta go."

"Only if you promise to keep me warm—"

"Easy—deal."

Yeji squirms out from underneath you while the sound of rain continues beating the side of your apartment. Your hands offer what is probably unnecessary help, grabbing onto the hem of her sweatshirt, scrunching it up along the toned muscles of her stomach. And after a short struggle, off over the top of her head, you reveal her slender, gorgeous figure.

She refuses to lose you in her cat-like eyes still for even a second. Even while she airs the garment out between her hands, neatly folds it, and gently sets it down onto your coffee table.

It ought to be criminal to be as charming and beautiful as Yeji is. She’s got these delicate collarbones, shoulders that round off the tops of her arms and run the distance to the skin on her neck you yourself couldn’t get enough of—there’s a tiny freckle here and there, none of them as prominent as the one that proudly sits on the bridge of her nose—though there’s nothing she has that no one else doesn’t, it’s the way everything manages to come together, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, lightly fitting itself in place—it’s simply perfect.

"You’re staring."

You blink yourself out of that momentary trance before letting yourself laugh about it. Clearing your throat, you smile and return the jeer, "Yeji—absolutely I am."

Standing herself from the couch, she smiles at you with her eyes. Her fingers tease under the waistband of her jeans—the biggest challenge of what all was left—and she asks, "I’m guessing you want these too?"

"I mean look—you know how it is. House rules and all."

"Those pesky rules again, huh." She laughs quietly to herself. "Whoever it is that came up with them—I’d like to give them a piece of my mind."

You simply shrug. That nothing I can do about it message clear enough as she begins to unbutton the top of her pants.

The fact that she has to wiggle her hips to peel the tight denim from her waist and down her thighs is a show in of itself. Inch by inch, slowly, meticulously, she reveals her legs to you—long and unending, toned and sculpted now in that manner that only the physical regimen of someone like her might yield. A pair of high cut athletic underwear—gray and pilling at its edges—hardly matches the navy nylon bra cupping Yeji’s soft breasts against her chest. But it’s not like you were going to complain about it. After all, she’d been traveling. Not to mind the fact you’d have to be insane to find anything worth complaining over in the visage standing in front of you.

She saunters over to where you now sit on the sofa, each step every bit as deliberate as the last. You can’t help but bring your face against her stomach as Yeji arrives in front of you. With your lips you can feel the goosebumps that rise atop the smooth skin across her abs, your kisses running the edge of her bottom-most ribs.

Her fingers stroke through your hair, and she lets her voice reach down to your ears. "Hey, I’m cold."

Those soft, ephemeral hairs that stand on end along her stomach, her back and the skin along her thighs corroborated the statement. However between her legs, where the darkened gray fabric hugged tightly against her entrance, where you could make out the shape of her lips imprinted into it, she was anything but cold.

Kissing her stomach again with lips that drag against the taut, velvety skin they find all over it, you place your fingers against that warmth. It’s instant—the quick spasm her diaphragm makes, knocking on your forehead, and Yeji gasps for air.

You follow the long, endless curves of her leg until it arrives on a perfect handful of ass that spills through the gaps in your fingers—fingers that tuck and dive into the back of her underwear, the thin fabric easy to twist and manipulate. Delighted, you listen close to how Yeji pulls fast breaths through her chest as you start to tease her body.

Your voice nearly chokes as you tell her what both of you already so clearly understood.

"Do you have any idea how bad I want you?"

Yeji’s eyes lock with yours, her chin tucked against her chest. "Show me."

Now, it’s important to mention again that this girl had left you absolutely devastated. In the years since she’d left, you wouldn’t have described yourself as particularly loose or rakish, but you weren’t ever one to turn down an opportunity at finding a momentary comfort in the embrace of another either. And the first chances came fast. Home for winter break along with everyone else, suffocating in nostalgia—a handful of girls you’d gone to school with would only see Yeji’s sudden disappearance as something to celebrate, a long awaited opportunity. It was shocking how fast they pounced on you.

It always felt good—for a second. And it’d wear off fast as they spent more time than you ever cared for snuggling up to you as if the sex was anything to write home about. The worst was when all you wanted to do was turn over in the cheap hotel sheets and they’d start to ask you a million questions: How was university going? Are your grades good? Do you have a girlfriend? What’s your blood type? Do you have a career in mind? How much money do you think you’ll make? Do you think my boobs are too small? Should we get breakfast in the morning? When will I see you again?—it was endless.

You put up with it for the most part. It helped you forget if at least for a moment what a shitty hand of cards you’d been dealt. There was a predictable formula too—you’d meet up for drinks, and before the waiter could take orders for seconds, you and her were making out on the curb, waiting for a cab. The hotel room lights would flip on (or stay off, depending on how horny and desperate you were). And you’d begin that necessary formality of going down on her—so that she might let you use her as you pleased. Always mechanical, robotic, transactional.

But Yeji’s legs resting on your shoulders, your face inches away from the damp fabric covering her hole, you wanted nothing other than to take your time.

It’s not too unlike the way you’d pluck at keys on the piano. Some touches quiet and pleasing to the ear, some loud and heavy and boisterous—you tease your fingers around the ‘V’ of cloth between her thighs, some notes playing soft subtle whimpers and others a lilting moan.

"Mmmph…" Yeji raises her hips gently, the backs of her knees rubbing at your shoulders. Impatient—rightfully so—she lifts the edge of her underwear, pulling it aside and offering you her glistening entrance. She’s wet, sopping and needy, and she’s begging for you.

Your kisses continue along the inside of a thigh, lingering longer and longer against the creamy skin that leads you to her heat. That addictive smell of sweat, lust and excitement fills your nose alongside the long breath you draw through your chest.

The way your palm brushes against her swollen clit makes Yeji shudder and jolt her hips—your finger diving down between the cleft of her bare lips to where she was really just utterly soaked. You trade your mouth across the gap to the other thigh you’d neglected, but Yeji can only reward you with her frustration—"please."

Maybe it’s because she’s always had this intense look about her—like she could take on the world with one hand behind her back and win—and it’s not like you haven’t noticed the way her company plays it up either. The girl you knew who was always fierce, plucky—lionhearted—the face looking at you now, eyes down her nose over the top of two navy clad breasts, it’s so soft. Even those sharp eyes, so often beguiling, had become tender—filling fast with lust and want and need and desire—like she’s pleading for you to save her, to rescue her, in the ways only your mouth and fingers might ever know how.

"Please—I need it," she rasps.

"Yeji," you weave into the sounds of her whines. "Trust—I’m gonna take good care of you."

Your mouth hovers against her. And just above where your fingers play and tease at her folds, your lips part. It’s not on purpose, and it’d be a little cruel if it were, but a hot, wet breath spills lax from lungs, off your tongue and out of your mouth. It crashes and collides, rolling and tumbling about the aching skin around her hole. It’s not possible to touch someone less if you tried—and it brings Yeji to wit’s end.

She sucks a sudden, whistling bout of air past her teeth. Her fingers thread themselves through your hair and pull you into her. Your nose meets her hip, tickled by the soft patch of neatly trimmed hair she saves for you, and you watch her head roll back on her shoulders. A reveal of the raw, tender skin you’d all but bruised along her neck and her whole body sighs, her body saying, without speaking, finally.

Yeji hums in delight as you take care of her. There’s your tongue, brushing up and down the hoods and folds of delicious skin that struggle to contain the scorching heat that burns fast between them—your hands, one teasing the narrow depths at the tightness just beyond her entrance, the other holding her hip, firm, to keep it from evading you—your unapologetic lips, grasping and sucking around her clit—your tongue again tapping and caressing it.

"Fuck," she hisses.

A word that is so usually rough and abhorrent and grizzled, and it’s never sounded so elegant. You can only imagine how bottled a profanity like it must be—there’s such oppressive decorum to follow when you’re on television, soundbites repeating like a million broken records across the internet, a voice that speaks for all to hear. And that goes doubly so for someone like her.

You dive into her, hard, and she rewards you with the airy, sing-song moans that fill your apartment, meshing themselves against the unyielding pitter-patter of rain.

"Oh my god—you’ve got some real talent." A thick, strained laughter leaves her throat and Yeji collapses back into the cushions of the sofa, brown leather now dark and staining with her wetness, a problem for tomorrow. Perhaps unfixable; worst case scenario, you could always get a new couch.

Rain hits hard against your home. It mixes a delightful track to your onslaught and a finger brings Yeji to her knees.

"Please, please, please—keep doing that."

It doesn’t have to search far, the soft pad of your fingertip finding that familiar stretch of dangerously sensitive skin. You curl at the knuckle—and Yeji becomes an extension of your will—her hips quake, relaxing only when you do. Your finger flexes. You tap, rub and tease. Each time a reaction, more wild and unrestrained than the last.

"F-Fuck. Just right—there," she squeals.

Her thighs wrap tight against your ears, all those sounds of your apartment quickly mute and muffled. The fruits of your labor pool, run wet, beading into droplets at the bottom of your chin.

"Please do—not—stop," she begs, breathing fast and heavy. Her eyes find you again, lip twisted mercilessly between those perfect teeth. And at a quiver that shakes and pulls her muscles taut—she closes her eyes and she growls through gritted teeth, "you’re gonna make me fucking cum."

There were a lot of memories you struggle now to piece together. Like having dropped a stack of papers or a pile of laundry, each time you bend down to pick something up, you’ve lost another in its stead. It’s become its own awful tragedy in a sense. But if there’s anything imprinted so permanently into the deep inner workings of your thoughts—you remember when Yeji cums, she cums hard.

Entirely overwhelmed, Yeji pushes your tongue away from her overstimulated bud. Her fingers grip tight at your hair, and she locks and clenches her body around your fingers. That twisted, unrestrained expression, eyes clenching and lips curling into a beautiful ‘O,’ she finds the release she so desperately needs.

All kinds of sounds, full of watery, anguished breaths, and whimpered moans leak through the seal her thighs make around your ears. You recognize a few words, a lot of them curses and profane mewling—nonsense mostly—but just as readily, your name gets thrown haphazardly into that lustful mix. Perhaps for good measure.

It’s only once she’s let those waves of pleasure dissipate through her entire body, squeezing and gripping you in the vice her legs make around you, that she lets herself relax and releases you to speak.

"Well that was something," you tease, wiping your mouth and chin with the back of a wrist, "been a while?"

"Oh—come—on," she says, heavy breaths still laboring to catch up to her, "don’t be cute. It’s not my fault if you’ve been practicing."

You smirk, lifting yourself up and finally freeing your legs of those stiff pants that were struggling impossibly to keep your cock calm and demure. "So? What now?"

Yeji returns herself to a halfway decent posture, the sweat on her back sticking to the leather as she does so. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." Shuffling your pants free from your thighs you tap at your chin, playful. "How many guesses are you giving me?"

"Zero. Get those things off. I’m gonna ride the fuck out of you."

"Yeah?" A bout of laughter forces your smile. "I can’t help but wonder what people might think if they heard ITZY’s fearless leader talking like that."

Standing, she slides that pair of soaked underwear down off her legs, and in a quick practiced motion, hooks an ankle behind yours. A push and you’re sent tumbling into the couch.

"What? You don’t think they’d be cranking one out to it?"

"The girls or the boys?"

She smirks. "Both. Though I imagine it would be all together kinda frustrating, huh?" She puzzles, straddling your legs. "Never being able to actually fuck me."

It’s unclear to you if she always preferred being on top because she forced it out of you, or if it's because you let her—but that’s how it goes. Your cock is already at full attention, standing proud like it wanted Yeji to know it needed her. It twitches noticeably as she rubs her pussy against it.

"What’s the matter? Been a while?"

"Yeah, because it’s so easy to get off on a business trip."

"Mnh-nh. I don’t want to hear excuses." She teases the head of your cock between the soaking lips of her pussy, kissing your tip with her heat.

Her lips purse, her eyes shut and she blows a purposeful breath of cool air out of her chest, out the narrow hole her mouth makes—an enticing shape you’ll have trouble getting out of your head—as she begins to take you into her, adjusting to the shape of your cock.

You both groan, two wildly different noises, but the same heavenly feeling communicated. She holds the base of your shaft steady with her fingers as you’re pushed past the muscles clamping around you. It’s warm and it’s wet and it’s fucking unbelievably tight. It’s enough to make you feel dizzy, stars appearing in your eyelids.

"Phew." Yeji drags her knees toward, sitting back on your cock. "That always feels so fucking good. Don’t worry I’ll go slow."

"Yeah, sure—but it has been a while, right?"

Leaning forward, she smiles against your cheek. "If that’s what you want me to say, then yeah—sure, it’s been a long while."

"I’m ignoring that." You reach your hands up onto her waist, the soft curve of her hips making for two perfect handles. "I’m ignoring you."

She laughs, the melodic sound again filling your head. "That’s fine—but I’m not going to let you ignore this."

There’s this moment, her ass suspended high above your hips, the tip of your cock barely held in place by her pussy’s grip. You’ve felt it before on roller coasters mostly, at the peak of the tallest drop—the car hanging in suspense, the strangest knot twisting in your stomach. Of course, the moment doesn’t last long. No, not when Yeji slides herself down along your length in the quickest of motions, the base of your cock kissing those wet lips again.

A sound, not particularly describable or even repeatable punches through your throat, and your eyes widen.

And then she does it again.

Quick, your voices melt into one another, the pleasure that rips through your thoughts—from the entire length of your cock buried deeper into her cunt than either of you can pretend to not notice. It’s immaculate.

But it’s fucking dangerous.

You’d noticed them before—those legs that she’d worked on for years, built and perfected by hours in the gym. See, she lifts herself up on your length again, some crude combination of cum, spit and sweat leaving a sticky trail between your thighs. A soft moan announces the end of the motion and then without remorse or hesitation, she finds herself flush against your hips again. It’s tiring no doubt, but you find Yeji relentless.

She brushes her hair out of her face. And those eyes–smoldering with lust–study the indecent expressions you make as she impales herself repeatedly on your cock. Her hands find a home on the muscles above your breast. And the reasonably flat support gives her everything she needs to lift and roll her hips against you with little resistance.

It’s not the angle, the depth, the tightness, or the technique—and god, does she know exactly what she’s doing—it’s the damn speed. Even when you were both eighteen, cutting classes at the end of your schedules, a pair of horny teenagers aptly described as rabbits, she had never fucked you like this.

"Fucking christ, Yeji." You grit your teeth and squeeze hard on her hips, bracing for impact on each downward thrust. "So much for slow—you trying to kill me?"

"Well I was thinking about it. And I changed my mind." Bouncing away still, eagerly taking your length in and out of her tight hole, she sits herself up and reaches her hands behind her back, unclasping the navy bra across her chest. "It might be better if you just cum now, since you’re so pent up—you might actually be able to enjoy yourself on the next one."

The straps come down over her shoulders and the bra lands somewhere in your room. It sounded like the floor. You don’t really care though, not while Yeji is lifting your hands from her hips and placing them on those two beautifully soft mounds that hang shyly off chest.

Frustrated perhaps with the shyness in your touch, she palms her hands over yours, squeezing and massaging at her own breasts until you find the touch she craves all on your own.

You groan again, loudly enough to make a smug smile stretch across Yeji’s cheeks. "Then tell me—is it a bad time of the month? Where do you want me to cum?"

She leans forward, breath hot against your ear. "Anywhere you want."

At that, you reach a hand around her, palming the back of her neck and holding her tight against you. The suddenness of it makes her yelp and squirm, but you hold her firm, and she realizes exactly what it is you need as you slide yourself lower on the sofa, a new angle with an entirely unrealized potential waiting for you there.

"That’s it—" she gasps, struggling in the strength of your grip, "make this pussy yours—use me."

Her body flush against yours, you hear every little gasp, every sultry moan that leaks off her lips. It drives you faster, more wild and feckless on each thrust, burying yourself hard into the heat of her cunt. Your throbbing shaft inside of her—it feels as though she was made with your cock in mind, made for you, designed—a perfect fit, the way she wraps and grasps around you. Without hesitation, you settle your hips into a rhythm that you know beyond a shadow of doubt will send you hurdling into those irreversible triggers of your orgasm.

"Mph…"" Your thighs slap against hers, that sound of wet skin on wet skin filling your apartment and drowning out the rain. Your cock disappears so neatly between her legs, and your hips move immediately to bury it there again, desperate for her warmth, her tightness. Beads of sweat pool at your back, and every time you should shift your weight, you become stuck to the leather sofa beneath you.

Yeji’s words continue to pour into your ear, though they too seem to be growing disjointed and bewildered at the motion between your hips. Her shoulders collapse against you and her face buries into the cushion aside yours. 

"Yeji—I cant," you sigh, and your chest shudders in anticipation. "I’m going to fucking—cum in this—"

"No!" her voice cries, muffled into the leather of the couch beside you, "It feels—so deep—I’m close!"

"Yeji," you groan, "please."

Don’t you fucking dare," she husks, a voice desperate for you, "don’t—You can’t cum, you can’t—fuck!" Writhing again, she lifts herself on her elbows, observing how your face twists and contorts beneath her as if her own wasn’t every bit as wrought and agitated. "Babe! Your cock feels too—fucking amazing!"

She grabs your cheeks with her hand, pulling your attention away from her breasts shaking wildly, jostled about by your thrusts. Those eyes—they hold you deeply, begging you to hold on.

"You’re asking for a fucking lot here, Yeji I swear—"

"No—fuck," she gasps. Eyebrows twist. Her eyes shut tight. And her lips mouth the words that might release you, I’m cumming again.

It’s always like this.

She leads, you follow.

And it’s far and away too much for you to handle—the gorgeous woman on top of you, straining an expression only meant for you to see—it’s just too much. Plundering the depths of her pussy for pleasure you didn’t even know could wrack you like it does, you follow her into that unthinkable bliss. Her mouth hangs open, her muscles lock again and she quivers and quakes around you.

Your hands slap down hard onto her ass cheeks, searching desperately for a brief reprieve of something other than the warm, tight cunt that’s been rocking your thoughts senseless. You press your fingers into her creamy skin, hard enough that it’s sure to leave a mark, and in a thundering moment of pure, unbridled lust, you let it all out. Honestly, your thoughts are all so crudely whiplashed by everything that you make little notice of how much hot cum your thrusts pump up into the deepest reaches of Yeji’s pussy. It’s already something spectacular as it arrives, erupting unabashedly from your throbbing cock, but then it just keeps going. It fills around you, an unthinkable lubricant against the way her walls clamp and squeeze around you. And then you feel it, dripping and leaking out of her hole and onto your thighs.

A gasp bellows from your chest and your voice, raw and hoarse, punctuates the heavy panting between your crumpled, tired bodies. "Fuck. Me. Yeji."

-

Prudence would’ve been closing the curtains, turning into your pillow and catching whatever was left of the night to rest before you’d wake for work tomorrow. So, a simple fade to black. But you’d spent years searching and seeking for what is now between your hands—if there was any mistake you’d made, it was that you hadn’t kissed her sooner.

You remember it now, the way your family would host guests: there of course was that initial cup of tea, or whatever could be cooked up quickly in the kettle, but a tour of the house had always followed close in its wake.

And so a tour you two ventured. The rest of living room (though you worry about how thin the walls are you share with your neighbor), the kitchen, the bathroom, the laundry room. Any place with a surface you could either bend her over or sit her on really—until finally you two might enter your bedroom and fuck like a pair of functioning adults.

You lean back, grasping the bed sheets between your fingers. A heavy sigh pulls at your shoulders while Yeji runs her tongue up along the side of your cock. She’s got this wicked touch, her fingers wrapping ever so perfectly around your shaft, knowing just what firmness will send you reeling.

"Shit," you hiss, watching Yeji’s tongue swirl the head of your cock before her lips swallow it whole.

She’s methodical. Her tongue slips and darts beneath the sensitive skin under your shaft as she takes you in her mouth further and further. And in excruciating increments she nuzzles her nose against your waist, eyes just beginning to water. She’ll hold it—hold you, cock filling the lovely sleeve that is her throat—and then release. Just like that.

"Yeah—I don’t care what you say." You run your hand along the side of her head, her makeshift ponytail of smooth, silky hair now a perfect grip for your fingers. "You didn’t learn how to do that from those women’s magazines."

She pulls herself off your shaft, cock popping out of her mouth. Hands stacked, one on top of the other, she abuses you with that slobbery layer of saliva in between her fingers. Her eyes poke out, smiling over the top of it all. "I’m new to this—I promise."

"Uh-huh."

"So." Belly against the mattress, she pulls her knees forward, swaying her ass behind her head where you could see it. It’s a whole spectacle with this girl. She taps and teases at the tip of your cock, amused at the precum that sticks to the pad of her thumb, before again finding you with her eyes.

"So," you repeat back.

"How do you want to cum?"

You lean your head back on your shoulders, eyes up at the ceiling—a break. "If you’re not careful, it’s going to be down your throat."

"Well that’d be a waste."

"Oh yeah? How you figure?"

"When you could do it inside my cunt?" She narrows her eyes and raises an eyebrow, hands gingerly pumping at your shaft. "Yeah. A waste."

Yeji’s tongue and fingers work and tease in perfect union along your length. And you blow a steady breath through your lungs to rally your thoughts. "Let me think."

"You’re good, take a breather. I’ve got a nice, beautiful cock here to keep me entertained." And like that, she simply swallows you again.

Her drool continues to spill unapologetic down your shaft, catching itself between Yeji’s fingers and spreading out everywhere along your sensitive skin. A hand twisting, pumping—she has you so effortlessly figured out.

You help her head along as you puzzle about the many possibilities in front of you. Holding her hair, guiding her slack jaw and perfect lips up and down your throbbing cock feels—and you’re a little ashamed to say it—feels like using a toy. A toy that’s hot and hums and vibrates as you fuck it. And that’s exactly what you want to do.

"Yeah, I think—I want this mouth Yeji."

Before she can protest, you guide her again down your shaft, the perfect seal of her lips parting around your tip and swallowing your length. She glides and slips up and down you, the tiniest sounds of her throat struggling to accommodate you reaching your ears.

With her hand pulling yours away, Yeji pushes herself off you, your cock again leaving her lips with a pop.

"Well aren’t you selfish." She pushes gently at your chest with her fingers, "Let me at least take care of you."

You’d been catching yourself staring at her lips all evening, the way they curve and pull themselves up into that irresistible bowing figure—you’d had them running through your thoughts long before today—and now they’re all over your cock. She kisses you, caresses you, exploring every inch of vulnerable skin she can find all along your shaft.

The brief moment exists each time she swallows you, just the second before her lips part and seal around you. A hot, wet breath, spiraling and barely in control, wraps itself around you as her mouth hovers just over the tip of your aching cock—a blanket of warmth surrounding it. She takes you, all of you—again.

If it’s not the tightness of her throat or the doubled effort of ten slender fingers all fighting over one another to try and to send you to the edge, it’s that wet, smooth tongue. With it, Yeji brings your hips forward, bucking into the air above your sheets. A simple lick and you groan. Flattening it and adding it to the friction you find at the back of her throat? You’ve become putty in her hands.

"Fuck… Yeji, that feels incredible."

She hums a self-satisfied note, buzzing it all down your shaft, before pulling herself off your cock and finding you with her eyes once more.

"Tell me what you want," she says, holding your skin taut with her fingers and pumping a tight, squelching fist at the top of your cock.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeji—"

"No—tell me."

It’s the heart beating in your throat, it’s the sloppy noise her fingers make as she tries to pull every last ounce of cum out of your cock, it’s the sound of the god damn fucking rain hitting your windows—you whisper beneath it all, "I want to fucking cum in your mouth Yeji."

She lifts an eyebrow, cruelly pulling her hands away from your cock. "And then?"

"And then you’re gonna swallow it."

It all happens so fast. She takes you again into her mouth, fucking you with her throat and tongue—your hands are in her hair, finding the exact contact and warmth you need—and you struggle to do anything beyond holding your breath and closing your eyes tight.

"Mnph."

Your voice spits, "Fuck—"

"Mnmnph."

While you cum inside Yeji’s mouth, into the wonderful shape of her throat, she coughs and sputters, struggling to hold you in her grip, fingers splayed wide against your hips. You can see a good amount of your orgasm almost immediately leak from her lips, spilling down her chin and staining the sheets of your bed—again, tomorrow’s problem.

You grab her Kleenex, water, and anything she might really now need (a good hug more than anything).

Nighttime routines, finding her a pair of pajamas—ones that fit loosely on your body already mind you—a trip to the bathroom, and you’re both brushing your teeth, staring at each other's naked reflection when it really hits you—and together, you just start laughing. Those contagious giggles and bouts of laughter that make you remember just how much you missed the girl who’d forever been your best friend, the girl you loved.

The two of you are quick to find the blankets on your bed, the comfort beneath them. Arms untangle from each other, a quick kiss and a reach for the night stand, Yeji allows a complete darkness into your room.

"Till next time," she whispers into your ear.

-

The rain had finally stopped, but that doesn’t mean the sun harbored any intention of coming out. It was always kind of stubborn like that.

Rolling out of bed, you’re exhausted, mentally and physically. But you’re not sixteen anymore; you couldn’t fake a cough and tell your mom you were running a fever, take an indulgent day off. So—work it was.

Slacks come on, a dress shirt stuffed hastily into them, and you look over your shoulder to see Yeji’s more or less unidentifiable shape bundled beneath the blankets she’d spent all night stealing from your side of the bed.

"Yeji," you call out.

A soft groan marks the extent of her response as you watch her hand stretch into the air before falling defeated back against your mattress.

"I don’t know where, but—I’m sure you have somewhere to be." You draw the curtains open wide to your room, particularly dissatisfied by just how little light it earns you.

You fish from your suitcase a tie and the top half of your suit before finding your way to the bathroom. When you’re brushing your teeth, you again watch Yeji’s reflection stumble across the mirror, rubbing at her eyes. It took her little time to cop one of your sweatshirts. And you begin to wonder how many of yours you’ve seen taken up like this—now only to be never seen again.

"Good morning," she says, blinking at you.

Even in her least put together state, hair tousled and eyes sleepy, she possesses a certain charm that you struggle to put into any words beyond the obvious ones—she’s cute.

"Man." She looks at your reflection in the mirror–the marks along your neck. "I really roughed you up good, huh."

Usually the tie around your neck was enough to cover up those lip-shaped bruises on your Adam’s apple. You pull at the knot, the silky fabric sliding through your fingers. It’s probably optimistic to think another attempt at tying it might yield better results, but you haven’t all that much choice.

"Nope." Yeji hides her grin with a closed fist, her other hand hanging off your shoulder. "You can still definitely see them."

"Well, shit." A heavy sigh leaves your chest as your hands find your hips. "How bad is it?"

You turn from the mirror, searching for any reassurance in those soft, dark eyes. But the muted laugh, that painfully smug smile, those mischievous hands sneaking around your waist—it’s bad.

"Yeji. I can’t—" You grab onto her hips, trying to stem the flow of laughter that pours from her chest. "Yeji."

Grinning, "gotcha."

You roll your eyes back to your reflection. "I can’t go to work like this."

Yeji takes a second to think through her response, which makes the solution that ends up coming off her tongue even less impressive. "Then don’t."

"Hah. I bet you think you’re clever."

"I do." She runs her fingers through her hair, head tilting and eyes looking up at you. You wish she was just a little less dangerous. "What all is a day off going to do to you? You stamp visas for a living. Remember?"

And so for about a week, the two of you would run through a variation of this same conversation every morning. If it were a test in temperance, you failed it every time. It was sex, it was sleeping, it was cheap take out, it was more sex, but it was also just a lot of time to sit and talk. Like you used to.

Yeji wipes the sweat off her brow and lifts herself off your hips, her nude body cuddling up alongside you, her head resting on your chest. That soft voice of hers again lands perfectly in your ears, "You know what’s crazy?"

"That whiskey is made from wheat or rye?"

"Well, no—" Her chin turns on your chest to look you in the eyes. "What?"

You chuckle. "It’s nothing."

She takes a beat to regather her thoughts. "I was going to say I felt awful for years about it." A soft sigh moves her whole body, the cool breath landing on your chin. "But I never doubted for a second—I knew I’d find you."

You puzzle it through your thoughts. "How’d you figure?"

"Well—because I love you."

Easy, effortless, straightforward—the words spill from her mouth. You wonder for a second if perhaps you were mid-sip a cup of nostalgia instead, burying yourself in memories that never existed. But the soft touch of her hair against your chest, the way her face rises and falls as your chest draws breath, the sweat still lingering and stuck between your bodies—it’s all too real.

Your voice, watery and choked, manages to push a breath through your throat, "I know I can be a cynic—but that’s not really a whole lot to put faith in."

"Maybe. But you said it too."

Your eyes widen and your brow furrows. "When?"

"Couple years ago now. By text—because you’re an asshole."

The memory of it, sorrowful for as long you can remember, comes crashing back to you. "You—you never even opened it."

"I didn’t need to—not a whole lot else getting said in a text message at three in the morning. On New Year’s no less."

You sit in a brief silence, confounded by the old wound. The feeling of her fingertips caressing the skin atop your chest provokes a question, "But then why not respond?"

"You think reading it would’ve made it any easier on me?" She reaches again for the night stand, flipping out the lights from your room with the switch. "What was I supposed to tell you? Suffer in silence and wait for me?"

"Yeji. I’d have done it."

There’s a brief quiet as she moves back into the bed, only the sounds of her shuffling about reaching your ears. You feel her face press against yours in the dark, hot tears streaming down her cheek. "But would you do it still?"

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #itzy smut #itzy yeji #yeji smut

[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

“damn, look at those waves.” jj closes one eye and outlines the crest of a wave with his arm. “you hear that? they’re callin’ your name, cupcake.”

“i dunno about this, jayj.” you sway nervously beside him, pushing your lips together at the sight of the monstrous waves crashing into the surf. jj simply shrugs it off, swatting his hand in the salty air.

“don’t sweat it, you’ve got the best teacher in the obx. this is nothin’.”

“okay..” you follow behind him as he starts kicking through the sand closer to the water. jj had been asking you to try surfing for a while now. it just never seemed like your thing, despite growing up a block from the beach. you agreed to let him teach you, very optimistic about your ability to learn in the moment, but now that you’re here, you’re having some doubts.

jj walks to the edge of the water, then beckons you over with a roll of his wrist. “you see that?” he points to the waves, looking off in a daydream of you in your cute bikini gliding through the water. you gulp. “before y’know it, you’re gonna be cuttin’ through ‘em, babe. seriously.” he turns to look at you, finally noticing your uneasy expression. “y’alright?”

“yeah! i guess i’m just a little nervous.” you bite your lip, breaking your eyes from the roaring waves to look up at jj. “i’m not really good at this kind of stuff.”

“aw, don’t worry, cupcake. we’ll go slow.” he winks, and you roll your eyes, really wanting him to take you seriously. “jus' gonna lay on the board and ride the waves in--that's it." he stresses, trying to keep things positive in hopes you won't change your mind.

you nod, mustering up some confidence to follow through. "okay, yeah. i can do that." you really want to learn, mostly wanting an excuse to spend more time with him.

“hell yeah you can. n'i got you, you'll be just fine.” he starts walking closer to the shoreline, opening his free hand for you to take. you smile, his eagerness easing your anxiety just a little, and you shuffle up beside him, slipping your hand into his.

you stop at the shoreline, the water creeping up the sand and splashing around your feet. jj kneels down, grabs the safety leash on the board, and velcros it around your ankle. once it's all secure, he pats the strap, standing up with the board still under his arm.

"you ready, mama?" jj smiles, squeezing your hand. you press your cheek into his arm, your stomach turning in anticipation.

"yeah! c'mon, before i chicken out."

he pulls you into the cold water, bringing you out to the breakers. you're in up to your thighs, jj holding the board steady as it floats in the water. he turns it, both the board and his body facing away from the forming waves. "lay on it, i got it."

you climb on top, the wax helping you keep your grip. he holds you steady over a few small waves, letting you get used to bobbing in the salty water. it's more comfortable than you expected, your arms hanging off the sides of the board. he takes one hand and presses it into the small of your back. "arch just a little more," he adjusts, and you push up a little. "there y'go. perfect."

jj looks back, some bigger waves starting to form further out. "you wanna ride one in, babe? some big ones comin’.”

you look back, the water beneath you getting more and more choppy. "sure!"

"alright, i'll let you go when it's comin' and you just paddle til it takes you in. okay?" he explains, his thumb rubbing gently on your back. "here it is, mama, get ready."

you look back, watching the wave building behind you before turning forward again just as it peaks underneath you. "aaand—go!" jj shouts, letting go of the board and jumping to bodysurf in the current. you paddle gently, barely needing to as the water pushes you back to the shoreline. you hold onto the sides, basking in the warm wind. you can only imagine how it feels standing up, how freeing it must be. you can definitely understand why he loves it so much.

jj swims back to shore before you make it there, the board's drag slowing you down. he shakes out his hair, looking out for you and clapping his hands above his head. "yeaaah! that's my girl, you got it! bring it on in, mama."

you cant help but laugh, standing up once the board hits the sand. jj walks over, nudging your arm. "what'd i say? that was awesome, babe!"

"that felt amazing.. i-i wanna go again!" you wipe your wet hair out of your face, leaning down to grab the board.

"alright, daredevil. we'll keep goin' as long as you want."

˚❀˚

#jj maybank #jj #obx #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #manifesting more surfing in season 4

[crazychaoticizzy]

French Girl

note: this is a birthday present for my friend I hope you enjoy <3

The poor boy from France that you'd run into on the ship had caught your attention, and you can't help but ask him to portray you the way he sees you.

WARNINGS: Titanic AU kinda, Fem!reader, fluff, nudity, suggestive but not explicit

Word Count: 3.1k

Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

As you flip through the somewhat erotic sketches in the notebook you hold, you can't help but think about the hands that drew them.

The fact that being seen with him could completely ruin your reputation was the last thing on your mind as your fingers gently graze the edges of the pages, carefully admiring every detail in each drawing.

“You drew all these?” you ask, looking up at him.

Jean smiles, his eyes moving from your face to his notebook, and nods. “Yeah, all of ‘em.” His voice has an accent that yours doesn’t have, and you can’t decide if it’s because of the language he uses or something else. “Turns out lots o’ dancers in France are willin’ to drop their panties for me.”

Your jaw drops at his crude words, which makes Jean laugh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees at he looks at his own drawings. The movement makes your kneecaps touch, and you find yourself subconsciously crossing your legs.

“Nah, m’just kidding. Well, mostly, anyway.” Another chuckle slips from his lips when he notices your slightly widened eyes. He gently grabs the notebook from your lap, flipping through the pages.

“Like this one,” he said, turning it to show you. It was a charcoal drawing of a woman and a man sitting at a table, the woman wearing an eyepatch and the man missing two fingers. “I approached ‘em in a pub one day and asked if I could draw them. The lady—well, they actually didn’t identify as a man or woman, they told me, but their name was Hange—seemed a lot more enthusiastic about it than Levi, the man. Anyway, they told me about their time in the military as I drew ‘em.”

You nod along to his words as you take the notebook back in your hands and admire the drawing. Even though your eyes are distracted you hold onto every word he says.

Upon further inspection, you notice the man’s right eye was white, barely a hint of an iris in the drawing.

“They both lost an eye while serving,” Jean continues, noticing how you seem to focus on that small detail. “Hange lost their’s completely, I’m pretty sure, and Levi went blind in his right.”

“I wonder what happened,” you softly muse.

Jean shrugged. “They didn’t really give details about their injuries, they really only told me about their dead comrades and training and such. Actually, their commander was someone I’ve drawn before—can I?”

You nod, handing him the notebook so he could flip through a couple more pages.

“They saw the drawing while I was looking for a clean page and asked about it. His name was Erwin Smith, and he was the thirteenth commander in their survey corps. Hange told me they were the fourteenth after him, and they passed it on to some blond boy named Armin before retiring. I think Armin is on this boat, actually.”

Jean turns the book back to you in the middle of his small rant, showing a blond man with thick eyebrows. You noticed that instead of a head shot like the other drawings, it was a full body portrait to show that he was missing his right arm.

“They spoke the world of him. It seemed like the three of them were incredibly close.”

Jean sounds sad talking about them, almost like he knew the ins and outs of their relationship personally. He might have, you suppose, because it seemed strangers spilled their hearts and souls to him during one single conversation.

“Are the first two a couple?” you ask.

Jean shrugs, handing you the notebook again so you can continue flipping through it. “Dunno. They seemed really close and like they trusted each other with everything they had, but never mentioned bein’ together.”

You nodded, flipping through more drawings. There were multiple of a young boy with dark hair and freckles throughout the journal, all dated very close to each other until you stopped seeing them. He must have been close to Jean, but you don’t ask about it since the last drawing of him was done years ago and seems unfinished.

“So, those French girls. Is there a reason they…” you paused, hesitating to repeat his earlier words. “You know.”

“Dropped their panties for me?” He smirks cheekily at you as you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding. “Nah, don’t think so. Though I do think they thought I would pay them back with something more erotic than what they got.”

“You drew a lot of dancers,” you comment as you flip through, noticing two or three drawings of naked women on each page.

“Jealous I’ve seen naked women before?” Jean teases, lightly nudging your knee with his.

Your lips tighten as you fight the urge to smile. “No, it was merely an observation.”

Jean laughs. “I was just teasin’. But they make for good anatomy practice. They can bend their body any way they want and stay for extended periods of time. They’re the perfect people to draw for practice.”

“And they have to be… bare?”

Jean shrugs. “Well it’s more difficult to draw bodies with all those bulky clothes they wear.”

You make an O shape with your mouth, unable to decide if he’s telling the truth or simply teasing you again.

It’s silent as you continue flipping through the pages, the soft ocean breeze being the only sound between you and Jean as he watches you.

You notice a black-haired woman appear multiple times throughout the notebook. She has short hair that frames her face perfectly, and there’s a mark just below one of her steel gray eyes.

“You liked this one,” you note, reading the small writing at the bottom of one of the pages. “Mikasa Ackerman. She’s very pretty.”

“What makes you say I liked her?” Jean asks.

“You drew her quite a lot.” Jean hums, but doesn’t say anything in response. “I believe there might have been something going on.”

You smile. You don’t turn to see, but you can feel Jean’s expression change as he continuously denies your claim.

“No, no, we were just friends. She was always at the dance studio when I went, so I was just always drawing her.” His cheeks are pink though, and when you turn to look at him he puts his hand over the bottom half of his face.

You hum condescendingly, turning back to the pages. “She was very pretty. I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point you developed feelings for her.”

“Yeah, she was.” Jean’s voice is soft, a whisper, almost. You keep your head down but glance at him, noting the way he fondly looks at the drawings.

“You did like her, didn’t you?” It’s not an accusation, and you don’t mean it to be. You make sure your voice is gentle when you say it, coaxing him to tell you more.

He’s still for a moment before he gives a single nod. “Yeah, I did.”

You can’t tell why his accent changes, but the way he said I sounded more like ah. You assume it might be due to him having been all over the world, and make a note to ask him about it another time.

“I eventually realized we would never happen. She was too high class for me.” Jean doesn’t sound sad about it, in fact he talks about it as if it’s a nostalgic memory for him.

“Just like I’m too high class for you?” The words slip from your mouth without thinking, and you immediately shut your mouth. But now that you’d said it, you realize that you’re right. You shouldn’t be seen with him. The blow that could do to your family, the rumors it could start. If the wrong person saw this it would be a one way ticket to poverty for your family.

Jean purses his lips. “Yeah. Jus’ like you.”

You softly nod, closing the notebook and handing it back to him. “Thank you for allowing me to see your artwork, Mister Kirstein.”

“It’s just Jean,” he said, grabbing his notebook and standing up with you. He tucks the leather bound book under his arm, bowing his head slightly. “Someone as posh and fancy as you shouldn’t be givin’ me titles like Mister.”

“Of course.” You gently bite the inside of your cheek, smoothing out your dress. “Well, I thank you anyway. And I suppose we shall see if we run into each other again on this boat.”

Jean gives one nod. “Maybe we will.”

You noticed that his responses were curt, and you took that as your cue to bow your head and walk away from him.

As you walked past a few people on your way back to your room, you noticed some giving you a glance, and you prayed to God that they wouldn’t let anything slip.

—

You giggled with Jean as you entered your room, closing and locking the door behind you after you made sure no one had seen you.

Apparently the wrong crowd had seen you two together when you were looking at his drawings. That had led to a lovely dinner with your family and fiancé which led to another series of events that had reconciled the two of you.

You remember being slightly buzzed when you asked if he could draw you, but he agreed nonetheless. He waited until there was no alcohol in your system and no one you knew was around before he asked if you still wanted him to draw you. You had nodded, following him to his cramped room before grabbing him by the hand and dragging him back to yours.

You weren’t exactly trying to be sneaky anymore, but you were still cautious of who was watching.

Jean stood in the center of your room in awe, mouth agape as he looked at the intricate wallpaper and fancy light fixtures and beautiful paintings leaning against couches.

“Is the lighting alright?” you asked, taking a step closer him him.

He hummed in question, closing his mouth and turning his head to you. “Oh, yes, yes. It’s fine. Perfect, actually, uhm…” He nodded once. “Yeah.”

You could tell he was nervous, but you weren’t sure why. It’s not like this was your first time alone together, and you certainly knew he had no problem sneaking around with you.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded again, averting his gaze to one of your paintings. “Is that Pixis?”

Your eyes followed as he stepped in the direction he was looking, noticing the mostly gray and red painting.

“Yes. You know him?” You stepped behind him, leaning over as he crouched down and softly touched the edge.

“I love his work. He was a Chief Official in the French army before he passed. He painted in his free time and most o’ his work depicts his time on the battlefield. There’s one he painted of giant beasts that he saw in his dreams.”

Jean’s eyes swept over the painting once more before he stood up, turning to you. “So, anything you want to be drawn by? Or with?”

It took you a moment to register what exactly he was asking about. You had been admiring his amazed expression, lost in the way his lips slightly curved while looking at your paintings.

You nodded. “Yes, give me just a moment and I’ll grab it.”

Jean nodded, softly scratching the back of his neck and looking around as you retreated to your sleeping quarters and opened the closet door.

You turned the dial on the safe to open it, retrieving the black box Eren had put in it at the beginning of the trip. You hesitated a moment, looking at the rock on your finger before taking it off and leaving it in the safe.

You returned to Jean, watching for just a moment as he admired another painting you had. Your approaching footsteps brought his attention to you, and when he turned he saw you opening the box.

You handed it to him, watching as he gingerly lifted the expensive necklace and looked at it in the light.

“This is a real nice necklace. Probably worth more than I am.” He softly laughed, glancing at you as he placed the box down on a side table. He lifted the necklace again, looking at it closely. “What is it, sapphire?”

“Diamond,” you replied, stepping closer to him. Your side pressed against his, and you felt him tense up slightly. “I want you to draw me wearing it.”

He briefly glanced at you again before looking back at the necklace. “Alright. Where?”

“Wearing only that.”

Jean paused, turning his head to look at you after the words left your mouth. He raised a brow, as if to ask if you were sure about your decision.

“I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. The dancers.”

You watched as the corner of his lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. He placed the necklace back on top of the box, running a hand over his face. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He allowed his lips to curl into a charming smile as he gave you a once over before nodding. “Alright. What room?”

You gently grabbed his hand, leading him into the room next to yours and turning on the lights.

“Whatever pose you’d like,” you said. “Any lighting you’d like, as well. I only want you to draw me.”

He smiled down at you, handing you the necklace. “That I can do. Wanna undress here or should I wait?”

He softly laughed at your expression, gently patting your shoulder. “I’m only kiddin’. Go get ready while I set up.”

His hand traveled from your shoulder to your wrist, and he gently lifted your hand to his lips. He left a soft kiss on your knuckles, not breaking eye contact before he winked and walked further into the room.

While you undressed you heard something scraping around in the other room, stopping after a couple moments. You assumed Jean was moving around furniture and liked where he had placed it.

When you finished you slipped on a robe, tying it around the waist so it didn’t fall open before you wanted it to. You clasped the necklace around your neck, adjusting it so the large diamond sat in the middle.

When you walked back to the room Jean was sharpening a piece of charcoal. The fireplace had been lit, allowing an ethereal glow to outline him as he worked. You took a moment to admire him before he noticed you.

He softly smiled, his eyes sweeping over you as he stood straighter and put his blade down. You walked over to him, taking graceful steps.

“The last thing I need is another portrait where I look like a delicate flower. I want you to draw me as you see me, Jean.” You smiled at him, showing him the quarter held between your fingers. “And as a paying customer, I expect to receive what I ask for.”

Jean softly laughs as you place the quarter on the table. “And what if I see you as a delicate flower?”

“I know you don’t. Why do you think I asked you to draw me?” You watched him laugh in shock as you winked, taking a step back and seating yourself of the edge of the couch. "How should I pose myself?"

Jean looked you up and down, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. "Laying down," he said after a few moments.

You nodded, untying your robe and slipping it off your shoulders. You draped it on the arm of the sofa, turning your gaze toward Jean.

You watched as his eyes swept over you, trailing the edge of your shoulder as you laid back. He took you in for a moment, mouth slightly agape and eyes sparkling in awe.

He softly shook his head, bringing himself out of his trance as he gave you a once over again. "Life your arms above your head," he said, returning to that same thinking look you loved.

You did as he said, and when he stood from the chair and stepped forward to adjust your pose your breath softly hitched. You felt his warm hands along your arms, gently moving them to his will. You took a moment to admire his own face, the straight slope of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw. His lips looked soft, and you wondered for a moment what they might feel like against your skin.

He stepped back, crossing his arms as he assessed the pose he'd put you in before nodding to himself and sitting back down.

"Alright, don't move," he softly said. You nodded, which made him softly chuckle. "I said don't move."

"Well that was hardly moving," you replied, but a smile spread across your lips anyway.

You watched as he picked up a piece of charcoal and began drawing soft lines across the sheet of parchment. You watched the way his eyes followed the pencil, flicking between you and the drawing. The light coming from the fireplace made his irises glow, making them a beautiful honey color.

You watch as his long and elegant fingers move across the page, eventually staining themselves with the dark charcoal. You remember the many times he had lightly touched you, lingering for longer than he needed to. You remember how warm his hands were, and when you tried hard enough you could imagine they were on you again.

You're not sure who starts the conversation, but most of the time he draws is spent talking. The two of you exchange life stories. You tell him about your upbringing and the people you knew as a child and teenager and he tells you about his.

The entire conversation put into perspective how different the worlds you came from are, but you can't help but think that you were meant to find each other.

He stands when he finished, grabbing your robe from where it was draped and handing it to you. He only shows you the portrait once the robe is tied around you once again.

He's signing and dating it when you come up behind him, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. You softly smile at it when he puts his drawing materials down, turning your head to leave a soft kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," you say.

He turns, your faces barely touching as he gazes into your eyes. "You're welcome."

He leans forward, leaving a quick, chaste peck on your lips.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! she doesn't have a tumblr account but she is amazing and I wish her the happiest year yet

also, should I make this into an au? idk I kinda liked it

anyways I hope you all enjoyed. as always likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated so please do that!

-Izzy <3

TAGGING: if you'd like to be notified whenever I write for Jean please comment or DM!

#izzy’s imagines ❀ #attack on titan #aot #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirstein #jean aot #jean kirschtein #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #jean attack on titan #jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein imagine

[larvaem1lk]

ellie williams x reader <3

idk what to title this but it’s something!

🦋 no warnings i don't think... just like one curse word & kissing ooohhhmygosh

🦋 thank u thank u to anyone who reads this & i hope u like it! :-*

“i was just—so fucking outta my mind. and then that’s when i found you and we got crazy drunk and i don’t even drink! but, i don’t regret it ‘cause, well… that’s when you kissed me.” you looked to the floor bashfully after your sentence, warmth rising to your cheeks as you felt a little flustered when the event from last night’s party came to mind. you barely remember anything else, apart from the sweaty crowds, loud music, and… kissing ellie, of course.

“kiss? i kissed you?” she asks, raising her brows like the concept was the most unbelievable thing ever to be voiced. she leans forward to take the joint from between your fingers, and you watch as she raises it to her lips. her lips. the same ones that were on yours the night before. the memory causes tingles to prick in your own.

“yes, you kissed me.” you lean back against the couch, crossing your arms. her eyes narrow as she exhales, a cloudy puff of smoke fogging your vision. 

she mirrors you, leaning back further into her own spot, brows pinching inward like she's in deep thought. “hmm… you sure it wasn’t the other way around?”

you scoff as you roll your eyes, snatching the joint from her fingers. “no i’m pretty sure it was you who kissed me.” you inhale slowly, maintaining eye contact with the freckled girl in front of you. something strange was in her eyes, an unusual type of shimmer within the emerald rings you’d never seen before in all your time knowing her. it was teasing, yet subtle, like whatever she was thinking was too shy to come out. 

when you exhale, your mind is fuzzy, and you’re feeling too floaty to notice that this time, she watches the smoke escape from your lips. your lips, the ones her eyes linger on for a little longer than they should. 

“okay, but, there were a lotta people at that party y’know. did i really kiss you?”

ellie watches the way your lips upturn into a grin and only looks back up to your eyes when you nudge her arm playfully. she chuckles as she leans back from the action but mostly at the way she can hear the obvious annoyance in your voice. “ellie! are you actually serious right now?” 

“just sayin’,” she shrugs and tries to hide her smile by taking another hit. this time the hit is longer than usual, and there’s a brief moment of silence before she exhales the smoke away from your face.

“you seriously don’t remember?” you ask, a hint of disappointment in your tone. that kiss was all you could think about, and if she really didn’t remember you’d feel dumb for getting this far into the conversation. ellie was aware of this, feeling a little guilty for playing dumb. of course she remembered that kiss, kissing you, all of it. you had no idea how long she had been waiting to kiss you, after what seemed like an eternity of lighthearted flirting and small teasing touches. trying to strictly stay as ‘friends’. even though both of you were highly intoxicated last night, she still enjoyed it just as much. but it was fun messing with you, so she’d hold this one out for a little longer. 

ellie shrugs. “i dunno… i mean, last night was a blur.”

you frown, suddenly feeling embarrassed. your eyes meet the ground again as you pick at your nail. “oh. well, okay.”

“hey, come on, stop that. i just… need a little more help remembering.” ellie chuckles, and she knows she shouldn’t be since you’re upset, but that wouldn’t last long anyway. she shuffles in her spot, reaching to the table nearby as she stubs out the joint. 

you sit up straighter, eyes flickering to hers quickly as you smile. “oh really? how?”

“well, y’know,” she scoots closer to you. “just gotta get close enough for it,”

she sits there and looks between your eyes. they were glossy and pink, and she thought you couldn’t look any prettier right now. ellie’s eyes were the same, but now there was a stronger gleam of seduction in them, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your core at the sight. you’re pretty sure you could count all the freckles on her face right there, and maybe even swim in the pale green pools of her eyes if you tried. but you don’t think too much about that. the two of you sitting in stillness, admiring each other’s features, until you speak up.  

 “um, we’re pretty close, y’know.”

she smiles, her voice raising in pitch as she moves forward even in the little space there is left. “i think we needa be a littleee closer,”

you scoot closer till your knees are touching and all you can do is stare into her eyes. you’re sure you can hear your heartbeat’s rapid pulse in your ears, but you don’t care. you were high, hazy, and even a little bit horny too. all that floats and twirls around in your mind is ellie, ellie, ellie, and it’s as if you can hear it on replay, echoing with reverb as your eyes become heavier and heavier. 

“i think this is where you kiss me now.” she says softly, and you almost don’t hear her. her breath was warm and ticklish against your lips, and you’d never wanted to kiss someone so badly before.

you tease, “no, where you kiss me,” she rolls her eyes before muttering ‘shut up’ as she presses her lips into yours. 

when your lips meet, it’s as if sparkles and butterflies flutter all around you. they are warm and soft, and also slightly chapped but the roughness is nice. the effect of the both of you being high makes everything feel frenetic and surreal, but it's so so good.

as the kiss becomes needier, you feel the coolness of her palm cup your jaw. you accidentally let out a small whimper when she intertwines her fingers into your hair, the sensation on your scalp somehow soothing an itch you didn't know was there, yet it's mostly felt in your stomach.

ellie smirks gently against your lips at the sound of need that slips from your mouth, and the more you kiss, the more desire sizzles in your gut. this kiss definitely wasn’t like the night before.

things become rougher, and you're both panting into each other's mouths now, chasing after one another. you don’t even notice the way ellie is pushing you onto your back until you feel the way she slots her knee between your thighs to keep them open.

you place your hands on her shoulders, and the warmth of her tongue trying to enter your mouth makes you feel hot all over, combined with the growing ache in your stomach and it’s all too much. you don’t even mean to, but you pull away breathlessly, and ellie eyes stay on your plump lips, smirking at the thread of drool that trailed when you two parted.

“did—do you—do you remember now?” you scramble out, and ellie merely smiles. her hands are now on either side of your head, and she can't help but love the sight of you below her. your chest was heaving up and down, your lips were puffy and shiny from spit, and there were those gorgeous pink eyes again, glossy and heavy; threatening to close on her.

“mm, not really. can we try again?” she whispers, and you don’t even have a chance to respond before her lips are back on yours.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams fluff

[mister-eames]

dunno whether this was asked from you before but you HAVETO tell us how eames reacted the first time upon hearing the way Arthur performed the kick in zero gravity!! smooched his liddol face me thinks!

Frankly, Eames hadn't given any thought to the particular physics of the second level until it's brought up.

It's three months after Robert Fischer announced the dissolution of Fisher-Morrow and the team have collectively come out of hiding for a debrief.

Arthur looks resplendent, comfortably dressed for the Los Angeles heat in slacks and a simple oxford, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. From what everyone has heard, Arthur has been on sabbatical since the job ended. His cheeks are fuller and the perpetual frown pursing his lips has all but disappeared. Sabbatical looks good on him. Everyone says so.

What they don't know is that Arthur has been on sabbatical with Eames.

With the help of alcohol and reminiscing with good company Arthur's eyes have soft, an arm hooked lazily over the back of his dining chair, occasionally lifting a flute of champagne to his lips as he listens to everyone recount their version of events, offering a laugh or interjection every now and then. Mostly, he's quiet.

That is, until Ariadne mentions waking up in an elevator in the hotel level.

"-- hey, why were we in the elevator, anyway?" she asks.

"Had to improvise after we missed the first kick," Arthur says, gesturing to Yusuf with his glass. "After this one went over the bridge we all were in zero gravity."

"How did you create a drop without gravity?"

Eames leans forward, interested.

Arthur smirks. Then he starts with, "Well..."

From there the untold story unspools. Of losing gravity. Of the projections. Of Arthur bundling them all up together and rigging the elevator with the explosives. Arthur tells the story clinically, as if it's tedious to tell. Eames doesn't quite catch all the details, something the count of the music and mathematics and something about velocity, but what he doesn't understand most is Arthur boredly sipping at his drink like he's not recounting the most impressive feat of ingenuity that Eames has ever heard.

"That's smart as hell, Arthur," Ariadne says, visibly impressed. "There's no way I would have come up with that."

"It's just physics," Arthur says, unhooking his arm from the back of the chair, sitting up much straighter.

"You saved our asses."

"That's why he's the best," Cobb says, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes through with another plate of finger food. The conversation moves on to Yusuf's driving and potentially useful applications of upper-level effects of lower-level dreams.

Arthur though, engaged in the shifting conversation, somehow seems to become quieter than before.

Eames kicks him from under the table.

Arthur's face swivels to him. For a split-second Eames sees the echoes of long-gone panic in his stare, shadows of darker memories that Eames had no idea about. They all messed up in that job, one way or another, but if Eames knows anything about Arthur, it's that he's probably the only one still bearing that burden of blame, still stuck on those mistakes, despite their success.

The frown is back. Eames doesn't like that one bit.

He kicks him again. The frown wobbles before Arthur kicks him back, hard.

Shin stinging like a motherfucker, Eames grins at him and covers it by raising his glass to the team.

"To never driving with Yusuf again."

Everyone raises their glasses, clinking them together in cheers.

---

Eames disappears out the back for a smoke at some point later as the night is winding down. The Cobb kids are at their grandparents but their toys and bikes litter the backyard. Cicadas buzz loudly in the warm Californian air, settling into a kind of white noise one might find relaxing after enough time here.

Pleasantly warm, the smell of neighbours barbecuing in the air, Eames can understand, in this moment, why one might retreat to suburbia and end up staying there.

"Thought you were gonna quit," Arthur says from behind him.

He vaguely recalls that declaration. A drunk night on a Thailand beach. There are only two lies Arthur and Eames has ever told each other. Quitting smoking is one of them.

Eames passes him the cigarette and watches him take a deep drag.

"You never told me," he says

Arthur exhales the smoke as he speaks. "About what?"

"The elevator trick."

Three months, Eames stares straight ahead into the starless night sky. Three months they've spent in each others company and it never occurred to Eames to ask if there was trouble afoot on the hotel level. Or for Arthur to mention. Far be it from Arthur to ever brag about his accomplishments, though he suspects Arthur does not consider it to be such.

Arthur shrugs, pinching the filter to take the last drag. He puts it out on the porch rail.

"Wasn't a big deal."

"You saved our hides."

"I did my job."

"It was genius," Eames doesn't let him off the hook, "I'm impressed."

"Your condescension, Eames, is--" Arthur pauses, visibly arrested in his search for words. He clicks his fingers, thinking aloud, "--what was it you said -- was it 'noted'?"

Eames would never call himself an openly truthful man if he can help it, and certainly not an effusive one, prone to flowery and effervescent statements of the heart. Rarely does anyone make him want to be that kind of man.

Arthur, however, has always been the exception.

So it's only out of habit that Eames swallows down the most heartfelt words at the base of his throat, the ones that are too honest for this open space, for this thing between them that they have reignited and is still growing, like saplings emerging from the ash after a wildfire.

Taking hold of Arthur's chin with one hand, tilting his head to look at Eames, he says softly, "Appreciated."

Keeping firm hold, Eames leans in and places a short, sharp kiss on Arthurs lips. Then another.

"Where do you want to go after this?" asks Arthur, sinking into the touch.

"The hotel, I suppose."

"No," Arthur shakes his head, guiding Eames grip to his waist. "I mean after."

They've been moving from one city to another every few weeks, following wherever they felt like visiting on the slightest whim. Once, in Phuket, Arthur said, I kinda feel like authentic soba and two days later they were eating authentic soba in a tiny restaurant in the outskirts of Kyoto. After that it was Prague. After that it was Exmouth.

But something about Arthur's tone, the clutch of his fingers on Eames' wrist says that maybe his stomach is settled on something else. It gives Eames pause. Arthur is done running away.

And maybe Eames has had enough of running, too. It's worth a try, isn't it?

"Maybe New York a while," he says. "Then London, after."

Arthur nods.

"Then it's a plan."

"But," Arthur's voice deepens on a whisper, his feet shuffling in between Eames as he guides Eames' hands lower on his ass, "hotel first,"

"Yes," Eames agrees solemnly, squeezing. "It's been a while since we've had sex in this city."

"Too much info," says Dom from the doorway.

Dom raises the beer in his hand to his chest protectively, as if he'd caught the two of them in a scandalous state of dishabille. The moth-speckled, yellow porch light does a marvellous job of bringing out the green in his face and the sweat beading his forehead.

"Come now Cobb," Eames says affably, disentangling himself from Arthur, "you paid for the hotel, you must be glad we're getting proper use of it."

"No. No, I'm not."

"Getting the most bang out of your buck?" Eames continues.

"Stop."

Arthur slips an arm around Eames waist and says, deadpan, "I guess you could say we're looking to engage in some... Californication while we're here."

Eames loves him impossibly.

"Stop," Dom shudders, batting a moth away as slips back inside. He yells out, "I'm calling you both a taxi. You both can leave."

They briefly turn to each other with twin mischievous smirks before heading back inside. Just for one more drink. Then, the hotel. Then, the rest of their lives.

#eames always want to be smoochin that liddol face and those are facts #nolan told me so #inception #arthur x eames #i have been Unwell so this took a hot sec to reply to thanks for ur patience <3

[visions--of--collisions]

EXCERPT: but you're gonna need some help (outta those) [spiderverse, hobie brown/miles morales, rated e: pink suit-inspired pwp]

Miles’ arm moves against his ribs, and the both of them gasp a bit at the space that appears between them when he retracts his web. It pulls Hobie out most of the way, but he grits his teeth against the sensitivity as it sets in, coaxing Miles to tighten his arms and legs around him. He crawls backwards slowly until he can feel the floor with his toes, unsticks from the wall, and promptly slumps to the ground. ‘Hobes!’ Miles yelps, startled, still kind of breathless, and then: ‘Hobie …’ More of a complaint, this time, but Hobie can hear the lightness and he capitalises on it, twisting and tipping forward until Miles is on his back under him with Hobie’s clinging arms pinned between him and the floor. ‘Man …’

The laugh creaks out of Hobie, rusty like a hinge, and he plants a sucking kiss on the soft skin below Miles’ ear before propping himself up on his forearms. Miles is still kind of in his lap, legs spread around Hobie’s hips, but he looks up at Hobie like he’s not the one who’s pinned. Hobie flutters his eyelashes at him, grinning stupidly. Miles groans; he scrubs at his eyes and stretches, blinking down at himself. He makes a face. It’s a goddamn mess between them, right from where their cocks lie softening to the collar of Miles’ rucked-up sweatshirt. The less said about the situation around their thighs, the better.

He lifts up the hem, mouth pursed. Miles pauses when Hobie’s eyes track the movement; he shoots him a disbelieving look. ‘You know I’m gonna be wearing this every day, right?’ he points out.

‘Fine by me,’ Hobie growls, with only slightly exaggerated interest. Miles groans again, wrestling with the hem, and Hobie laughs as he helps him work it up and off over his head. ‘Ay, shush. We can call it exposure therapy, yeah?’ One corner of his mouth twitches higher than the other when Miles gives him a hairy eyeball as he rolls the sweatshirt down  his arms and tosses it aside. Hobie gives him a minute to take stock in peace, very tactfully ignoring the dampness smeared across his chest, keeping any observations about how good or not a look that’s just gloves and web shooters may be to himself. 

The crease in Miles’ forehead is a less welcome sight, all told. ‘You good?’

Miles blinks. He looks at Hobie’s face and leaves off his fumbling with the clasp of his web shooter to smooth a hand down his shoulder, kissing his teeth around a smile. ‘Yeah, I’m good! I’m great,’ he adds, huffing with quiet laughter. Hobie tilts his head at him, mostly convinced, and Miles goes back to undoing the clasp. He leaves the cuff off to the side and flexes his gloved fingers thoughtfully. ‘I dunno, I just - I can’t figure out if I want these shorter or not.’

‘Is it?’ Hobie frowns and carefully extracts his arms to reach for Miles’ other hand. The clinging fabric has mostly stayed in place despite the tension Miles’ web must have put on it, but he smooths it out anyways, considering. ‘Looks pretty good as is, from here,’ he offers. The callus on his thumb catches on the fastening of Miles’ web shooter when he unthinkingly strokes the underside of his wrist.

Miles hums as he watches Hobie take it off and lay it beside the other. He’s visibly conflicted. ‘It’ll mess with the line of the suit,’ he points out.

‘Could make ‘em a feature,’ Hobie suggests. He narrows his eyes, trying to picture how that might look with a Miles-specific twist. It’s been a minute since he’s used his spraypaint signature, outside of the Spider symbol …

Miles’ eyebrows arch toward his hairline at that. ‘Well …’ When Hobie looks at him curiously, he gnaws on his lip before continuing: ‘Margo had this idea, for like - a short-sleeved suit. Since, I mean, I’ll be wearing the sweater overtop anyways, so it’s not like anyone’s gonna know until I lose it. And that’ll be pretty tricky with the way the cuff’s elasticated around …’

Hobie perks up. ‘Oh, you mean your sweater paws?’

There’s a faint thunk as Miles drops his head to the floor. He immediately looks so put upon that Hobie knows it’s not the first time he’s heard this. ‘You don’t - that’s not … I can’t …’

He props his cheek on his fist. ‘Damn, Mags already beat me to it? That’s humiliating.’

Miles knocks him in the side with his leg. ‘Yeah, you should feel bad. Derivative,’ he accuses. ‘Inauthentic. Ain’t a drop of originality between you.’

‘Alright now …’

Miles opens his mouth, but he looks at Hobie’s bemused face and immediately seems to run out of steam. He sighs gustily, instead. ‘She won’t change the filename back,’ he complains. ‘Ugh. Lemme up.’

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#fanfic #spiderverse #punkflower #ON IT BOSS #this is post-orgasm number three fyi. i'm dithering over a fourth #10th anniversary suit #asks and things

[tunastime]

For the writing prompt thingy- #15 Rendoc? /nf

15. dearest / ache (x) (777 words)

Doc is making coffee. Ren is standing behind him. He isn’t sure why. That is, until Ren lets his head fall forward, colliding with the cold metal curve of Doc’s right shoulder. His coffee cup sloshes, but doesn’t spill. 

“Mrrmmgg,” Ren says.

“Riveting.” Doc stirs sugar, no cream, into the coffee. It’s just enough to round it out. It’s cheap coffee, company issue. He can’t complain.

“Ugh,” Ren supplies, as if it clarifies anything. Doc sighs, turning as much as Ren’s slouch will allow him. Ren’s head shifts from his shoulder blade to his shoulder. He’s frowning, deeply, eyes screwed shut as they stand together.

“Alright. What’s up?”

Ren raises his arm weakly. Doc watches the mechanisms whirr in the gaps of the metal as Ren flexes his fingers. Ren pulls in a breath through his teeth when he bends and sets the arm back limp by his side.

“My arm hurts, man. It aches,” he whines. He sounds particularly pathetic, which is half the reason why Doc fixes him with such a look of sympathy. It’s hard sometimes to understand what goes on inside Ren’s head, but his expression makes it clear enough that Doc feels it in his chest.

“Oh?” Doc sets his cup down. “Part of it, or...?”

“I dunno,” Ren sighs. When Doc glances down to look at him, he can see tired lines under his eyes. He doesn’t remember if Ren slept last night. “Enough of it for me to not want to move, that’s what.”

“Well, let me see,” he holds out his hand, waiting for Ren to unhook it or pass it to him. Instead he lifts his whole arm and sets his elbow in his palm and doesn’t move from his spot at his shoulder. Doc turns his wrist, smoothing his thumbs over the metal surface. “Is it working okay?”

Ren finally lifts his head to look at him and his shoulders sag. 

“It feels stiff,” he complains, mostly in a huff.

“Ah. Like it wont move right?” Doc frowns. Ren nods.

“Mhm.”

“Let’s see,” he lets go of Ren’s arm, lowering it to his side. He turns away for only a moment in their cramped little space. There are tools somewhere beneath papers and cups and half finished ready-to-eat meals. When he glances around again, Ren is still standing where he left him, holding his arm in his hand. His ears twitch, pinned back against his head. Doc waves at him. “Sit, sit.”

Ren startles, turning in a circle before he finds a chair to sit down in.

“I’m sitting, I’m sitting,” he says, laughing to himself.

Doc keeps searching for the shulker he knows has his good pliers. He ducks below the desk with the coffee pot on top and spots the purple shell, reaching for it. He finally manages to catch the lip.

“How about we take it off?” he asks Ren as he turns. Ren grumbles.

“Because then I have to get used to it again.”

Doc laughs, and though Ren doesn’t look pleased, the tension in his face softens a bit.

“You’ll be alright, it won’t be more than a few hours. How about that?”

“Fine, fine,” Ren complains tiredly. “But I’m watching you work.”

He turns so that Doc can unclasp the metal arm from his shoulder. He folds up his shirt sleeve for him, glancing away as Doc works to release it. It’s a familiar pattern, one they’ve done quite often. When the metal is too heavy to carry, Ren will leave the arm in his care, let him fix it, let him rework it. Renbob helps, sometimes, and Doc bets that it's a sight for sore eyes, to see them fussing over something of Ren’s. Ren stretches up with his good arm, sighing as he does. The arm comes loose with a click. Doc sets it down on the work table and flips on the pale light hanging over it. 

As he starts to work, Ren shuffles forward in his chair, eventually resting his chin against Doc’s shoulder. He feels him hum in greeting, and inclines his head in acknowledgement.

Doc lets him sit beside him, a comforting and familiar weight on his shoulder. Ren watches him work for a long time, unlatching the main mechanisms, readjusting the wheels and wires, laying redstone and grease. There’s a half stuck release mechanism that he manages to unhook, and the joints move quiet and precise. He sets down his pliers after a long moment, a long stretch of silence between them. He flexes his fingers. When he turns his head, he rests his chin on Ren’s head.

“Ren, you okay, dude?” he asks. Ren doesn’t reply. “Ren?” 

Ren’s shoulders rise and fall slowly. His ears twitch, just for a second. He lies heavy on Doc’s shoulder, not moving, not stirring. Doc leans into him, smiling.

“Oh, Ren...” Doc sighs. “if you needed a nap that badly, you should have said something. Silly.”

#ANON IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG #at ur behest: them #rendoc #rendog #docm77 #hermitshipping #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #mcyt #mcyt fic #renthedog #in hc8 they r married and in love i refuse to believe otherwise #they r now bitter exes #this is a joke i promise #but seriously i've never written them before and i actually kind of loved learning their dynamic #i apologize if it's not perfect!! #i had to rewatch the beginning of s8 omg

[miracleonice87]

“You know his lap is also available as a seat, right?” with Mathew Barzal (feat. Matthew and Sydney Esiason Martin) - requested by my dearest @kerwritesthings

from the two year tumblrversary prompt list

a/n: I am fully aware that I've written a blurb with a v similar premise, but I'm a sucker for Syd and Marty meddling in their friends' love lives, so I give zero effs. hope y'all enjoy!

warnings: swearing, alcohol

_____

Sydney had lured you to the house tonight under the guise of picking her up for a dinner date, potentially one of your last before she gave birth to their second baby. When you pulled up the drive and spotted a blue and orange balloon arch outlining the front door, you were puzzled, but assumed Matt might be having some sort of pre-season team activity for the guys while you and Sydney were gone for the night.

You pushed open the door to the familiar sounds of Jax barking a few times before he realized who was here, and Winnie squealing as she ran toward you. 

“Hi, Winnie girl!” you squealed back in greeting, bending down to scoop up the little blonde beauty, push her hair back from her forehead, and give her a kiss, while she did her best to wrap her little arms around your neck as she excitedly babbled your name. 

“Oh, good, you’re here!” Sydney said from the kitchen, crossing the room in bare feet and a casual jeans outfit to give you a quick hug before nodding toward the spread of food on the countertops. “Will you give me a hand with the charcuterie board?”

“We’re not going out?” you asked, confused and feeling overdressed in your pale blue ruched bodycon dress meant for a night on the town. Meanwhile, Winnie wriggled down the front of you and ran back to her previous project, scribbling in a Bluey coloring book on the coffee table.

“Nope, sorry, can’t tonight, forgot to tell ya!” Sydney chirped rapidly, throwing her stunning smile back at you over her shoulder as she walked toward the fridge. “Team event tonight. Was hoping you could help me hostess?” 

You furrowed your brow as you followed her. “If it’s a team event then why am I invited?” you asked, unenthused.

Sydney shrugged as she retrieved more cheese from the fridge, but you didn’t miss the ornery look on her face. “I dunno, maybe because a certain center specifically asked me if you’d be here?” She finally made eye contact with you, bit her bottom lip, and extended her hands in a “surprise!” motion. 

You let your forehead fall against the pantry door. “Sydneyyy!” you whined. 

You could legit throw a fit right now. Syd was famous for this shit. 

There was nothing going on between you and Mat (or so you spent your days trying to convince yourself). It was all nervous glances across the table while out celebrating a big win with the group, and laughing a bit too loudly at the other’s jokes, and light touches on your back as he moved around you in a busy bar, and replying to one another’s Instagram stories with reactions and simple emojis… and mostly it was neither of you ever, ever finding the nerve to make a damn move. 

Yes, to be certain, your and Mat’s history was a short one – shorter than you (or Syd, or Matt, or even Mat himself, though unbeknownst to you) would prefer. So, maybe, because you always looked forward to seeing Mat, no matter how awkward the two of you could be around each other, you didn’t completely hate this idea after all, but you couldn’t let Syd know that. 

“Did you tell him I was going to be here tonight, or did he ask?” you inquired, folding your arms over your chest. “Big difference.”

Sydney shook her head furiously. “No, he seriously asked,” she insisted. “Trust me, I’d lie to you about a lot of things – for your own good, of course – but never that.”

You sighed, washed your hands, then turned back to an expectant Sydney. “Hand me the fucking olives,” you grumbled as she excitedly passed you the jar, a smile too smug for your liking on her lips. 

_____

Hours later as the sun set, casting an orange glow over the backyard, you surveyed the scene, which now seemed much less like an official team event and much more like a gathering of Matt and Sydney’s friends, all of whom happened to play hockey, and their significant others. You fell into neither of those categories (though it certainly wasn’t for Sydney’s lack of trying), but filled the role of “assistant hostess” well – directing new players to the bathroom, tidying the kitchen even as people filtered in and out, and refreshing drinks and bowls of snacks. It was on one of those trips to the kitchen and back to replenish the tortilla chip bowl and grab another drink when a five-beers-deep Matthew Martin decided to pipe up as he watched you scan the crowded patio for an empty chair.

“You know Mat’s lap is also available as a seat, right?”

You sucked your teeth and turned to glower at your best-friend-in-law. He was officially worse than his wife. 

After shooting him a glare that would kill a weaker man, you slowly turned back to spot an equally embarrassed Mathew Barzal, a flush creeping up his (thick, muscular… not that you noticed) neck under his (well-fitting, more attractive than it should be… not that you noticed) black t-shirt. 

However, Mat recovered much more quickly than you, and you assumed it had to be the liquid courage when he raised his brows, patted his knee, and gave you a half-shrug – an open invitation in front of all of his teammates and friends. 

Impressed by the bold move, his captain let out a wolf-whistle, though many of the guys were too lost in their own conversations or distracted by the loud music and yard games to notice, but you could certainly see Matt’s beaming smile out of the corner of your eye. 

And you didn’t know whether it was your own liquid courage, Mat’s invitation, or your own chutzpah, but you suddenly found your feet moving across the patio toward him, casting him your biggest and flirtiest smile, and patting his chiseled knee as you took your rightful place atop his massive quads. Your heart raced and your skin was warm, but you tried to play it cool, clearing your throat and asking, “So, what’d I miss, gentlemen?”

Anders, Matt, and Pelly, who was also nearby, tried their best to lift their jaws off the floor and regain their focus, shocked by your audacious actions. If they were honest, they could barely remember what they were talking about, and as you lifted your beer bottle to your lips with a smirk, you took pleasure in their bewilderment. 

Then, you heard a deep voice immediately behind you. “The Kadri signing,” Mat prompted. “You were talking about Naz going to Calgary.” 

Matt coughed slightly, nodding. “Uh, yeah, right, right… Yeah, I can’t believe it took him so long to…”

And after that, all that was said was lost on you, because all you could concentrate on was the gentle touch caressing your bare back for where your dress left plenty of skin on display. You angled yourself just slightly toward Mat to face him, and you wrinkled your nose flirtatiously.

“I’m glad you came over here,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Who would’ve known Marty’s meddling would actually do some good?”

You chuckled, resting a hand on his toned chest. “Yeah… he’s gonna take credit for this, but it’s about damn time one of us made a move, hmm?” you said, cocking your head. He nodded slowly, curling some hair behind your ear as he leaned up to kiss you. You were immediately so far gone, so lost in him, that you could just barely hear the catcalls from around the yard.

#m's 2 year tumblrversary #blurbs #requests #my writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal #matt martin #sydney esiason martin #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal fic #mathew barzal fanfiction #mathew barzal fanfic #mathew barzal fic #new york islanders fanfiction #new york islanders fanfic

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 35*

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You blow Seb lol

Author’s Note: Quick warning, y/n unironically calls Seb “daddy” in this one ^^” It only happens once, and I don’t think I’ll be doing it again, but it felt right for the moment.

For those of you who aren’t into it – Seb’s a super cute soft dom during the scene, which will hopefully make it worth the read!

Enjoy and take care x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

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After recharging for a bit, Seb and I went back into the market to check out some of the stalls we missed. Mostly the shop-oriented ones, rather than games or the food tents. 

I finally got him a cooler ash tray for my place. The tray itself is just made out of some kinda stone; what made it look neat enough for me to snag is that it looks like it’s being held by a skeletal hand made of tungsten. 

We got a matching set of earrings too: they’re studs made from fire quartz. Kinda blobby looking, but the color is nice and we thought it would be a good way to commemorate our new fish son. Seb only has his gauges right now, but he’s been wanting to get some more holes poked into his ears, so this helped incentivize that a bit.

Since we got back to his house so late – around 1am – and Cannoli was found safely cuddled up and sleeping with Maru in her bed, Seb said I could just spend the night here. It’s rare I get to do this since I’m usually so worried about leaving Cannoli home alone overnight. Feels weird, but in a good way!

The first thing we did upon arrival was toss Gerard’s new bowl onto one of Seb’s bookshelves – we made a space for it next to his Cave Saga X collection – and transferred the (thankfully still living!) betta in. Then, after a relaxing shower together to wash our days and some sand away, Seb changed into some pajama pants, while I stole one of his tees with a pair of clean boxers. I was just about to cuddle up in his bed when I realized Seb wasn’t following. 

“What’re you doing?”

“I still have some work I didn’t get to finish today.”

“Bro!” I frown. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve just done this all another time, or like, did something less time consuming, or something… I dunno.” 

“What?” He’s pretending he didn’t hear me. I can tell by the dumb raise of his bushy eyebrows, and the way he’s biting back a smirk.

“I said that you’re a bitch.”

“Ouchies. Ya got me there.”

“Shut up,” I laugh, hugging one of his pillows to myself. “I’m staying up with you, then.”

“Why?”

“To keep you company.” Realizing maybe he doesn’t want the company, I shy away a little, looking down and fiddling with my new necklace. “I-if you want me to. I can just leave you be, if you need it, too.”

I hear him huff out a laugh, and look up to see him eyeballing me. “Get your cute ass over here,” Seb orders.

I plop down at his other PC, shifting the keyboard forward so I can lean on the desk. I have my phone with me, and I could play Toontown or something if I wanted, but I can’t help but just stare at the topless emo for a little bit. At his wet hair dripping down onto his scarred ivory skin; the blue glow of the screen against his slender face and soft muscles; the way he gnaws his lip in concentration, as his skilled fingers zoom across his keyboard.

“Like what y’see?” Seb teases. He must’ve seen me from his peripherals. His cheeks are pink as his eyes flicker between me and his screen.

A blush coats my own face as I nod and lazily whisper, “You’re so hot…” 

I’m getting sleepy, but I’m getting sooo horny too.

“Eh, I’m a little chilly, actually.”

“You suck,” I smile. 

Hm… suck… The gears are turning in my sleepy, horny brain. 

I wonder if he’d let me suck his dick right now. 

“I have a way t-to warm you up,” I mumble into the crook of my arm. Way to go, (y/n). Lookin’ like a real expert at pickup-line delivery.

After laughing at my stuttering, Seb asks, “Yeah? How’s that?” The way he purred his words tells me Seb knows how already.

I take a deep breath of determination before standing up and walking over to him. “Scoot over for a sec.” 

He obliges, and I crawl into the space under his desk, sorta smushed between his long legs. Seb chuckles, but makes no moves to stop me as I rest my head on his thigh and trace lazy shapes with my fingertip up the side of his hardening length. 

“Is this okay?” I murmur, moving on to fully palming him through his PJs. The purple plaid pants are soft and woolen, and smell like lavender laundry detergent. Freshly washed, huh? Hopefully they won’t get too dirty.

I peer up, and licking his lips after a quiet breath out, Seb smiles softly. “Perfect, baby.”

Feeling proud of the effect I’m having on him, I move on, nipping at his clothed thigh while I grip him a bit tighter. Fighting off the urge to plunge my fingers down the boxers that are covering my own lower half, I knead his upper thigh with my free hand. 

Once Seb is fully hard, I kiss him over the fabric. Using my hot breath to tease him, I toy with his head a little while my lips “teeth” at the base. His hips are beginning to rock a bit in his seat. I take that as a sign to tug at his pants, and he wordlessly helps me slip them down to just above his knees. 

“I have a question,” I state, lightly toying with his balls as I rest my cheek on his thigh again. 

“Hm?”

Timidly, I mutter, “How would you feel if I called you a ‘good boy?’” 

While I study his face through my lashes and leave light pecks on his leg, Seb pauses his work to think about it. “Dunno,” he eventually responds. Looks a little tickled. “I don’t think I’d really be into it, but you could try.” 

Challenge accepted.

I purse my lips, then salute him. Makes him smile. “You got it, sir,” I tack on while resuming my activities. I cup his balls in my palm, knead them a little, and kitten-lick his shaft. 

“Mm,” he hums, chewing his bottom lip.

Seb’s eyelids flutter, but he’s still coding. 

I think it’s my new goal for him to not be able to do his work while I work. 

Maybe I’ll make it up to him with some coffee or a back rub or something, if he wants.

After dragging my tongue up the underside of his cock, I drop back down, leaving open-mouthed kisses along it when I make my way towards the tip once more. I take my time tonguing at the thick, sensitive vein just below the head; peppering it with kisses while I start pumping one of my hands nearer to the bottom, savoring how he feels beneath my fingertips. 

The rising and falling of Seb’s chest paired with his deep whimpers and stuttering fingers tells me it’s time to stop teasing.

Slowly, I dip my mouth over his lower head, hollowing my cheeks as I settle onto him. By the time the tip reaches my throat, Seb’s hand has made its way into my hair and started tugging. I moan at the pain. His dick reactively twitches a little. 

My eyes are watering as I look up to check on him, and I swear he’d have hearts in his eyes if he could. His heavy lids hood over darkened irises, and a deep flush coats his cheeks. The fingers that aren’t woven into my hair make their way upwards into his and push it back. Exposing his cute forehead, then leaving it kinda still exposed as the water from our shower acts as a crappy glue. 

The way he’s looking at me — watching with his full attention, clearly smitten as I stuff my mouth to the fullest degree with his cock — breaks me. The heat between my legs is fucking unbearable. 

I gravitate my hand that’s not busy on Seb’s shaft downward, into the front-opening of these boxers, and then bypass my swollen bud to drown my fingers inside myself. My eyes roll shut while I moan around Seb’s girth, and the fist in my hair pulls a little harder. 

“So selfish,” he teases. 

I open my eyes and pull him out of my mouth, a deep breath escaping me. “Fuck~ Can’t help it.”

Losing myself in my own pleasure, I lean my forehead on Seb’s inner thigh. I match the pace of my hands, pumping him with the same vigor I’m curling into myself with. 

“Shit, baby… juuust like that,” my boyfriend moans from above me. 

I force my gaze up to him again, and his head is thrown back, his eyes shut while he groans my name through a smile. Feeling bold, I decide to test my experiment out now. 

“P-please look at me,” I mewl. Even when I’m trying to be less submissive, I can’t help but sound like the sub of all time. As Seb grants my wish, I run my lips along the side of his length again. “That’s my good boy,” I murmur through soft kisses to his skin. 

Fuck. That came out too meek. 

“God, (y/n).” Maybe not? As the words left Seb’s lips, they were graced with a wide grin. “That was fucking precious.” 

“Mmn— might’ve worked better if I wasn’t fingering myself...”

Seb shakes his head, he tugs my head upward near my roots, then impatiently lowers me back onto his cock. My brows upturn and a needy whine leaves me. I try to emulate what he’s feeling with my fingers, inserting a second into myself.

“I don’t think I’d like it if you’d said it the way you probably intended, to be honest.” He punctuates his sentence with a hushed curse.

Fair enough. I’ll take it. Mouth full and head empty, all I can do is grunt my response. 

I ease my eyes shut, trying to focus on using my tongue while Seb begins fucking up into me. I give in to the urges to stimulate my clit while this is happening, using my thumb to toy with it; admittedly, my movements on Seb become a little jagged.

“Keep going, princess.” Moaning through the shivers that title sends across my skin, my eyes open back up, and I try to focus harder on pleasuring my lover than myself. “Gooood fucking girl,” he coos, his eyes stabbing my own.

My lids flutter as I desperately try to keep them open. Wanting to finish – since I’m close, and so that I can focus solely on Seb with a clear mind – I pull my fingers out of myself and vigorously focus them on my clit. 

Seb giggles at my loss of all inhibition. “That feel good?”

“Mhm,” I choke out over his dick. I do my best to bob my head along to Seb’s thrusts, but I raise myself off him, gasping for air as my foggy eyes gaze into his beneath upturned eyebrows. “Fuck, I love your cock, daddy~” 

Yoba above, what the fuck was that?! 

The words just kinda spilled outta me… I’d be more embarrassed if it wasn’t almost ready to cum. I rest my cheek on his leg again as I pump him with the same vigor I’m strumming myself. 

Seeming to have liked the name, Seb’s widened eyes roll back for a moment while a husky groan escapes him. “Yeah? Then why’d you stop, darling?” 

Suuuch a good point! He’s so smart!

“I-I’m gonna cum,” I explain as his fingertips make their way to my chin. 

“Not yet.”

Oh.

As if he pressed a button, I stop moving. Depriving myself in an instant, despite how much it hurts to deny myself the pleasure. 

Seb laughs, and the devilish sound on its own makes me whine. “There ya go. Now c’mere,” he mutters, drawing my face to his dick again. 

Holy shit this is so fucking hot.

“Hands off yourself.”

Oh my god.

Dejectedly but obediently, I do as he says. 

“Use ‘em on me instead.”

I bring both hands up to Seb’s cock, lowering them onto him from the top. My movements are shaky from being cut off, but I’m too hypnotized to care.

Seb’s hand is still on my face as he guides my lips around his tip again. It’s slick and salty with precum. The aftertaste has hints of myself, now that my well-used hands have touched him again.

Brows furrowing and lips curling, Seb coos, “You’re too goddamn pretty.” 

The praise makes me reactively hum around him. 

“Open a little wider, baby,” he whispers, his thumb stroking my cheek. 

When I oblige, he tells me to go deeper, which I also do. I gag a little, but my boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Mmmshit,” he grunts, his head lazily tilting to rest on his shoulder. 

His empty hand curls into a fist and raises to his lips. The other palm trails up my face and back into my tresses, pushing me down a little further onto him. 

“You able to breathe?” I nod, doing my best to look up at him. “Atta girl,” he mewls, rubbing a soothing hand along my scalp before taking control over my movements. 

I wish I was still allowed to touch myself. He’s so perfect. Knows exactly what to say and do to get me off. Despite not having stimulation, I moan, sending visible goosebumps along Seb’s skin. 

I pick up speed, ignoring the soreness in my throat, and choking back every protest from my gag reflex for the sake of Seb’s pleasure. His self-soothing curses and grunts are driving me wild. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, before asking, “Y’want me to cum in your mouth?”

Unable to properly respond like this, I lift my face off his crotch. “Yes,” I breathe. Just as I’m eagerly dipping back down, Seb firmly tugs my head up by my hair. “Ah~”

“Yes please?”

Instinctively, I whimper. He’s being soft, yet so firm. 

It’s so cool!

“Yes, please,” I repeat back to him. My voice quivered a bit. My chest heaves and my cunt drips into his boxers as I wait for the ok to taste him again. 

Grinning proudly, he nudges me back to where I wanted to be. I make use of my hands, adding pressure towards his base while using my lips and tongue everywhere else. 

After only a few seconds, Seb offers, “You wanna cum too?” 

I try to hum my affirmation with my mouth full. Comes out as just “Mm” more than anything.

“Use your words, princess. Yes or no?”

Oh my fucking god.

I take him out of my mouth again. A string of saliva still attaches my lips to his cock, though. I lick towards it, closing my mouth on him where the liquid was beading from; gliding a little as I nod, my eyes pleading for him to cum and let me cum too. 

Against the slick skin, I beg, “Yes please.” Before the words fully leave my mouth, I’m already planting myself back onto him. Fucking depraved…

“Mmm, good girl.” No matter how many times he’s said it, that never gets old. I’m his good girl. “Go ahead, touch yourself,” he commands.

Almost too excitedly, I tuck my dominant hand back down, getting back to work. Again, I match my grips’ paces. Seb’s head falls back for a moment before his hazy orbs meet mine again. Dwindled down to a slobbery, horny, blissed-out mess, I gasp around him, doing my best to stay focused. It’s not going well.

“Mmm—“ I lift myself up for a moment to get my words out. “P-please can I cum?” 

“Fuuuck, baby,” Seb lilts, his cock beginning to twitch in my mouth. He quickly warns, “Yeah, you’ve gotta do it with me though, okay?”

My mouth leaves his length with a pop “Yes, Seb— oh fuck, please, faster!” I can barely wait another second as I urge Sebastian to completion, but luckily, it all unfolds perfectly.

He forces my mouth back on him, moaning loudly while he coats my tastebuds and throat with cum; all the while I tighten around my digits, my thighs closing around my wrist and my muffled voice shaking through the sensation. 

Once Seb begins to soften, I have to ease myself off his cock. Jaw hurts a bit, plus I’m all fucked up from my own orgasm. 

Regardless, that was amazing. 

I lean against Seb’s thigh — heh, it’s a little shaky now — and he soothingly pets my hair. 

“Sorry…”

“What for?” Seb quietly laughs. 

“Distracting you.”

Rolling his eyes through a smile, he reassures, “I’d need to be fucking insane if I was upset with you for that, (y/n).” 

Sleepily, I shut my eyelids, letting out a content sigh too. His leg is comfy… 

“C’mere,” he mutters. 

I open my eyes and practically crawl into Seb’s lap after scooting his pajama pants back up. 

He kisses my scalp, wrapping his arms around my shorter form. I meet his lips with mine, and we share a long, cute kiss; lazily knotting our tongues together as we trail soft touches along each other’s faces and bodies. 

I hum against Seb’s mouth before pulling away, burying my face into his neck. “M’so sleepy…”

“Hm.” Testing the waters, Seb brings his arms forward. “I can type like this,” he suggests.

For some reason, the idea of falling asleep in Seb’s embrace while he works makes my tummy flutter and my skin blush. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, pressing another kiss to my temple. “I’ll just carry ya to bed when I’m done… or lose circulation, whichever comes first.” 

“Work through the hypoxia like a real man,” I tease. A long yawn midway made my voice sound all funny.

“Quiet, you,” he giggles. 

And just like that, the sounds of Seb’s live keyboard ASMR and absentminded humming-singing combination lulls me right to sleep.

#sebastian x reader #sebastian #sdv sebastian #sdv #sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius x reader #stardew valley rasmodius #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #sebastian headcanons #stardew valley #stardew #sve #sebsatian sdv #sdv wizard #stardew wizard #magnus rasmodius #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley sebastian x reader #wizard x reader #rasmodius x reader #FAWY

[sparxwrites]

Hi! Cleverclover from kofi requesting some ethubs with stranded or dawn?

want a lil fic like this one? you can get one here!

“Well,” says Etho, tossing his comm carelessly down onto a nearby patch of moss. It bounces, once, and hits a rock with a solid thunk before tumbling into the shredded pile of membrane that constitutes the remains of his broken elytra. He ignores it. “We’re stuck here til morning, I think. X said he didn’t want to use teleport permissions if it wasn’t life-or-death, which is fair enough. But apparently there’s no one who can bring us wings before tomorrow, so… guess we’re spending the night roughing it, huh?”

They’re lucky, really. It’s a nice night out, a mild night out – the height of summer, with long days and short, cloudless nights. The ground is soft, from a thunderstorm a few days ago, but not wet. It’ll be warm enough for them to comfortably sleep out with nothing but the stars above them, and nothing but the dirt below. Etho’s kind of looking forward to it, if he’s being honest. It’s been too long since he last had an excuse to rough it for a night.

Bdubs, however – ever the master of keeping his composure in the face of unwelcome news – wails. 

“No!” he yells, in the general direction of the sky. His elytra hang ragged on his back, also broken, and he struggles with the straps in the midst of his horror. By the time he finally gets them off, he’s worked himself up into a proper tizzy. “No, Etho, I gotta– I gotta shreep, the– the server needs me to shreep–”

Etho shrugs, and unceremoniously sprawls down onto the ground, like the dirt and moss is a bed made specially for him. He stares up at the sky, already darkening into pink-orange-red. The sun, though they can’t see it through the trees, must already be on the horizon. “Well, if you can think of a way for us to get twenty thousand blocks back to spawn without elytra, before sundown, I’m all ears.”

Bdubs groans, and kicks at a nearby stone in abject frustration – only to yelp in pain when it turns out to be half-buried rock. He hops on the spot for a moment, clutching at his foot and hissing like a creeper. “This is the worst! It’s a disaster! I hate it! How can you– Etho, how can you be so calm about this?! We’re stranded! It’s gonna get dark! We’re gonna die!"

“I dunno. Me, you, the beautiful stars above us…” says Etho. He’s got a small, wry smile on his lips, and the unbothered tone of a man very, very used to Bdubs’ histrionics. “Kinda romantic, don’t you think?”

“No! I do not think! The stars are terrible, and awful, and no one should ever– wait.” Bdubs stops, mid-rant, almost cartoon-like in his suddenness. Like someone’s dropped an anvil on his head. “Did you say romantic?”

Etho glances over at Bdubs, then, and his eyes soften. He tugs his mask down around his throat – there’s no one else around to see, just Bdubs – and, beneath it, he’s smiling. He holds out an arm, spread across the mossy forest floor, like an invitation. “Bdubs,” he says, gently. “C’mon. It’s only one night. Come look at the stars with me, huh?”

For a second, Bdubs resists. 

Then he caves, instantly and completely. He’s never been able to deny Etho anything.

He drops down to his knees, and crawls over to where Etho’s waiting for him. Without resistance, he lays down, curls into Etho’s side, pillows his head on Etho’s upper arm. He fits like he belongs there, pressed shoulder to shoulder, rib to rib, hip to hip. Gradually, his heartbeat slows.

Slowly, wordlessly, Bdubs turns his eyes up to the sunset sky.

“…You’ll watch the dawn with me, right?” he asks, at length, as the sky begins to darken above them. His head’s still pillowed on Etho’s arm. Etho’s cheek is pressed against the top of his head. “Like– tomorrow, you’ll watch the sun come up? With me?”

Above them, there’s no blue left – a little red, a little pink-orange, but mostly creeping purple and indigo and ink. The sun is nowhere to be seen. The moon, previously a faint shadow in the dusk, is now a wide and silvery eye above them.

As they both watch, the first of the stars begin to shine.

“Yeah, Bdubs,” says Etho, gentle and sleepy. He tilts his head a little more, presses a kiss to the bird’s nest of Bdubs’ hair, and hums happily when Bdubs shivers in his arms. “Sure. Wake me up, and we’ll watch the sunrise. Together.”

#ethubs #hermitshipping #hermitfic #hermits crafting #fic #commish #anonymous #ask #i got BOTH of them bc im just that good uwu #fr writing this gave me cavities tho #they........................... /pos

[petersbaby]

Makeup- a steddie oneshot

A/N: this is the first time I’ve ever actually written anything as far as male on male goes so my wording may sound a little awkward. Forgive me if it’s a little cringey lol

I TRIED

Warnings: oral m receiving, cum and spit >:)

-

“Do I fuckin’ look like I know how to do this? Your expectations are too high.” Steve reprimands the boy beneath him. Sitting on his boyfriends lap, he’s attempting to put eyeliner on him after he begged him to try, citing that he was too scared because he was clumsy and would probably hurt himself.

Steve’s touch was gentle, careful. He did everything with delicate precision, and Eddie knew that. It made him the perfect candidate to do makeup. It wasn’t something Steve had ever done before, but he knew it would make his little rockstar boy happy so he obliged.

This was before Eddie evidently started showing signs of ADHD activity, antics that Steve put up with because he loved him but a lot of the time it was like babysitting a child. A very mischievous and evil child. He sat quietly for a little while, getting one eye done before he had the urge to move around.

“Quit squirming.” Steve demands and Eddie wriggles beneath him, basically forgetting what they were doing and deciding to start trying to tickle him. His grabby hands reach to Steve’s hips and he immediately responds, swatting his hands away. “Stopit.” He commands hastily, words stuck together. He goes back in to try again, and gets tickled again.

“Stop. It. You’re gonna make me poke your eye out.”

Eddie giggles, nodding as though he’d learned his lesson. He holds his hands up as if in surrender. He stays still for a minute and Steve sighs out of relief. Eddie drops his hands, folding them on his chest and trying to keep them to himself while Steve leans in and does his other eye. Soon, though, his underarms are viciously attacked by Eddie’s tickly fingers and he jumps off of him and runs away.

“STOP IT” Steve yells for mercy, attempting to flee from his grasp with the pencil still in his hand. “You’re crazy right now.” He takes a moment to catch his breath, hands on his hips standing in the doorway.

“You wouldn’t like it very much at all if I ambushed you out of nowhere like that, would you? And kept going even after I warned you to stop a million times?”

“I dunno, maybe I would.” He shrugs. “Come back, pleeeease.”

“No. I don’t trust you right now.” He states, looking at Eddie with that devious grin evident on his face.

“Come on. Promise.” He gives Steve his giant brown puppy dog eyes. “Won’t tickle you, really.”

Steve rolls his eyes, he hates the way he can’t say no to him, but returns anyway to his previous spot on Eddie’s lap. Straddling him, he watches as his hands ran up and down the tops of his thighs tenderly a few times then moving up.

“Watch it, munson.” He warns, ready to kill him if he tries again.

“I’m watchin’ it, pretty boy.”

His hands find his waist, gripping both sides hard and pushing him down against him in the process. Steve’s heart starts to pound, already forgetting about the behavior from a few minutes ago.

“C’mere.” Eddie makes a kissy face with his lips and Steve leans forward, connecting both pairs. It starts out tender and sweet, maybe even gentle, but takes a turn when Eddie parts his lips. This successfully deepens the kiss, encouraging Steve to open his mouth as well.

Once he did, Eddie’s tongue found its place inside, right against his. It’s hard and sloppy, mostly tongue and saliva, but the type of kiss that takes the breath right out of their lungs until they’re panting messes but refusing to come apart for air.

“Fuck.” Eddie whispers into his mouth, grinding Steves ass down onto him again and allowing him to feel how hard he was for him. Just for him. “You feel that, Stevie?”

“Mhm.”

The moment he felt it, he was fully submitted. Now he needs it, needs to really feel it.

“I haven’t been very good so far today, dontcha think? I should try to make it up to you, yeah?”

Steve swallows so hard his Adam’s apple moves visibly and timidly but eagerly nods his head. So sweet, so nervous. He wasn’t ever one to call the shots, he wasn’t sure if he could even pretend to be the more dominant one. Telling EDDIE what to do??

Eddie can sense that he’s thinking about this, so he gives him some instructions. Steve loves when he tells him what to do, he can’t help it.

“Lay back.” He instructs him, and Steve nods again, but this time as if to say ‘whatever you want’. He climbs off Eddie’s lap to settle down in the bed. He relaxes, his head falling back into the pillows. Eddie climbs on top of him, licking and nibbling at his ear then going down leaving sloppy, determined kisses all over his neck. The second Eddie’s mouth met his skin, he was a goner, immediately feeling his erection grow.

Eddie reaches down to grab it through the fabric of the sweatpants, and Steve gasps. Eddie smiles at this, finding amusement in how sensitive he is. He stays there for a while, licking, kissing, and sucking on his neck and throat. He leaves a couple of deep purple hickeys down closer to his shoulder. Steve would be mad about it later, but that was okay. He pulls away from the place he was attached to the other boy like a leech and starts moving down.

Wasting no more time, he tugs the waistband of his sweatpants and Steve lifts his ass up the assist in removing them. After that, he’s left in his underwear and t shirt. Eddie starts to worship his cock, kissing it over the fabric where the outline was readily evident and taking extra time and care to tease the tip in particular. Steve is impatient, and starts to whine.

“Alright, alright.” Eddie soothes, tugging his boxers off now. “So needy. You need me, huh?” He teases, and waits for an answer which he didn’t get. He starts to place ever so delicate kitten licks to the tip of his cock but doing nothing forward until he breaks.

“Yes, god, I need you. Need you, please.” He whines.

“Good boy. Using your words.” He encourages.

He takes the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently. Steve immediately falls apart, little moans spilling from his mouth. He takes him deeper with ease, soon feeling him hit the back of his throat.

“Oh my god, holy shit” Steve moans out, hand finding a place in Eddies hair and starting to push him down even further. This time, he gags a little, Steve taking a little bit of control in helping guide Eddie’s head up and down at the perfect pace, as deep as he could take it.

Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head and they stay there, possibly stuck that way forever. He squeezes them shut, throwing his head back as the dark-haired boy does everything he can with every bit of energy he has to build him up to what he’d hope to be an insanely intense orgasm. Steve holds a fistful of long, curly hair, pulling on it while he pants into the suddenly muggy and warm air surrounding them. This sting, this little bit of pain was Eddie’s favorite and he moaned around the cock in his mouth.

The vibration through his whole body sends Steve over the edge, the only notice he has time to give is a few desperate whimpers before he cums, harder than he has in a long time. Eddie continues to suck him throughout the process, only releasing him once Steve’s legs were shaking. When he notices this, he comes up and immediately brings both hands to rest firmly on the top of Steve’s thighs to try and soothe them, help him be still again.

“Good?”

“So good.” He lays back, eyes blown out and appearing somewhere far away, but eventually coming fully back to earth.

“Wait. Did you-“

Eddie sticks his tongue out to show his mouth empty.

“You know I did, Harrington. Tasted so good, too.” He said proudly, making Steve blush out of shyness.

He climbs up to the top part of the bed where Steve lay, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s tender, and it lasts for more than a few moments, both just relishing in the searing way their mouths connect and move together.

“Open, baby.” Eddie instructs, and Steve immediately complies, looking up at him in submission. The boy on top lets a good amount of saliva pool in his mouth before gently letting it fall from his mouth and into the one waiting openly below.

After swallowing it, Steve makes a funny face.

“What?” He asks, concerned. Making Steve upset or crossing a boundary or pushing him too far was among Eddie’s biggest fears.

“That did not taste good. You’re a liar.”

He smiles, worries melting away.

“It did to me” he said, shrugging. He gets off of Steve and tries to start to head towards his closet, but is stopped. He was about to grab a change of clothes, hoping Steve wouldn’t question him or think twice.

But alas, Steve had realized that he didn’t pay Eddie back, didn’t get him off too, so he reaches down to wrap his hand around his clothed erection. He was ready to get him undressed, to pull it out and make him feel good, and Eddie tries to warn him before it’s too late and the only thing his fingers find is a considerably sized damp spot.

“Yeah…” Eddie comments awkwardly.

“Oh.” Steve replies, eyes scanning down his body then back up to his pretty smiling face.

“You wanna take a shower, big boy?”

Steve nods, jumping up out of the bed to follow him to the bathroom.

#good god #i’m so sorry #steddie smut #eddie munson #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #eddie munson smut #steddie brainrot #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖        

Chapter 43 - Surprise concert.

Episode 4.

They went by the bar, ordered a couple of beer, then went outside, spotting a bench not far from the entrance. They sat down, talking back and forwards about the place, just smalltalk, not exactly one of Adrian's favorites, but just as he was about to make a remark, the subject changed

Malou: So you had sex?

Adrian: He snorted into his bottle, and quickly finished the mouthful he was about to take Yes, we had sex.

Malou: How was it? she grinned cheekily I mean, if we're supposed to be more open with each other…

Adrian: He snorted again, then a more serene and shy look started spreading on his face, a smile that could even be considered cute, gently pulled his lips upwards It was…. really good…. amazing, to be honest.

Malou: She nodded lightly and sipped her beer Nice! She hesitated a bit, observing how Adrian softened up and became this shy giddy boy at the thought of Dalton And who did who? she lifted an eyebrow and chuckled teasingly

Adrian: He snorted again …. I uh… sat on his lap and uh… he blushed more bright red and quickly sipped his beer

Malou: So you were bottom, but still topped him? …. interesting she nodded slow I was really wondering how the two of you would go about it… she sipped her beer again is this awkward?

Adrian: A bit… he chuckled lightly

Malou: Do you mind talking about sex in general, or do you mind because it's me?

Adrian: It depends I guess? I'm not someone who discusses sex with just anyone… but I'm not completely closed off either. Andy keeps fearing he's too much for me… but truth is, I can be pretty dirty myself, I suppose I just don't run around talking about sex… he shrugged lightly I suppose I could be more open, not regarding my fantasies, cause I do think I'm pretty open minded sexually… I mean I was with Felix when I technically still thought I was straight, and it never bothered me… But I could be more open in speaking about it… and in actually living my fantasies…. I guess…? I dunno? I have no complaints regarding my sexlife, I'm pretty fulfilled, so I guess I never thought much about it, till now?

Malou: She nodded lightly Makes sense.

Adrian: He sighed soft I'm trying, I really am…

Malou: She nodded again I know you are she reached out, planting a hand on his I appreciate it. Thank you. she slowly let go of his hand again, not to make him uncomfortable

Adrian: He sighed deeper I wanted to spend all day with him, just him and I, being stuck in our own little bubble. He's finally mine he smiled apologizing

Malou: No no, it's okay, I know what you mean. Go on, please.

Adrian: He sighed even deeper But then it was lunch… and now we're stuck here for the rest of the day and a good chunk of the evening as well… and I can't even kiss him… which is all I want to do… kiss him… hold him… touch him…. feel him…

Malou: She nodded soft Understandable… and… well… me too! she chuckled softly

Adrian: He had that 'I'm sorry' look on his face again as he sipped his beer

Malou: … she sighed softly You should go home with him tonight, I can hang out at Raven's place…

Adrian: He frowned soft And steal him from you, again? You two just got started as well… I don't want to

Malou: Truth to be told, I love Raven's company, I wont mind. I mean, I'd like him back again soon she chuckled lightly But honestly, I'll be too worried about his alcohol intake anyway, so, if you agree to take him home, it's off my hands… well mostly… I'll still worry, but at least I don't have to deal with it she chuckled softly That was a joke btw… I'll gladly deal with anything regarding him she sighed softly and smiled He's more than worth it all.

Adrian: He nodded agreeing and swallowed the rest of his beer I don't think he has any idea how fucking amazing he is.

Malou: She sighed soft and sipped her beer No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't see quite what you and I see. It's such a shame.

Adrian: I agree… but… on the other hand, if he knew, he might not even be interested in us? I can't help but feel like this rare, pure being fell into my lap, and I can't quite grasp that I am allowed to even touch him. He smiled lovingly Malou… I don't think I have ever been in love like this before… and it scares me…. what if he doesn't want me after all?

Malou: She nodded lightly and took the last mouthful of her beer I feel ya!

Adrian: He sighed softly How did we get THIS lucky?! Look at us!

Malou: Hey! Speak for yourself! I just got my hair done! She chuckled cheekily and pointed her tongue at Adrian

*As they went back into the rehearsal room again, Raven was in the middle of a jam session on the drums, while half of the band was jamming with him, while Una and James were clapping happily at the performance.

Malou: Okay? She chuckled surprised

Dalton: He quickly got up from a chair where he was sat laughing and hurried towards the two of them, passing them with a cheeky grin, fast heading out into the hallway, but while he slipped passed them, he said something loud and clear I'm just going to the toilet!

Malou: She chuckled amused as she turned and looked in the direction Dalton had disappeared I guess that means YOU'RE going to the toilet

Adrian: He lifted his eyebrows he could just as easily have said it to you

Malou: He looked at you, Adrian… it's not rocket science… beside I can't waltz into the male bathroom, in case he's actually headed there she smiled softly you go ahead… I'll go rescue Raven from himself she chuckled lightly go on…

Adrian: He scrathed the back of his neck, looking contemplating in the direction of the others

Malou: They wont notice… if they do…I'll make a drumsolo too! she snorted get out of here!

Adrian: He nodded once, then hurried after Dalton. He quickly found the way to the bathrooms, and slipped into the male one, noticing Dalton standing on the middle of the floor with a more than cheeky smirk

Dalton: What took you so long? I was starting to think you wouldn't-

Adrian: He quickly took a couple big steps, grabbed Dalton by the collar, and pushed his back hard and demanding up against the bathroom wall, leaning into a demanding and passionate French kiss

Dalton: He moaned surprised and quickly grabbed Adrian's hips, pulling him closer, returning the kiss eagerly

Malou: She sighed soft and grabbed a beer from the table, and nodded at Raven as she opened it up

Raven: Adrian? he spoke in her head

Malou: She frowned lightly Don't do that she quickly sipped her beer With Dalton in the bathroom, I suppose…

Raven: Ahh he smiled cheekily want more distraction?

Malou: She nodded confirming just stop roaming around my head… it's crowded enough as it is.

Raven: He chuckled deeply you head is perfectly fine, Malou, no one thinks otherwise…

Malou: She smiled lightly I hope not.

Raven: Stop worrying so much what others think, and let lose, enjoy yourself…

Malou: I am… at the moment I'm enjoying you staying out of my head! she smirked at him

Raven: This time his only answer, was pointing his tongue at her teasingly

Dalton: He shivered lightly against Adrian's lips, feeling himself melt into Adrian's arms. Feeling safe, comforted, home. But most, most of all, he felt warm. As if everything that had been wrong and broken inside him, melted together and he finally felt whole again Adrian he whispered softly and pulled out of their kiss, panting softly

Adrian: Yes? He cleared his throat, trying to yank himself out of the Dalton haze

Dalton: I love you. I really mean that.

Adrian: I love you too a bright smile spreading on his lips

Dalton: He chuckled both surprised and happy, although he didn't quite understand why he was so surprised, it had been quite obvious that Adrian was falling for him… he HAD tagged along without much protest after all.

Adrian: Maybe it's best we uh he grabbed one of Dalton's hands, squeezing it lightly head back into the others he cleared his throat again

Dalton: He chuckled cheekily Yeah, I think we better do that! Reality awaits, right?

Adrian: Unfortunately he frowned lightly

Dalton: He stepped a little closer, placing his hands on Adrian's hips again I want you. Not just in a sex way. I want all of you. I want you to be mine. Like for real. Are you mine? He chuckled nervously you are, right?

Adrian: He nodded slow and leaned in, kissing Dalton gently, whispering against his lips I am definitely, undoubtedly yours. All of me.

Dalton: He suddenly frowned lightly, then shook his head and took a couple steps towards the sink, turning on the water, looking at Adrian in the mirror, his frown growing deeper

Adrian: He hesitated a bit, then stepped up next to Dalton, wrapping an arm around his lower back Is everything alright?

Dalton: He sighed softly I just suddenly realized… that I'm scared…. not just of starting something new, cause I've known that for years, and it's the very reason I kept being stuck in a dead end relationship… but now that you're here, and you're so fucking amazing a wide smile spread on his lips, then it instantly vanished again, followed by a heavy sigh I'm just scared you'll leave me… just like she did.

Adrian: …… hey he shook his head lightly I think you're absolutely magical, Dalton he forced a soft smile There's absolutely no chance in hell I'll leave you. I'm madly invested in this… in you. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the side of Dalton's neck, whispering in a soft alluring voice You're so precious to me, and I know there's no one else like you out there, you're so unique, enchanting…. delicious… a soft moan escaping him as he kissed Dalton's neck again sexy…

Dalton: A wide cheeky grin replaced the frown

Adrian: I want you so badly… all of you… but mostly…. I really want your heart.

Dalton: It's yours he whispered softly

They both got interrupted as the door to the bathroom swung open, and in walked Dalton's dad

Adrian: He instantly let go of Dalton and walked out of the room, his heart pounding wildly as he lit a cig and hurried down the hallway, in the direction of the rehearsal room

Dalton: He tried his best to wipe the smirk off his face as he turned the water tap and pretended to wash his hands

James: He observed his son for a moment, then cleared his throat Mum and I are going outside for a bit of air and a walk, we will be back again before you guys go on.

Dalton: You couldn't have told me that after I was done in the toilet? he chuckled at his dad in the mirror

James: * He gestured towards the toilet stalls* perhaps others need to go as well, son.

Dalton: He snorted By all means.

James: ……. you know, you can talk to us…. if there's anything you need to get off your chest.

Dalton: He locked eyes with his dad in the mirror, but only a couple of seconds, then he closed the tab and grabbed a couple paper towels, drying his hands you know, you can talk to me as well he pulled a dumb smirk, trying to avoid the direction his dad was trying to navigate the conversation

James: ……. just be clear with the girl…. I think she really have her heart set on you. As your father, I need to remind you of a

Dalton: Dad! he sighed soft Malou and I are dating… a couple…. whatever we are…. I don't know what you're

James: …. well, the man seems to have a 'good eye for you' as well and…. he sighed soft well, it's none of my business. I just hope you will make the right decision, for you, and know that mum and I would be okay with whatever you might choose for your life, as long as you're happy. We're just relieved you're finally moving on, and all we hope is that you choose a kind person who adores you as much as we do.

Dalton: I think that's pretty impossible, dad he chuckled lightly

James: A warm chuckle escaped him Perhaps. But as close to as possible then. He nodded at a toilet stall I better, before your mom gets tired of waiting.

Dalton: He nodded agreeing Don't get lost

James: He chuckled again

Dalton: I'll see you guys later he smiled brightly, then walked towards the door, but just as he opened it, he turned around, looking at his dad with a soft smile Hey dad!

James: Mh? He smiled warmly at his son

Dalton: Thank you.

As the concert was almost over and it was time for the last song, a sweaty but happy Dalton smiled wide at the audience from the chair behind his piano

Dalton: Alright guys, we'll play one last song. But thank you for tonight, you've been marvelous! He smiled cheekily and chuckled, quickly sipping his beer before starting to play and audience favorite

Raven: He smiled soft as he observed Adrian Well aren't you a smitten kitten?

Adrian: Whom had been lost in observing Dalton with a sheepish smile, instantly snapped out of it and glared at Raven

Raven: He chuckled amused No one heard me, relax.

Adrian: …… unamused

Raven: He chuckled lightly Alright… give me a kiss, it will throw anyone off the scent!

Adrian: He glared harder, but couldn't help but chuckle, then slowly leaned in. Truth is, he had wanted to kiss Raven for hours, so why not grab the opportunity. Surely everyone else were too busy with the band to notice?

Raven: He sighed relieved as their lips met, he had missed Adrian, now that he had gotten busy with Dalton. But he had been determined to be patient, and wait for his turn. However, now that he finally got a taste of Adrian again, he couldn't help but grab Adrian by the chest of his shirt, and demandingly pull him deeper into their kiss

Adrian: He moaned soft and surrendered, no protest. He had missed Raven too.

As the concert ended, they spent about an hour to pack up everything in the band van and try to figure whom would drive with whom. Malou decided she wanted to go home, she was tired, and ended up tagging along Willow and Ezra who happened to walk by and was heading in that direction anyway. The band was impatient and drove off. So left was a quite tipsy Dalton, a sober Raven, a slightly tipsy Adrian and Dalton's parents, whom had also had a couple beers too much

Adrian: I'm more than fit to drive.

James: nonsense! We'll just call a cab, I'm sure they will be fast.

Adrian: He grunted irritated It's winter, and it looks like it's about to snow again any minute!

Raven: How about I drive us all? he smiled soft at Adrian

Adrian: He squinted suspiciously at Raven, but slowly handed over his keys Fine.

Dalton: He chuckled lightly and nodded at Adrian's car Mum! Dad! Get in!

Una: She chuckled lightly

Adrian: James, you can sit in he front with Raven, the rest of us will take the backseat, that way there's more than plenty space for everyone's legs.

Dalton: He observed the whole scenario with a cheeky grin, oddly proud of Adrian for taking charge like that, then quickly got into the car, so he sat between Adrian and his mom Mum, can you get in on your own? he chuckled lightly at her

Una: Yes, my dear she smiled warmly and quickly got in, closing the door after her

Adrian: You gotta slam it

Una: Oh?!

Adrian: It's an old car, you gotta slam it if you want it to close well.

Una: She quickly opened the door again

Adrian: Don't be afraid, it can handle it*

Una: She chuckled lightly and slammed the door

Adrian: He nodded approving

Raven: He smiled at Adrian in the mirror Is everyone alright?

Adrian: He nodded confirming

Raven: He nodded back then started the car and slowly drove off Which direction?

James: He quickly explained their address and what road would be easiest this time of year

Raven: Got it he smiled warmly

They drove for a short while, then Adrian started noticing Dalton got closer and closer

Dalton: He suddenly brushed his fingers over the back of Adrian's hand, trying his hardest to be stealth about it

Adrian: Felt himself blush lightly, keeping his eyes planted towards the front of the car, making sure James who had been very busy observing them all day and evening, weren't once again keeping an eye on them

Dalton: He chuckled cheekily, clearly amused by Adrian's reaction, simultaneously doing it because his soul was screaming to be close to Adrian, but also simply wanting to tease him

Raven: He noticed too, from the rear view mirror and chuckled amused Una, James he spoke in a warm, inviting voice would you mind if I drop Adrian and Dalton off first? he slowed down the car at a crossroad it's only a slight detour if I turn down this road right now?

Adrian: He squinted at Raven, afraid Dalton's parents would get suspicious It's completely fine, just drive the

Una: No no, you both look tired, I just wonder if we shouldn't drop Dalton of at home, with Malou? She smiled hopeful at her son She's such a nice girl Dalton, and finding her has been very good for you. You've come alive again, and you're much happier, don't waste an opportunity like that, son.

Dalton: I'm not, mum he chuckled amused and cheeky

James: Lightly clearing his throat

Raven: Amusement intensifies

Adrian: He sighed deep and looked out the window, trying to pretend he was no longer in the car

Una: I didn't even see you two kiss tonight, I'm worried if you're already ruining it for yourself. Dalton, I know you're scared of starting over, but she seems exactly like a dream girl, if you ask me. Isn't she what you've always wanted and looked for? Don't tell me you're still scared, and you'll let that ruined it for you she sighed light and concerned do you want me to talk to her?

Dalton: No! he burst out a chuckle no mum! I don't want you to talk to her! Everything is fine between Malou and I, please don't worry. But we're still just getting started, there's no need for rushing, is there?! he chuckled again

Una: I just worry about you she sighed again you've been so alone, and now that love is finally here, and compatible, I wish you would take it more serious.

Dalton: Who says I'm not?! he sat up more straight, grinning wide and cheeky at his mom, looking like straight up trouble, as if he was about to do something stupid

Una: Are you though?

Dalton: His grin only grew wider

Raven: Watching with great anticipation

Una: …..

James: ……

Adrian: No longer existing

Dalton: Still grinning

Una: …..

James: He groaned softly and rubbed his nose bridge Una, I think it's up to Dalton whom he dates. As long as it's someone who treats him right, I don't think we have much to say in whom he chooses, right?

Una: But yes, of course she threw her arms towards the ceiling and sighed I just want him to be loved by someone right for him this time, not someone who's going to break his heart every month, and go about not knowing if she truly want him or not.

James: Or he…

Adrian: Max level cringe

Una: What?

James: Or he….

Dalton: He shrugged lightly, his grin growing even more cheeky, as he by now also started nibbling on his pointing finger secretive

Una: She shook her head lightly what's going on? You look very mischievous?

Dalton: Oh well, you know he shrugged casually but kept the smirky grin

Adrian: By now he was watching Dalton, his heart pounding harder, his temperature rising, finding himself head over heels with Dalton's cheeky look and playfulness

Raven: Still observing from the mirror, by now slowly turning it, so James also would be able to follow, if he wished

James: He took the hint and watched the mirror with a lifted eyebrow

Raven: Starting to wonder if he would get away with dragging popcorn out of the thin air

Dalton: Cheeky smirking, finger nibbling combo, driving Adrian nuts

Adrian: Oh for crying out loud! he wanted to grab Dalton and kiss him, but in a split second chickened out and in a rush got out of the car, lighting a cig, taking a huge drag as he stepped several meters away from the car, sighing deep into the cold night air

James: Maybe we should

Dalton: Hang on he quickly dragged himself over the seat and got out, closing the car door behind him, quickly walking up to Adrian what's going on?

Adrian: I thought we were supposed to wait telling everyone?

Dalton: Yes… and I still want that…. but…. they are my parents, Adrian…. he sighed soft and looked a bit more serious by now I don't like that my mum worries like that. It's hard that I can't just put her at ease.

Adrian: He nodded softly and thought about it for a short moment …. and it would put her at ease if she knew you are dating a guy?

Dalton: I don't thin they care about that, I mean they never cared about sexualities… beside my dad made this speech in the toilet earlier he chuckled amused he's definitely onto us and made it clear I could always talk to them he sighed soft and shrugged, observing Adrian, longing to kiss him… touch him….

Adrian: And what about a poly relationship? Would they understand that?

Dalton: He shrugged again I don't know? But they are very open minded people to begin with, so I'd like to think they would, but there's only one way to really find out… he hesitated a couple seconds, then slowly reached out and grabbed Adrian's hand, squeezing it lightly no one says the rest of the world has to know yet… I still prefer to keep it private for a while.. but I think my parents need to know, they have worried about me for years… it's not fair

Adrian: He sighed soft, contemplating what the next move should be

Una: Observing the boys, squinting her eyes

James: smiling warmly as he also observed them

Raven: Still contemplating air popcorns

Dalton: I love you he then spoke, in a soft, lowered, warm tone, stepping closer to Adrian

Adrian: A soft smile tucking at his lips I love you too.

Dalton: He smiled a bit wider, gazing deep into Adrian's eyes for a short moment, then leaned in, kissing him tenderly

Adrian: He sighed relieved and returned the tender kiss, pulling a bit in Dalton's hand, to pull him slightly nearer

Una: Her eyes got wide

James: He chuckled lightly as he observed his wife

Una: ….. well she quickly looked at her husband

James: He shrugged lightly

Una: Did you know?

James: a warm smile spread on his lips I had a feeling…

Una: …. Okay she nodded lightly well I suppose we don't have to worry then?

Raven: He's a good man. He paused … I know you don't know me he turned so he could face the two of them at the same time so I'm not sure how much you will value my words. But whether you value my words or not, doesn't take away from the fact that Adrian is a really good, kindhearted man with a huge heart. And he loves your son very much. And without speaking too much on other people's behalf, it appears your son loves him just as much. I don't think you have anything to worry about, when it comes to Dalton finding a love he deserves, because he already did. Or rather, it found him.

Una: She nodded lightly, a small smile turning her mouth upwards

Dalton: He sighed softly as he pulled away from their kiss, giving Adrian's hand another light squeeze before he let go Are we alright?

Adrian: He nodded softly We're more than alright… thank you.

Dalton: His face lit up How about we get home then? I can't wait to be alone with you… I just want you all to myself by now.

Adrian: He nodded confirming Yes, please!

#unicorntales #Malou Jensen #Brandubh McKinney #Raven McKinney #Dalton Red #Adrian Blackwood #Una Red #James Red

[motownfiction]

silver and gold

cw: discussions of religion, specifically christianity and christmas

After he marries Sadie, Daniel brings what few Christmas traditions he and his family had into their home. The first of them, he notes, is the silver and gold tinsel to throw on every branch of the Christmas tree.

Sadie takes a handful and examines it carefully like they’re a bunch of worms.

“Remind me how you put this on the tree again?” she asks.

“Exactly how you think,” Daniel says. “You put on one strand at a time.”

“You don’t just throw it?”

“No, you don’t throw it. Why would you throw it?”

“I dunno. It seems like that would be a lot more fun than just putting on one at a time like I have all year.”

Daniel holds back a laugh. He wonders if Sadie knows just how impatient she really is … just how desperate she is to get on with life, to find out what happens next, to enjoy it for what it is. He wonders if she’ll ever know that’s why he’s always been in love with her. Maybe he’ll tell her soon. Maybe she’ll believe him. Either way, she’s less than thrilled about the tinsel.

“You’ll get used to it,” Daniel says. “Plus, I’ll even let you sing your favorite Christmas songs. The real ones and the sarcastic one.”

Sadie’s eyes light up just a little bit. Daniel suppresses another laugh. She really isn’t kidding when she says she gets joy out of the little things, he thinks. And how lucky he is that it’s always been true.

“Oh, can I start with the sarcastic one?” Sadie asks.

“You can start wherever you want,” Daniel says. “Except you know I wish your sarcastic pick wasn’t on Elvis’s Christmas Album. You know what that record means to me.”

“Yeah, I do. But you know how much ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ makes me laugh. You’re having a great time, listening to a secular Christmas song, when … bam! ‘Santa knows that we’re God’s children.’ Out of nowhere. It’s the musical equivalent of that figurine your mom puts out where Santa kneels in front of baby Jesus in the manger. It makes me laugh!”

Daniel bites his lip. He knows if he laughs, his mother will somehow find out. But damn, if Sadie isn’t funny. Damn, if Sadie isn’t more than what she gives herself credit. Daniel wraps his arm around her waist and hopes she knows what he means.

Then again, of course she knows what he means.

Nobody else has ever been quite so good at reading Daniel’s silences.

“You really wanna put this tinsel on the tree?” Sadie asks.

Daniel sighs. He picks up his own handful and begins putting it on the tree branches one by one. He knows exactly what to say, but it’s too hard to look her in the eye, even if she is Sadie.

“Yeah,” he says. “I really do. I know you probably think it’s stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Sadie interrupts. “Time-consuming, sure. But not stupid.”

Daniel shrugs.

“Either way,” he says. “I feel like … I feel like I gotta have this stuff on my tree. Because of, you know … because of my mom. The Christmas tree was pretty much the only thing my dad never tried to control. Mostly because he didn’t care, and it made him look good to have a Christmas tree in his living room all that time. So my mom got to do whatever she wanted. And she wanted tinsel. It just … it always made her so happy. You saw the look on her face when she’d put it up. So I wanna put it up, too. I want her to know … I dunno, I guess I want her to know it made a difference.”

Daniel reaches forward to hang another piece of tinsel on the tree. He feels Sadie’s lips on his cheek instead.

“You could’ve told me that before, you know,” she says. “Then I would have insisted.”

Daniel smiles.

“Even if it’s one at a time?” he asks.

Sadie grins and takes a piece of tinsel from the handful in her right grasp. Carefully, she places a single strand on a branch in the middle of the tree.

“Especially if it’s one at a time.”

#drabble #ch: daniel deluca #ch: sadie doyle #ship: still the same #year: 1988 #christmas

[thesnakeslibrary]

Did...Did you just kiss me?

Pairing: Jackal Nish/Dan Grit Original work Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, MLM

Jackal released a startled yelp as Dan ran in front of him and stopped, buzzing from excitement. “Wanna go to Jordan’s house?” Jackal placed a hand on his chest, still shaken up. “Jesus, mate, can you gimme a second?” Dan chuckled softly and took a step closer. “Sorry, J.” He placed a cold hand on Jackal’s chest, the sudden blush on said man’s face going unnoticed. “Damn, your hearts beatin’ fast.” He removed his hand and looked at Jackal’s face. “Anyway, do ya wanna go to Jordan’s house? Laura and Tom are already there.” Jackal let out a sigh and considered the offer. Jackal was never a people person; he doesn’t even know how he became friends with such an energetic and extroverted person as Dan. But here we are, and Jackal is dealing.

He didn’t want to go out of his way to talk to people, even if they were his friends, but he did want to spend time with Dan, and he was obviously tremendously excited to go to Jordan’s house. “Fine, I’ll go.” Dan hit the air with a fist bump and jumped a bit. “Yes! C’mon, let’s go!” He grasped his friend’s hand and began practically dragging Jackal to their friend’s house. Jackal was annoyed but still couldn’t help but smile at Dan’s excitement. That was something Jackal liked about Dan. How he was able to make Jackal happy by being happy. It’s calmed him down many times before, and no doubt will continue to do so.

“Slow down a bit, Dan!” Dan laughed and muttered a few “fines,” skidding to a halt but not letting go of Jackal’s hand. Jackal decided not to take note of it; it meant nothing, and Dan was probably just ready to keep towing him along. “Want me to carry you instead?” And that broke him. Jackal blue screened at the question. Dan carrying him? Being that close? That was too much for his head-over-heels heart to handle. Dan tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, yeah, fine, totally fine. Um, yeah, yeah, uh, you can carry me.” Dan slowly smiled at the growing blush on Jackal’s face, half from the offer of being carried and also because of embarrassment.

“Great.” Dan let go of Jackal’s hand and placed his own on the back of Jackal’s knees, hoisting him up as if he weighed nothing. “Holy fuck, you’re strong.” Jackal didn’t necessarily mean to say that out loud, but he instantly regretted it when he did. Dan let out a snicker as he began strolling over to Jordan’s house. “No, you’re very light. Dunno how you pack so much cuteness into such a small body.” Jackal would have lost it at that, but Dan only made it worse by winking at him. Jackal didn’t trust himself to say anything and merely decided the best move was to conceal his face in Dan’s shoulder, which only caused Dan to laugh.

Dan wasn’t laughing at Jackal; he simply found what he was doing quite cute. Dan was never afraid to display his affection for Jackal. It was consistent in mostly platonic ways, but it still drove Jackal insane. Jackal didn’t realize how much he was in love with Dan until a few weeks ago. Jackal decided Dan would be the one to get flustered this time and lifted his head to look him in the eyes. “You’re quite handsome yourself.” He gave a proud smirk once he was finished talking.

Dan returned the smirk and stopped walking. “Are you tryna make this a competition?” “Maybe.” “Then challenge accepted.” Once Dan had finished talking, he tilted his head up and placed a quick smooch on Jackal’s forehead. It took Jackal a few moments to fully process what had just happened. “Did… Did you just kiss me?” “No,” Dan said casually before bridging the gap between the two and kissing Jackal on the lips. He stayed there for a few moments before pulling away and smiling at Jackal’s flustered expression. “Now I kissed you.”

After several breathless seconds of Jackal staring forward, a deep crimson spread across his face. Dan chuckled and knocked his head against Jackals. “Hello? Anyone home?” Jackal could barely squeak out a sarcastic but still serious ‘no.’ Dan laughed more at that and continued walking. “Do you want me to do it again?” Jackal regained his thoughts for a moment to consider that question before nodding his head very slightly. Dan gladly obliged and stopped walking once more. This time he shifted Jackal in his arms slightly to carry him with one arm, placing a hand on the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss.

Jackal had more time to process this kiss. And oh my god, was he happy. He was kissing his crush! A crush he’s had for years! Once Dan pulled away, Jackal had a significantly wide and dopey smile on his face. Dan couldn’t help but smile back and press another, yet quicker, kiss to his friend’s lips. Dan decided to set Jackal down on the asphalt, placing a gentle hand on his cheek afterward. He let out a slight sigh and looked at Jackal with absolute love and adoration in his eyes. “You’re so handsome...” If the Jackal’s face could have been any redder, it would have been. He can confidently say this is the happiest day of his entire life.

“I love you.” Once again, Jackal declared something he didn’t mean to. He very quickly felt anxiety brewing in his stomach and his hands getting clammy. “Shit, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” He backed away from Dan, opening and clenching his fists, needing to calm his mind. “Hey, no, it’s okay.” Dan gently took Jackal’s hands in his own and kissed both, smiling gently at Jackal the whole time. “I love you too; I have for a while.” Dan’s smile quickly faded, though, at the tears that began flowing down Jackal’s rosy cheeks. “J? Are you okay?” His hand returned to Jackal’s cheek and wiped away the staining tears.

Jackal swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, grinning at Dan. “I’m just happy.” “Good, good… May I kiss you again?” Jackal chuckled softly and nodded, pushing himself on his tippy toes to reach Dan’s lips. Jackal’s still-falling tears landed on Dan’s cheek, but they didn’t mind. The sole thing on Dan’s mind was Jackal.

“Boyfriends?” Dan asked, and Jackal responded. “Boyfriends.” “Yes!” Dan giggled and bent down to hug Jackal and pick him up, swinging him around. Jackal only laughed along with him and winded his arms around Dan’s waist. Dan eventually set his newly established boyfriend down and gripped his hand, interlocking their fingers together. “We should get going. They’re probably waiting for us.” Jackal nodded as they both finally resumed their walk to Jordan’s house.

#the snakes original work #original character #original writing #original work #Jackal Nish x Dan Grit #mlm writing #gay writing #fluff #first kiss #idiots in love #getting together

[dirk-rider]

Dirk lay beside Jake, listening to them talk about whatever struck their mind. Thoughts on film, mostly, though anecdotes from their own life slipped through every once in a while.

Dirk really liked listening to Jake talk. It comforted him, reminded him that he wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t interrupt, as he found Jake’s voice charming, and he liked hearing Jake’s steady breathing as they spoke.

Tonight, Jake’s breathing was heavier, and accompanied by a low grumbling from their midsection. A full meal for the both of them, though it hit Jake much harder. Their stomach lay firm, so Dirk instead rested his head on Jake’s chest. Gurgles and groans occasionally sounded from there, too, and reverberated against Dirk’s rather sensitive ears. He liked the feeling, and softly glided his hand across Jake’s stomach to feel the sensations there as well.

After a while, these absent gurgles began making themselves more known in Jake’s chest, and then in their throat. Jake had never been able to burp the way Dirk did, though, and they couldn’t seem to catch them in time to push just a little bit more. Because of this, they ignored the sounds, seeming to forget that Dirk could still FEEL them, even if they remained inaudible.

Dirk had a few of his own he’d been swallowing, as he wanted better posture to make for better sounds when he let them out, but he wasn’t quite ready to move from his boyfriend’s chest.

Dirk did need an excuse to let them out soon, though. The pressure was starting to mess with him in ways which disrupted the other comfort of the moment. So he dragged his knuckles a bit deeper across Jake’s chest.

GT: Blimey, man, you could stand to be a bit gentler in your movements..!

Dirk exhaled a laugh which he knew came across as condescending.

TT: Why? Eat too much, lardass?

Jake flushed a bit.

GT: Well… yes? You should know as much, ogling me the way you did.

TT: Nothing bad has happened so far. Let me enjoy myself, would you? You’re fine.

GT: Alright haha, but if i hurl it will weigh on your conscience!

TT: You’ll be fine, man. Just keep talkin’ for me.

GT: Alright, let’s see where i left off. Oh yes! So i walked in and-brrurrp…

TT: You went in and burped? Pff, gross, dude.

Dirk felt a familiar heat rising within himself at the sound.

GT: No no, i wouldnt make such a crass sound in public and we both know it.

TT: You did last week.

GT: That was *you* who… who did that! You just placed your blame on me!

TT: I dunno, I think you’re remembering wrong. What reason would I have to blame you?

GT: You think it’s funny, you-berrUurgh!

TT: Man, you really are just provin’ my point.

GT: That was your fault and we both-bwuUrp-*fuck*, Strider, this-hhrp-hurts!

TT: Aw, they hurt? Not even a shred of relief?

Jake shook their head “no”, and Dirk sat up.

TT: Here, grab me that bottle of water, let me show you how it’s done.

GT: If you’d just keep your hands to yourself, i could instead go back to my digestion, thank you very much.

TT: Nah, I don’t think you could. Once they start in you, they usually don’t stop for a bit. And if they don’t feel good, what’s the point?

Jake sighed and grabbed the water bottle off of the nightstand for Dirk.

TT: Thanks, princess. Give me a moment.

Dirk unscrewed the bottle and put it to his mouth. He took a rather large inhale, more air than liquid, and swallowed heartily. The sound was loud and forceful and repeated itself a few times before Dirk‘s lips parted. He swallowed once more before his head thrust forward a bit and he opened his mouth.

TT: brRAAAAAAAaack!! *glp* baAaAAAAAArrp…eurp! Ohh fuck yeah, there we go.

Jake inhaled sharply, face redder at the display.

TT: See, those felt good, sounded crisp, too. Yours are just… pathetic.

GT: bbrUurgh…

TT: Yeah, y’see? You oughtta be more aware of your body. You can’t let them out so loosely, you need some control.

GT: I cant feel them the way you can, dirk, you know i cant!

TT: Really? You really can’t? You don’t feel the way your chest loosens and your throat tightens? You don’t notice the damn fuckin’ audible signs that they’re comin’ up?

GT: Glp… audible?

TT: Yeah, man, your throat usually gurgles a bit beforehand.

GT: I thought you hadnt noticed.

TT: So you do know what I’m talkin’ about, good. I want you to listen for that, wait for that feeling, okay?

GT: Okay… and then what? What do i do then?

TT: Well, to practice you’ve gotta lose a bit of that shame you’re holding onto, okay?

GT: What do you mean..?

TT: I want you to let out the lowest sound you can. Pitch-wise, I mean.

So Jake tried, they did. But the act was embarrassing. They didn’t want to lose full control of his vocal faculties, especially not with Dirk watching them so closely. Their heart was pounding and they wished Dirk would maybe leave the room, or maybe not have started… well, burping them. But now they wouldn’t stop and Jake was flustered and horny and they knew Dirk wouldn’t give up trying to “help” Jake until he was asleep.

GT: Could you at least… erm… look away..?

TT: Why? I like seein’ you squirm.

GT: Well im not really getting anywhere with you staring like a rattler. A guy has to retain a bit of dignity!

TT: Psh, fine, your loss. Some guys dream of my eyes on them, and here you are denying yourself the pleasure. But I can look somewhere else.

Dirk planted his eyes on Jake’s firm stomach.

GT: Could you look somewhere that… that isnt me?

So Dirk’s eyes moved to his hand, and he realized how anxious he must’ve looked. He relaxed his fists a bit, but was quickly interrupted by a low moaning sort of sound, and he smirked a bit.

GT: Oh dirk dont *laugh*!

TT: Sorry, sorry.

“Theres a good reason I voicetrain alone” was a thought that crossed his mind, though he didn’t verbalize it.

TT: You’re doing good, though, bro. You feel the way you’re pushin’? It comin’ up from the bottom of your throat, and you’re pushin’?

[unknownjpegs]

misfire

After that first time, it’s like a fucking gladiator arena. Empty until either side lifts the gate. Then it’s two blurs of wild, ferocious animal. Circling at first and then colliding together audibly, quickly. They’d be like that, if the gladiator arena was just Benny’s uncomfortable bed, if the animalistic fight-to-the-death was…right, well. 

It’s the third time Benny’s made this specific joke, or a filthy comment, or one of his weird, matter-of-fact declarations. And it’s the third time Maran has said yes. Also the third time he’s gotten a snake-like grin and devious take it slow in response. He doesn’t fucking want to. 

He has a prickle of feeling that might not be a barrier. Tonight they’d hit the ground running, out the gate, into the arena.

Mostly because their flat being empty didn’t happen often. Could take Benny back to his, but that’d mean someone would see the state of it. Benji’s dead plants he couldn’t bring himself to bin, the laundry basket of his clean clothes that Maran had folded in apology and hadn’t the stomach to put away. They both stare down at the group chat, Xavier’s string of loosely narrative emojis, and Lark’s explanation below: we’ll catch up, probably won’t be until morning. food in the fridge

Maran texted back immediately: thanks mom. Slipped his phone into his pocket. Slowly looked over at Benny. Found himself being looked at, already. And then — yeah. 

*

“Yeah,” Maran sighs, flushing at how strained his voice sounds. He clears away the roughness and pulls back from Benny’s mouth with a wet noise. His bottom lip stings from a bite. He sits up, wiping at his mouth with a sleeve and laughing. “Yeah, we could… yeah, I wanna fuckin’ do that.” 

Why are you so…mouth-able, dude? Benny had just sighed against the underside of his jaw.

“I can — ” the blond starts to offer, reaching up for the back of his head. He grins in that way that says, I’m not done with you, yet. Maran fights the pull a little, chewing at the unbruised side of his bottom lip, wicked smile firmly in place.

He fights it because if there’s resistance — he gasps a laugh, tugged suddenly and roughly forward for another kiss. Yeah. If he resists a little, Benny always uses more strength. Makes Maran shiver every fucking time. 

“I can do it first,” Benny suggests between kisses. He tapers them down his chin, tucking his nose between thumb and index finger, where they rest along Maran’s throat. Those words bounce around his head. “G-Give you an idea. Might n-not ever stop, though.”

“Y’know I’ve had one before, right?” He jokes away a bit of the sudden tension, his own nerves. Drops his eyes up-down quick, pitches his voice sly. “Or d’you mean you want to show me how, Ben?” 

Benny stares at him hard for a long, long moment. His jaw visibly works, eyes darting heatedly around Maran’s face.

“Don’t do that.”

Maran’s grin slips playfully innocent. “Dunno why you’re kickin’ off. I’m just saying.” A wild laugh leaves him, nerves more apparent than he liked. “I told you it was an option. Real clear about it, I thought. Feel it would be a very educational experience, yeah? Helpful if you just told me exactly where to put my — ”

Benny suddenly folds to haul him upright. Catches his mouth in a hard, consuming kiss. The worlds trail off in a sigh that parts his lips enough for their tongues to touch briefly together. At that, Maran swallows a proper fucking moan.

“L-look eager.” 

“I am. I just… ” Maran glances up at him. Gazes skitters away and back quickly, feeling the creeping wash of embarrassment up his face. Gets any worse, his confidence’ll drain out entirely, and before that happens he wants: “Wanna see you again.” 

“God. You’re going to give me a f-fucking complex, man.” Benny groans, falling backwards, shoulders flat to the bed. He’s grumbling and complaining even as his belt jingles. Maran’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he watches pale fingers dip below the elastic of his boxers. 

Benny doesn’t so much as shove him back down the bed, and Maran doesn’t so much as toss himself between his spread legs.

His heart’s racing in his chest, palms a little clammy as he sets them on either side of Benny’s hips to watch. He feels a bit like he’s just gotten much too high with Xavier, head swimming pleasantly and thoughts tripping away from him in a line like yarn, gathering into one narrow focus. 

When Benny brushes the fabric down his thighs, they both pause. 

“Y’know, Ben,” Maran finally says, shot-through with breathy amusement. “Think some things are maybe makin’ a bit more sense.” 

“Like?” The blond prompts, tongue tucked into his cheek. Got that crooked half-grin and a snarky, dangerous quirk to the brow. The one that makes Maran want to handcuff them together for — ah, shit. Mental image well stuck to his gray matter. 

“Uh.” Maran says. Blinks. Shakes it away as he pushes down the bed until he’s comfortable. Until he’s so aware that he’s staring at the hardening length in Benny’s hand. That it’s so close to his face.  It reminds him of his original thought. 

“Oh, right. Anyway. M’usually just a good ol’ fist and imagination lad —”

“Don’t tell me that, fuck.” 

“— but if I needed a help-along, I’d usually always go for,” he tucks his tongue to his cheek, wagging his eyebrows. “Straight ones. Didn’t know why. Took me ’til, ah, just about now to realize I was enjoying it, y’know. But also that I kept getting hung up on…I kept goin’ back to watch…” 

He trails off, lacking the air to talk because his chest has caught tight. Benny’s started moving his hand. Not much, not full, end-motivated tugs. 

“Watch w-what, Maran?” Benny asks. His eyes are blazing, but his tone is even.  

He swallows. “When they’d,” he looks sheepishly up, tongue swiping his lips. “When they’d take it out.” 

Benny stares at him. Then snorts. Then he laughs, head tossed back in the pillows. His whole body shakes with it, and it’s absolutely fucking contagious. Takes a second to catch their breath, and when they do, Benny’s simply shaking his head. 

Craning his neck to look down at Maran, he offers: “Come on. Thought Lark couldn’t take a hint.”

“Had my own cock hairpin’ at me, too.” He smooths a hand up Benny’s thigh. “Embarrassing, right?

“Nah. But…speaking of.” 

“Embarrassing?”

“Cock.”

Maran rolls his eyes. “Piss off, Ben.You’re lucky I still want to, after that one.”

The confidence and easy banter have him moving without pause further down, situating himself until he is truly, undeniably at eye-level.

He feels nervous again, but not with a novel newness. Person newness. Ben newness. He sighs.

“We shake hands or somethin’, now?” Maran quips. “Honest fight, n’all that?”

“Fuck. Hold on, go b-back a little.”

Maran frowns at him, face scrunched why? A hand winds around the back of his neck, tugging at the back of his make-out rumpled shirt. 

“You’re fucking breathing on me, dude.” Benny sounds…different. It makes him dizzy.

“Sorry,” Maran mumbles. He can’t look away from tattooed knuckles as they squeeze around the base. That gets edited down to a loop of three seconds. Absolutely replaying that one over and fucking over. “How do I — I mean, is it just —”

“D-Don’t overthink it. Just… start how you usually would, you know, do it. Go from there.” Benny delivers it roughly through gritted teeth. His hand cupping the back of Maran’s neck sweetly flexes — or twitches. Tightens almost too much for a second before slowly, purposefully relaxing.

 “Like I usually would?” Maran repeats thickly. He blinks hazy up at the other man, eyes swooping syrup-slow back down his body, lingering over the bunched-up gray tank, toned arms, a stomach that twitches and ripples. Not lustfully, he thinks of another body. Softer, thicker thighs, wet between them instead.

Maran licks his lips, barely hears the responding moan it earns, and then nods dreamily. “M’kay.”

He goes fully to his stomach with a bounce, squirming comfortably into the bunch of sheets. Leans forward on his elbows, flat palms framing Benny’s thighs. He smacks one open-mouthed kiss to that prominent vein. 

“Fuck!”

Ben shouts it. Maran watches through half-lidded eyes as the cock in front of face twitches. That sears into his brain like a brand on flesh, like that looping squeeze of knuckles.

Man, I’m gonna think about this forever, Maran realizes, and then — 

Then he doesn’t get to watch any more. Because Benny uses the leverage on the back of his neck to shove his face away, push it down into the sheets. 

“M’sorry,” Maran muffles a snort of laughter into the navy fabric. “I thought —”

“You— you start...” Benny’s panting, swearing. “That’s your thing —?” 

He laughs harder, shoving at the hand on the back of his head. It stays firm. “Haven’t gotten a complaint so far. But I can get you the form to fill out?” 

“Glad I can’t fuckin’ hear whatever you just said, you little shit.” Benny mutters, but lets him rise for a gulp of air. Instead of going far, he skates his teeth over Benny’s inked knee, smiling. “Maran.”

“Did you almost,” Maran interrupts, tongue poking from between his teeth. He jerks at the air obscenely, throws his fingers out with a whistle. When Benny’s silent a moment, his smirk widens into something too pleased, too smug. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he quips, and sits up to dust his palms. “Just a natural, ‘pose.”

Benny’s hand comes suddenly around the front of his throat. Not hard or mean, but a quick climb up his chest to settle around the column. Firm. 

He gasps as soon as he feels those fingers curl. Leans into it. Goes a bit liquid down the spine, bottom of his stomach flipping. His prick takes more interest now; the pressure makes him squirm, makes his muscles heavy and loose. He braces his hands on pale, bent knees.

The grip tightens even more. Hand cradling the back of his skull, fingers at his pulse. He’s pulled closer, hovering, and then held in place. 

A stuttering, unhinged moan of a laugh startles out of him when Benny raises his hips, presses himself against Maran’s cheek. 

“You’re such a dog, Ben.” Maran huffs, feeling insane about the swipe of hardness close to the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he groans quietly, immediately shy about the noise. Fingers squeeze at his nape.

“Stay still, keep it shut.” Benny clips out. Maran closes his mouth and casts a swimming gaze that crawls along a pale stomach, tattoo-dotted torso. Finds Benny’s steady, cold stare. Not cold now. They’re blown dark like the night sky. Cobalt gone all navy, because he’s… turned on. 

Maran swallows. He’d done that. And done— Benny he reaches down, fists himself more purposefully with lazy strokes. Maran had done that, too. Made it worse. 

Doesn’t realize the mix of pride and lust is so potent like this, doing…nothing. Not really nothing, because he’s doing something for somebody, he’s listening to what Benny said and he’s staying still, keeping his mouth shut, obeying.

Hm.

Maran shoves his hips against the bedsheets. What’s so good about this, about Benny’s warm skin under his hands and his handsome face tossed back in pleasure. While he… man, while he fucking wanks off to, or on, literally on, Maran’s — 

“Cute fucking face,” Benny groans it so filthily that his ears get warm. “Knew you’d look cute like this, with cock on your — hn — cute fucking face.” He cracks an eye open. “Respectfully.” 

Please, he thinks, and it’s a soft chant in the back of his foggy head. Benny rubs teasingly over his mouth, which floods with a surprising amount of saliva. His eyes blink open and search for that iced-over gaze, humming when he finds it. The other man looks much more focused than Maran feels. Above him, all blurry at the edges with how out of it he feels, Benny’s dreamily handsome. Defined in the center, shimmering mirage of blurred two as his eyes roll. 

His hand starts moving faster.

“Fuck,” Maran breathes, edgy little laugh caught in his throat. He’s begging. “Please. Ben, c’mon, let me — ”

He doesn’t know what.

He knows exactly what.

he true end of that sentence is: do anything. Let me do anything, he wants to say. It’s an all-encompassing anything, gut-deepsort of want had been abstract in his head. There, lingering. Scratch in the back of his skull, heat in his stomach at something obscure, strange, normal.  Now he knows that the anything is that same-different kind. Same, like all his other want. Different, because, well. Him.

Benny. He grunts, swears harsh and loud. It tapers off into an unspooling groan that slithers out of his chest. Sounds like Maran’s name, or at least he wants to hear it that way. He smiles mindlessly. 

“You’re begging for it, already? From this?” Benny asks, scoffing with hot, mean amusement. 

Maran viciously nods until the room spins. He’s swept by a brief wave of embarrassment, but it’s not rotten or bitter in him — it’s good. Feels hot, like getting ice-water dunked in August. Maran shivers like he has been, warm in his cheeks. Not just where other flesh touches.

His hum is content as he fights against the urge to withdraw, turtle into himself. The noise is enough to earn a low, appreciative sigh from above him — enough approval in it for him to shrug off the hint of shame. Enough to catch Benny off guard. 

Maran manages to shake a bit of the pressure from the hand on the back of his neck. He turns his face enough. Just enough. Knuckles brush against his mouth as they move, and he chases the length they vacate. Sticks his tongue out, touches its firm point feather-light under the head.

* 

Benny watches Maran as he hunches over the sink, face under the stream of water.

“You know I h-hate saying, told you so.” 

“The cheek,” Maran grumbles. “Got a new respect for it, s’what I’ll fucking say.” 

“Dangerous w-work.” Benny pushes off the doorframe to slink an arm around his waist. Touch greedy, unapologetic fingers into the waistband of Maran’s shorts. “Somebody has to do it. I humbly volunteer to take on that difficult t-task.” He starts to lower to his knees. “Hard. Hard task, shit. That w-would have been funnier.” 

Maran shuts the water off and gently pushes him away with a palm to the center of his forehead. “Naw, Ben, ‘cuz I’m spiteful and I’ll do it back purposefully. Then we’ll both look like fuckin’ idiots, wearing eyepatches.” 

“And m-matching shirts with arrows.” Ben crosses his bare arms, points them in opposite directions. “They’ll say —”

“What, I came on this guy’s face? Shut up, man. Shit.” 

The giggles get to him then. It’s either fall over like a clown, or lean against Benny for support against the onslaught. 

He chooses the latter. Maran likes how he gets pressed close. Likes being pulled in, held. Probably not what most people want, sore eye and smart-ass comments and a pair of twitchy, lecherous hands. Probably better places to be. Things to be doing. Maran likes it right here, though.

#writing #ua #mgc #jlb #mgc x jlb #vampire au