#i think he would find it amusing personally but like dont drag him into it

[oopsalltes]

THIS IS MAKING ME SICK

KURO SELF-PERCEIVING NOT BEING IN BAKU 1 STORY MODE AS GETTING THIRD-WHEELED i have to draw this later

#bomberman #THEYRE SO STUPID #i hate to say it but kuro classifies as a tsundere #he doesnt even have room to talk hes been a bad guy for most of the series by the time of baku 1 #sirius is just there poor guy #i think he would find it amusing personally but like dont drag him into it #he'll hit you

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

#here we go again #cod #cod hcs #hcs #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #platonic taskforce141 #task force 141 x reader #platonic task force 141 #platonic #platonic task force 141 x reader #platonic cod #price #soap #ghost #gaz #tf141 #its currently 1:28 as im tagging this #am #i just watched the thing for the first time like #two hours ago #lowkey terrified but we still up #it was so gross btw #still recommend watching it tho!! #anyway

[wolfiesmoon]

What a fate

Ran x good girl! reader

this is a part 2 to my fic "i can't sleep", dont worry i'm feeding ur families they will no longer starve. apparently people are really into ran considering how many notes that fic of mine got (and who can blame them honestly)

unrelated but i cant believe it took me this long to get into housewife radio by ghost i love the horror vibes because of course i do

You've had a turbulent few days recently. Ever since you agreed to do that stupid dare Ran hasn't left you alone.

He did promise to do so but you didn't think he was actually serious about "making you his". How could you let this happen?

Things turned out completely opposite to what you expected, though. Instead of dragging you to his gang meeting to beat the crap out of you, he's taking you there to threaten his lackeys that if they even so much as lay a finger on his girl (you), they'd feel hell on earth.

You suppose that it's nice that he wants to protect you but you feel extremely out of place and uncomfortable at a gang meeting of all places.

Your parents think you're studying at a library right now. Somehow, you feel like you're commiting a crime.

You also met his brother at that meeting.

It seems being a good-for-nothing delinquent runs in their family. You feel sorry for their parents. If they even have them.

"Wow, I would've never thought the nerd would be your type." Rindou teased Ran. Actually, maybe it was both of you he was teasing.

"She's the one that kissed me first." Ran smirked at you.

"You're the worst. Both of you." you furrowed your brows, not finding either of them amusing in the slightest.

"Your girlfriend hates you, man. Personally I would not put up with that." Rindou seemed disinterested, checking his nails as he said that.

"I am not his girlfriend, either!" you defended yourself but Ran just looked at you like he pitied you and Rindou looked like he didn't believe you.

"Right, okay, if you say so. You two have your lover's quarrel on your own. I'm going elsewhere." Rindou just casually left, leaving you all alone with Ran in an abandoned storage unit. Oh boy.

"Umm, I should get going- ack!" you felt your wrist getting grabbed, preventing you from leaving. There's your only exit up in smoke.

"Leaving so soon? But we haven't even had our fun yet." Ran smiled at you and you honestly felt scared at that moment. Oh no, you shouldn't have yelled back at him so daringly just now. Now he's going to beat the crap out of you and drop you off in front of your parents doorstep as a warning to never mess with his gang again.

He leaned in closer and you braced yourself for the pain, but instead of that you felt his lips on yours.

Kissing...?! Again?! Well, atleast it's better than a punch to the face... You can't believe it's come to a point where you're glad to get kissed by Ran.

But still, does he have to kiss you in the least romantic place possible? Even if you did have feelings for him you'd totally find this moment cringy.

"You suck at kissing." He comments heartily, pulling away.

"I'm not the one who kisses a new girl every day. Maybe I actually have some self-respect." You crossed your arms. He was your first kiss after all.

"Every night is an exaggeration. It's like, every week." You couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious, even if you saw his expression.

"Oh, wow. Glad to know that I'll get cheated on in about 3 days. Way to make your 'girlfriend' hate you less."

"I'll stop for you." He smiled.

"Uh huh, whatever." You rolled your eyes.

Though, his kisses are actually kind of making you.... No, no! Don't fall for that! You can't believe you almost admitted that you'd fall for him if he kissed you more.

.

"How's it going with your new boyfriend, girl?"

"God, do not call him that." You held your forehead in frustration.

"I think he's taken a liking to you." Your friend nudged you, pointing at Ran who was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria and smiling at you as he ate.

"Great." You said sarcastically, immediately looking away when your eyes met.

"See? It ended up well. Now you have a hot bad boy boyfriend." Your friend kinda wished she'd done it instead of daring you.

"Didn't I just... ugh! I don't think my parents would agree with you." You placed your forehead on the table, groaning. "You date him if you want a bad boy so bad. But I hate you for dragging me into this." Your voice was slightly muffled.

"Yeah, we'll see. You'll be the happiest couple ever in like, two months."

You raised your head, looking back at Ran once again. You're in quite the pickle, aren't you? The next thing you know, you'll fall for Haitani Ran.

How scarily exciting.

.

"Hop on." Ran stopped on his bike in front of the library. How he knew you had a study session there today? Don't worry about the details.

Another motorcycle ride... You feel like you barely survived the last one.

"My parents expect me to be home in 10 minutes." You crossed your arms. You weren't lying, either.

"Who cares? Live a little." Ran rolled his eyes playfully. Clearly he isn't going to let you back down.

"I'll do it, but only if you keep it to ten minutes." He was right, backing down isn't your thing. You wonder how much resisting him you could get away with if you weren't special to him.

Special to him... huh.

"Killjoy." He insulted you lightly as you sat down in front of him. Again, neither of you are wearing a helmet. This is the last time you'll let it slide.

"I prefer to not get scolded endlessly." You held onto him tightly because you knew what was coming and didn't want to almost fall off the bike again. He felt proud when you held onto him like that.

Like you're finally his. To be honest, he didn't really care much for you until you kissed him out of nowhere like that. How bold of you, the top-of-the-class rule stickler. But he likes that. And that's why he decided to make you his.

Isn't the fact that he lets you ride on his motorcycle enough to see that?

You felt the wind blowing against your face as you set off. Now that you feel it again, it doesnt feel too bad. It's kind of nice, actually. And Ran is warm, too.

The scenery moves past the two of you and strangely, you feel really calm and at peace. It feels like your parents don't exist in this moment and that you can just... live, and feel the adrenaline of the high speed.

This is so scarily exciting.

"You look relaxed." He said, looking down at you.

"I am. And look at the road, will you?" You scolded him but your voice was still relaxed. You look up at him again.

He actually isn't that bad looking. You kind of understand why some girls would fall for him. You, on the other hand...

Are unfortunately befalling the same fate.

He didn't say anything but you had a feeling he knew you were staring.

"You look like you're in love."

"What?! How would you even know?!" You looked back at the road, hiding your face from him. You can't help but get defensive of such a thing.

God, you hate that he's right.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗ #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev x you #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran x y/n #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x reader #haitani x reader #ran haitani #tokyo rev x reader #haitani brothers #haitani ran x you #haitani ran #ran fluff #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #ran x you #ran x reader #ran x y/n #x fem reader #fem reader

[playgrl0]

it's always been you / hanma

wc: 2,533

when hanma picks up his phone and hears your sniffles at the other end of the line, he knew right away what the reason for your tears were. he tells you to send him your location and stay where you are and that he's gonna pick you up. with a deep sigh he grabs his zip up hoodie and leaves to come and pick you up.

you went on a date with this ´funny looking´​ guy, as shuji would say. he has no idea what you see in him and he doesn't like that you hang out with him. at all.why? hanmathinks that he makes it pretty obvious that he likes you romantically. he doesn’t hide it at all, he constantly flirts with you and is extremely touchy, just like a boyfriend would be.

but hanma is your best friend, not your boyfriend. he never told you straight up that he's in love with you though. and you’re probably the most oblivious human on this planet, which is pretty amusing to him, so he wants you to figure it out yourself. when you first told him that you're talking to and hanging out with another guy that isn't him, he felt like committing arson. you told him that the reason you started talking to him was because you wanted to get over another guy that you were crushing on, and forget about him. so, you're using a guy to get over another one, and none of those boys are him? committing arson wouldn't be enough at this point.

about ten minutes after your call, hanma finally arrives at a bus station a few houses away from where that boy lives. you’re sitting on the bench, face finally dry from the few tears that were streaming down your face not too long ago. the sound of hanma’s bike catches your attention and you watch how he parks the bike, gets off, walks over to you and sits down next to you.

“d’ya want me to beat the fuck outta him?” he speaks up and takes off his zip up hoodie, “i think he’d look better with a few bruises and blood streaming down his face. that fucking asshole.” he mumbles as he puts the hoodie over your shoulders and then pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking. you only shake your head no as you put the hoodie on properly and keep staring straight ahead, which hanma finds weird. it's so unlike you to be quiet, even when you’re upset. that guy must've really hurt your feelings and hanma plans on hurting him way worse once he took care of you. “you wanna tell me what happened?” he asks and takes another drag from his cigarette. you sigh, “long story short, he said that i'm not good enough and he prefers a girl he's been talking to behind my back.” you quietly answer him. oh how hanma would love nothing more than to beat this guy unconscious. not good enough? you? the most amazing person he has ever met? and he knows, hanma knows that he should comfort you right now but since he's hanma, he cant help himself and let out a comment he's been waiting to say to you the second you called because he knew this would happen.

“i told you he's an asshole but you didn't listen.” he shrugs and earns a slap on the back of his shoulder. “thanks for nothing. drive me home.” you grumble and get up from the bench and walk over to his bike. he follows you with a smirk gracing his lips. “the fuck are you smirking at?” you ask pissed, arms crossed over your chest. he chuckles as he puts the helmet he specifically bought stole for you on your head. he makes sure it's secure and chuckles. “you’re not actually pissed at me and i'm not taking you home. you’re sleeping at my place tonight. hop on the bike.” he gets on and waits for you to get on as well. you sit on the bike behind hanma and wrap your arms around his middle. once he feels your arms holding tightly onto him, he starts driving you both to his place. you lean your head against his back, as good as the helmet allows it, close your eyes and think about everything that has happened. you knew from the beginning that dating this guy wouldn't end well. you knew that he was an asshole, shuji was right. fuck, you dont even have feelings for that guy, at all. you only wanted to distract yourself. at this point you’ll try everything to forget about him. to forget your feelings about shuji. right now it's hard to ignore those feelings. your stomach is filled with butterflies as you hold onto your best friend. you shouldn't feel like this about him. you shouldn't feel your knees weaken every time he smiles at you, your heart beating faster every time he touches you. it's so wrong. he's your best friend and that's all he’ll ever be.

“we’re here.” hanma's deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. he stops the bike in front of his apartment building and gets off. he turns to you and gently removes the helmet from your head, then holds your hand to help you off the bike. and once again, your heart beats faster at his touch. you finally make your way into his apartment where you remove your shoes first and then walk into his bedroom where you flop face down onto his bed. you hear him chuckle behind you and he lets himself fall beside you. he's laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling while you're still on your stomach, face buried in his pillows. “how’re you feeling? wanna talk about it?” he breaks the short silence. you turn your head to look at him, his beautiful side profile makes your heart flutter, and you feel yourself starting to grow frustrated once again. why is he so handsome? you turn away again, “i'm pissed but i'm okay. i'll just find another guy. no problem.” you mutter into his pillows. hanma turns to look at you and is met with the back of your head. without realizing it his hand travels to your head where he starts to comfortingly scratch your scalp. it's something he’s always done to you, ever since you two were little. he does it when he knows you’re not feeling well, it helps you calm down and feel better. you turn your head back to him with a smile. “if you keep doing this i'll fall asleep.” he removes the hand and grins back at you. “you’re not going to sleep until you tell me what's going on with you.” “what do you mean?” you frown. a sigh leaves hanma's lips, “i mean, what's up with with you and wanting to desperately date someone? you never cared about relationships like that and it's so unlike you to just go out and date random idiots.” you turn to lay on your back as well and stare at the ceiling. fuck, what now? do you tell him the truth or should you lie? lying to him wouldn't even work anyway. he knows you too well and he knows when you’re lying. you suck at it. “earth to y/n?!” hanma pulls you out of your thoughts once again and pushes your shoulder with his. “c’mon, talk to me.”

you sigh deeply and sit up, leaning against the headboard of his bed, he follows your moves and looks at you, waiting for you to finally speak. "okay,” you sigh again. “i've been dating all these boys because i thought i could find the right one and that he would help me forget about my feelings that i have for someone else.” hanma hides his disappointment really well. it’s been hard for him to see you dating one guy after another and then telling him right into his face that you have real feelings for someone else. someone that isn’t him. fuck. but this isnt about him right now, its about you and he needs to make you feel better. if there’s one thing in this world that shuji hanma hates, it's seeing you upset. “oh. well, why do you want to forget about that other person so badly? why not just confess to them?” he casually speaks up. “yeah, no! i’m going to stop you right there. i definitely won't do that. it’ll ruin everything.” you mumble the last part quietly but he still hears it. “ruin what?” he frowns. “ugh, our friendship! it’ll ruin our fucking friendship!” you burst out, feeling super frustrated at this point. and what does hanma do?

he fucking laughs.

you look at him with the hardest death stare. “what’s so fucking funny?” you huff. hanma finally calms down and wipes an imaginary tear from under his eye. “a friendship? i’m literally the only friend you have. you have no friends other than me, idiot.” he finishes his sentence with a small chuckle and lays back down, both arms resting behind his head. your face heats up at his words. no, its fucking burning. you feel like your skin is about to burn off your bones. did you say too much? does he know now?

“i do have other friends, bastard!” you stutter over your words. “the sweet old lady that lives across from you and the little boy from the playground dont count. i’m your one and only.” he has the most proudest and widest shit eating grin on his face. “fuck you!” you throw one of his pillows at him and press another one on his face, trying to not actually suffocate him. he easily snatches the pillow from you and throws it right back at you. you catch it and bury your face in it. when you don't remove your face from the pillow again and don't say a word for a while, hanma grows nervous. did he say something wrong? he softly pinches your leg, “what’s wrong?” you finally remove the pillow and lay down next to him with a deep sigh. “you caught me.” you mumble defeated. “what do you mean?” he is more than confused right now. “that i like you.” the words leave your mouth faster than you wanted to. they just slipped out.

the both of you are staring at each other now, both of your eyes wide open and in shock. “shut the fuck up! i’m the guy you've been trying to forget about?” you dont think you’ve ever seen him so shocked at something before. “no! fuck! i didnt mean to..ugh! no, yes! yes, it's you. it’s always been you.” you ramble on while hiding your face behind your hands. hanma is a smiling mess right now. he just watches you being all flustered and listens to your rambles. he didn’t think it would be impossible for you to catch feelings for him, he just never thought that it would actually happen and he is more than fucking happy right now.

he quickly rolls on top of you and removes your hands from your face. he is met with your beautiful eyes that are staring right back at him in shock. this isn’t the first time in your friendship that he's on top of you or that you've been on top of him, but you just confessed your love to him and now he's laying right on top of your body and you feel like you might explode from feeling so embarrassed. you wish you could just sink right into the mattress and then disappear completely.

“cat got your tongue? what happened to your rambling?” he breaks the silence, smirking. “fuck off!” you whine, turning your head away. you know him too damn well so you know that hes gonna tease the fuck out of you now and hes going to have the time of his life with this. he suddenly grabs your chin and turns your head back to look at him. “i know you’re fucking embarrassed right now and i find it hilarious,” the smirk never leaves his lips and you roll your eyes at him. “but, i like you as well. i’m pretty sure you knew that though.”“shuji?? i did not know that?!” you squeal. “oh? i thought i was being pretty obvious. you’re just blind i guess.” he chuckles. “but anyway, i do like you as well. and now that you know that, please stop going out with other men before i end up murdering them all.” you both break out into a fit of laughter. hanma lets his head fall into the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him.

the laughter dies down after a short while and he mumbles against your neck, “please be my girlfriend?” he asks a bit careful and removes his head from your neck to look at you. “yeah,” you answer, smiling like an idiot. “i’ll be your girlfriend, yes!” you happily pull him into a hug, his head buried in your neck again. “thank god you said yes, i would've actually went on a murder spree to get rid of every single man.” “i know you would.” you laugh again as he pulls his head away from you again, his hand softly brushing over your warm cheek. “so, i can kiss you now that you're my girl, right?” he grins. “of course!” he wastes no time and presses his lips against yours and in that moment you feel like this is not only the happiest moment of your life, but also the most beautiful one. you thought and dreamt about this very moment so many times more than you would like to admit to yourself, but the reality of having his lips move softly against yours is a million times better than any of your dreams have ever been. his lips are surprisingly soft and warm and they're moving perfectly against yours, his tongue brushing over your bottom lip every once in a while. you don’t want this moment to end, ever, and neither does hanma. he’s kissing you gently but with a small hint of desperation and his big, calloused hands cupping your cheeks. he deepened the kiss and you pulled him as close to your body as you possibly could and both of you wanted more, more of each other, but your air is ran out so you finally pulled away and now you’re looking into each others eyes again while panting softly.

“fuck, if i knew kissing you would feel this fucking good, i would’ve hoped ​one of those guys you dated would hurt your feelings way sooner.” he earns a slap on the back of his head for that. “you could’ve confessed as well, why’d you wait so long?” you snap back. “ah, that’s a story for another time. i want more kisses.” he wastes no time and presses his lips against yours again.

he kisses you over and over and over again. throughout the entire night. “you’re mine now. forever.” he said.

he’ll never let you go.

tags: @ranscutedoll @bertholdts--butt @zazcie @getcozylove @hoshiko @nanaosaki3940 @nanamikentoseyebags @sin-and-punishment @peachebmad @wakashawty @shamelessperfectionhideout @vmlnrz @saintokkotsu @satanlovesusall666 @kiirsteinn @noritopia @gothamgurl2024 @unknownspecies

<3 @ playgrl0

#p!writes!%* #hanma x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #shuji hanma #hanma shuji #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers hanma

[spaceyflowerswriting]

hi I'm back again, I requested the vin jin study date one and it was the best piece of literature I've read. It was so good that I wanna request another vin jin one cause I'm down so bad. This time could it be a scenario with him but he shows his eyes to the reader?

p.s. dont forget to take care of yourself ❤

connection (vin jin x reader)

details: soft oneshot, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and vin jin are dating

summary: your boyfriend decides to finally reveal what's under his sunglasses to you.

a/n: thank u for requesting anon <33 thats rlly high praise,, im happy u liked that one so much T_T 💘 i hope this works for u, and i hope ur taking care of urself too :]

×

Vin Jin NEVER made plans. Things just happened and he rolled along with it, or he would make things happen, and whatever happened would happen. He just wasn't the careful kind of guy, and often he acted without thinking.

For once, though, he made a plan. A plan revolving around something very important to him, one that needed much consideration and steps to take. He even did it without any help! Yes, maybe some advice from his smarter friend Mary would've been helpful, but he wanted to be as genuine as possible so he chose to do things in his own unique, messy way.

That was part of his charm--according to you, anyway--and he wanted to utilize it specifically because this plan involved revealing a secret to you. What better way to go about it could there be?

~

"Vin Jin, where are we going?"

"It's a secret!" He turned to make sure your eyes were still closed. It was really hard to see with his sunglasses and the darkness of night, but with enough staring, he could kind of see that your eyes were still closed. He smiled triumphantly and faced forward again to continue leading you by hand.

"Why? So secret you can't even show your lover the way to get there?"

"Can't you let me be romantic for once?"

"Pardon?" You wheezed and Vin Jin turned a little red.

He cleared his throat and attempted to defend himself. "Didn't this exact thing happen in the K-drama you were watching with Mary the other day? You were talking about how sweet it was." He turned a little more red when he remembered walking by and almost blurting out about how cringey and cheesy the scene was until you stated your opinion on it.

His response only elicited more laughter out of you. "Vin Jin, you are so cute."

"Man, shut up," he muttered, "I regret doing this."

"And yet you're still walking~"

"Because--" Vin Jin's small annoyance was quickly replaced with excitement at the sight ahead of him. "We're here!" He started sprinting and you yelped.

"Can I open my eyes now?! You're gonna make me trip!"

"Yes, whatever, c'mon!" His hand still held tightly onto yours as he ran until he felt he was at an appropriate distance to the small lake. He took a deep breath of the fresh air in the open space and then looked behind himself at you.

Walking forward to stand by his side, you looked around and asked, "This is where you wanted to bring me?"

You didn't sound as awed as he hoped you would and frowned a little. "Why? Is this place not cool?"

"You brought me here before to have a picnic."

"I did?" Vin Jin scrambled to find a memory of this and turned red once more when he did. "Fuck."

How lame. This was supposed to be a heartwarming moment where you say, "Wow, you brought me to a place personal to you?" and he was supposed to reply, "Yeah, because you're my number one, babe." Actually didn't that happen the first time he did bring you here?

He tried to brush his scenario aside when you started laughing. Again.

"Never change, Vin." He huffed when he felt you press your lips against his cheek.

"You know I won't. Now let's sit." He started to sit down and practically dragged you along.

"What are we doing?" You hurried to sit with your legs crossed.

Vin Jin let go of your hand to snap with both of his fingers. "We're going to stargaze." He grinned at your amused expression.

"Okay, I'm ready when you are."

"But first..." Here comes his plan. "Uh." Vin Jin had never so intensely felt the pain of "easier said than done" until now. "I need to take off my sunglasses, y'know? Can't stargaze if you can't see shit."

He tried to watch your expression to see how he could proceed. All you did was widen your eyes. It seemed like you were going to say something so he waited, but it only resulted in an awkward pause.

"So... uh... yeah, gonna take off my sunglasses," he eventually continued, slowly bringing his hands up to his shades. "Don't mind me."

Yup. This was his plan. Be as casual as possible; because he knew if he tried to take himself seriously, he would only trip over himself and possibly end up clamming up.

This way he could also not pressure you with his anxieties. He knew it wouldn't be right to tell you, "I'm going to show you my fucked up eye and if you scream or make a single disgusted reaction I am going to dig a hole and live in it for the rest of my life," no matter how much he wanted to say it.

If you wanted to break up with him because of his eye, so be it. He didn't want to lose you no matter what, but if you left because of an "ugly" part of him, he knew you wouldn't be worth it anyway. No loving person would leave their partner for something like a physical trait considered unusual.

Well... that's what he was trying to tell himself.

Vin Jin gulped, growing frustrated that he couldn't stop his shaky hands. Your eyes still on him didn't help. At this point, he had his hands on the sides of his sunglasses but was just holding them there.

Nearly a whole uncomfortable minute passed before you spoke. "Sorry, do you... want me to look away?"

The gentleness in your voice combined with the sincere look of concern on your face was the last push Vin Jin needed. He took a steady breath before replying, "Nah, it's good." He didn't let you say anything more in case it would've stopped him from what he was about to do, so he just quickly took his sunglasses off and set them aside.

Immediately he looked away from you out of instinct and cursed at himself before trying to casually lay down on the grassy floor. He glanced at you to see you looking away as well. If only he could see your expression.

He crossed his arms behind his head while you laid down next to him.

It was silent again. The mood was too tense for a peaceful activity like stargazing.

"I walked into this, I better damn finish it."

Vin Jin slowly turned his head towards you. He tried to start a conversation, but only opened his mouth to close it. He knit his brows as he let a few more seconds of silence pass before relaxing his facial features and saying, "It's way easier to stargaze in the countryside."

"Yeah, I'd imagine. All these city lights are ruining stargazing." You replied lightly, chuckling even, but you appeared as tense as the mood. Your eyes were focusing intently on the sky above; as if looking back at Vin Jin would cost you your life. It honestly made him feel bad for how sensitive he had been in the past about trying to hide his eyes, but at the same time was glad you were so respectful of his boundaries.

"Right?" He continued to stare at you, hoping he would not have to prompt you to look at him. "I wanna take you there one day. Not where I'm from, but somewhere in the countryside."

"I'd love that."

A soft smile formed on his lips. "There's also a lot more space in the countryside. Less people plus less streets and places to navigate. I think it'd be nice to run around there with you."

"Mhm. I'm guessing that's why you like this place so much. Does it remind you of the countryside?"

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the city, but it's nice not having to worry about running into something every five seconds."

"Hm, well, maybe that has to do with the sunglasses you wear?" The way you were easing into the conversation made Vin Jin give himself an internal pat on the back.

"I got you and Mary to help me navigate around, don't I?"

"Can't do that for the rest of our lives, you know," you chuckled again.

"No choice, you're both stuck with me until the day I die."

"Guess I can't complain then. I signed up for this after all."

"Yes, you did."

The talking continued as topics and bantering bounced back and forth between the two of you. A few minutes in, Vin Jin turned away from you to admire the stars with you. He knew he was "chickening out," but tried to convince himself this was part of his plan to be casual. He did say he wouldn't force you to do anything.

~

It finally happened, albeit an accident.

While telling you an embarrassing childhood story about Mary, Vin Jin and you had turned to look at each other as he was saying, "She got all mad and looked at me like this--"

He was pretty sure your eyes widened at the same time as his. He froze up, his brain yelling at him to hurry and put his sunglasses back on, but he did his best to ignore it and tried to finish his story.

"Uh." The words were caught in his throat. "She..."

You were staring. There was no look of disgust. No look of fear. Only simple curiosity and surprise. Dare he say... entranced? As if you were observing an artpiece and trying to figure out its meaning, rather than looking at a freak.

Suddenly the fear Vin Jin was feeling was replaced by him getting flustered. He couldn't stop himself from turning away and that was when you seemed to have realized you were staring.

"I-I'm so sorry!" A waterfall of words spilled from your mouth, but mostly apologies. You tried to explain yourself but could barely form a sentence. It would have been cute if you didn't sound so panicked.

Vin Jin said your name, which got you to become silent, and then, "It's fine."

"It's--it's fine?" you repeated, now sounding confused.

"Yeah." Vin Jin forced himself to turn back to look at you. You were looking away once again. Now that you finally got a look at his eyes, he decided to be less indirect. "What's wrong?" He plastered on his iconic grin, playing dumb. "You never seen someone's eyes before? Weirdo."

"I... but... you..."

Turning to lay on his side, Vin Jin put his elbow out so he could prop his head up with his hand. "But what? You can turn back around, I don't care." Despite his confident tone, he was still physically shaking a little but he just hoped you wouldn't notice if you looked back.

"Vin..." Your voice softened. Still, you did not yet turn. "I don't understand. Why are you suddenly okay with showing me your eyes?"

"Ah, fuck." Time to get serious, he supposed.

Vin Jin sighed. "I just think it's about time I show you. I can't imagine never getting to see you properly for the rest of my life 'cause of my darkened shades."

You took a few seconds to process his words. "Aren't they an insecurity of yours, though? I'm just confused about why you're so carefree about them now."

"That's..." Vin Jin swallowed whatever pride he still had at the moment. "Because I figured it was the best way to go about it for me. There was no way in hell I was gonna sit down with you and seriously talk to you about an insecurity." He tried to crack a joke to ease his nerves. "Besides, how awkward would that be, right?"

"Huh." The silence that passed made Vin Jin beg you to say literally anything at all--internally, of course. "Are you absolutely sure it's okay for me to look at your eyes?"

"Yes. I think it's like..." Vin Jin wished he was better with his words. "A sign of trust, you know? And I trust you, a lot."

"I see." He watched as your body tensed up and then finally, you turned back around. The immediate eye contact made him tense up with you.

It happened again.

You had the same look full of love as you always did for him. There was just other emotions tossed in, but nothing bad.

This second time was a confirmation of sorts for Vin Jin that you viewed him the same. He didn't become a monster to you, he was only just your boyfriend. A human with an unordinary eye. And you still loved him.

Relief washed over him.

"May I ask what happened...?" you carefully questioned.

"Polycoria," he said, "is the name of the condition. I, uh, I'll tell you more about it another day. Probably." Nervously smiling, he moved back to lay down on his back and look at the stars. "This was. A lot." He spoke through gritted teeth, cringing at his every word and feeling like he was a sweaty mess. "I don't have anymore... um. Vulnerability to share. I'm done today."

Whatever emotion was running through him was indescribable, but just like how you looked at him, it wasn't bad so that was something.

Thankfully, your melody of laughter came along and soothed his soul. "Alright, that's understandable, Vin." You also turned away, joining him to stargaze. "Thanks for sharing this part of you with me. I'll make sure to take good care of it."

Vin Jin wondered how he ever scored someone as kind as you. If he wasn't overwhelmed with emotions before, he was now. All he felt like he could do was grab your hand and say, "I love you."

You hummed, rubbing his thumb with yours. "I love you, too."

His heart practically exploded. He was also starting to feel a little dumb. How could he have ever doubted you? Why did he take this long to show you his eyes when he knew you would still love him the same?

Ah, it didn't matter. That was done and over with now.

Vin Jin smiled at the sparkly stars above. Until he remembered he should finish his story about Mary, so he turned back to you and continued. He stared at you lovingly as the conversation carried on and felt glad he pushed himself for this moment.

Tomorrow morning would be the first time he would properly get to see you with sunlight shining on your skin, without his sunglasses in the way.

#lookism x reader #vin jin x reader #vin jin #requests #whew i had to rewrite this entirely but i love how this 2nd version came out #way less rushed + cuter and more in character imo ^_^;; #anyways [clenches fists and shakes them] vin jin my beloved bastard u fill me with so much emotion #btw shoutout to lofi music that shit carried me thru writing this 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 #youtube channel syros in particular #the playlist is called 'its all about the simple things' if anyone is curious <3

[perfectlovepoison]

thots on the new junjou mix chapter (tero part)

spoilers below obviously

but first of all a summary of the tero part if anyone is interested.

this is a pretty simple chapter. it starts off with the dean saying to miyagi that he’d like to set him up with another woman (i.e. a miai, arranged marriage type thing). miyagi manages to decline him.

miyagi "I thought this would happen eventually..." -> yes, so did the readers

later on miyagi comes home and shinobu is mad with him because he heard about the miai from risako. (cue miyagi thinking: damn it risako!) miyagi clarifies that he declined and shinobu quickly calms down.

angery

shinobu mentions that he has always talked about not caring about what others think, but he also doesn’t want to be the one dragging miyagi down. miyagi says, you really love me a lot, huh. shinobu says, is it a problem if i do?

cue the shortest sex scene known to man (ahem but i’m happy it was included, bc recently there hasn’t been one for them)

like how does he carry him like this? miyagi is actually so strong

finally, afterwards, whilst shinobu is wrapped up in a blanket, he talks about how he hates beating around the bush like this, and declares that in order to get rid of this stress, he will just tell his father about their relationship.

cue miyagi going waaaait waaaait let’s slow down and discuss this first!!!! and gag end.

"I thought there were some things that you can't tell your parents. But actually, there are things that you have to tell them, because they're your parents"

Miyagi: Nnnnn?

***

my thoughts: first of all, i was just expecting some fluff so when i turned the page and the dean was there, i was like oh?!?!?!?

and then it was the arranged marriage plotline and i was like There It Is, tero finally gets their version of this plotline lmao

but it was also quashed very quickly, shinobu’s temper is basically played for laughs at this point, he’s too mature now for it to actually be a big deal. like, he knows there’s no way in hell that miyagi would actually do it. but he seems somewhat frustrated by the situation. like, we know that if they keep it a secret, they have to keep dealing with stuff like this forever (i'm like.....shinobu could be next for a miai since his father likes setting people up so much?!?!? lol)

although i dont believe that we’re immediately going to go into tero plot from the next issue (i mean i would be VERY happy if we did but…) i feel like this is kind of a flag for where the story will lead. the dean (and risako, etc?) will find out about them in the end - tbh i think it will end up being by accident before they have a chance to tell him, because nakamura sensei loves the drama, but either way…

this short chapter ended up having really big implications bc even if shinobu doesn’t reveal their relationship right away, we know his intentions now. it kinda sets the pace for the future. and its very shinobu-like to be like, this is how it is now deal with it!!!

in fact this chapter really called back to the terrorist chapter where miyagi was worried about holding shinobu back and being a burden to him, but interestingly the difference is that miyagi just worries about it all internally and is like 'should i break up with him for his own good...?' meanwhile shinobu is like 'i acknowledge the burden i am causing you but i will never break up with you' (isn't it good he's so open huuhu)

tbh, i was also really amused that the dean was trying to set miyagi up with a new person. i thought we might be leading into more of a plot where risako wants to remarry, but, not even her own father is on her side with that one lol. it’s kind of funny how involved he wants to be in miyagi’s love life. it does feel almost paternal (in a kind of meddling parent kind of way lol)

also that shinobu and risako are on good terms enough to be communicating with each other on stuff like this. is risako just like hey!!!!! did you know miyagi is going to a miai??? and shinobu is like whaaaat?????

at the same time, since risako still seems to have an interest in miyagi, she might also try to get some info from shinobu since she knows they’re living together. (though i kinda doubt that shinobu says much. i mean it already takes a lot for miyagi to get information from him lmao. imagine risako trying to find out anything)

so much food for thought just from one chapter. i really wasnt expecting it at all. i still have so many thoughts. it really reminded me why i love shinobu as a character. how did he go from seeming like the most unhinged character to seeming like the most reasonable one? he is selfish but he completely owns it. i really love him a lot.

i'm still waiting for miyagi's birthday btw

and, romantica and egoist were also cute. usagi’s picture book was a collab with yukina which is a fun bonus. they were good. (my comments are so short dgfjgdkjf)

i was surprised that there was no junjou mistake, i'm assuming because there was already umi ni nemuru hana & sekakoi & junjou mix which is already a lot of things to be dealing with but yeah. if there turned out to be a mix chapter with no terrorist i would be sad so i was like...oh

also shinobu wrapped up in a blanket (or towel? but looks more like a blanket) has improved my life

#tag: text post #junjou romantica spoilers #junjou terrorist

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Daryl Dixon x gender neutral!reader

Soulmates

The moment you saw Daryl jogging up your porch steps with a bottle of wine, you knew what was coming. You opened your door with a smirk, and he offered you a half smile as he held out the bottle of wine to you, which you gladly accepted before dragging him inside your house.

And that is how you ended up here: the two of you sitting dangerously close together on the couch, with enough space on either side of you to distance yourselves if you wanted to, but you both knew you didnt. By now, the bottle of wine is only half full, and you and Daryl are laughing so hard you’re sweating.

“Im serious! Raisin cookies are a fucking scam! Give me chocolate or dont bother!” You repeat, and Daryl laughs harder, more amused than sober him ever would be by your dramatic anger towards raisin cookies.

“Still a damn cookie!” Daryl manages to choke out, wiping the blissful tears that had started escaping his eyes.

“Barely!” You retort incredulously, and that sets you both off again, throwing your heads back and howling.

Wheezing so hard your chests heave, one of his arms slung loosely round your shoulder and one of your palms pressed to his chest as you double over on the couch, ending up with your head on his lap and Daryl’s fingers playing with your hair.

The room sways, your brain delaying your vision whenever your eyes move, making things appear blurry, almost in slow motion. Despite being completely still, you feel like you’re dancing.

For several minutes, you and Daryl stay that way, silent and buzzing with a carefree joy that only alcohol can really bring about, especially in this world.

“Hey, Daryl?” You call out, keeping your eyes fixed on the blurring painting on the wall opposite you, rather than looking up at him.

“Yeah?” He answers, his voice gruffer than usual, quieter, making you think he might’ve been falling asleep just now.

You fall silent, realising that you lost the train of thought you were riding on because you blinked and the painting looked just a little different.

Daryl nudges you. “Hey, wha’d ya want?”

You frown for a second, re-tracing your mental steps at snail speed to figure out where you’d been heading, then your eyes light up. Only for a second, then they settle back to relaxed, lidded and heavy.

“Daryl, do you believe in soulmates?”

Silence falls again, but it’s different this time. Curious, careful, Daryl calculating his answer at a much slower pace as a consequence of the alcohol on his system. He hadnt expected you to ask him a question as loaded as that, he hasnt ever really thought about it before, but then again, drunk words are often profound.

“Dunno.” Daryl answers eventually, and you hum thoughtfully. “D’ you?” He passes the question back.

You roll over onto your back, giggling at the way the motion effects your vision, but once you’re clear again you stare up at Daryl and his stubble.

“I think so, yeah.” You say, and Daryl frowns at you curiously, silently requesting you to continue. “I think...there are different kinds of soulmates, not just one. I think you can find friends who you click with on such an insane level that you’re bound for life, and you can meet a whole bunch of those. When it comes to the romantic soulmates, I think you can have multiple of those, too. As a person, you change a lot, you become a lot of different people, so I think you can find a soulmate for each of those people you become, and if you’re lucky you’ll eventually find someone who changes with you; changes in a way that doesnt make you fall out of love with them, y’know?”

Daryl stares down at you in wonder, his face unable to convey the extent of his shock in response to your words. Was this something you’d thought about a lot? If you had, why didnt you bring it up with him before? Maybe because you didnt expect him to be all that interested, since he never brought it up either.

Weighted silence spreads across you like an animal after an intense nap, and your eyes leave his, settling on the plain ceiling above him. Daryl continues to stare at you, drunk-you not able to properly register his eyes on you and drunk-him feeling less embarrassed to stare as a result. After a few seconds, you sigh and sit up, grabbing the bottle of wine from the floor and swaying your way into the kitchen.

“I think that’s enough wine for tonight!” You say, your voice still carrying the lighthearted bounce of alcohol, but your tone sounding a little...insecure?

Daryl pushes himself up off the couch and follows you into the kitchen, finding you pouring out two glasses of water before you turn to pass one to him. The two of you stand and drink, the only sounds being your breaths between gulps, until you set your glasses down on the counter.

“Which kin’ are we?” Daryl asks suddenly, and you frown at him in confusion.

“Huh?”

Daryl stares down at his shoes awkwardly. “Y’know, are we the friend kinda...soulmate, or...the other one ya said?”

You blink rapidly, it takes several seconds for you to catch up to everything Daryl just said, and when you do, you smile. “That depends.”

Daryl meets your eyes, scowling, thinking you’re going to make fun of him. “On what?”

Your smile widens into a grin as you sway over to him, placing both hands on his chest as you beam up at him.

“On which kinda you want us to be.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #x reader #the walking dead #twd #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon

[azurdlywisterious]

Strange Is The Night Where Black Stars Rise...

AN: I teased in my last post about Harvey that I wanted to give her a backstory as to how she got those scars (plus I really wanted to write some friendly banter). (Sir vs. the mojave will be next dont worry)

Word count: 1k (hence the read more)

CW: injury mention, blood mention, [idk if theres anything else i should put here so lmk if theres another one i should add]

The raider punk I decided to trust today turns the mic off for the night as I drag a dirty mattress up the stairs for him. I'm not really worried about him raiding my place because I don't really have anything worth raiding. I take off my gas mask and set it down on the floor of the unfinished second level of my base.

"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here, by the way," he tells me again, fidgeting with his hands as he talks.

"No problem," I respond. "It's not much, but you certainly can't beat that view."

I sit down on the unfinished ledge and stare at the amusement park across the road. The raider punk sits down next to me, still flicking his fingers nervously.

"I never did catch your name," he remarks sheepishly.

"It's Harvey," I tell him.

"Like a Harvey Wallbanger?" he chuckles.

I smile so wide the scars on my cheeks ache a little. "You're not gonna believe what my legal last name is."

He covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. "No fucking way."

"My parents certainly had a sense of humor."

I should email my mom. Let her know I found that park she went to all the time when she was a kid.

"Something wrong?" he asks me.

"Nothing to worry about," I tell him flatly. "I don't think I ever caught your name either."

"You didn't," he replies cheerily. "Most people just call me Punk cause that’s my codename."

"I mean, if that's your codename, that's your codename," I quip, paraphrasing some old Western my dad showed me years ago.

"Next time you go out you should see if you can find any orange juice," he tells me after thinking for a while.

I snort. "Any orange juice I find is gonna be irradiated to hell. You know that, right?"

"We'll just mix some Rad-X in. That should neutralize the radiation."

I roll my eyes jokingly. "Oh, yeah. Totally. And are you gonna get the vodka?"

“You’ll probably have to get the vodka too.”

I laugh. “So what are you gonna do?”

“Mix the drinks together when you get back with the components, duh!”

“Well,” I continue, “if I ever find any hella irradiated orange juice, I’ll bring it back to base.”

We sit in silence some more as the sun goes down. I absentmindedly run my thumb over one of the jagged scars by my mouth. Mom would sometimes show me pictures of the gala she and my Dad would go to at Camden Park when all the rides were lit up and everything was sparkly and bright. I want to fix this old park up for her. My mom and dad deserve one last good gala with the park lit up after everything that happened.

"So..." Punk pauses; and I know exactly what he's going to ask next. "What happened? I mean, how did you get those scars?"

I don't respond immediately. I always have to take a second to remember the event, and brace for the person who asked me to not believe me.

"Sorry, sorry," he backpeddles, wringing his hands like he's trying to squeeze the blood out of them. "I shouldn't've asked."

I wave him off. "Don't worry about it. It's only one of the single most traumatic things that's ever happened to me and no one ever believes me when I tell them.” I shrug lazily. “Nothing major."

"You seem pretty nonchalant about something so serious."

"It happened a decade ago. I was sixteen. I don't really care that much anymore."

“Look, I’ve heard about a lot of weird things since working with that ‘network’ I’ve told you about.” He gently squeezes my hand. “If you’re worried about me not believing you, then don’t worry too much and just tell me.”

I don’t know what to do with my hand. I let him keep holding it.

“I was half asleep when it happened,” I start. “There are some days I wake up and think that it was only a bad nightmare I had years ago until I touch the scars on my face. Memory’s funny like that. Every time I remember it, I remember it a little more wrong. Imperfect recall, or something like that. That’s how memories work.”

“But what happened that night?”

“Oh, right. So I’m half asleep, right? I wake up to the sound of someone ripping paper right next to my face. Except it wasn’t paper. That slick, oily feeling of blood came next, I think; like my brain couldn’t believe the pain signals my body was sending to it. This was all happening in a matter of seconds, by the way. My eyes finally processed the… thing cutting open my mouth.”

“What did it look like?”

I rack my brain for any words to describe it. “It looked like just a person in a tattered cloak. But there was no head. The cloak had a hood like there was a head; but in its place was an infinite black void, like I was staring into space itself. It was using some sort of claw or talon to rip open my face. When I finally registered the pain, I started screaming, and the thing disappeared into mist, leaving only those claws behind.”

“I’ve heard of a lot of weird stuff,” Punk says to me, “but never anything like that.”

I sigh and look away. He squeezes my hand tightly for a second.

“I believe you, though.”

I feel my heart stop for a second as my eyes start to sting. Before even I realized it, I had wrapped him in the biggest hug I could give him.

Tears running down my scarred cheeks, I tell him, “No one’s ever believed me aside from my parents. No one else has ever believed me.”

“Well, I believe you, Harvey. I’ll ask my ‘network’ if any of them have heard of this thing.”

I nod, unable to get the words out. I can trust this guy. He believes me.

#fallout 76 #fallout fanfic #harvey wallbanger

[symphonxx]

After brief thinking, I’ve made up my mind.

Urabe is Saiko, who’s Kuboyasu’s boss at one of Kuboyasu’s other jobs since he isnt a fulltime teacher yet. ( im still doing a bit of research on the jobs nd how it works in Japan but this is what I have come up with? Or think of it as a part time job so he can atleast earn some money to continue keeping himself afloat )

Urabe is Adachi’s manager in Cherry Magic, where hes the type of manager to push most of his unfinished work to one of his juniors, requesting for them to finish it in place of him.

Kuboyasu nd Saiko has the same dynamic as the anime nd in place of Cherry Magic, except Kuboyasu doesnt feel like leaving the job ( despite threatening to ) because of how close he and Saiko has gotten over the years. Of course he minds the amount of work Saiko pushes to him but he helps out anyways.

—————

Fujisaki, is Aiura Mikoto and Teruhashi. Teruhashi works alongside Kuboyasu as another teacher and most of the students adore her. While Aiura works in a company near Saiki, so they usually travel to work together nd leave work together as well.

Fujisaki is a pretty girl who shares no interest in relationships and is one of only AroAce representation we get in Cherry Magic. Teruhashi and Aiura are the same way, they’re both uninterested in relationships until they found the right one ( Saiki ) but even after finding out that the one they like is in a relationship with another, they will feel contentment at the fact that said person is happy with the one they have chosen.

I needed to have Fujisaki be two different person bcs her character sincerely affected both Kurosawa and Adachi in the show. Mainly Adachi.

Aiura likes Saiki but she knows abt his crush on Kuboyasu, so she continues to push Saiki into confessing his love for the other and talk him through certain situations!

Teruhashi on the other hand, despite her crush on Saiki, she feels a sense of fondness for her longterm co-worker, Kuboyasu. Her jealousy would overtake her at times but she has slowly learnt to overcome that, watching the two of them blossom into a relationship as she supports them both from afar. Occasionally, she would be the one to drag Kuboyasu out from the terrifying realisation that THE Saiki Kusuo likes him.

Overall, im just playing around with their dynamics and im hoping to gain some traction for this two incredibly underrated friendship ( queerplatonic suckers )

———

Tsuge is Kaido, who’s still one of Kuboyasu’s closest friends. Kaido strives to be the best novelist and to maybe be as cool as Kuboyasu. Though he seemed like he has grown out of his chuunibyou phase, he still acts the exact same way whenever he and Kuboyasu are alone. His writing however, has improved a ton and has published a couple of fantasy romance book regarding the Dark Reunion. Even with his lack of understanding in romance, his books were great hits.

Minato is Chiyo Yumehara. Of course, the two of them ( Tsuge nd Minato ) were supposed to be a bl pairing but i do feel like Chiyo fits the role of Minato abit more.

The two of them dont really have that much to them but their dynamic in which they understand each other on a certain level means alot to them.

THAT BEING SAID..

I dont know whether have it remain like this, or merge both Rokkaku’s character and Tsuge’s character together. Kaido fits both of them perfectly, sincr he supports them both in every way, the same way both Rokkaku and Tsuge does for Adachi, Kurosawa!

Rokkaku was just Kurosawa’s assistant, but slowly, both Kurosawa and Adachi has grown much more fond of the little red head (?), finding his slight clinging much more amusing than annoying, more often than not. However, even with his eccentric behaviour, he shows that he can be capable in the things he does and looks up to both Adachi and Kurosawa as their junior.

Tsuge on the other hand, is Adachi’s long term friend, who is a novelist and well, the same thing as what I listed above, except the chuunibyou part. He owns a stray kitten named Udon and is incredibly fond of the delivery boy that comes by to deliver his parcel. Hes a romance novelist, despite being a virgin. Bcs of that, he ALSO gains magical telepathy powers! Hes really calm and collected, giving great insight into things whenever Adachi comes across sumn he cant solve. All in all, hes a great friend.

I’ll get back to the powers in a bit but lemme kno which one suits Kaido more.

————

Kurosawa and Adachi are Saiki and Kuboyasu.

So yes, this is a Kubosai post. A

As you all should know, Saiki is a psychic which supernatural powers. Kuboyasu, is not. ( but if u count his great reflexes and super attentive ass nature then yea, clairvoyance 💀 )

This all changes when Kuboyasu turns 30 and gains telepathic powers where he can read the thoughts of anyone by touching them, unlike Saiki. This happens because of a myth in Japan, where if you turn 30 as a virgin, you will gain magic powers. Aren regrets not believing his co-workers because he sure as hell do now, seeing as he has to deal with it.

Here are some facts for this AU

Both Kaido and Aren gained telepathic powers and can communicate via hand touching, which leads to a lot of miscommunication and misunderstanding between the two couples.

Saiki still has some of the powers but hes adapted into not using it as often like he used to, and wears his germanium ring everytime he has to head out to work or whenever he js needs to hang out with his friends ( their thoughts can get too loud )

Teruhashi and Aiura confides with each other and formed a small support group together. They also talk shit abt their co-workers and the occasional gossip.

MOST CHARAS ARE ACE BECAUSE I AM ACE!!

Now for the magic thingy:

Kaido and Aren do not lose their telepathic powers in the end. Neither of them are fond of the thoughts on having intimate sex js to get rid of the powers.

Aren doesnt mind the powers that much, and hes gotten used to it. Of course it gets overwhelming sometimes when hes stuck in trapped spaces or when he accidentally brush hands with far too many that isnt Saiki and he has nothing to ground himself in that situation but as long as his boyfriend is around, he knows that he’s fine. He knows that he doesnt have to go through it alone and his boyfriend is around to help out whenever it gets too much.

<3

#kubosai #saiki k #symph rambles #the disastrous life of saiki k. #kubosai <3 #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #cherry magic #I love this AU sm #i put so much thought into it that my friends calls me crazy #Cherry Magic AU #ahhh #i love them i love them

[pridaxus-worldbuilding]

🎢 🖌️ 🍪 💘 for Asteria, Virac, Liliosa, Merielle, and Fiore

🎢 Do they like amusement parks? What’s their favorite ride?

🖌️ Do they have any hobbies?

🍪 How well can they bake?

💘 What do they find attractive about their partner(s)?

🥖 Asteria 🥖

🎢 Asteria have gone to a fair on her first date with Virac, it would have both of their first time as he didnt have the money to go, and as a princess it was seen as improper for her to go. There wouldnt be many rides to go on (if any) or anything but theyd engage in all of the fair games and stuff. I can see Virac winning her one of those stuffed bears in the strongman game.

🖌️Shed be much more homelier than her predecessors. Her favorite thing is baking, she’d bake when stressed or worried or anything. Shed like how warm and cozy it feels

🍪 Very well, shed be known as the Bread Queen. She’d make bread for her family at least once a week if she has time, and the family really enjoys it.

💘 Shed find Virac able to bring the best out in people. Shed like herself more when shes with him. He has such an infectious laugh and smile.

🏫 Virac 🏫

🎢 (see asteria’s answer)

🖌️ He would build miniature architecture, he built miniatures of the castle he lives and houses from towns they visited. He’d probably be one of those dads with an extensive miniature collection in his secret room. If dnd existed hed def play

🍪 You would think he could cook because his mom and him used to cook for the royal family, but all he really did was pick up supplies, and maybe on ocassion put something in with clear instructions. Otherwise he could burn water with ease lmao

💘 Hed see a side of Asteria that most people dont, the caring and loving side, the person who want to advocate for others, his little genius. It’s impossible to say one thing when he adores everything about her.

⚒ Liliosa ⚒

🎢 Lili and Meri would go to the fair are children and theyd both just like the treats they can eat. They’d get food from every stall together

🖌️ Lili would enjoy anything physically active, like archery or axe throwing. She spends much of her free time trying to get stronger. She’d also be a game enthusiast like her dad and in fact would somewhat absorb her parents hobbies

🍪 only a very little bit honestly she’d pick up everything she knows from her mom

💘 Lili is aroace pretty anti romance and sex too!

📜 Merielle 📜

🎢 (see Lili’s answer)

🖌️ Meri is a HUGE bookworm and often reads most of the time. They also would be a hobbyist gardener. They’d have all different types of weird plants

🍪 Not at all, they think baking is cool but never took it up, maybe one day.

💘 Being on the same page is a big thing. They liked Mai because they both were doing philosophy and she was such a fascinating person to talk to. They dont love Eirwen but they do enjoy his company and are great friends with him because he also is a great conversationalist.

💂 Fiore 💂

🎢 Fiore went a few times hen he was little but he cant remember anything exciting about going, was mostly dragged by parents and older siblings. Not his thing, hot sun with kids screaming noe

🖌️ Hed enjoy hunting somewhat when he was younger. Now his interests are mainly the opulent things like wine tasting, fashion etc. Hobby wise Hed decently like traveling

🍪 Nope and has no interest in it

💘 Hmmmmm, ���like minded people for sure. Hed enjoy the company of people who have similar interests

#glimmerier #ask #Asteria Ronchegnac #Virac Ronchegnac #Liliosa Ronchegnac #Merielle Astaseul #Fiore Ronchegnac

[lunaflvms]

鐵線蓮花; ᝰꜜ ᩠˚ 𖤐 enhypen reactions !

enha reacts to you scolding them for getting detention

pairing: ot7 x gn!reader

genre: reaction fic, head canons

warnings: nothing i think

word count: 500+

requested by @h4chi ty bffie for requesting!! ALSO GO CHECK OUT HER SUNGHOON AND BEOMGYU SMAU ITS SO GOOD

⊹₊ 이희승 heeseung

i feel like heeseung would probably get detention for pulling you into the janitors closet to get a smooch HELP also probably would cover for you so you dont get one too, saying it was his fault and all, which was true but its just a sweet thing he would do, after his detention you scolded him for pulling you into a janitors closet and he makes you promise to give him more kisses

⊹₊ 제이 jay

jay probably got detention for getting frustrated at someone during sports BYE I FEEL LIKE HE WOULD DO THAT sorry jay, anyways after detention jay didnt know how to face you because the person he yelled at during sports was your friend, ended up trying to avoid you but you ended up finding him and confronting him, you scolded him for avoiding you and yelling at your friend but when you saw how stressed he looked you ended up giving him a hug and he wouldnt let you go until like after ten mins

⊹₊ 제이크 jake

he probably got detention for being late because no way is he going to get one from doing something seriously wrong, he’s a really good student but one lunchtime you hurt yourself and he insisted to stay with you at the nurse to make sure you were alright :( probably fell asleep in ur lap when you were resting there before the nurse woke him up so he could go to class, you end up finding out what happened through the nurse and after school you scolded him for not going to class, laughed at you for scolding him



⊹₊ 성훈 sunghoon

got detention for being perfect /j he got in detention for laughing too loud (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) you sat next to him and he kept flicking his pencil at you and ripping paper and putting it into your lap, so when you glared at him he started laughing as he successfully caught your attention plus the look on your face, you tried to get him to shut up so you guys wouldn’t be separated but the teacher saw and gave him detention and split you guys up (ง'̀-'́)ง after you scolded him for causing the both of you to split up and most likely never be deskmates again, sunghoon probably felt bad and made sure to plan a really nice date for later

⊹₊ 선우 sunoo

got in trouble for gossiping about a teacher when the teacher was right behind him ಠ_ಠ help you were next to him as he complained about the teacher and you kept tapping him trying to hint that the teacher was right behind you guys, he got annoyed as you kept interrupting him until the teacher called his name out from behind him and gave him a detention, once the teacher left he rolled his eyes and continued talking shit about the teacher, rolled his eyes as you scolded him to be more careful where he’s talking smack about people

⊹₊ 정원 jungwon

BYE HELLAUR?!? honestly i dont think jungwon would ever get detention like boi you must be mental or a jungwon anti to give him one ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°), anyways i feel like he would be the one that scolds y/n for getting a detention, y/n probably was caught swearing and was given detention, when jungwon went to look for you after the class to walk you home he found out that you got detention which he decided to wait for you to finish, once you came out of the class room he started scolding you for being so reckless for swearing at school HELP it was late so he ended up taking you to a restaurant to have dinner jungwon best boy

⊹₊ 니키 ni-ki

boi you bet this man is getting so many detentions a week and he’s gonna drag you down with him LMAO you guys are basically partners in crime, going around pranking everyone and pulling tricks out of your asses, like damn is everyone sick of you two but its ok because everyone finds it funny and amusing, the only person scolding you for getting detentions is jungwon (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) bye hes so sick of third wheeling you two and then dealing with you guys causing trouble everywhere you guys go #givejungwonabreakfr

enhypen masterlist

requests are closed for now!

permanent taglist: @acciomylove @missmadwoman @ja4hyvn @soobin-chois @enloveclub @gold-dragon-slayer @maiwon @one16core @chuu-cherrie @1-800-lixie @enhacolor @pshwyfie @hiqhkey

enhypen taglist: @the-cause-of-my-euphoria @kyleeanne

#enhypennetwork #enhypenwriters #ficscafe #kflixnet #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #heeseung enhypen #jay enhypen #jake enhypen #sunghoon enhypen #sunoo enhypen #jungwon enhypen #riki enhypen #jungwon fluff #riki fluff #jake fluff #jay fluff #heeseung fluff #sunoo fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen x reader #lunaflvms

[amazingphilza]

twitchcon :: cc!multiple x reader

fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some mcyt headcanons if you were to attend twitchcon w them

cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade

cw: kinda lengthy for the minors (i think), not as much for the hags LMAO /hj

tommyinnit

this man is so excited to be at his first twitchcon & being able to hang out with all his best friends makes it a hundred times better

when he isn’t at a panel or doing meet & greets, he’s dragging you everywhere to see the whole convention center (clingyinnit)

he is just so at awe despite this not being his first convention to attend

you’d be surprised he gets tired pretty quickly & stops over to the partner lounge

you both rest for a bit against a wall in a pretty packed hallway despite it being an exclusive area to twitch partners

every time a famous streamer walks by he will yell it out and record it then vlog your reaction, even if they’re surrounded with bodyguards & trying to get to another place quickly

he’d zoom in his camera to their face at a horrible angle and be like

“oh my god it is THE ninja. ninja famous fortnite player, HELLO.”

but he gets completely ignored

then the camera pans out to you, still really zoomed in that the capture is blurry

“ninjainnit?”

“EH?”

tommy is so confused, forgetting the bit ninja did on his twitter where he renamed himself ‘ninjainnit’ for a split second

okay tommy isn’t that athletic but he will chase you and the rest of your group down a hallway if he had to

he’d probably find a toy gun from the artist alley/seller booths and shoot you and wilbur with it

but if tommy stumbles across any of the dream team, it’s about to be minecraft manhunt but irl

and he will def play his stream music while walking or smth when he’s bored (or trying to jump dream & sapnap)

** DO DO DO DO MANHUNT MUSIC **

oh my god,, now thinking about it he’s probably the one to open like random doors of empty rooms and steal stuff while you film him

like he will take a random empty glass, a bunch of pens, a freebie t-shirt, everything he sees he takes with him and you’re just panic

“tommy we’re literally not supposed to be here, and i’m stuck here filming you. it’s surely a felony in action”

“well, it’s their fault for leaving the doors open! plus this is great content. who’s the dirty crime boy now, HM?”

you’d tell wilbur about this and he’d scold tommy and threaten him with the same pen tommy stole

tommy probably would also drag you some weird event happening outside twitchcon along with tubbo and ranboo

“pokimane is giving out free pizza to everyone if we go to this one restaurant down the street!”

“we are literally gonna get bombarded. have you forgot you’re like three of twitch’s top streamers? i’d rather pay for all of our meals than try getting free pizza from pokimane against all her other fans”

“DEAL! let’s go to five guys then!”

you unfortunately end up paying for all 3 of their meals and picking on their food instead of buying your own

even with all of them making way more money than you, they still happen to be cheapskates

OR tommy will end up getting a burrito from a taco truck, immediately making a mess of himself, then proceed to complain how messy the food is to eat despite knowing what he was getting himself into before even ordering

“shit my clothes are all ruined now!”

“well that’s your fault you got a burrito, as if it’s your first time having one”

“i mean the food is good, i’m not complaining about that but i don’t think it’s that good that it’s worth costing my red and white shirt, im just saying”

tubbo

same with tommy, he is so excited

i don’t know why but i imagine him overpacking his suitcase and you making fun of him for it

anyway tubbo has his irl backpack on and streaming EVERYTHING

probably spends a lot of time at a bunch of different booths, checking out all the pointless gadgets he could buy for his stream

you’re the one to stop him from doing so

“TUBBO IT’S LITERALLY OVER TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, STOP. DONT GET IT.”

“WHY NOT?? IT WILL BE COOL FOR MY STREAM AND I WILL USE IT EVERYDAY”

“okay theoretically speaking, how the hell are you going to even bring it home? which—let me remind you—is across the country for you and not to mention the giant ocean separating america and the uk”

“free ship-pang!!!”

“i hate to break it to you tubbo but there is no way you can get free shipping on a FIVE FOOT PC. it’s nearly as tall as you! what are you even gonna do on it, hack the government???”

the arguments are all lighthearted but eventually you give in and let him splurge over a thousand dollars in different devices he claimed he “needed”

i could honestly see him visiting the beaches in san diego and going for a swim or even renting out a boat to use for a bit :D

also he’d bring benson along with him and taking a bunch of scenic photos with it in them

i have a feeling he’s the type to schedule a spontaneous meet & greet because he was bored & gets in trouble for causing a mob in a certain part of the convention

he’s like “oh god, i did not expect this many of the bois to show up AHAHAH oops”

tubbo would def pull a lilypichu and bring his melodica or ukulele and play themes while following random people/cosplayers

at the end of the day, you’d find his bag just stuffed with crap he either got for free or bought in the convention

“how did you get all that stuff? i was with you all day??? and it’s only the first day of the convention, hello?? it looks like you’ve been collecting as if twitchcon has went on for a week already!”

“HA i have my ways, do not underestimate my powers”

lani would probably tag along for the vacation honestly

like whenever someone comes up to her giving her gifts/asking for pics, you and tubbo would tease her about how famous she is

and i dunno but something about tubbo just gives me this amusement park energy and going to legoland and spending the whole day there since it’s near by and because he can

ranboo

he is like a beacon in a sea of people, that’s it .

i honestly just see him causing as much chaos as the other two

ranboo would probably like take someone’s camera whether if they’re streaming or if it’s for the vlog, hold it up high, and point the camera directly above someone’s face

it did not matter how tall you were and if you had platform shoes on, ranboo was a skyscraper next to you

“HAHAH this is how i see you from this height, this is funny”

then he shows you the vid of the recording of him getting like an aerial view of your face

like you see your nose and all your pores and just overall a bad angle to be captured in

“OH GOD RANBOO DELETE THAT, ITS HORRIFIC”

i dunno why but i feel like he’d jump scare every person that was cosplaying as his minecraft character from behind for some reason

“BOO!”

“ranboo i’m not even remotely dressed as your skin—”

“don’t worry i’m practicing it’s fineee”

“you’re like the height of 2 people combined, i think you will be fine as is. you even intimidated the security at the front”

i feel like if he had his own panel he’d like pull up some undertale song in the middle of it and scare all the people in the crowd

“lore but in real life”

probably would get some matching keepsake with you from artist alley/the booths!

i could imagine like a cute keychain or smth :D

i feel like he’s the type to like randomly volunteer as a participant for those mini events in a booth thinking it would be funny but regrets it the moment he’s on stage

after introductions the presenter is like “okay ranboo, you will be given a random meme prompt above your head you won’t be able to see until after and you will have to make a random face to compliment it!”

and you can just tell by his facial expression he’s just thinking

oh god what have i gotten myself into

what is this game? who came up with this idea?

you’d laugh at him the whole time, even after he’s off the stage and finished with that small fiasco

“that was horrible. never again.”

“AHAHAH IT LOOKED SO AWKWARD YOU DID GREAT”

“I CROSSED MY EYES AND PUFFED MY CHEEKS BECAUSE I COULDNT THINK OF ANY OTHER FACIAL EXPRESSION. THE PROMPT ENDING UP BEING ‘WHEN TWITTER CANCELS YOU FOR USING PLASTIC STRAWS.’ AND WHEN I SAW WHAT IT WAS—LITERALLY WHAT KIND OF GAME–”

“I GOT PICTURES AND EVERYTHING ITS PERFECT AHAHAHAH”

wilbur soot

honestly with wilbur it’s slightly more chill

he already experienced twitchcon before so he’s just glad to see his friends again after so long

insists that you explore the convention yourself rather than sticking with him the whole time but you do anyway!

wilbur would probably have like a mini concert and gets you front row seats with the rest of the group

but that doesn’t mean before it that you’re not helping him set up

“y/n please– my amp is so heavy, i can carry it”

“don’t worry! i’m strong” :D

and musically talented or not, he will probably bring you and the rest of his friends up to stage to just vibe and sing a bunch of random acoustic songs

it’s not like some big concert hall stage,, i imagine more like a casual thing w a slightly higher platform from the ground yk?

after spending a long day at the convention he’d also bring everyone across the city to la jolla or smth !

you’d all probably have dinner there and chill, watching the pretty sunset

“this place is really pretty but oh my god im gonna lose my breath hiking up this stupid hill, please slow down”

and wilbur is like ??? because he’s completely fine with his long legs and everything

“just walk faster”

“no, you walk slower”

AHAHAH and for context traversing through la jolla by walking around the town is a bit hard since it’s basically on a bunch of hills (walking up from the beach to a restaurant actually is actually sm work, trust me ive been there)

wilbur honestly doesn’t spend that much time in the actual convention center, he’s probably sightseeing a bit of san diego with you instead

but i could imagine him staying at the tabletop games area playing dnd or smth

“c’mon y/n, come join!”

“uhh i’m not sure, i’m not the best at roleplay and...”

“it’s fine don’t worry!”

he’d pull you in with him and end up enjoying yourself even if it was your first time

and if you’re of age, you’d be wilbur’s +1 at the twitch partner party and make sure mans doesn’t too drunk

if it’s not too late in the night, you two would chill at the beach after the party

it’s just a nice, calming moment after all the loud music mixed with hundreds of conversations at the party

also something about like taking polaroids pictures with wilbur just seems to go hand in hand for me

i’m not sure why but you will be taking lots of pics with wilbur for sure (not necessarily you both in the photo, but of sceneries as well while you’re together!)

philza

literally a dad on vacation with his children, it doesn’t matter how old you are

need sunscreen? surprisingly has it

want a snack? probably has a small granola bar somewhere in his bag

but same with wilbur, he’s more chill like this isn’t his first time at twitchcon

omg he’d def bring you to the artist alley and just buy a bunch of fanart and stuff tho

“oh wow look phil, someone made a giant poster of the dream smp and shit!”

“holy shit that’s so good what the fuck!”

and he’s like rushing to that artist’s stall to buy a poster or print

idk why but phil seems like the person to know where he’s going all over the convention center

he probably had a copy of the directory map but yk

you just have trouble reading it bc all the signs seem to be misleading to you

nothing really crazy screams out to me of what phil would do at twitchcon besides like go to a few events, spend a bunch of time w his friends, etc

HOWEVER i could see him wasting a lot of his time at the gaming area and testing new games that are currently on the works of being developed

like “woah y/n, this vr game is sick, you should try it out!”

ngl i feel like phil would plan a visit to disneyland for everyone, like he gets the tickets and everything but once you’re at the park it’s free reign, y’all go everywhere with not much of a plan

the minors would try to cheap out phil and pay less than the others even though everyone else fully paid phil back and everything LMAO

ok but if he’s feeling nice, phil will buy everyone cotton candy/pretzels :D

and if you’re not hungry, he’d at least get you a mickey balloon

HE WILL HAVE MATCHING MICKEY EARS WITH MUMZA YES .

ALSO STAYING FOR THE FIREWORKS THOUGH OMG

just in general, best idea phil had for taking everyone to disneyland :D

technoblade

surprisingly techno is really calm despite this being like one of his first conventions

but when he finally settles in and gets comfortable, he’s showing the same energy

if you’re playfully yelling, he will yell back

however there’s still those awkward moments that are unavoidable

idk why but something about him makes me think that if you feel tired and want to go back to your hotel room, he’d go with you just to make sure you get there safe

he probably also needs a break from being around everyone else for a moment too LMAO

i could also see him searching far and wide in the artist alley for fanart of himself AHAHAH

walking around with him in the convention consists of someone yelling “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD” every 5 minutes but you don’t really mind

something about him makes me think he’ll be forced into playing minecraft twitch rivals along with the rest of sbi or smth

and he’s like “oh god, i’m going to be on stage? and people will see my face while i play minecraft?”

“i’m sure it will be fun!”

“i mean i like being competitive and feeding my ego, but i’m not that desperate.. well”

do i imagine techno getting easily tired of being surrounded by a bunch of people and just going back to his hotel room with phil and watching some anime with him? yes

and will you watch even if you have no idea what’s going on? also yes

i feel like after a while of you guys hanging out in techno’s room, the rest of the gang will just slowly join you guys

like eventually everyone is there; you, techno, phil, wilbur, niki, tommy, tubbo, ranboo, etc

and techno is like “wha– where did you guys come from?” because his room is basically packed

and niki could be like “oh we can go if you want!”

then techno just insists that she’s fine “but who let the child get in?” clearly implying tommy’s presence

“OI!!”

eventually techno gives in with the company and someone gets a bunch of board games to play from the front desk

lots of yelling and laughing for sure

when it becomes late at night, techno is like half conscious, you’re on your phone, wilbur is staring out the window & enjoying the night view, tommy is passed out on the couch from tiredness, tubbo & ranboo is still wide awake quietly talking, and phil & niki are helping clean up the giant mess

eventually everyone brings themselves to go back to their own room except tommy who won’t budge

you give techno a look and he immediately understands what you were thinking

he rushes to the bathroom to fill up two cups with ice cold water and handed one to you

“on three?”

“okay.. one”

“two”

“three!”

then both of you pour the water on the poor child’s face

he jolts awake and saying a string of curses

“what the fuck techno? y/n too?”

“get out” is the only think techno says that before tommy rushes out with his stuff and you leave right after

a/n: i honestly can’t wait until conventions open up again though,, phil and ranboo were talking about vidcon earlier and omg.

also i kinda want to take in tommy requests but i’m not sure??? it would be both cc! and c! x gn!reader for sure tho. i love writing him to bits but who knows, maybe i’ll only stick to my ideas,, or not. send in a tommy x reader request, might do it, might not, but he’s my fav cc if you can’t tell so! :D (i dunno if i will keep it strictly platonic, but unrequited crushes and stuff are fun to write hehe,,)

edit: let’s hope i fixed all the grammar mistakes LMAO we love writing late at night :) /s /hj

#tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #dream smp #sbi #dsmp #mcyt #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #dream smp headcannon #sbi imagine #sbi x reader #sbi headcanons #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt headcanons

[heavenlyhischier]

only when you're high - rafe cameron

word count: 4.3k

summary: Rafe only ever talks to you when he's high, and you've eventually had enough.

warnings: angst i guess, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, lil makeout sesh at the end

note: ik this isn't the request but i've been working on this for a while so here ya go <3 this is def not my best writing so dont judge it too harshly

3:53 a.m.

You had been dreaming about your cat taking over a world full of people with fish heads when the incessant ringing from your phone jolted you awake. You blindly flung your hand onto the nightstand, knocking over a half empty water bottle and a bottle of ibuprofen before your fingers grazed the cool screen. You picked up the device, nearly blinding yourself when you opened your eyes to see who was calling you at such an ungodly hour. Once your eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness, the name ‘Stupid Kook’ was displayed across the top. You hesitantly swiped to answer.

“What in the flying fuck do you want,” You whisper yelled, propping your half-conscious body up with your elbow.

“Hey, baby,” He greeted, his voice dragging as if he was thinking too hard about his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure what you were supposed to say to his weird revelation. You had been having a weird thing with Rafe for a few months now. After many drinks, you would often finding yourself making out with him in a secluded area. Despite your random make out sessions, he had never once called you to simply hear your voice. In fact, he hadn’t even called you before. It was usually always a quick ‘wyd’ text at midnight and nothing more.

“That’s weird, you’ve never called me before,” You pointed out, “You’ve also never called me baby before, so what’s that about?”

“Mm, I don’t know. Always wanted to call you that before so why not? What are you up to, baby,” He asked, his words slurring together in a way that could only happen while under the influence.

“You’re high aren’t you,” You sighed. Of course, he was high. You should have known that from the get-go. Rafe Cameron wouldn’t have called you sober; he never even looked at you sober.

A brief silence hung over the line, Rafe’s heavy breathing being the only thing coming through the receiver. “Maybe a little. Had a rough day, so I went to see Barry and now I’m at Topper’s. Talking to you.”

You couldn’t help but let a small smile grace your features; a smile that was gone almost as soon as it came. You let your elbow fall from its position, your head falling back onto the pillow that was still warm from when you were asleep. “How sweet of you. What are you doing, anyways? Shouldn’t you be getting shitfaced and taking some innocent girl to bed?”

He let out an airy laugh before speaking. “The only one I’d like to take to bed is you, and we somehow always stop before it gets to that point. Anyways, it’s just me, Topper, and Kelce, and I started thinking about us in the back of my truck when we were outside. Before I knew what I was doing, you answered the phone.”

Your cheeks flared red as images of Rafe’s hands exploring your body flashed through your mind, the feeling of his ring on your skin igniting something inside of you. His mouth latching onto the sensitive spots of your neck as your moans filled his truck. You let your fingers ghost over your lips as if you could still feel his own on yours. More memories of him exploring your body in every way but the way you wanted him most were running through your mind. Every time you wanted to give in to him, give in to your urges, but you couldn’t.

“You know, I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you and I hate it,” He started, his words still slow, “I hate it because you’ll never let me have you.”

“Rafe,” You groaned, running a hand over your tired face, “I don’t really feel like giving myself to someone who only talks to me when they’re drunk or high. Someone who would rather be caught dead than with a pouge.”

“You know it’s not like that, baby. It’s complicated,” He tried, and you could tell there was a hint of unfamiliar panic in his voice.

“It always is. Guess I’ll see or talk to you next time you get fucked up. Goodnight Rafe,” You whispered before hanging up on the boy, ignoring his desperate protests.

1:38 a.m.

You turned the shower water off before stepping out onto the cool tiled floor, water dripping from every part of your body. You chose to ignore the buzzing coming from your phone, moving to grab the towel hung on the back of your bathroom door. However, the buzzing started again as you were drying off your legs.

“Who the fuck,” You groaned as you wrapped the towel around your still wet body. ‘Stupid Kook’ was making a second appearance, much to your surprise. “Yes, Rafe?”

“What’s up your ass,” He laughed his infectious laugh. You could picture him throwing his head back and his glazed over eyes twinkling with amusement, something you had only seen when you found yourself admiring him from afar.

“Nothings up my ass. Just don’t know what your high ass wants this time.” You gripped your phone in your hand and started to walk back towards your room. Your parents had fallen asleep hours ago, so you had to make sure you were quiet. However, that deemed difficult in the darkest hours of the night in your already poorly lit house. You bumped your hip and stubbed your toe on just about anything that was out in the open. Once you were in your room, you hastily shut the door and flipped the light switch on.

“Hello! Hello! Hello! Where are you,” Rafe yelled, making you wince and pull the phone away from your ear.

“Jesus, dude. Calm down, I was walking back to my room,” You chastised, doing your best to hold your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

“What were you doing? I missed you,” He pouted.

You ignored the swelling you got in your heart and said, “I was leaving the bathroom. I just finished showering. What are you doing?”

You grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a shirt you had taken from JJ after you had thrown up over whatever you were wearing that night. Rafe began telling you what he was doing, which was quite literally nothing. However, he quickly dove into a spout of how you were naked and wet and how badly he wanted to see you without any clothes on. Your cheeks were burning as he went on and on about all of the sinful things he wanted to do to you. You let him ramble on a bit more as you turned the light off once you were clothed and ready for bed.

“Okay, that’s enough, Rafe,” You stopped him, pulling your blanket back so you could crawl in bed. “So, calling me two times within a week? You falling in love with me?”

It was so painfully obvious that it was a joke, but you could practically feel the tension radiating through your phone from Rafe’s end. His abrupt silence concerned you because this boy was far from silent when he was doped out.

“Maybe I am,” He finally got out, and you couldn’t detect any sarcasm in it.

“Sure you are,” You rolled your eyes, blaming exhaustion for briefly clouding your judgment, “If you were in love with me, you’d actually talk to me when you aren’t too fucked to remember your own name.”

You started picking at a loose thread on your blanket as you let your mind wander to what life would be life if you had an actual relationship with Rafe. Going to parties with him. Hanging around the Island Club with him and his friends. Him doing lines off your body before having his way with you.

“I will talk to you when I’m not high,” His voice broke you from your thoughts, “If that’s what you really want.”

“I do,” You said way too quickly, “I mean, yeah sure. That would be nice, I guess.”

“Just text me and I’ll answer.” You couldn’t stifle the yawn that escaped your lips, but you did try and hide it from Rafe. Your attempt was no good, though. “You’re tired, go to bed.”

“No, I’m fi-.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Rafe shouted over you, “Talk to you soon, baby.”

Rafe’s name popped up on your phone screen every few days after he had gotten drunk out of his mind or too high to do anything other than find your contact. You didn’t mind it at first, but after you had texted him during the day and those messages went unanswered, you grew hurt and annoyed. You had tried asking him why he wouldn’t respond, but he always found a way to change the subject. You wanted to ask him about it in person, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a month. You wanted to ask him why he couldn’t bother to pick up the phone when he was sober, but wasted no time in calling you as soon as he got his bump in.

One of the nights he called, you offered to have him come over because your parents were gone, but he said no. Made up some excuse about how he was staying with Topper for a while since Sarah cheated on him and he wanted to be there for his friend. You understood that, so you didn’t push him after that. Then, the next time you told him about a party everyone was going to and how you wanted to see him there. You even told him to bring the other two. That time he told you he was staying away from parties for a while, wanting to stay to himself for the most part due to the constant stress from his dad. You knew how Ward could be sometimes, so it wasn’t hard to believe him and move on from there.

You wanted to be mad to him for only acknowledging you when he was high, but you couldn’t be. You’ve always wanted to feel wanted by somebody, and he made you feel like that albeit only when he was far gone from reality. You could deal with it as long as you got to talk to him, no matter how insecure it made you. Well, you thought you could.

2:25

Your parents were gone for the night, so you opted to watch Marvel movies in the living room. You were so invested in watching Iron Man and shoving popcorn in your mouth that you didn’t feel your phone go off the first six times. Or the fifteen times after that. Not that you would have cared either way. You knew the only person it could be was the boy who never wanted you sober. The credits began rolling across the TV, so you finally decided to pick up your discarded phone. You were shocked to see Rafe had called you eight times and texted you thirteen. Overall, his texts said the same thing.

Why aren’t u answering me :(

Call me pls

I wanna talk to you baby

It was if he knew you were finally looking at your phone because his contact popped up not ten seconds later. You rolled your eyes, but reluctantly answered.

“Y/N! Where have you been,” He whined into the receiver, “I’ve been trying to call you for like two hours.”

“Watching movies,” Your words were sharp and short, not particularly wanting to talk to him right now. You’ve nearly reached your breaking point with him.

Rafe could immediately tell something was off with you by the way you sounded. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath in, setting your bowl of popcorn on the coffee table after you paused the end credit scene. You leaned forwards and planted your elbow on your knee as you held your head in annoyance.

“I’m fine, Rafe. I’m just getting fed up with you only wanting to talk to me when you’re high or drunk,” You started, “I used to be fine with it because it once every couple of weeks, but now it’s almost every day and it’s annoying. You told me to text you when you’re sober, and I did, but you never responded. I try and offer to come over to you or have you come to me, but you always have an excuse. I know you want to be there for Topper and you don’t really want to be around anyone right now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with it.”

“Y/N, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just-It’s complicated. Please understand that,” He was practically begging you to listen to him.

“Rafey, are you coming back to play beer pong with us,” A female voice suddenly cut through the sudden sound of music.

Your breathing stopped and your heart felt like it was being squeezed by Rafe’s own hand. A wave of heartbreak crashed over your entire body. “‘I just don’t want to be around anyone’ huh? Thought you were just spending time with Topper for a while? You know, if you didn’t want to see me, all you had to do was say so,” You whimpered, hurt now mixing with your anger and annoyance.

“No, wait,” He tried, yelling at whoever came in the room to get out, “Y/N, please. It isn’t lik-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It is like that, Rafe. It is exactly like that. You don’t want to see me, and that is fine. I get it. Why would you ever want to be seen with someone from the Cut? It doesn’t matter, though. Don’t call me anymore. You lied to me. That is not something that I can forgive,” Your tears were too strong to hold back now, “I don’t care for liars, Rafe Cameron, and you’re the biggest one of all.”

You quickly hung up and turned off your phone, throwing it towards the end of the couch so you weren’t tempted to grab it. You grabbed the large blanket from the back of the couch, picked another movie, and let your tears fall as it played in front of you.

“Honey,” Your moms gentle voice broke through, “You fell asleep on the couch.”

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light shining through the giant window. The headache hit you like a ton of brinks, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Your mom was hovering over you, her hand on your shoulder and her soft eyes pretending to not notice how puffy your cheeks and red your eyes are.

“I guess so,” You mumbled, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, “I’ll go lay down in my room. I’m still tired.”

She gave you an understanding nod with a caring smile and helped you off the couch. Her hand lingered on your back as if she wanted to say something to you, but she decided to leave it alone for now. You would talk to her when you were ready, if you ever were. You gave her a thumbs up when she told you her and your father would be out again most of the day.

Your feet dragged as you stumbled back to your room, using the wall to keep you steady. You pushed the door open with your foot and gave your cat, who was laying on your bed as if she owned it, a stupid smile. You fell onto the bed and pulled her onto your chest as you turned your phone back on. You were scared to confront the actions from last night, but knowing Rafe, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to even send you a text about it. You were quickly proven wrong the moment your phone turned back on. The vibration from all of the texts, voicemails, and snapchats felt like it lasted for five straight minutes. Nearly all were from the boy you wanted nothing to do with. Although, you noticed a voicemail from Topper, who you forgot even had your number.

Um, hey its Topper. Look dude, I don’t know what happened, but Rafe is freaking out like a bitch right now. He keeps mumbling shit about how he fucked things up with, which I didn’t even know you two were a thing but whatever I don’t really care. He kicked everyone out of my house and has been calling and texting you for like thirty minutes straight now so please call him back, so he shuts the fuck up. If not for him, do it for my sanity before I kill him. Uh, yeah, thanks, bye.

You sighed deeply after the voicemail cut off, your heart rate increasing at the thought of Rafe being upset. If he was bad enough that Topper of all people called you, you knew it was bad. You wanted to not care because of how he made you feel, but you did. You’ve always cared about the blond boy more than you cared to admit. You finally decided to look at the messages he sent you.

Y/N pls call me back

I’m sorry its not what it looks like and I know that sounds stupid but its true

Pls talk to me. I need u to talk to me

I promise that I never wanted to hurt u ok???

I love you, Y/N. Please call me or I’m coming to your house tomorrow.

The world stopped spinning when you read the last message. You kept reading it over and over again as if you misread it the first time. Rafe had never been any kind of affectionate with you until he called you baby. Rafe Cameron was not someone known to get emotional, so you weren’t sure if you believed his words. He was a liar and would do anything to get what he wanted, so what was different now?

You heard a knock on the door followed by your moms muffled voice, but you were too focused on the situation in front of you to notice who it was. Your eyes were glued to the screen, staring at the three words you never thought anyone other than your family and friends would say to you. The world around you was fading away, your heart feeling as if it was going to beat out of your chest as tears slid down your still puffy cheeks. You weren’t going to let him do this to you. You weren’t going to let him toy with you anymore.

“Y/N,” A deep voice dragged you out of your subconscious.

Your eyes darted over to the door and saw the last person you wanted to see. Rafe was standing there, his eyes wide and blood shot and he looked like total shit. His hair was a wild mess, nothing like its usual tamed state. You met his gaze and you wished you hadn’t. One look from him and you were puddy in his hands. One look and every thought you had about never seeing him again flew out the window.

“Hey, can we talk,” He mumbled, his bright blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, you gave him a swift nod and gestured to the spot next to you on your bed. You leaned to the side and placed your cat on the ground, watching as she rubbed herself all over Rafe’s leg before scampering away. His walk to your bed was painfully slow, and you wanted to tell him to hurry up, but you knew that was unreasonable.

“What do you want, Rafe,” Your voice was harsh, trying to ignore the urge to reach out to him. “What do you want to talk about? How you only use me for your own pleasure? How you only ever even look at me when you’re drunk or high? How you lied to me? Wanna talk about that?”

Your anger surprised even yourself. One second you wanted to hold him in your arms and comfort him, but then the memory of how he treated you came back and flipped a switch in your brain. You don’t know how you feel and you hate it.

“I deserve every bit of your anger,” He breathed out, letting his hand fall dangerously close to your own, “But please let me explain everything to you, okay?”

“Fine,” You gave in, “Talk.”

“Yeah, thank you, okay. I really do want to talk to you when I’m not absolutely fucked, I do. I know that it doesn’t seem like that, but its true. I just, I can’t. Every time I look at you, think about you, I hear my dads voice screaming at me that I will never be good enough for anyone. I have this thought drilled into my head every day that no matter what I do, who I am, I am just never enough. To me, you’re no exception to that. In fact, you remind me even more. Wait no.”

Rafe rubbed both of his hands over his face and tugged at his hair, afraid that he’s already fucking this up. “Rafe,” You gently spoke up, turning to grab his hands from his face. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

His eyes met yours and you could see how strained he was. There were too many emotions swirling in his eyes for you to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. “Okay, um, okay. To me, you are way too good for me, so the only time I feel comfortable talking to you is when I’m high. I’ve never had trouble talking to any girl before, but you’re more than that to me. You’re more than just some girl to me and it scares me, so I feel like I have to be, yanno, not me. When I talk to you. I want to be with you more than I have ever wanted to be with someone in my life”

Your hand was still holding his as you let his words sink in. Him revealing how his dad truly made him feel made your heart ache for him. It made you want to grab him by the face and tell him how he is more than good enough. You wanted to let him in, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for the risk that came along with it. You’re not sure if you want all the things that came with being with Rafe Cameron. He’s followed by hurt and lies, and you do feel guilty thinking that, but it’s been proven true countless times.

“Rafe, listen to me,” You began, moving so you were straddling him and holding his face in your hands. His hands immediately came to grip your hips, and you are well aware that this was a more than compromising situation. “I understand that your father is probably the worst person we both know, but that doesn’t excuse you lying to me. I don’t know if I can trust you, no matter how much I may want to.”

You watched as tears gather in his eyes, and he was doing his best to keep them at bay. He had never felt the way he feels about you before, and he’s more than aware that his reputation precedes him. He knows that he’s done nothing more than prove how untrusting he is to you, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from trying to prove to you that he means what he’s saying.

“I know that nothing I say will fix what I’ve already done. I know that, but I can show you just how much you mean to me, if you’ll let me. We can go at your pace. Do things your way. Just, please, give me another chance to prove myself to you.”

You’re searching for any detection of a lie in his eyes, in his voice, but you come up empty. You wipe away the stray tears that broke through his wall of protection. You hesitantly placed your forehead on his, and you could hear him take in a sharp breath at the connection. Your eyes fluttered closed, your nose brushing against his as you weighed all of your options.

“Did you mean what you to me? In your last text,” You whispered, too scared to open your eyes and look at him. “Do you actually love me?”

“More than you know,” His breath was hot against your chin, and he pulled you closer into him.

You decided to take a leap, dive into something that scared you more than anything. Your lips finally met his, and Rafe wasted no time in returning the feeling. Your hands fell from his cheeks and clasped each other behind his neck, while his hands stayed placed on your hips, too scared to push you too far. You deepened the passion filled kiss by pulling him closer to you and running your tongue across his bottom lip. Rafe’s lips moved in such a sensual way that you almost didn’t know how to react. It was much different from the lust filled kisses you’ve shared in the past. You started moving your hips on top of him, an action that had him gripping your hips tighter than before.

Y/N,” Rafe breathed out after he broke away from you, “If you don’t stop, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Then don’t.”

i have not edited this so if you see a mistake lmk. love u

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #obx #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

#maneskin fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david fiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #quiet music #bethanysnow #mywriting

[sugawara-sweetheart]

𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 (𝔪)

❥sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

❥summary: cousin sakusa has missed you so much

❥warnings: dubcon/noncon, incest, humiliation, degradation, spitting, hair pulling, marking

❥word count: 3.1k

your brother has always been more family-orientated than you are. family makes him happy, seeing the familiar faces all linked by blood and love joyous and well together, creating and sharing happy memories.

you just wish you could’ve felt the same.

komori’s birthday brings you anxiety. your stomach churns as you stand awkwardly in the hallway between your older brother and your mother, kissing your aunties and hugging uncles, grinning at your cousins you’ve not seen in so long. you’re waiting, your stomach turning with a nauseating sickness engulfing you. would he even come? surely he was too busy these days- you’d seen his face on magazines and billboards, on the television with his black onyx eyes boring into the screen, piercing into you with a horrible darkness you’d know you’d never be able to escape. maybe he wouldn’t come.

you glance at your brother subtly, heart twinging at the wide grin on his face and the lopsided birthday hat on his brown head of curls. he’d always been closer to your cousin from the two of you, even though throughout childhood you all shared the same memories. giggling throughout the night in sleepovers you begged your parents to let you have, sharing toys and walking to school together, all the way throughout high school. but then things started to change, and you didn’t hang out with them so much. whenever komori would peak his head into your bedroom, announcing that he was on his way to kiyoomi’s he’d wait expectantly for you but you wouldn’t budge, claiming you had too many assignments to get through. whenever a family event would arise, you’d always be careful to ask your mother beforehand about it. “who else is invited?” and as she listed all the names of familiar family members, your heart would sink at the sound of one.

“omi!”

you could be sick. your heart thuds against your rib cage and a cold shiver runs through your icy blood when the front door opens and in steps your cousin. it’s been a while since you last saw him in person but you’re shivering all the same, taking in his tall, broad body that towers over you. his white face mask conceals half his face but it just makes his depthless eyes even more piercing, a thick lump rising in your dry throat when they bore into you, sharp as daggers.

“motoya,” his voice is calm. deep and slow, almost soothing you hate to admit, as he walks to your brother. komori’s grin is wide as he reaches out to hug him, but sensing the way your cousin tenses he just settles on patting his muscular arm instead. “happy birthday.”

“thanks!” komori grins when he takes the gift bag from sakusa and you’re half-surprised that he even thought to bring a gift. but then you realise that’s not entirely fair- he wasn’t entirely a bad person. not to your brother. “i’m surprised you came! you must be busy, huh?”

“yeah. a lot of training but i managed to find the time.” you’re holding your breath when sakusa steps towards you and your hands tremble as you curl them into the sleeves of your shirt, trying to avoid his heavy eyes that are practically cutting into you. but your mother gets there first, and it’s a huge relief to be able to breathe when you slip away from the busy hallway as she pulls him into a hug he can’t refuse.

you manage to avoid sakusa for most of the party. you’re thankful for all the family members crowding your house, and the fact that your cousin still hates crowds because it puts a huge distance between you. you’re able to slot yourself into groups where you know he won’t join. but it’s not enough. you can’t ignore the vicious thoughts and pungent memories, too visceral and too painful, bleeding out into your mind when you’re telling your aunts all about your new job, and you can feel the eyes burning into you when you’re playing with your cousins’ children out into the garden, wishing you can just focus on the laughter spilling into the warm, sticky air instead. even when you’re singing happy birthday, watching the candlelight illuminate komori’s grinning face in a warm orange glow, your stomach churns and your voice wavers, cracking too much that you eventually give up singing. your eyes settle on sakusa’s instead but he isn’t watching your brother blow out the candles, watch him make a silent wish. they’re focused on you, and his clenched fists is enough to make the tears well in your eyes.

the scramble for cake is the perfect time to slip away into the quiet upstairs of your family home. it’s peaceful with the music and the chatter sounding so distant beneath the floorboards and you can breathe, you can relax your racing heart as you slip into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. those inches of wood is enough to separate you for now until someone- your mother probably- notices you missing and calls you back down again.

how horrible. your eyes clench shut but all that burns in the back of your eyelids is the pale, stoic face of your cousin sakusa kiyoomi. the family member your parents and relatives brag about as the pride of the family- successful pro-athlete, the one they watch clips of on youtube and show off to strangers. sakusa kiyoomi, the one presence at family functions that’ll have everyone beaming, even when he’s cold and brooding, everyone adores his presence. except you.

“you know, i never liked being around too many people either.” the calm voice makes you freeze, your heart suddenly racing against as your throat grows dry. you hadn’t heard the door creak open and you don’t dare face it as it clicks shut behind you. no. this can’t be happening.

but it is.

the footsteps are slow on the carpeted floor, heavy with his weight and the mattress dips behind you, his presence heavy with the faint smell of hand sanitiser burning in your nose. you hadn’t that smell, that horrible pungent smell of ethanol that’s scarred your memories.

“it’s been a long time, y/n.” sakusa says. “i’ve missed you.” you shudder when he trails a finger along the back of your shoulder blades, his skin cold and you swallow hard as he twines his finger around your hair, tugging slightly at the lock to induce a lingering of pain. “you stopped coming to a lot of family functions. motoya was always there, but never you.” you can’t reply- you think you’re going to be sick if you try and your legs tremble too much you’re sure your knees will give out if you even dare to get up. then he’d know you’re scared.

he always looked different whenever you were scared. you remember the wide grin and the gleam in his round eyes when he showed you the bug he found in the garden, slipping it down your shirt to make you scream and run to his mother in tears. you remember the smirk tugging at his lips, the way he’d scrutinise you after telling you a scary story in the dead of the night that’d have you paling, begging komori to walk you to the bathroom. you remember how his lips were smiling against your skin when he was pressed against you, cornering you in his bedroom as the smoke and aroma of the barbecue wafted in through the open window, carrying up your family’s laughter, as you cried, begging him to let you go.

“i think- i think my mum’s calling-”

“no one’s calling you, y/n.” you can hear the smile in his voice, the malicious, sadistic joy carried in his knowing words. “i dont even think they noticed you slipped out. but i did.” you tense, not being able to resist the small whimper that falls from your lips as sakusa edges his face closer, the tip of his nose grazing along your jaw as his hand grasps the back of your neck, thick fingertips pressing into the sides to make you gasp. “i’ve been waiting to see you for a long time.”

you’re forced to look in his eyes when he turns your head,  his eyes locking with yours as he scrutinises you carefully. he notices it all- the trembling of your bottom lip, the tears building in the corners of your eyes, the goosebumps pebbling along the back of your neck as you clench your fists to hide the shaking. he likes it- he always has. the only time you saw your cold, stoic, unexpressive cousin smile so wide was when he was watching the tears roll down your cheek, when he was the one causing it.

“kiyoomi, can you let go-” you’re cut off by his lips pressing against your cheek and you cringe as you realise the tip of his tongue slides along, gathering your tears and leaving his saliva cold on your hot skin. “s-stop that!”

“doesn’t this just remind you of old times? all the fun times we had alone?” sakusa’s proud smile just makes you cry harder and you’re horribly aware of how he shifts his body to press himself into you, letting you feel his hard throbbing cock pressed against your thigh. but you’re not an innocent eighteen year old girl anymore.

“it wasn’t like that! get off me, you creep!” you hear the crack of his hand against your face before you even register it. you gasp at the hot pain searing through your cheek. blood rushes in your ear, your face throbbing as hot tears sting your eyes. “k-kiyoomi-” your skin is tender to touch and you’re trembling as you scramble away from sakusa, tears streaming down your face as you clutch it.

“don’t act like you didn’t fucking like it.” he hisses. there’s no trace of sadistic amusement evident in his depthless black eyes now, teeth gritted with a blue vein throbbing in his temple as he crawls towards you. you flinch when he grips your thighs, dragging you towards him and you’re no match for his size or strength, your thrashing useless as he pins you down onto your own bed, caging you in.

“let go-” your desperate cry is muffled by his hand slamming onto your face, his other hand reaching for the hem of your dress to flip up as you squirm and try to prise his fingers off you but it’s futile. too strong. he’s always been too strong.

“since when did you become such a bitch?” he sneers, fingers probing into your mouth. they’re big and invasive, weighing down on your tongue and aching your jaw as you almost choke on your own saliva. “you weren’t like this before- what, you think you’re too good for your cousin?” he scoffs at the idea, pucking his lips and spitting directly into your open mouth. you clench your eyes shut at the sensation of his cold saliva hitting your tongue, mixing with the saliva that pools in your mouth and trickles down your chin, making him grimace with disgust. “messy slut. what’s happened to you?”

your sobs are muffled and choked with his fingers in your mouth, your face hot with stinging pain and bitter tears whilst you try to scratch at his hand that snatches down your panties. but you’re helpless, a horrified sob ripping from you when the cold air hits your folds.

“can you stop crying? you look really pathetic.” sakusa sighs, pinching your drooling tongue sharply before he rips his fingers from your mouth. strings of saliva coat your chin and he merely rolls his eyes as you turn your head to bury it in the comforter, your hands gripping the bedsheets. why was this happening to you? it’d been years since you last saw sakusa, so many years you managed to avoid him and now it was all happening again, just when you thought you were safe.

“you want me to fuck you like a slut?” he taunts, pressing his wet fingers to your clit and rubbing it slowly. you hate that your toes curl with the warm pleasure, a little sigh escaping you amidst the muffled weeps and he chuckles as his other hand roams up your body, groping your breast through your dress. “i can do that.” you gasp when he yanks down your straps, your tits hanging out of the dress and a snicker escapes him as he harshly pinches the pebbling nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as you squirm below him.

“k-kiyoomi- stop this! please.” he groans at your words, burying his face into the crook of your neck and his teeth sting as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive neck.

“why? you like this, you just want to act like you’re not some sort of perverted bitch that wants her cousin’s dick. look how wet you’re getting, it’s disgusting.” his words sting and you hate that you’re wrapping your arms around him, fingers clinging to his broad shoulders as he swirls your swelling clit with his thumb, fingertips sliding along your folds with your obvious wetness dampening them. “you want me right?”

you shake your head wildly but it’s hard to cry no when the pleasure builds, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening. it’s wrong, it’s disgusting and dirty and you don’t want this but your hips are bucking up into sakusa’s hand, walls fluttering as the sensitivity heightens and your orgasm crashes through you in heavy waves. sakusa chuckles in your ear, his teeth catching your lobe as your slick trickles down between your quivering legs, toes curling as you bury your choked, teary moans into his shoulders.

“see, i knew you’d like it. you just came all over my fingers.” there’s an uproar of laughter from downstairs and it makes you cry harder. the shame festering in your chest hurts and you just wish you were downstairs, safe and surrounded by your family, not caged under sakusa, being his dumb little prey time and time again. “you want my cock, right?”

“no, kiyoomi, i don’t!” but he doesn’t listen to your weak protest when he flips you over, pushing your tear-stained face into the mattress with a strong grip on your hair that sends pain burning in your scalp. you grip the bedsheets, trying not to collapse under his chest weighing down on your back as you hear the unbuckling of his belt, the little clink as he tugs down his pants, freeing his cock.

“god, no!” you try to pull away from him when you feel the drooling cockhead graze against your bare ass but sakusa’s grip on your hair is too strong, keeping you pinned in place. it’s suffocating- you feel like you can barely breathe with the your face pressed into the comforter and blood pounds in your ears but his harsh voice cuts through too clearly.

“you won’t be calling out god’s name when i’m done with you, whore.”

it burns when he shoves his cock into your cunt, his thickness stretching out your tight walls. you can’t even moan, your mouth falling open with drool pooling onto the bedsheets, pain burning deep between your legs as he fills up your cunt. he’s long and thick, veins pressing against your tight walls as he groans, the grip on your hair tightening enough to induce fresh stinging tears in your eyes. so wrong. it feel so wrong, so painful and you cry bitterly as you realise nothing’s changed- he’s still using you as his cocksleeve all these years later.

“you’re so tight.” he hisses when he snaps his hips into you. there’s a dull ache each time his cockhead slams against your cervix but sakusa’s relentless, fucking you for his own pleasure with one hand gripping your hair and the other slapping and groping your ass, nails piercing into the soft flesh. “but fuck- you feel good.” you cringe when he leans down to press a kiss to the back of your neck, a cold shiver running through you amidst the pain and the slight pleasure as he fucks against your spongy walls. wetness drools from your aching cunt, his balls slapping lewdly against your ass and you’re so full you can’t hold back the choked moans that spill into your bedsheets as you grip them tight. “i’ve missed this cunt. you’re made for me, aren’t you? this messy pussy is all for me.” it’s no use begging him to stop. the pressure builds in the pit of your stomach as he pounds into you, wetness squelching lewdly and your walls squeezing tighter every time he tugs on your hair, pain searing through you. you feel like you’re being split apart on his drenched cock as he drives it into you, letting you feel every ridge and vein. it hurts- sakusa had never done this for you ever- but you can’t deny that part of it feels good, and you hate that it does, you hate that your walls tighten around him when he brushes a sensitive spot and a deep moan falls from your lips, not muffled enough by the bed.

“is that it?” sakusa grunts, stilting his hips and rubbing his cock against that spot again and again. “will this make you cum, you messy bitch?” wetness spills down your thighs as his cock brushes against your sensitive walls, pleasure building in you as you jerk below him. it’s wrong and you feel so tainted, so dirty and disgusting but you can’t resist arching your back, letting him fuck you deeper, letting him push you over the edge. sakusa fucks you through your high, his hand yanking your head back sharply as he presses you down onto the bed, his weight squeezing the air out of you as you gasp.

“that’s it, cum all over your cousin’s cock, you dirty girl. say my name,” he groans. “say it.” you don’t want to but with his grip tightening in your hair, his throbbing cock driving into your gushing cunt and prolonging your climax, you can’t stop his name from falling from your lips in breathy moans. it’s not right to chant it like a prayer, to let your eyes roll to the back of your head before you fall limp on the bed, panting as he pulls out of you.

you don’t have the energy to fight back. every inch of you feel bruised and sore and your teary eyes flutter shut as sakusa cums with a deep groan, hot ropes of sticky fluid splattering over your clothed back.

it hurts. it hurts when he kisses you messily, gripping your face tight with his nails piercing crescents into your tear-stained cheeks. it hurts when he drags you out of the room without even letting you look in the mirror but you know why. fresh tears fill your eyes when you’re pushed into the living room, your aunts and uncles, your mother, your brother komori staring at you in horror when they see the swollen lips and dishevelled hair, the bruises littering your throat, the glistening sheen coating your thighs and the white stains clinging to the back of your dress.

#darkconfectionery #tw.incest #tw.noncon #yandere!sakusa #yandere sakusa x reader #yandere sakusa imagines #yandere sakusa fic #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagines #yandere sakusa

[yeoldontknow]

smoked peaches ↣ jhs (M)

↝ A/N: a sequel to Molotov Cocktail | because i truly could not leave these two alone ugh i love them. happy valentines day! i hope you enjoy!     ↬ DISCLAIMER: absolutely, under no circumstances should alcohol or cocktails be used in a manner such as this. food play is fun only when its safe, and cocktails dont really have any place in the bedroom. furthermore, essential oils should be used safely! ↝ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: established relationship au; pwp; smut; romance; fluff ↝ Summary: Three years into your relationship with Hoseok, you have learned what it means to be truly happy. With him, you are seen, understood, and adored - and not once, even despite all your flaws, has Hoseok ever asked you to change. So when Hoseok starts to become withdrawn and quiet during the brief hours you have with him at night, you assume it’s down to stress at work. You never imagined it would be this, something so much bigger than any obstacle you’ve confronted before or will again. Something that will last forever. ↝ Rating: NC-17 ↝ Warnings: explicit language; explicit sex; dom!jhs; dirty talk; food play (cocktails); unprotected sex; heavy petting; dry humping; blindfolds; biting; marking; oral (f); breast play; use of sex toys; clit biting; clit spanking; creampie; overstimulation; multiple orgasms ↝ Word Count: 14.5K ↬ written for the bon appetit collab with @jamaisjoons​ @yoonia​ and @chillingkoo​ \\ thanks to @jenmyeons​ for reading parts of this and offering endless encouragement <3 

‘God, I’ve missed this.’

Pulling back from your lips, Hoseok whispers his affection with unprecedented conviction, the longing in his voice so tangible your chest tightens in the wake of it. 

Unwilling to open your eyes, you remain still, luxuriating in the feeling of his breath as it wanders over your cheeks. The cascade of warmth is a tickle that tugs at the corners of your lips, a smile of pleasure emerging at the feel of his closeness. Languidly, he presses his fingers into the nodes of your spine, seeking out the pressure points that always ignite colours behind your eyes, his touch alone giving birth to little fires beneath your skin. Eager and lonely, you lean up, searching for his lips, his mouth, his tongue; searching for more - so much more. 

Hungrily, he returns to you, proving that he had not drifted far - not really. Bumping his nose against yours, he is playful, sinful, a paradoxical combination of both that has your grip on his neck tightening as he nips gently at your bottom lip. He’s smiling, too, a beam of delight against your lips that grows wider with the strength evident in your touch. Feather light, he drops brief, teasing kisses to your lips, not nearly enough for you to feel satisfied, and so you huff in frustration, wiggling to get closer.

Amused by your needy enthusiasm, he chuckles to himself quietly, a rumble in his chest that reminds you of thunder. This laugh is one of your favorites, the sound of a man contented by your presence - by the way your legs are draped over his thighs; by the way you have pressed yourself against his chest; by the way you are utterly, impossibly insatiable, matching his thirst equally, earnest in your desire to be encompassed by his embrace. 

Slowly, you open your eyes, wanting to see him, to chastise him for separating from you so soon, but are instead left bereft. Hoseok consumes your vision, his adoring eyes, his wet lipped, unwavering smile the only thing you see - all yours, all for you, as he rubs the tip of his nose against your cheek. City lights pour through the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the pronounced length of his cheekbone. Even this late at night, the light still seeks him, his skin, nestling beneath his pores and offering him an otherworldly glow. The unnatural shades of the billboard signs, yellow fluorescent lights of the high rise apartment buildings, and the bright neon of the game arcades blend together, ensuring that he radiates with every colour and shape of the life you have built together among the clouds. 

Tonight, the billboard along the highway is a rich crimson, the persistent reminder that it is Valentine’s day flooding into the room. When you came home, Hoseok suggested leaving the blinds open, eyes full of mirth as he stated he to let the whole world in, tonight; with his arms around your waist, he said he wanted to show the world how love and romance really looks. Now, enveloped around you, you know he means it.

Tonight, he wants everyone to witness this - the possessive way his tongue explores your mouth, the unwavering grip he maintains around your waist as his hand drifts from your spine to the gaps between your ribs, and back again. Hoseok wants the world to see how years with the same person, the same body, the same routine diminishes nothing, perhaps, only causes the love within your souls to become insistent and ardent. It’s grown deeper these past few months, your yearning for him evolving into the very genetics of your DNA, a piece of your chemistry, eternally. 

Hoseok left the blinds open, and still he glows not unlike the rays of sun. Beneath your hands, he is resplendent, undiminished by the artificial radiance of neon. The moon hangs in the center of the sky, not yet at the height of her arch, but she has become washed out by the luminescence of the city. Hoseok is unmarred - late at night and still he outshines the universe, the brightest thing you have ever seen.

Your hand cups his cheek, thumb running over the bone to catch the light that clings to him. It hugs him in ways it does not hug you, a part of him that remains incandescent and unexplained. You’ve never been able to understand it, spent your days kissing and kissing at it in the hopes of sharing the luminescence he radiates. It never works, though he says you glow too, a radiance brought to life because he chose to love you in spite of all your incorrigible flaws.

Walking your hand along his cheek, you tilt your head and wind your fingers into the hair just behind his ears, heart stuttering in its rhythm as he sighs in pleasure. The dimples of his cheeks almost emerge, almost bloom to life, but he keeps them as a secret, choosing instead to rest his forehead against yours in devotion.

‘I’ve missed you,’ you murmur, not wanting to interrupt the peace that has come to occupy the four walls of your living room; the bone deep comfort that has blossomed between your chests.

Separating just slightly, he leans into your touch, craving more and more of your affectionate caress. ‘You’ve been busy with the auction.’

‘Not so busy.’ 

Shaking your head, your pout feels petulant, youthful in its disagreement. Letting your hand slip from his hair, you wiggle deeper into the hard muscles of his chest, blinking distractedly at him as his own fingers worm their way under your shirt. Gripping the collar of his black shirt, you sigh, a flush heating your cheeks as the simplest of his touches sends electricity down your synapses. To be touched by him, to be in love with him, is to feel and love absolutely everything, your awareness heightened to its peak.

Always, you prefer him this way - hair unkempt and eyes glossy with devotion; prefer the nights when has abandoned the suit and tie of his usual work clothes in favor of his old university shirts and grey sweatpants, discarding the persona of Jung Hoseok to unravel into your Hobi. It happens less and less these days, ever caged by the success and importance of Hopeworld, his chain, his business, as much a fixture at the Fairmont Hotel as the valet parking. 

When you met him, he was in a suit. When you fell in love with him, he was in a simple shirt and jeans, a smile tucked into the corner of his cheek that demanded you crave him, and now your yearning for him is relentless. 

Sustaining your childish pout, you drag your hand down his chest, tracing the shape of his pecs and ribs as you let the pads of your fingers find his arm, gliding against the vines of his tattoo. 

‘Sometimes,’ you mumble absentmindedly, watching the petals in his forearm disappear beneath your touch, ‘I come home and you’re not here. I’ve been busy with the auction, but it feels like I’m always missing you.’ 

Head tilting back against the couch, Hoseok sighs, lips downturned with regret. Still, his hold on you is unwavering, immovable, only tightening in the aftermath of your lament. 

‘I’m not mad,’ you say hurriedly, earnestly, voice thick with sincerity. ‘I just miss you.’ 

In truth, you are not angry, not even really upset at his long absences. If you’re honest with yourself, you couldn’t be more proud of the business he’s built with his own hands, relying on nothing other than the strength of his determination to succeed. Little distracts him from his purpose, unencumbered by the opinions of anyone other than himself. 

The lights of Le Bernardin seemed to dim as your father sat back in his seat, tapping the corner of his mouth with the expensive egyptian cotton napkin. Bitterness rose on your tongue, the flavor of your wine souring as you watched him posture the pretense of politeness for so long you wondered if he had even heard Hoseok’s announcement. 

‘I won’t help you,’ he announced, tone empty and expressionless save for the severity of the derision that swam in his eyes. 

From where you sat, you could feel the apathy, the admonishment and expectation that Hoseok would fail at opening, managing, and cultivating his own bar before he had even started. Thousands of arguments hung dangerously in the air, hovering above the table with threatening closeness. It was heavy, oppressive with reasoning and judgemental logic that he did not have a degree in business; that a mixologist was not a manager; that corporate holdings and the economic legalities that came with running a business were beyond him. It was not, you knew, that your father didn’t think he was smart enough - it was, you were certain, that he simply deemed Hoseok wasn’t worthy enough. 

Your father’s stare remained icy and unforgiving as you gripped Hoseok’s thigh, nails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his trousers as your tongue prepared to sever your father’s iron will. After years of this sort of combat, you were used to becoming venomous, used to shaping yourself into a creature of malcontent, the spitefulness of your contempt the armor you regularly wore. For so long, you had worn it like a second skin, felt most like yourself  under its scathing anguish. For Hoseok, you would become monstrous, ugly; would grow fangs and claws and teeth in the glory of your wrath, but he gripped your thigh in kind reassurance and smiled as though hardly anything had happened at all. 

Settling back against your seat, you scowled unforgivingly at your father’s passive expression. He cocked a tempestuous brow at you, a challenge though not necessarily a warning, which you mirrored, always so good at looking exactly like him. 

‘It’s ignorant to presume someone would ask help from a person who is not willing to even offer it,’ Hoseok said patiently, amiably, so much better at different tactics of aggression. 

You never had it in you to adorn the sickly sweetness of polite averice. You’d never wanted to be misunderstood. 

‘Besides,’ he continued, removing his hand from your thigh to cut into his filet mignon. ‘That bar will be mine, not yours. You have a habit of claiming possession over the things you let into your life, and I’d rather burn in hell than watch you claim my name as another wasteland for your empire.’

Head whipping to look at him, your eyes went wide, suddenly so aware of all the ways in which light gives way to shadows, of the way light reveals absolutely everything. You’d grown used to the way rage gave birth to ugliness within you, but he wore his anger like a tantalizing weapon. You were moved by him, arrested into an uncharacteristic silence around your father, but Hoseok continued, magnificent in his slow reveal of his true humanity. 

‘The bar will be mine,’ he pressed, glancing up from his plate and undeterred by your father’s scathing glare. ‘The money will be mine. I’m just telling you to be polite, because that’s what good sons do even if their fathers are worthless to them.’

Two years later, and the money is indeed his - the money, and the glory, and all the fame that comes with a chain centered in the lobby of the most expensive hotel conglomerate. Two years later, and he has a chain in his name, a business of his own, a life of his own making, even if it meant that there are countless, painful hours in which he is not, and cannot be, with you. 

‘I know.’ His sigh is deep, a long huff of breath through his nose in shame. Staring up at the ceiling, he considers his words carefully. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been...’ For a moment, he drifts, lost in thought as he lowers his gaze to search your face, though for what you cannot be sure. His scrutiny is heated, intense, eyes roaming over your features over and over until you’re certain he could paint your likeness if asked. ‘It’s just been frightening,’ he announces, finally. ‘I’m not worried, really, it’s just the Hotel’s name is wrapped up into it, too.’

Peering at you carefully through his eyelashes, his grip on your waist tightens, and you feel him everywhere he is not. Hoseok roots inside you for answers to questions left unvoiced, reacquainting himself with all your intimate details. You are not certain what he seeks, why his apology is quite so sincere, and so you let your hand return to his cheek, smoothing all the edges out of his features. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he holds your palm there, and you find yourself distracted both by the softness of his skin and the way the light illuminates the tattoo adorning his arm. Idly, you wish you could stay like this eternally - together, unencumbered, enraptured. Valentine’s Day has never been worth celebrating, not to you at least, but he is worth celebrating, and so you lean forward, kissing at his jaw to remind him of this sentiment.

‘It’s your first time with an inspection of this size.’ Your suggestion is soft, a soothing cadence you hope is evident in the lilt of your voice. Walking your hand up to his temple once more, your card your fingers through his hair, relishing the thickness of the strands, offering tenderness where your words might not. ‘Your license is on the line. Trust me, no one understands better than I do. You don’t have to apologize.’

Months of this, months of coming home to an empty bed only for Hoseok to climb in later, when the hours night drip into the morning. Government inspections are not new, but now with three bars under his belt, and all the inspections happening at the same time, he’s been distant. Not on purpose - never on purpose, but you feel his absence like a blade whenever the house, the bed, your life is empty of him. 

‘Yes I do.’ Falling forward, he buries his face into your neck and breathes in deep, taking the scent of you into his lungs. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smile at the feeling, blood warmed with rapture. ‘I hate not being home with you, but I promise it will be worth it.’ 

Hoseok accentuates his words by grazing his teeth against the tendon in your neck, his favorite spot to bruise. Usually, your skin is purpled by him, consistently red and aching with the marks of his teeth and tongue, but lately the visible proof of his attachment to you has faded. You’ve missed the burn of it, the stinging delight that would last for days. Latching his teeth to your skin, you shiver into his hold, pressing your fingers into the muscles of his back. The wet texture of his tongue against your skin has you shivering, a quake that starts in your bones first until even your heart is trembling with it. 

‘I know it will,’ you hum, stroking his hair, unashamed of the way arousal pools at your groin. 

Since dinner finished, you’ve been here, with him, kissing and kissing to reacquaint yourself with his lips. Your underwear has been damp since the first stroke of his tongue against yours, and you’re certain he’s felt you clenching around nothing, craving and anticipating the feel of him between your thighs. 

‘But I hate how this one is making you so anxious and quiet.’ Slowly, you take your time guiding one of your hands to the back of his neck, nails scratching into the soft, thin hair at the base of his hairline. Holding him in place, you revel in the feel of his mouth moving against your skin, in the way his shoulders expand and retract as he breathes as if making way for wings. ‘I miss my sunshine boy.’

Hoseok chuckles against your neck, replacing his tongue with a cascade of warmth exhaled from his nose. ‘I’ll repeat that you’ve been busy, too.’

An impish smirk unfurls in your expression, and gathering the strands of hair at the crown of his head, you tug gently until he is pulled from your neck, blinking at you with an innocence you know can dissolve in an instant. His lips are swollen and wet from kissing your neck, the base of your jaw; all red and pink, smooth skin so enticing and the sight only serves to invigorate the thought that burns behind your teeth.

‘My love,’ you begin, sweely, ‘I’m sure I could regale you with the legalities of museum auctions, but I think we both can agree there is something far, far more worthy of our attention.’

The pads of your fingers trace idle patterns over the tendons in his neck, down to the base of his shoulders, around and into his ribs. Reaching between your bodies, your curious fingers seek the hardness of his erection, the evidence of his intense arousal pressing vigilantly against your thigh. Cupping the semi-hard girth of his cock, you offer a gentle stroke as you twist your hand. Darkness lives inside his groan, equal to the darkness that clouds his eyes, half lidded as he looks at you in warning. 

The thin material of his fleece sweatpants does little to conceal the way the movements of your hand send blood and heat directly into his cock. Beneath your palm, it gradually hardens, straining against the cloth to be reunited with the feeling of your bare palm. You’re confident he can feel the heat that emanates from your core, your folds starting to leak with wetness each time he breathes through his parted lips. Each stroke has his exhale filling the silence, raising the hairs along your arms, his hips starting to thrust upwards into your hand.

It’s a dangerous game to play with him, a test of his control and dominance that always ends with you at the mercy of his lust. Just as quickly as it started, he presses one hand to your hip and taps your thigh with the other, an unspoken signal that he wants your thighs straddled on either side of him, your core presses against the tip of his clothed erection, your body against his, an unstoppable force of desire that succumbs to his will, only.

Quickly you adjust, releasing his cock only to replace the pressure of your hand with the pressure of your core, the heat from your folds and the dampness of your legging having you both exhale in unison. 

‘Oh, fuck,’ he moans, easing your hips down roughly against the tip of his cock. ‘Come here.’

Once more, he works his hand beneath your shirt, warm palm journeying the length of your spine until it is gathered around his arm and your neck is gripped by the strength of his fingers. Cupping his face, you press your mouths together, grinding your hips downward as you run your tongue over the seam of his lips. Instantly, he opens for you, tugging at your hair in a gentle reminder he wants you to move slowly, to let yourself enjoy the feeling of being consumed by him. Hoseok is unhurried in the way he explores the cavern of your mouth, the tip of his tongue curious as he thrusts the wet muscle in time with the slow grind of his hips. 

Your responding whimper echoes deep into his open mouth, and your hands move slowly down to his shoulders where you brace yourself, clinging to the parts of him that exude strength. His physical presence alone is a keen reminder you are whole and not undone at your very seams. 

All sense of time disappears as you suck at his tongue, and only when he pulls away to catch his breath do you latch your teeth to his bottom lip, pulling back to you with greed. His lips still taste of the whiskey he had with dinner, whiskey and the flavor that is only him, so unique and rich, your favorite sort of honey. 

The tip of his cock moves in a rhythmic motion, over and over, a slow drag against your covered slit. Every third movement, he rocks upward, pressing against your folds hard enough you gasp into his open mouth, only for him to retreat a moment later. A high pitched keening whine spills from your chest, and he laughs into you, pulling his tongue back to relish the way he has complete control of your responses. Digging your nails into his muscles, your brow furrows, doing your best to gather your words, your thoughts, amongst the insistent teasing pleasure. 

Falling forward, your forehead rests against his, and with your eyes closed your senses become heightened. You can see it, imagining this very scene as though you are both completely present in your body and apart from it, watching him grind into you as your blood races to your chest, your cheeks, your cunt. The whiskey on his tongue has your mind fogged, and the graze of his cockhead against your slit has your limbs feeling weightless. He’s always been skilled at this, at rendering you needy, silent in the magnitude of your wanting. You thought pleasure was never meant to overwhelm a person like this, an addiction to sound and touch and taste that exceeds all realm of perception.

‘I’m glad we did this,’ he mumbles against your lips, using his thumbs to work bruises into the flesh of your hips. 

All you can manage is a mindless nod, the motion sending your nose bumping into his as you press yourself harder against him. Smirking, he angles his face downward, kissing at the spot just below your ear. Electricity saunters down your synapses, and you thug your bottom lip between your teeth, uncertain how much longer you will be able to maintain this teasing game. You, above all else, are an impatient woman, deciding that which you crave most and claiming it for yourself. 

Now, you want him. You want him to lay you on this couch and peel your clothes off with his teeth. You want him, his cock, so deep inside your cunt you can taste him on your tongue. You want him, his skin against yours, with no space for air to slip in between. 

You have always been impatient, but Hoseok is a master of his self control, always more composed if not patient; always in command of his expression of thirst, and he pulls back slightly as he feels your slow wiggle of restlessness against his thighs. 

‘Never thought we’d be a couple that has to make time for something like this,’ he comments, as though you have not soaked the very tip of his cock through his sweatpants, as though he cannot feel it at all.

With each rock of your hips, your underwear slides over your folds. Now coated with the slick substance of your juices, the thick juices spill out from the sides and onto your thighs. Your leggings, too, are drenched, a sensation that would otherwise be uncomfortable were it not for the way Hoseok rolls up into you in time with the movement of his tongue over your neck. Your sense of awareness has scattered, absconded to the parts of your body where only his touch exists. He is all you can focus on, all you want to focus on, the feel of him on and against you deemed the most important of all.

It takes work finding words to muster a reply, and you hate that he is so skilled at maintaining stability in his voice. You are best at sparring matches, at defending your worth and value, a tension you have become expertly accustomed to. From the moment you first kissed him, felt his tongue at the tip of yours, felt his muscles beneath your fingers, you have learned tension of this kind is your great unmaking. 

Frustrated you huff through your nose, a noise of annoyance diminished immediately by a moan of ecstasy as the tip of his cockhead presses roughly against your covered clit. Scratching your nails into his skin and hoping the marks will last, you struggle to gather your composure, wanting to play his game as well as he. Yet, when you open your eyes, you are confronted with the impenetrable black of his dilated pupils - his tell - that he is just as ravenous as you. Always, he wears the light as though it was born from him, made by his joy alone, but when he wears the sheer darkness of his appetite he becomes utterly exquisite, a sinister promise of his wish to unravel you.

Swallowing thickly, you tilt your head to the side in mock consideration. 

‘I think every couple is at some point,’ you muse, feigning a pensive tone as you grind roughly into his cock. Hoseok bucks upward, whispering quiet expletives as his eyes widen. Your smirk of victory is a tempest, an ignition of gasoline to the fire he keeps beneath his skin, and he holds you in place against him, preventing you from moving. ‘They just don’t talk about it.’

Hoseok hums in consideration as he moves his lips to the center of your throat, right over the place where your voice echoes. As he drags his teeth over the tendons, your head falls back, clenching your thighs around his. 

‘I’ve missed you.’

He presses the words into your skin, embedding the rich tenor of his cadence directly into your blood. Your pulse quickens, directly responding to the feel of him replacing the oxygen in your vessels. Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging him upward and hoping to ease him back to your hungry mouth, wanting to kiss him again. But he pulls back, regards you through the length of his eyelashes and shifts his hips, moving the tip of his cock down towards the center of your folds. He lingers there for a moment, and you curse the clothing that separates you with a whimper of annoyance. 

His hands move from your hips to the ample flesh of your ass, where he grips your cheeks with vigor and rolls your body forward. ‘I have half a mind to fuck you right on this couch.’

Eyes fluttering closed, you lick at your lips, all swollen and red, sighing in pleasure. ‘Then why don’t you.’

‘Because I have another surprise for you.’

Abruptly you open your eyes, feeling the mood shift as your arousal is put on pause. Lowering your gaze, you eye him conspicuously, pulling back enough you are not longer in the throes of his orbit. With each passing moment, the adrenaline in your veins shifts from the eroticism of your carnal longing to dazed confusion, blinking at him as you catch your breath. 

Years with him and not once have either of you felt it necessary to buy gifts on Valentine’s Day. You are not a gifting couple, choosing instead to share all the little things that make up the life you have built: your time, a meal, hours in bed together, or hours alone - somewhere special or nowhere at all; a restaurant or your couch, each a persistent reminder that you have chosen one another. The small simplicities of your life and daily routine are more about your love than a gift of chocolate, a card full of words you would rather hear him say. Your commitment to him extends beyond a social media post, beyond a tagged location and the withering petals of discarded roses. 

For him to suggest this, after he has already prepared a meal beside you, after you have stained the wine glasses with your lips, after you have told him, repeatedly and ardently, that you love him is a shock to your system.

‘I…’ Your voice fades, the guilt gripping your throat. A lump forms, not of woeful regret but of fear, the utter horror of ever seeing him disappointed. ‘I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry...we said we wouldn’t. We aren’t the type?’

‘No, no,’ he shakes his head quickly, removing his hands from your ass to rub at your arms. ‘I don’t want anything. I’ve had the world since you ordered a negroni in the middle of summer.’

Cocking your head back, you laugh loudly, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. ‘I swear, one day you will move past that.’

‘Never.’ The brilliance of his smile would almost overshadow the intensity of his disagreement, but you find it a compliment, a reassurance that your idiosyncrasies are the things that endear him to you the most. ‘Most beautiful person alive to ever order a negroni.’

‘You’re just saying that cause you weren’t alive in the forties,’ you scoff, though you match his smile, always moved to delight by the sight of him.

Hoseok shakes his head. ‘Even then.’

For a long while, you simply stare at one another, luxuriating in this closeness as you remember: the night you met, the orange peel on the rim, Namjoon - who has become one of your closest, dearest friends - ordering the drink with surprise on his cheeks; Hoseok, leaning over the bar, close enough he could smell you, and both of you, drawn to one another’s orbit, lonely moons fated to collide. 

‘But no,’ he sighs eventually, the weight of it changing the mood of intimacy you had cultivated. Not eradicating it, not entirely, but something about the way he looks at you has your nerves resting on edge. ‘It's not a gift. Not really. It’s a drink.’ 

Leaning back, you settle away from his cock and onto his lap, curious and cautious. ‘For the new menu?’

‘No.’ Once more, he shakes his head, slowly, seductively. The movement of his head, the way the hair falls into his eyes as he smiles and smiles dances over your heart, a thunder against your sternum. ‘No this one is just for you.’

‘All these years,’ you smirk, ‘and still you think you can pull me away from my negroni?’

Now, it is his turn to laugh, a hearty sound that has you moving back over his cock, victorious. 

‘Baby, trust me, I’ve long since given up that fight.’ Again, he regards you, though this time you catch traces of all the thoughts that race through his head, a glint of affection matched with a glimmer of something hopeful, though you cannot imagine why he finds a drink so serious. ‘This is different. This drink comes with a set of requirements.’

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you tilt your head to the side in question, but he says nothing. Instead, he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your lips as he taps his hands on your thighs, a signal he wants you to get up. Swinging your leg over his thigh, you settle on the couch, folding your hands in your halp expectantly, but he does not linger beside you. Rising to a stand, Hoseok grabs both your hands and pulls you up to meet him. 

‘What’s going on?’ you ask, glancing around the room, bewildered. 

‘So many questions,’ he sing-songs, pressing his hands to your shoulders as he turns your body you are facing forward, away from him, and begins walking you through the living room. 

Turning to look over your shoulder, you do your best to regard his expression but he lifts one hand and taps your cheek gently, wordlessly advising you to face forward. His thumbs rubs slow circles into your shoulders as he walks you to your bedroom, where he lowers his hands to your hips and pulls you against him. 

Immediately, you recline into the toned muscles of his chest, resting your hands over his as you sigh in delight. Relishing the closeness, you breathe together for a moment, enjoying the silence and the air of romance he so easily rekindles. It’s always been like that with him, so simple, all your passion and all your ardor brough to the surface the moment he lays his hands on you. 

It’s different in this room, where the blinds are closed, where the world is cast out. In the living room, your longing had space, room to breathe and crevices to fill. Now, it clings to your skin, cloying in the way it moves through your pores and into your lungs. Every breath you take is filled with his cologne, every exhale is an utterance of your need, a whine at the back of your throat that threatens to disrupt the quiet way you take your time savoring his attention. Still, he does not give you the opportunity to consider the room beyond these feelings, nor does he allow you to turn and face him, to regard the face you long to kiss and kiss and kiss until he is a permanent fixture in your spirit. 

Easing your hair over your shoulder, making space and granting himself access to the supple skin that so often goes untouched, he kisses deftly at the back of your neck as he moves a silk blindfold over your eyes, blocking your vision. The silk cools your heated cheeks, and in this darkness the smooth texture feels almost forbidden, clandestine in the way he removes your senses and demands that you trust him, implicitly. Raising your hands to touch it, you slide your fingers over and over along the threads as he ties it securely at the back of your head. 

Furrowing your brow, you cannot help the chuckle that blossoms at your sudden realization. ‘Is this one of your ties?’

Burying his nose in the crown of your head, he nods, nestling it into your hair as he breathes in deep. ‘Looks better on you, in my opinion.’ 

Instantly your mental image of the bedroom dissolves, fading into nothingness until your senses are overwhelmed with all things Hoseok: the rich clove and bergamot of his cologne, the rhythm of his heart as it beats against your back, his lips as he wanders down and down to the shell of your ear. Even still, you see him with your whole spirit, his smile against your skin entering your heart, taking root and filling the nodes of your lungs with visions of his euphoria.

‘I want you to strip,’ he commands, voice low and full of gravel. A growl lingers at the back of his syllables, and your mouth runs dry. ‘Get undressed and stay silent. I want you naked and waiting on the bed for me.’

Against the blindfold your eyes open, and your eyelashes struggle against their confinement, another wave of arousal dripping through your folds at the sound of his voice. You are aware of absolutely everything, all the way down to the fibers of your clothes, senses brought to attention by the implication of his words. Hoseok has adopted the tone he only uses when he means to make you kneel in worship, exerting his dominance as a show of the magnitude of his affection. So rarely does he speak to you with such power and control, your muscles tense in willing obedience. 

His voice saunters through your very existence, your nipples erect and sensitive as they press against the cotton of your tee shirt bra. You hadn’t planned on wearing lingerie, haven’t needed to since your first Valentine’s together when he said it didn’t matter what you wore or how you dressed, all he wanted was you naked beneath him and anything else deterring this was viewed, in his eyes, as an obstacle. Had you known he was planning something, you’d have planned, too. 

‘Be good for me,’ he whispers, nipping at your earlobe before he departs from the room entirely, your body shivering in his absence. 

The seconds that pass feel like an eternity, your heart racing as you gather the strength of your senses, reigniting the muscle memory of your bedroom. All over your body, you sense the energy of things, objects, certain you are near the bed without even feeling it. Diligently, you begin to undress, hands shaking as you reach for the hem of your shirt. Careful not to shift or undo the blindfold, your slow removal of your clothing feels ceremonious, a ritual of preparation for something holy. In the darkness behind your eyes, this room becomes your sanctuary, each removal a prayer of obedience and commitment. 

As you ease your leggings down your legs, the strong scent of your arousal reaches your nose, and you part your lips from the intensity. You’ve been on edge from the very moment you felt the first stirrings of Hoseok’s cock within his sweatpants, from the very moment your tongue met his. When he returns to the room, he will smell how terribly wet you have become, how much of a mess you have made of yourself just for him, because of him. 

Stepping out of your leggings, you reach behind your back and undo the clasp of your bra, each touch of your own fingers sparking a new world of lust as colours bloom behind your eyes. Your hands tremble, but your heels press into the hardwood of the floor, rooting yourself within the gravity to ensure you do not drift from the force of your desire. 

Discarding your bra, the air hits your breasts and you move to cover yourself, only to ball your hands into fists and return your arms to your sides. Hoseok does not like it when you hide, a habit you have learned to unmake beneath the heated intensity of his unwavering, loving gaze. With him there, you have learned not to cover yourself, but when there is only nothing, you wonder now why your first instinct is to hide, why the vulnerability of such exposure has you feeling young, unfamiliar with the significance of such eroticism. 

Relying on muscle memory, you move towards the bed and perch carefully on the edge of the mattress. The air in the quiet room is wrought with unprecedented tension, your senses scattered to every surface as your hair stands on end.

Even though it’s unnecessary, even though the silk blindfold is heavy against the bridge of your nose, thick enough to block out all the light, you still keep your eyes closed. The silence of your bedroom is deafening, oppressive in its effort to intensify the eroticism of this darkness. Gnawing your bottom lip, you strain to hear just what he could be doing in the kitchen - what else there is to be done - but you hear nothing. All the quiet seems to accomplish is heightening the ever growing reverberation of his command in your mind, an echo control that haunts even the marrow of your bones. 

Like always, Hoseok inspired the full totality of your obedience with just one sentence, stripping his voice of all sunshine, all warmth, rendering you naked down to your nerves; the only one to ever live inside you, so deep. Your neck still burns, right above your pulse, right where he’d kissed his words, the fire of his open mouth removing all your clothes before your shaking hands could undo the rest. The fervent laughter that always nestles in the end of his syllables, in the corner of all his smiles, was absent, and now you are left anticipating him, craving him, hoping that you will be good for him - that you will be the wick he decides to ignite.

Rolling your shoulders back, you raise your breasts and keep your posture straight, poised, hoping that he will be pleased when he sees you. You cannot remember the last time you felt so exposed, so utterly raw in your nakedness. When you came home, the apartment felt too warm, the heat raised to a limit that always makes you feel uncomfortable. Now, you are trembling within it, skin and nerves tender, forced to acknowledge the full length of your body; the supple texture of your sinew, the voluptuous curve to your breasts, the slope of your hips, the dripping folds of your sex.

In this silent loneliness, you are left to contend with the reality of yourself - to recognize all the pieces of you he adores.

Still, the anticipation of his touch, his breath, has your hands fisting in the sheets, and you laugh. He’s changed them, the fabric of the duvet softer, smoother than the thick cotton you often prefer. The texture against your skin raises gooseflesh along your arms, a shiver taking its time to walk up the length of your spine. All of this softness, all these delicate fabrics against your skin, and all they create is a cage of your longing. Too long have you been left wanting him, missing him, and now he means to entrench you in it.

Now, he demands that you experience just how badly, how desperately, he has been wanting you, too.

The bedroom door pushes open, a sound usually so innocuous, so meaningless, causing your walls to clench around nothing. Grimacing, you take in a sharp breath to apologize or comment on the messiness of this reality, but you remember that he told you to remain silent, and so you force your lips to close. The sheets will be stained by the end of the night - of this you are certain. Nothing, you’re sure, will wash away the remnants of your desire. 

The further he walks into the room, you are overcome with the intense aroma of peach and cinnamon. Such delicate scents overtake the space, maximized in their power, wafting over and into you, until you’re certain you could taste it on your tongue. Hungrily you salivate, and so too does the wetness between your folds seep leisurely through your slit, as if motivated by the ghost of flavor within your mouth. 

Accompanying this scent is the light clinking of glass, and your ears perk up at the first trace of noise. Hoseok remains silent, but you can distinctly make out the silver swizzle stick he uses to mix drinks gliding along the rim of a glass. Recently you’ve heard it in the late hours of morning, before dawn has the opportunity to kiss the sky. He stirs and stirs, your bed empty and your hand resting on the space where his body had been, mattress still warm. Usually, this very sound eases you back to sleep, a comforting night song that kisses your sense when he cannot. 

Now, the high pitched rattle is a sting against your nerves, a call to attention and reverence. 

But this too does not maintain your attention for long. There are other noises, other clattering sounds of metal, plastic, and something else you cannot quite make out that alert you to an assortment of items - a tray, a selection, and, suddenly, mist. As Hoseok approaches where you sit, a gentle, cool fog passes over your skin, and you reach your hand forward to let it slip between your fingers. It sticks to the all the minute, normally unnoticeable crevices of your skin before dissolving, a whisper of sugar and honey that settles against you as if by magic. Before you, hidden behind a blindfold, a rich meal, a just dessert, has been laid out, while Hoseok views you in kind.

Tendrils of mist add to the moisture and heat in the room, the sweetness raising the temperature against your skin as your arousal swirls expectantly in your belly. The darkness that surrounds you has your skin feeling tender, ripe muscle taught with wanting, and you lean forward, seeking the relief of Hoseok’s lips against your soft, malleable pieces.

Reaching forward through the mist, you seek the tactile solidness of his touch. ‘Hoseok?’ 

You cannot help the exclamation of his name, an oath of allegiance and questioning of what mystery he has brought into the room, hoping he will say your name to fill the room with his voice. 

‘Ah, ah,’ he cautions, and though the commanding nature of his voice still lingers, the sound of something other than your beating heart in your ears is an extraordinary relief. ‘I said to remain silent. Only speak unless I tell you to.’ 

Pouting, the retraction of your hand is swift, and your fingers furl into the bed sheets as you acquiesce to his wishes.

Hoseok moves the swizzle stick through the glass, once, twice, before he hums pensively. ‘Do you know why I became a bartender?’

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you shake your head, certain that any answer you would give is not the one he is seeking. When you were new together and newly in love, you asked this question as you laid with him in bed, running your finger over his heartbeat. So much of your first start was centered around you, the war you waged with your father, your question of worth for things that chose you instead of you taking it as an act of defiance. You wanted to spend the rest of your days learning about him, learning his thoughts, his war, and his answer was a journey of money and consequence. 

Over time, you’ve learned the journey was one creation, of inspiration as much as necessity.

‘Do you have a guess?’

Parting your lips, you focus on finding your voice, the stimulation surrounding the darkness so potent all your words come slowly. ‘You like making things. You like pleasure.’

‘Good,’ he praises, and you preen delightedly, offering him a wide smile full of love and pride. ‘Do you know why I became a mixologist?’

Hoseok places the tray on what you presume is the top of your dresser across from where you sit, but you both feel and hear him move to the side where places something in the nightstand at his side of the bed. You focus your attention on these movements, letting your mind come to several of its own conclusions, all wholly unrelated to his question. 

Had he also stripped while he was away from you? Is the amber golden texture of his skin on display, concealed from you by a simple strip of fabric? How does his tattoo shift in this light, the blossom of the bird of paradise just as rich as the fruit that fills the room?

You imagine all of it - every color and texture and shape of his body, certain you have learned every nuance of his being down to the very bone. These thoughts entice you, but so too does the thought of another of his praises, an encouragement that has you hurriedly responding to not keep him waiting any longer. 

‘Passion.’

‘Close. Similar.’ Hoseok moves to the tray on the dresser, and you strain to discern the things he touches, unable to come up with anything beyond the obvious drink he had created. ‘It’s like perfumerie,’ he explains, shifting items along the tray and stirring the drink once more. ‘I think everyone, at some point, wants to bottle the thing they find most beautiful. They want to wear it, permanently. They want the smell to wet the tongue, to inspire the possibility of skin on skin, to provoke the curiosity of more. Mixology is like that, but you don’t wear the drink, you taste it. You have to hold it in your mouth, until it becomes a part of you.’

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you wait patiently for the closeness of his body in the ensuing silence and consider his explanation. He’s always been like this, passionate to a point of burning, his drive running deeper than you can ever comprehend. Every time you come close, it has changed, his every moment of creativity sparking a more enduring affection for his craft. 

Hoseok walks closer to you, but still chooses to remain just out of reach, far enough you can feel the magnetic chemistry of his closeness and your skin begins to ache. Childishly you raise one hand, reaching for him and hoping to pull him against your skin, but he does not move, only chuckles at your display of indignant neediness. Instead, he releases a slow hum of breath through his nose and taps the swizzle stick against the rim of the glass, delaying your reunion even further.

‘You’re like that,’ he continues, the rich intonation of his voice a thick syrup that molds over your skin. Placing the swizzle stick back on the tray, Hoseok inches ever closer, the pads of his feet against the floors a rhythm that incites a riot of excitement in your heart. With him, he brings more mist, more spice, more peach, all of it waftering onto your chest and mingling with the perspiration that has started to coat your sinew. A moan of thirst worms its way through your chest, a keening, tiny sound of impatient defeat.

Finally, when he is close enough the steady exhale of his breath joins the fog in tracing patterns over your sternum, your jaw, your lips; his presence, an instigation of juices that drip once more through your folds and onto the sheets. You want to say his name, want to talk, want to reach your hands out and cup his cheeks to bring his lips to yours, but with each continued speech, Hoseok sounds more and more serious, and you obediently remain quiet. 

‘That is what you are,’ he repeats softly. ‘A whisper that is always on my tongue. A taste I can’t seem to quit.’

He bumps against your legs, and immediately you spread them wide, luring him into your orbit. The act separates your folds, allowing more of your thick juices to drip into the bed and changing the scent that fills the room. The mist is persistent, a tingle of pleasure that walks down your nerves, and now with Hoseok between your thighs, the warmth that radiates from his aura overtakes your senses. He’s everywhere, nowhere, a ghost that haunts your bones and spirit, and you tilt your head back, looking upwards into the nothingness, waiting for his lips. 

‘I made this for you, because it is you,’ he murmurs, though the proximity of his voice is a wildfire. ‘I call this drink the Whisper Blend. It’s how you taste to me, how you make me feel. I wanted to bottle you for myself, to keep you with me, always.’

HIs hand comes to cup your chin, guiding you in a direction you imagine is perfectly poised to accept his tongue, his mouth, his soul.

‘I want you to taste yourself.’ All the gravel of his voice, arousal and seductive intent, reaches into the caverns of your heart, gripping you completely. ‘I want you to taste how you make me feel.’

Gripping the edge of the mattress tightly, you lean forward, pressing your chin into his fingers. Your nerves run haywire, electric and scattered, and you are certain that were it not for your bones your spirit would erupt absolutely everywhere to press itself against him. Hoseok takes a slow inhale, long and deep, and lowers his mouth to your lips. On instinct, you part for him, expectant and eager to experience the way he feels when that is all there is - no sight, no sound, just his touch, holding you because he can, and because he wants to. 

Still, he does not kiss you - not really. Gently, he exhales, and an abundance of peach fills the cavern of your waiting mouth, the rich flavor invading the crevices until it dissolves leaving only his breath. The cocktail smoke dissipates on your tongue, a sweet residue left behind that has you humming in pleasure. Pulling back, he breathes in again, the smoke shifting around your body as it is pulled into his mouth. When he returns to you, he presses his lips to yours, this time pausing in the contact of this kiss, before he exhales once again. 

Unable to help yourself, your hands come to cup his face, holding him there as you inhale, moving your lips in a slow, reverent motion. Again, the smoke dissolves into the ether, leaving just the distinct, sweet flavor of his mouth against yours. His fingers massage slow circles into the bones of your jaw and chin, his own sigh a waterfall down your open throat. When he pulls away, you suddenly feel disdainful of the tie that covers your eyes, wanting to take your time admiring him, the flush at his cheeks that you feel beneath your fingertips, the glimmer of hunger in his eyes.

The third time he returns to your lips after a full inhale of the mist, he comes to you and lets his tongue press languidly against yours amongst the smoke. You hadn’t expected the intrusion, moaning in utter satisfaction at the fulfillment of your desires. Idly, he strokes his tongue over yours as he kisses you, exploring the parts he had coated with sugar and peach. With each motion, your inner walls clench around nothing, folds slick with and sticky against the bed as your parted legs do their best to hold him in place. You’ve become utterly overcome with the intimacy of sharing breath, and sharing yourself, your heart racing to shatter the hard bone of your sternum.

Desperately, your cunt aches for this kind of attention, for the invasion of something solid and thick, stroking at the places that live deep inside of you. Focusing on the emptiness of your core, you moan dejectedly, walking your hands into his hair where you fist handfuls of the strands to deepen the kiss. This, he only allows for a moment, relinquishing his tongue only to bite at your lip before sucking eagerly at it. And all too quickly, he pulls away and guides your chin upward to carefully tilt your head.

‘Drink,’ he commands, pressing the cool glass to your swollen bottom lip.

With your eyes closed, it’s difficult to drink and anticipate the flood of liquid, but Hoseok maintains complete control, sustaining a slow flow of the cocktail into your waiting mouth. On impact with your tongue, colours blossom behind your eyes - rich crimson of cinnamon, pale yellow, purple for the floral of lavender, and clear white for the sharp bite of vodka that lingers after the sweetness fades. 

Hoseok has bottled a dessert, a warm summer that bleeds into the first chill of autumn. In a single glass, he has contained an aroma of life itself, a richness full of crisp dreams that refuse to fade over time, zeal and ardor, passion in a glass that overwhelms the difference between life and living. He said this was you, your taste, and you choke slightly on the drink as emotion wells in your chest, the action causing some of the cocktail to spill out from the corners of your lips, down your jaw as it drips onto your chest and breasts. 

Immediately, he pulls the glass away, and you catch your breath only for it to be swiftly taken away. Placing open mouthed kisses across your chest, he laps up the stray remnants of the cocktail, using the tip of his tongue to lave your skin clean. Your hands tremble where they hold his head, breath coming short and heavy in your lungs as he moves down, and down to the top of your breasts. He wastes no time in biting delicately at the supple flesh, leaving a mark against your body for only you both to see. 

Releasing his hand from your chin, his touch vanishes for just a moment before he swipes two fingers over your nipple, digits drenched with the cocktail. Swirling them over the sensitive, hardened bud, your body reacts instantly, invigorated by the sudden overwhelm of contact. Bucking your hips against the bed, you urge him for more, wanting his mouth where his fingers rest. Sensing your impatience, he drags his tongue down to the swollen bud and flicks it with the tip before rolling it between his teeth.

‘Lay back for me,’ he commands, pulling away from your breast, and this time you smirk. His voice is a rasp of taught strain, the edges of his control beginning to fray. ‘Lay back and spread yourself.’

Without any hesitation, you obey, releasing your grip on his hair to press your palms into the mattress, pushing yourself back and back until the thick cushion of the pillows presses into the base of your spine. Spreading your legs wide, wider than you could before and wide enough you are confident he can see the way your slit glistens with slick, you rest your head against the headboard and lower two fingers to your core. Knitting your brow, the contact with your neglected folds as you gasping in relief, the pads of your fingers gathering all the juices that have gathered, smeared over your thighs, and still leaking from your center. Quickly, they become coated, this likely the wettest you've ever been simply from his endless teasing. Taking two fingers, you rub them over your slit before parting your folds, forming your fingers into a wide ‘V.’ Clenching your inner walls, more juices drip from your core, down your ass and into the sheets, forming a new stain for you both to admire. 

As you expected, the sight of your spread cunt has Hoseok growling, and you feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he joins you on the bed. Somehow, you sense that he crawls to you, a hunter on the prowl, and you imagine how he looks now based on the all the times you have seen him like this before.

With your insides still warmed from the cocktail, your skin begins to flare with heat, demanding the feel of his hands against your for fear of your bones coming undone. You can feel him between your thighs, the ripples of magnetic waves of his closeness sauntering through your muscles. So too does his breath tickle the supple sinew at the inside of your thighs, a cascade that seems to travel along your nerves and directly into your opened core. The texture of your fingers at the swollen flesh of your cunt is a tantalizing sensation, though it does not provide the relief you seek. 

This stretch is a display of your wanting, but it is not nearly enough to satisfy the ache that lurks in your belly, your core, all the way to the barrier of your cervix. Any other night, and you would demand he fill you completely, but even now you are uncertain you could gather enough strength to be so demanding. 

Impishly, Hoseok takes hold of your knee and bites at the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him most, yet far enough you cry out in shock and frustration. Hands fisting in the sheets at the sensation of his teeth grazing over your skin, a feeling that travels all over your body, as though his teeth are everywhere all at once, your back arches off the bed, presenting your breasts to the open air. His name builds at the back of your throat, the only word you think you could manage, a short set of syllables full to the brim with your primal yearning. 

As if sensing your will to speak, always so aware and in tune with your needs and the responses he pulls from your body, Hoseok smiles against your skin, kissing and kissing.  

‘It’s okay.’ Your muscles clench, feeling his voice trickle into the marrow of your bones. He kisses his words into the apex of your thigh before running his nose up to your center, where he rests the tip at your parted folds. ‘Say my name.’

‘Hoseok,’ you exclaim, pressing your spine into the bed to shift your parted lips closer to his mouth. 

‘Fuck,’ he curses, releasing your thigh and pulling away. He shifts on the bed, reaching for something he unscrews not far from the bed. ‘My name sounds best coming from you.’

Rubbing his hands together, he returns to his position between your thighs, the blindfold preventing you from watching him. This is your favorite sight: him, between your legs, a hungry beast who regards you with his heart first. He looks good between your legs, even better with his lips covered in your juices, and so you wiggle your hips impatiently, running your fingers over your slit before pressing them inside, taunting him. 

‘I told you to be a good girl,’ he threatens darkly, pushing your hand away with his wrist. Settling between your legs, Hoseok finally holds your hips, fingers coated with an oil that sends a shiver down your spine. Through the aroma of peach and cinnamon, mint begins to blossom, clearing the air and sending tingles of excitement over your nerves, a winter on the brink of your bedroom’s autumn. 

‘Peppermint oil,’ he explains, rubbing his fingers into your muscles in a slow massage. Yet, there is no relaxation to be found. Lowering himself to your folds, he places a wet, open mouthed kiss at your slit, letting the tip of his tongue press at the seam of your drenched core before retreating. Crying out, you roll your hips forward, bucking up to seek his tongue once more. ‘I want you to tremble in it, the warmth and the chill. Do you know how often you unmake me? I want you to feel it.’

Again, he lowers his lips to your folds, stroking his tongue through your slit and against the sensitive walls of your core. A strangled cry rumbles through your throat, a moan of ecstasy at something thick and solid penetrating your core. Unfurling your hand from the sheets, you reach down and rest your hand at his head, intending to hold him there so you can rock your hips against his mouth, but he retreats immediately, clicking his tongue in derision. 

‘Are you trying to take control, baby?’ he sneers, his hold on your hips tightening as he rubs the oil deeply into your skin. ‘I know how much you hate to give it up, but tonight your job is to receive.’ You feel his eyes wander over your wanton form, studying the voluptuous curve of your breast, the part of your lips, the perspiration that has gathered at your neck and beneath your breasts. ‘You can touch me,’ he amends softly, ‘but no pressure. Just touch. I’m the one who dictates how hard and how fast tonight.’ 

With that, he returns his tongue to your slit, curling it inward to collect the juices that have gathered at your core. Returning your hand to his head, you card your fingers through his hair as your cry of ecstasy fills the room. Unable to keep yourself still, you roll your hips forward, into the stroke of his tongue to urge him deeper, and he growls, the vibration of his voice careening through your joints. 

‘Oh, fuck, Hoseok,’ you whimper. 

He sets a steady rhythm with his tongue, plunging your folds with a vigor that feels almost brutal. Having no real contact to your cunt for so long, wanting him for so long, and no longer being able to see him, you cannot remember the last time the feel of his tongue inside you was such an intense sensation. Warm and wet, the muscle explores your core, your walls clenching around it as a new wave of juices leaks from your cunt into his waiting mouth. It soaks the flesh of your ass, his lips, the bed. Over and over, he pushes his tongue into your cunt with unfettered ardor, thrusting ever deeper with piercing intensity, doing his best to collect every drop while simultaneously stroking every nerve that comprises your walls.

Tension builds in your muscles, thighs taught with the magnitude of your arousal as you drag one foot over his ribs, over the smooth muscles of his back. In silent praise, Hoseok removes a hand from your hip and walks it up your side to cup your breast. The oil at his fingers chills the swollen nub of your nipple, and you clench once more against his tongue, quivering with fervor. Between the knuckles of two fingers, he clinches your nipple, the slight pain of oversensitivity combatting the unbridled pleasure at your core so harshly you moan out his name, feeling tears beginning to prick at the corner of your eyes. 

Pulling his tongue from your folds, he moves it to your clit and begins the same attention, flicking it with his tongue. Shuddering, you fist one hand in your hair as your other clings to his for some semblance of sanity. But your Hoseok is always relentless in the way he delivers pleasure, in the way he chooses to pleasure you, and the remaining hand at your thigh drifts away for just one moment. The pressure does not leave the bed, and so you know he has not gone far, but against the blindfold your eyes widen into darkness at the sudden click of a vibrator.

Brows raising to your hairline, your breath catches. ‘Ho-Hoseok?’

Wordlessly, he simply rolls his tongue over your clit in time with the way his knuckles massage at your nipple. You hear the sound of the vibrator inching closer until, all at once, it is pressed to the barrier of your slit as he sucks harshly on your clit, nipping at it gently. The tremors from the toy ripple up into your thighs, juices spilling out from your slit as your arousal courses through the totality of your existence. You suppose you have always been in this state, have always been trapped in such a volatile state of craving, your spine pressing into the mattress to ground yourself to reality. 

Without any warning at all, Hoseok sucks deftly at your clit once again as he presses the head of the vibrator through your slit. Your walls part around the toy, its vibrations cascading even into your bones, and you clench around it, hoping to lure it deep inside of you. Biting your tongue, you keep yourself silent, wanting to say more than his name, more than just a few curses. Pleas for him to fuck you ruthlessly live and smolder to ash against your teeth, an impenetrable barrier of obedience you are unwilling to break. 

Palming your breast with the whole of his hand, he massages the oil into your skin, another shiver of frost against the bruising summer of your flesh that has you groaning. As you grind down against the toy, he proceeds to trace figure eights with the tip of his tongue against the hardened bud of your clit, thrusting the toy all the way into your cunt. The thick girth of the toy and the vibrations now filling the whole of your core have you releasing a scream of surprise, back arching off the bed once more as though preparing to sprout wings. 

Hoseok fucks the vibrator into your relentlessly, almost ruthless in the pace he maintains in time with the motions of his tongue and the hand at your breast. Your orgasm builds just as mercilessly, a tightening coil at the base of your spine that turns your muscles to steel. Juices spill over from your foils, the damp patch of sheets beneath your waist soaked, and you’re certain he must be soaked as well, the mental image of it inspiring a choked gasp within your lungs. 

He knows you like it this way, intense, unforgiving, each thrust bordering on painful to ensure that you will feel the ache deep within for days. Long after he is gone, you want to resonate with him, haunted by the ghost of his seductive prowess, unable to liberate yourself from his clutches. With each inward thrust of the vibrator, your walls clench, hoping to hold it in place as the whisper of your orgasm builds within your muscles. The heat is almost oppressive, your breath a heavy fire in your lungs, tongue slick with the embers of each howl of pleasure you have worked to contain. 

The vibrator is not set to a very high level, this toy one of your shared favorites. You have grown familiar with the sound and the shape and the feeling, but somehow no longer seeing the toy or seeing Hoseok as he uses it has every aspect of it feeling new, foreign, the level of this toy infinitely stronger than any other you might own. And, paired with Hoseok’s skilled mouth, you doubt anything could ever compare again.

The curl of your fingers into his hair is a give away, the muscles of your arm sore with the effort of not pressing him harder, deeper against you, and your hand quakes with the effort of remaining the pretense of passivity. Instead, you direct this motion into the roll of your hips, meeting the toy thrust for thrust as you rock against his open mouth, fucking both the toy and his tongue as he suck s your clit. Sensing your impending orgasm, Hoseok growls, the rumble joining the vibrator within your walls. 

‘Oh,’ you cry, soft enough you think it might be missed over the sound of his wet sucking and the thrum of the toy. But still this exclamation is a betrayal, and you are swiftly proven incorrect.

Releasing his lips from your clit, he rests his head against your bent thigh and breathes heavily. ‘Are you looking to cum?’

Unable to speak, you nod furiously against the pillow, the swell of your impending climax lurking just at the edge of your perception. Yet, he is dissatisfied with your silence, and abruptly turns the vibrator up to another level. The sudden increase in intensity sends a quake through your thighs, your hand releasing his hair as you slap the bed, groaning in response.

‘Talk to me,’ he urges, gentle yet still maintaining his tone of authority. ‘Use that pretty mouth of yours.’ 

‘Please, let me cum,’ you cry, caught in a battle of holding yourself back, panting into the open air and unashamed of how depraved you might look. ‘I need to cum.’

‘You know this is all for you, baby.’ Moving off your thigh, you feel his breath return to the wetness of your core, each exhale from his nose cooling the drenched spit and slick at your clit and slit. ‘Make sure to leave some for me though.’

Offering a rough flick of his tongue to your clit, he sucks at the bud and thrusts the vibrator into your cunt, turning up the notch one more time. The blunt head of the toy brushes against your spot, pulling a choked moan from your chest in surprise. Eyes wide, yet empty, you peer at the expanse of black in a daze, mouth opened in a silent scream. Your orgasm comes swiftly, violently, shattering all resolve you had managed to maintain. Rivulets of your juices spill from your cunt, and Hoseok’s lips suck diligently at your clit, occasionally letting his tongue drift downward to join the toy at collecting the traces of your cum. 

In the aftermath, you convulse into the bed, and Hoseok pulls the toy from your core. Crawling up the bed, lays his body over you and finally you can feel that he, too, has been naked this whole time. Skin against skin, he holds you against him, rubbing his hands over your ribs as you quake with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Limbs feeling boneless, heavy, you wrap your arms around his back and cling to him, tears drying against your cheeks. 

The head of his cock lingers at your entrance, threatening to breath through your sensitive folds. Burying his face in your neck, he breathes against you, tossing the toy to the other side of the bed.

‘I need you inside me,’ you announce, driven to a brink of insanity in the throes of your climax. Forgetting the rule to remain silent, you toss it aside, damning it, needing the girth of his cock bearing down at your cervix. 

‘Did I ask you to speak?’ he rasps into the tendons of your neck, where he bites.

‘No,’ you manage, ‘but I’m going to.’

Removing a hand from your side, he burrows his hand between your bodies and slaps at your clit. The sudden pain against your swollen, sensitive nub has you calling out his name. The sensation of your tenderness wanders all the way up into your throat, your lungs reverberating with the harshness of his slap.

‘You want me to fuck you?’ His words come with an impish smile, followed swiftly by a bite to your pulse that has your hips bucking up against his cock. 

The head of his cock protrudes deeper through your folds, but he pulls back and once more slaps your clit, a tap to the nub that has you groaning. 

‘Please,’ you whimper. ‘I can tell you want it, too.’

Gliding your hands down the expanse of his back, you palm the cheeks of his ass with your full fist, guiding him closer in the hopes of pressing him inside. Hoseok releases an expletive against the beat of your pulse, the flow of your blood rushing to his lips, hoping to be kissed. The feel of his teeth grazing over the thunder of your pulse has your legs widening to ease him deeper, muscles straining at their limit. Kissing down your neck to your breast, he sucks the erect nipple of your opposite breast into his mouth as the engorged head of his cock sinks deeper into your core.

‘Just fuck me already.’

Pushing down on his ass, you force him all the way into your cunt, pressing his head right against your cervix. His concentration snaps, his eyelashes grazing your skin as he squeezes them shut, shuddering against your hips and thighs. Feeling victorious, you smirk into the darkness, clenching your walls around his cock. Moaning your name, he rolls his hips forward in warning. Hoseok’s moan is an avalanche against your skin, an earthquake of violence that rumbles into your lungs. 

‘Don’t do that,’ he threatens. ‘I won’t last.’

Taking back control, you clench your walls again and meet the roll of his hips with yours, taking him deeper. ‘That’s the point.’ 

Bunching the sheets in his fist, Hoseok sets a punishing rhythm, thrusting abruptly against your cervix and ensuring your walls feel the veiny texture of him drag against the sensitive nerves. Unable to speak, you simply breathe together, sharing breath and sharing life, hoping that the smell of him remains on your skin for all eternity. Every thrust has your thighs shaking, the heavy sack of his balls slapping against your ass. The sound of it joins the moans you release with every press of his cock into your spot, your voice loud and unashamed. You don’t care who hears you, don’t care who you wake, you ensure the celebration of your voice rolls off his skin and into his heart with each gasp of his name. 

Hoseok moans in harmony with you, garbled and broken, as the vice grip of your walls clench his heavy cock. Pleasure ripples within and through you, spreading all the way from your core to the crown of your head, all your senses heightened. No trace of light penetrates the blindfold, and so your mind wanders to every fibre and sense of your body, aware of every texture of his cock, every press of his fingers into your skin, every burn of oxygen in the vessels of your blood. 

The wet sounds of your fucking only serve to reinvigorate the traces of your orgasm. It becomes impossible to focus on anything other than this - the rough pound of his hips against yours and the stretch of your walls around his heavy girth. The brutal pace of his hips sends the bed frame into the wall with each inward thrust, and you relish the pain that comes with his unrelenting force. 

‘Fuck, Hoseok,’ you cry out, digging your nails into strong flesh of his ass. You press crescent moons into the supple skin, leaving your mark against the sun. 

The perspiration that gathered at your hairline grows into beads of sweat, the exertion of meeting his pace causing your body to melt beneath his warmth. Hoseok pants his gasps into your skin, an added wetness as his saliva trickles from his open mouth and down your neck and chest. The liminal space of this fucking nearly unravels you, so used to the feel of his cock buried inside you while certain you have never experienced the totality of it quite this way. In the darkness, there is only this lust, only this passion, and the very weight of it consumes you from the inside, building your orgasm to new heights. 

Hoseok fucks you open, ensuring that no one will ever have you again - as if you would ever let them. Each brush of his cockhead against your cervix is a declaration of possession, a promise of an eternity with his marks against your skin and bones, and behind the blindfold you see your whole life stretch out before him from this moment up until the very last, when your atoms are scattered in their search for his. Reality beyond the border of your body dissolves, your universe beginning and ending where his hips meet yours, and the immensity of the love and lust you harbor for him nestles your impending climax directly at the center of your core. 

Thighs shaking, you clench around him again in warning. But as deeply as you know Hoseok, know the nuance and details of his very existence, he knows you too. Releasing his hand from the sheets, he scratches at your ribs before moving it between your joined bodies, using the blunt edge of his knuckle to massage your clit once more. Still raw and tender from your first orgasm, the contact sends a jolt of pain through your nerves, a yelp of shock bleeding into a cry. Your grip tightens on his ass, and your thighs close tightly around his sides, latching him in place. 

‘Let go of control,’ he says, pulling away from your neck to kiss at your lips with every word he speaks. ‘You’re close, I can feel it in the way you’re shaking.’ 

Certain that your reality is crumbling, your hands move from his ass to the middle of his back, clutching him as your whines increase in pitch and frequency. You feel yourself become dizzy, the scent of him, the scent of peach, the scent of mint, the scent of vodka all over your skin and all over him has your mind fogged with little other than the intense stimulation he provides. 

‘I’m gonna cum,’ you whisper, surprised by the sound of your own voice.

Your orgasm threatens to unmake your very existence, a silent revolution inside the marrow of your bones, and you fight it back just long enough to obey any of his possible commands. But still, it keeps you burning at the edge, a flame only the stroke of his cock against your cervix could coax into an inferno.

Pressing his knuckle deep into your clit, Hoseok urges you to cum without words, without encouragement or instigation from his authoritative tone, easing his tongue into your mouth. Stroking at the muscle, he swallows the scream of your orgasm as your release undoes your sense of reality. The world behind the blindfold erupts, a kaleidoscope of colour brought to life by the swirl of his hand against your clit and the piercing thrust he delivers to the barrier of your cervix, demanding entry to your womb. You want him there, want him inside you always, and you clench around him tightly as your orgasm overtakes your muscles. Your body is an earthquake caged in his arms. 

You, a perfume and a drink, a war and a victory, an earthquake and a hurricane, every season belonging to him alone. 

As you come down from your high, Hoseok only increases the pace of his thrusts, somehow gaining strength at the feel of your juices dripping around his cock. The stimulation stings, and he pulls his tongue from your mouth to let you both catch your breath, your whimpers of pain an echo of the intensity of his cock stretching your walls. The bulbous head of his cock is unforgiving, picking up speed as he breathes against your cheeks. Still, you can feel his own limbs begin to shake, and you attempt to soothe his tremors with tender massages of your fingers into the wings of his shoulders. 

Grunting with exertion, Hoseok becomes speechless as he chases his high, and the tingling pain that once lived at your core soon gives way to another orgasm within your belly. How starved have you been for him? How long have you wanted him? It does not matter, you think, the removal of distractions and the urge to focus only on him has your body pouring its lust into the feel of his cock at the entrance of your womb. Whining, you cling to him once more, joints taught in preparation for another, sudden orgasm. 

The feel of your walls gripping him so tightly causes his hips to stutter, and the incoordination of his impending climax overtakes the power of his movements. With your own orgasm readying in the base of your spine once more, you hold onto him tightly and roll up into his hips yet again, matching him thrust for thrust. 

Only three strokes more and you both come undone, the searing heat of Hoseoks’s cum filling your core as his body shudders in your arms.

‘Fuck, shit,’ he moans, burying his face into your neck as he thrusts each spurt of cum into your cunt. 

Wetness greets your cheeks, the tears from your eyes flowing freely, a surprise and a shock without any vision for them to blur. Together, you breathe in unison, riding the aftershocks of your orgasms until the walls of your cunt burn with the force of your clenching. He collapses against you, breathing heavily as your hand comes to stroke absentmindedly at his core. Every now and then, your walls clench, his cock presses deeper, his cum dripping from your walls to greet the mess you've made of the sheets. 

Time presses on, the world continues to turn, but behind your blindfold the universe is on pause, suspended in only this moment in which you are holding him, he is inside you - softening, but still yours - and there are no gaps between your bones for air to move between. Idly, you suppose this is the paradise many so often speak - an empty mind, a comfort in your limbs that comes only with immense peace, a contentment to your heart that says you are both seen and safe, with no difference to be found between the two.

Eventually, Hoseok removes his hand from your core, easing it up to the blindfold. You smell the traces of your juices on his fingers, and you part your lips, readying to taste yourself as he so often commands you to do. But he bypasses your mouth for the bone of your cheek, where he toys with the edge of the fold. Easing it away from your eyes, he pushes it back to the crown of your head, and you blink rapidly, readjusting to the world. Immediately, you lower your gaze to his face where he rests at your side. 

In unison, you smile at one another, everything looking precisely the same, yet wholly, irrevocably, different. 

‘Hello,’ he whispers, the intimacy of his quiet greeting causing your chest to swell.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you trace his brow with your thumb, smiling deliriously. ‘I missed you.’ 

This time, there is a difference to this missing, and he chuckles quietly at your joke. You luxuriate in the act of admiring him, taking in the depth of his features. Redness lives beneath his cheeks, a glistening sheen to his skin of perspiration; his hair has been mussed several times over by the fore of your hand and never, not once in the time you have known him, has he ever been so beautiful. Glancing down further, you regard his arm where it drapes over your waist, the tattoo that bleeds up his muscles and over into his back. 

All night you have pressed your fingers into the bird of paradise painted on his skin, but it was not what you saw or envisioned at all. It crosses your mind that perhaps what you envisioned was his spirit, the very essence of his soul - scatterings colours and energy that are both formless and yours.

Almost too soon, he looks away from you, turning to face to the right at the end table. With your vision obscured by the crown of his head, you cannot see what exactly he reaches for, and so you continue to admire the mess of his hair with a small chuckle. He takes his time gathering the item, grasping it tightly in his hand before turning to face you. Slowly, he eases his softening cock from your core, repositioning himself on the bed to linger at your side, legs sprawled carelessly over yours.

‘I don’t have a speech planned,’ he begins, suddenly sounding terribly disappointed. 

Furrowing your brow in worry, you regard him with confusion, cocking your head to the side patiently.

Hoseok raises his eyes to yours, his irises glassy with emotion. ‘We’re not the type, are we?’

Still uncertain what he means, you shrug in reassurance. ‘We’re not the type for a lot of things,’ you suggest, and he nods, seeming distant.

Moving his hand into your view, he reveals a small black box. Breath halting in your lungs, you regard it for a long moment, suddenly aware all over again of the weight that encapsulates the room. Using his thumb, he flicks it open, revealing a rich sapphire ring, dotted on either side with sparkling diamonds. 

‘Will you marry me?’ he asks, looking at you with an intensity you’re certain could rival the sun. 

He must expect you to be shocked, must expect you to have to gather your words, because your immediate, resounding yes, has him blinking wildly, in the same rapid fashion as when you were finally allowed to see again.

‘Yes,’ you repeat, sliding back against the bed to sit up. ‘Yes, yes.’ 

You don’t really think there’s anything else to say, not really. If the universe of your love could be contained in three simple letters, you would give them to him over and over again, until only they comprised your language, your alphabet. 

Wasting no time, he pulls the ring from the box and slides it over your finger, taking his time to let his fingers stroke over your skin. 

‘Mine,’ he mumbles to himself.

The word takes you all the back to the first time you slept with him, to a day when you had been burning with torment, wet from the rain and wet with a passion for a world you wanted to claim. That day, he asked you to be his, and you said yes, an echo of this moment in which you somehow knew it was the only choice to make. Your past self and yourself in this moment are one and the same, time becoming a construct that is meaningless when it comes to him.

‘I told you the first time I was,’ you tease.

‘I know,’ he says, leaning up to kiss deftly your jaw. ‘I just wanted to join you in the war.’

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