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#shut the fuck up cherub
chamaleonsoul · 10 months
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Lestat and Armand being insufferable idiots in love in Memnoch The Devil
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the-meat-machine · 9 months
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how do you think caliborn would react to trans people? like, i could see him going either way, although i think the idea of someone being mtf would absolutely fucking baffle him. but, like, otherwise im pretty torn on him.
(Content warning for transphobia, misogyny, and binarism.)
So, just to address this right off the bat - I don't think Caliborn would be a bioessentialist. He has less than zero understanding of human anatomy. The idea that gender is in any way connected to what someone has in their pants would be bizarre and alien to him.
That doesn't mean Caliborn wouldn't have incredibly shitty attitudes towards trans people. They'd just be shitty in really weird ways.
The good(?) news is that I think he would approve of trans men. (Whether we want his approval is a different story, however.) Trans men have made the only correct choice with regards to gender and he hopes they get strong and grow lots of manly muscles.
Meanwhile, learning that trans men exist accomplishes the heretofore-thought-impossible task of making Caliborn respect women even less than he already did. You mean all along they could have chosen to be men but instead they decided to keep being women?? SO dumb.
And yeah, he'd be awful about trans women. They were strong badass males and gave it all up to become girls??????????? A literally inconceivable choice. It wouldn't occur to him to disbelieve that they're women, but frankly that only makes his contempt for them all the greater.
He has no idea what to think about anything outside of the binary. He feels that opting out of the system should be against the rules, and it is confusing and frustrating that apparently it isn't. He grudgingly respects that at least they had enough sense not to be women. Except, they could have chosen to be men like the trans men did, right? So what gives. Why didn't they do that. Stupid.
So yeah, that's my interpretation. Basically Caliborn is awful. Sorry.
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blccmngs · 4 months
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I’m advocating for angel x demon aus to be a thing again because my froy boys in those aus are always so spicy …
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strangersmunsons · 2 months
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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 3 Prompt: Lingerie 🎀 ~ 2,200 words you buy a pretty set of underwear to wear for Eddie. smut, 18+ only: p-in-v sex, spanking (brief), oral/fingering (fem!receiving), nipple play/tit sucking, praise, body worship.
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Soft tissue paper crinkles beneath your fingertips as you gently remove each thin layer from the clean, white, department store gift box. 
You’re almost afraid to touch it; you’ve never owned anything so pretty and fragile-looking. Up until this point the fanciest underwear you’ve ever worn was a plain bra and panty set from K-Mart. 
But this? Whole ‘nother ball game. You imagine Eddie will be very pleased.
The bra is little more than delicately-constructed strips of fabric; creamy satin to line the underside of your breasts, dainty lace to adorn the top, in a display of completely false modesty, as there’s space enough between the two materials for the buds of your nipples to peek through. The waistband of the matching thong is frilled with gentle sprays of lace that will float over the curves of your hips, and there’s a tiny silk bow sewn into the fabric that will cover your mound. 
There’s no doubt in your mind that Eddie loves you in anything. That boy could look at you in snow pants and a parka and still succeed in getting a boner. But you felt the time was ripe for you to treat both yourself and him to something special. 
You’re aiming for soft, romantic — cherubic, even. Something Valentine’s Day appropriate. When you slip the set on for the first time, and eye yourself in the bedroom’s full-length mirror, you think you’ve definitely achieved that. It fits like a glove; you’ve never felt sexier. 
As if he somehow knew exactly what you were up to, Eddie taps on the closed door. “Sweetheart? Are you alright in there?” You don’t usually lock him out of the bedroom. 
“Yes,” you call back to him, heart jumping in anticipation. “Just give me one second.” 
Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath, cast one last approving glance in the mirror, and open the door for your boyfriend.
Eddie’s mouth, opened to greet you, suddenly snaps shut when he takes in the sight before him. His eyes are huge as he looks you up and down, greedily roaming over every square inch of your body. 
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie.”
He doesn’t even say anything — just lunges forward and crushes you to him, arms winding around you as tightly as they can go. His full lips press against yours in a searing, bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. He nips at your bottom lip and licks into your mouth, leaving you breathless, whiny, needy; he walks you backwards, until the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed, and you let yourself fall onto the plush covers.
Eddie covers your body with his own, warm weight adding a delightful pressure against your torso. Automatically your legs wrap around his trim waist, his denim-clad crotch creating delicious friction as it rubs against your own satin-covered core. 
He moves away from your mouth, peppering sloppy kisses over your chin and up your jaw, then all over your neck until he finds that little sweet spot that makes you keen. One fist tangles in his hair, and you give a gentle tug to the curly locks. Eddie moans into the hollow of your throat. 
With your lips now free, you manage, “Do you like it, then?”
Eddie’s head whips up, like he’s shocked you have to ask. “Hell yes. You look fucking gorgeous.”
Willing himself to gain some self-control, Eddie slows his pace. He peels himself away from you with reluctance, standing back up, and motions with his index finger for you to spin around. “Hands and knees, baby. Wanna see that pretty ass in the air.”
You scramble to the center of the bed on all fours. Once in position, Eddie runs his fingertips down your back, brushing lightly down your spine and back up again, making you shiver. Then he flattens his warm, calloused palms against your skin, rubbing in one smooth motion from your shoulders to your bottom, grasping each bare cheek in his hands and giving them a tight squeeze. “So pretty,” he croons, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to each one. “You’re my angel, you know that?”
You already feel flushed, dizzy, intoxicated by his praise and the feel of his hands, and the sensation of a single, curly tendril falling from over his shoulder and brushing against the back of your thigh. Eddie lets go of one cheek and runs a finger over the back piece of the frilly thong, toying lightly with the fabric nestled between your cheeks. You suck in a sharp breath as his finger dances along the crevice. 
“I like this,” he muses, then wallops a firm slap! against your ass. Nothing brutal — hard enough to bring the blood to the surface of the skin, warm and stinging, but not so hard that you’re writhing in pain.
It’s like giving you a kiss, really.
He spanks the other cheek and you let out a little yelp. Eddie rubs the skin soothingly, easing the pain away. Then he pulls the crotch of your panties aside, already warm and sticky with arousal. Mouth positively watering, the heady, pungent scent of your sex filling his nostrils, he leans in, and starts teasing you with little kitten-licks, cleaning away the soft wetness leaking out of your cunt. 
You moan wantonly, burying your face into the downy bed cover.
Eddie’s hands grasp at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that’ll keep him steady while he eats you out from behind like a man starved. His tongue picks up speed, alternating between broad stripes and precise, intricate patterns with the tip of his tongue, which dips inside of you, and after a few shallow thrusts, is replaced with a finger, then two. His mouth latches onto your clit, lips sealing around the sweet little bud, sucking gently while his thick fingers pump in and out of you, curling just so. 
“Tastes so fucking good,” he groans against the slick flesh, “my sweet girl.” He lavishes a series of rapid, sucking kisses against your clit, and you fall to pieces. 
“Eddie!”
Skin alight and tingly, panting heavily, you push recklessly back against Eddie’s face and he lets you do as you will, helping you ride out your orgasm. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages, words muffled by your cunt, “cum for me.”
As you come back down, your bones feel soft and spongy; you’re drowning in oxytocin and dopamine, floating in that sweet, dreamy space that only Eddie can take you to. He moves the underwear back into place, and rearranges your pliant limbs so you’re no longer on your hands and knees, but lying comfortably on your back. He shimmies out of his clothes quickly, shucking off the black jeans and t-shirt in record time. When he pulls his boxers down, his cock springs free, red and weeping; he jerks himself with a few quick tugs. You moisten your lips involuntarily at the sight, and move to sit up, eyes locked onto his heavy balls and girthy shaft. 
But Eddie has other plans. “You can suck me off later, if you want to, princess.” He grins salaciously. “But right now I need to be inside you.”
He climbs on the bed, crawling between your legs, and turns his focus to your breasts. He lavishes the same attention on your tits as he did your ass, fondling them in the soft, barely-there cups, swiping his thumbs into the space where your nipples are exposed, pinching lightly, rolling them between his fingers.
The bra comes off, and he doesn’t hesitate to take a pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. When he’s finished with one, he kisses his way across your chest to the other. “Love these tits so much,” he mumbles into the swell of your breast before sucking the next one into his mouth, making sure he shows it the amount of same love. He looks up at you with big puppy eyes, and your fingers weave securely into his hair while he sucks. 
Releasing your breast with a wet, almost-comical pop, he straightens back up and pinches the waistband of your panties between two fingers. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulls them down, baring you completely. Cool air hits your sticky, aching middle, and your legs tremble in anticipation. 
The curls on your pubic mound have gone soft, dampened with sweat and arousal; he strokes them with loving fingers before continuing to pull the underwear down your thighs, past your knees and calves, until they’re completely off. He bites his full bottom lip, eyeing your cunt. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he promises you. Then he brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs delicately.
You squeal and kick at him playfully with one foot. He catches your ankle and snickers, pressing a quick kiss to your heel. “What? I like how you smell. I like how you taste, how you sound, how you look…” he trails off, staring at your body beneath him with lovestruck eyes. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He runs his hands down your sides in admiration, feeling every curve and crevice and dimple and bump, and loving all of them. 
“So are you.”
He reaches out to cup your face with one hand. You lay your own hand on top of his and sigh, hoping you can feel this way with him forever. 
Eddie twines his fingers through yours, and presses your interlocked hands into the mattress beside your head. He lays over top of you, settling in slowly, all franticness from earlier gone. He rubs his body against yours, capturing  your lips in a sweet kiss, savoring the feeling, both of you letting out soft moans at the sensation of his hard cock slipping against your wet folds. 
He tucks his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Y’ready, sweetheart?”
“Yes, please…”
“Good girl. So polite.” Eddie lines himself up and slips inside of you, pushing in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his length. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, breathing heavily into the skin. When you moan, and clutch at his shoulders, he understands that you’re giving him permission to speed up. His hips start to rock into yours a little bit faster, a little bit harder.
You move in tandem. The bed creaks. The two of you are a mere tangle of limbs; holding each other this close, it’s impossible to tell where your body ends and Eddie’s begins. 
You whimper at the feeling of his thick cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out in an exhilarating mix of pleasure-almost-pain.  “Tha’s it, baby, let me hear you. Wanna hear all your pretty noises,” Eddie says, voice ragged. “Let me know how good it feels.”
“Feels so good, Eddie,” you tell him brokenly, thoroughly fucked-out. “Feels so big.”
At that, his thrusts become sloppier. “Yeah? My cock makin’ you all nice and full?” He snakes a hand down to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb. He knew the second he saw you in that getup he wasn’t gonna last long — honestly, he’s surprised he made it this far with blowing his load. 
With the added stimulation over your sensitive bud, you’re nearly there. The scent of sex, spiced body wash, and tobacco invade your senses, so all you can think of is Eddie. The muscles of your abdomen tighten, the walls of your cunt clenching around Eddie’s cock — you’re teetering on the precipice of climax. Eddie wants it like nothing he’s ever wanted before. 
His lips at your ear. “Give me one more sweetheart you’re so close I can feel it —”
A second orgasm overtakes you, pleasure bolting from your core in every direction. You cry out, biting into his shoulder, nails digging crescent-moons into his back. He holds you tightly and works you through it, concentrating on your release, though his own is right on its heels.
It’s too much. “Kiss me,” he begs, and then, not waiting for an answer, desperately seals his mouth to yours, so urgently that it’s merely a collision of lips and noses. Equally drunk on you as you are on him, amidst the aftershocks of your own pleasure, Eddie finally lets himself go. The taut rubber band inside of him finally snaps — he cums as deep inside of you as he can with a guttural groan, curling his body around yours, hips stuttering an uneven rhythm. 
The rush fades slowly, and Eddie slumps against you, pulling his cock out when it eventually softens, which wrenches another sigh from you. You both lie there together and pant, waiting for your heart rates to slow. Eddie’s warm seed starts to trickle out, adding to the wet mess between your legs.
Eddie dots a few hazy kisses to your neck, and you push the sweaty hair back from his perfect face.
With some effort, he lifts his head up, and his eyes find yours. He shoots you an exhausted grin. “You’re too good, baby. How’d I get so lucky?”
You laugh, knowing he did most of the work. “I could ask you the same thing.”
His smile softens, becoming a besotted, giddy thing. He takes your face in between his two hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks. 
“I love you,” he pecks at your lips, “so fucking much.”
“I love you too, Eddie.”
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thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
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Sacrifice
(AU what if: What if Mythical Forest! Reader had no one and was sent out as a sacrifice? What if Dabi and Shigaraki were respected and feared rather than hated?)
Warning: (Mentions of violence, animal murder, brothels and the use of whore. Non consensual hypnosis)
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Long ago, a deal between the nearby village and two nagas had been struck. In exchange for peace and protection from intruders, the nagas would have to receive food and protection fees from the village.
Until they made a seemingly unreasonable demand, they wanted a child. Not a virgin woman nor man, but a child. Shigaraki made his request known at the last exchange, his voice longing for a child to raise as his own.
“I don’t want one of those whores at your brothels, I don’t want your gold, I desire a child.”
His mate, the scarred one who declared himself as Dabi, echoed his mate’s statement. They couldn’t breed and have their own hatchlings, thank the gods for that, so they went with the next option.
The village elders refused that demand, how could they give up their kin to monsters? Had they grown a taste for human flesh?
Were Dabi and Shigaraki that heartless? Once the village denied their request, Shigaraki grew violent. All of the village’s livestock had been slaughtered, blood stained the green grass and the fences.
Some hunters were lured out of their homes and had their bones crushed and skin melted away by venom. Shigaraki had a simple request, why couldn’t they just answer it?
Dabi wasn’t exactly innocent either, he hunted down foolish humans like a feral beast and proceeded to kill them, like a feral beast. The village had no choice but to meet their demands, so Shigaraki could stop his violent temper tantrum.
The forest was dark as you were sent out, you whimpered at seeing the gates to your village shut. You were a measly orphan who certainly wouldn’t be missed, so you were perfect for this opportunity.
You hoped that the rumors of Shigaraki using child bones as toothpicks weren’t true. Sticks and leaves crunched and broke under your feet as you wandered aimlessly through the jungles, birds tweeting and distant howls of wolves filled your ears as you looked around paranoid.
Shigaraki watched as you stumbled around helplessly as he gave a little smile, oh you were utterly perfect. He slowly slinked out of his hiding spot, his tail slithering across the floor. “Hello my dear.” He said softly. You froze before yelping in fright. You stumbled like a newly born fawn as you gave a frightened whimper at seeing Shigaraki. His gaze softened as he got closer.
“Aw, little lamb, it’s okay. Papa is here.” He purred. You couldn’t help but begin to cry from the fear, which utterly broke Shigaraki’s heart. What did those rotten villagers say to you about him?
He had no choice but to work his hypnotic magic on you, forcing you into a state of relaxation and calmness. You ceased your cries as Shigaraki gently lifted you up into his arms. Dabi decided to slink out as well, frowning at seeing your relaxed state.
“You know that shit fucks with peoples brains.” He lightly scolded. “Oh hush, our baby was in clear distress. She needed to relax.” Shigaraki defended as he smiled down at you.
“She’s like a little cherub.” Dabi commented as he booped your nose. Shigaraki let out something akin to a purr before the two slinked together in the forest.
With their new baby in tow
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uninformedartist · 5 months
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So just finished watching the ep so review. Spoils ahead:
So the episode was ok to me, solid 6/10 one of the better episodes which since this was supposed to be an "extravagant" ep why does it got better quality than the main eps, idk Viv has her moments like this ep and other eps its a train wreck in writing ect.
Mammon worked on my nerves, from design to his movements, personality ALL of him was annoying, which props for an annoying Villian but its Villian I never want to see back again and he's hinted for some sort of return.
Side tangent: Mammon is like the how many-ith Villian to get a return ep/hint at one. It was 1st cherubs, then dorks, then stella/ice twink, striker/crimson now Mammon & according to the leaked storyboards a ghost guy that tries to talk IMP into off-ing themselves... its a flipping lot and cherubs & dorks seem to be forgotten dispite dorks knowing & having hard evidence they exist, flip Viv chill it with your Villian of the week cos its way too many now.
Anyway, Blitz didn't need to be in this ep besides the flashback. Ozzie got him to talk Fizz out of being Mammon's puppet but ultimately Ozzie spoke him out of it & gave him courage to quit/confront Mammon. Even Blitz being a bodyguard/killing people for Fizz could've been any imp. Blitz is starting to feel like Steven from SU, in every ep even tho the ep doesn't need him/ the episode surrounds topics a wee child shouldn't be in (i.e Lapis trauma dumping on Steven & he a child isn't really equipped to handle that situation).
My fave part of this ep was Ozzie and Fizz. Ya'll I legit prayed Viv wouldn't mess these two up and my prayers were answered. Absolutely a joy these two were. Fizz especially what a darling. Loved that small scenes with him and the deaf imp child, l dont know sign language but it looked genuine animated and was just sweet moments.
From their interactions, Fizz's panic attacks/self doubt felt & were genuine... I felt that as someone that has panic attacks from high stress on my studies/life. It was just handled well. Fizz feeling less than and needing to prove himself from 1. his past 2. his appearance, that accident affected his self image/worth so much (why I felt him forgiving Blitz was too hastily done but I digress) & 3. him doing this Mammon contest still to gain/earn Ozzie's love for him cos Fizz believes Ozzie only sticks around because of this fame Mammon gave Fizz. Ozzie finally saying what he loves about Fizz was lovely, wanted that in the 1st ep but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Their song was... I didn't like it BUT the message in it was beautiful. Lastly Fizz saying fuck you to Mammon from the courage/strength Ozzie gave him was a nice send off... also Ozzie saying he loves Fizz ah ngl that made me smile agh I just love them. I want to see them more than the Stolitz show but thats only a wish. Props Viv, you get 1 brownie point not messing this up.
Last findings, the ep was bloated as hell my soul Viv please stop cramming so much in an ep, this one is 30 mins long & yet still felt bloated. Pacing was a motherfuka damn it was bad & the swearing was jarring (its a Viv written ep I don't expect any less but still gonna point it out) and the comedy wasn't so prominent in this ep, Blitz/Mammon gave some comic relief but in the best and worst ways:
The way the VA delivered this line "to be fucked" made me laugh, the line is cringy but the delivery lol gold
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Aand Blitz, my soul shut the fuck up & get out this ep. Last ep & this one he said something so agonizingly cringe I pulled my face
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The world of HB is legit American hell or earth just painted red since Fizz named all these places in America just "hellified" where his fans come from.
And very last, congratulations Salem glad you got the cathartic send off you deserve from working under Viv, truly fuck you "Mammon" indeed :) also glad they credited you this time.
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avocado-writing · 6 months
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Kinktober 7
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7. Anonymous Sex, Nonconsensual, Somnophilia
Aziraphale rarely sleeps. 
You’re not sure if this is a good thing or not. It can be lovely to wake in the morning to find him up and waiting for you while he reads, a warm smile stretching across his face as he whispers “good morning, nightingale.” But that very same fact can be a little off putting - it’s hard to get to sleep when one of your partners just lies there awake all night.
Crowley loves to sleep. Sometimes you wonder if he’s more cat than snake, the way he finds a puddle of sunlight to lie in and dozes off. He twists his body into all sorts of contortions which you can’t imagine are comfortable but never hear him complaining about, either. 
The two of you can tell Aziraphale is tired. He’s having difficulty holding conversation, isn’t as efficient at shooing customers away as he usually is. The angel needs rest, but he is as stubborn as an ox, so just telling him that will amount to nothing.
No. Aziraphale needs a carrot, not a stick.
So you and Crowley do what you do best: sweet talk him.
“I’m just saying,” you tell him, carding your fingers through his soft hair, “sleep doesn’t have to be boring, my darling. In fact it can be quite lovely. Have you ever had an orgasm someone’s given you while you’re asleep?”
This piques his interest. The angel puts down his book and looks up at you, a light dusting of pink beginning to fill his cheeks.
“I can’t say that I have, dearest.”
“Well, I’m sure that we can change that,” Crowley chimes in, a devilish smile creeping across his face, “you’ll have the best rest of your life, angel.”
He’s so easy to tempt, and he is ever so tired. So that night when you all lay down to sleep, Aziraphale is naked as a cherub and pressed between the two of you. He shuts his eyes and lays back but there’s no mistaking the rise and fall of his chest for someone who’s actually settled for the evening.
“Aziraphale, for this to work, you have to be asleep,” you tell him gently, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. He shivers in anticipation.
“But it’s so… you’re so… we could always…?”
You and Crowley exchange a look. Your angel and his earthly delights. So you tire him out, fuck him until he’s boneless, and then watch slip into sleep properly when he’s exhausted.
Crowley wipes his mouth on the back of his arm and the two of you listen out for his breathing: there it is: rhythmic, soft, dead to the world. 
Time for part two to begin, then. 
Ever so slowly, so as not to jostle him too much, the two of you start to take position. You help spread Aziraphale’s legs and hoist his arse into Crowley’s lap, his hole open and already used from earlier. Crowley watches you begin to stroke the angel’s cock. It only takes a couple of pumps before it reacts, beginning to grow hot and heavy in your hand, ripe for fucking. You press a kiss to his head as he gets fully there, grinning at the taste of yourself on him from where you rode him earlier.
You look up to see Crowley watching you intently. You give him a cheeky wink and press a kiss to his dick too, already so hard that he’s bobbing against his own stomach. He lets out a long, choked sigh through his nose and you press your finger up to his lips - shh. Be quiet. Don’t wake him. The demon lets his tongue, his long serpentine tongue, dip out and twist around you wickedly.
Crowley lines himself up and slides easily into Aziraphale’s hole inch by inch. The angel’s breath hitches for a second and Crowley freezes, but when his chest begins to slowly rise and fall again he carefully sheathes himself all the way to the hilt. He takes a moment to adapt to the pliancy of Aziraphale like this, how easy he is to manoeuvre, how willing even when in dreams. 
Gently he pulls out and presses back in. It’s such a small rock of his hips that Aziraphale barely moves, but you do hear the little sigh of bliss he lets out.
The floodgates open.
Crowley keeps fucking him like that, shallow and careful, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside. As he goes you plant your mouth over Aziraphale’s stiff member. His girth is always a lovely stretch for your lips and you think, for a moment, that it’s a shame he’s not awake - one of his favourite sights is one of you taking him down to the base. 
His head hits the back of your throat and you hum around him before starting to bob up and down. You do your best to match Crowley’s pace, an unhurried lovemaking entirely meant for the receiver. And you can see it’s working, too. Even from your vantage point you can see the way Aziraphale visibly relaxes, all the tension from his muscles escaping with each thrust, each suck.
Aziraphale comes in your mouth a few minutes later, gasping quietly in his sleep. As you lick him clean and swallow you see your demon sigh, happy, and his erratic hips movements stop. He pulls out of Aziraphale gently and you admire the drip of his cum from the angel’s thoroughly used hole.
The two of you kiss, slowly and passionately, before you lay back down into bed, either side of your angel. You tangle your fingers together across his plush stomach and fall asleep tucked up against him.
The next morning Aziraphale is a little sore, but in a very good mood indeed.
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@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie
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sionisjaune · 4 months
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For powerful em's powerful birthday month, a few vignettes from fucked up brocedes hg au. Thank you for bringing your wonderful, kind, generous self to everything you do in fandom! @powerful-owl
The chariots race by, spewing fireworks and glitter. The procession is headed by the blonde Career that was supposed to volunteer for Nico’s Games. All of the bookies are already saying he’s going to win. The Games are going to be boring with those odds. 
Nico wrinkles his nose and squeezes Lewis’s hand tightly. He flicks his hair behind his ear and straightens his posture. The video screens cut to a technicolor image of him and Lewis sitting side by side in the front row with the rest of the victors. Lewis looks beautiful and deadly in artfully bloodied scraps of lace and leather, and Nico looks embarrassingly like a dessert, decked out in cherubic feathers. Everyone cheers. For Nico and Lewis and for the new tributes—twenty-four teenagers that are slated to die on film. 
“Are you booked after this?” Nico says, turning his mouth towards Lewis’s ear. 
“Yeah,” Lewis murmurs, looking ahead. “I’m some old fuck’s date to the afterparty.” 
Nico knew that. He feigns surprise anyway. “Weird. So am I.” Lewis rolls his eyes, but Nico can feel the tendons in his arm jumping underneath Nico’s palm. It’s funny, Nico thinks, how Lewis has been at this a handful of years longer than Nico, and he still reacts to every little injustice like a knife to the gut. 
Nico laughs a little to himself, and Lewis shoots him a weird, sidelong glance, rubbing his thumb along the inside of Nico’s forearm. Nico wouldn’t know what that’s like—feeling. 
-
Nico collapses on top of Lewis’s sweaty chest, inhaling a lungful of body glitter. He chokes on it, coughs and hacks a few flecks out of his throat, and drags a shuddering breath of oxygen into his chest. He and Lewis have been fucking for so long he doesn’t even remember what it feels like to not have someone else inside of him. Lewis groans and whines underneath him, panting.
It’s approximately one billion degrees under the floodlights. It's so bright that Nico can’t see anything of the party surrounding them, just blobs and smudges behind the retina-scalding curtain of light. He knows they’re in the center of everything though, and that everyone is looking at them, and that people are cheering, because he can hear it faintly behind the beating of his own blood in his ears. He’s on the good shit too. He can’t usually stay hard for this long, even if it’s Lewis. 
Lewis whines again, and Nico pushes himself back up and starts moving again. Lewis groans, his head thudding against the arm of the sofa he and Nico are perched on and his eyes rolling back.
It’s almost worth it, Nico thinks. Everything is almost worth it. 
-
Nico can’t fall asleep alone anymore. When he shuts his eyes all he can see are glittering, multifaceted crystals, pools of blood as thick as velvet carpets and the inky blackness of endlessly dark caverns. Sometimes he gasps awake, and it feels like there are still shards in his throat, rending sensitive flesh on each juddering exhale. 
When Lewis is in his bed, it’s a little bit easier. They don’t fuck when they’re alone—Nico would be so lucky—but Lewis holds him and Nico bites back his usual complaints. 
-
Lewis has his lines memorized now. Nico doesn’t have lines, because all he has to do is moan on the floor with a gash in his stomach large enough that he can feel the heat seeping out of his shredded entrails. They’re reenacting everyone’s favourite part from Lewis’s Games where he saved a rival victor that had been left for dead behind a waterfall. This is the X-rated version, though, so Lewis is going to bandage Nico’s wounds and then fuck him back to health. 
Nico can hear himself gurgling, notices the shadows creeping into his periphery. Then Lewis’s hands are on him, and the shadows are receding and the knife-like pain of consciousness is making itself known, like a bright light irritating dilated eyes. 
Lewis rubs his thumb across the inside of Nico’s forearm. Nico twitches, prone. His insides are knitting themselves back together. His wounds are sealing themselves up. This is the best part. The worst part is the tenderness after. 
-
The theme is sharks. And sex. Sex and sharks. Sharks and sex. The theme is Nico and Lewis have sex in a giant fishtank while shark mutts swim from end to end, gnashing their teeth and snarling. They’ve given Nico a drug that eliminates his metabolism’s need for oxygen, but it feels like he’s drowning all the same. The capitolites think this sort of thing is funny. 
Nico clutches at Lewis’s tattooed bicep. His stylist has inked him up with images of angel fish that dart across his abdomen and octopuses that twine around his shoulder blades. Nico is wearing pearls. Lewis has a look on his face like he hates that he’s been made to do this and hates himself even more for being unable to dissent. 
That’s the Lewis he knows, Nico thinks. That’s the Lewis he fell in love with, when he was sixteen watching Lewis’s Games with his father. He turns his head to gaze through the thick wall of glass that warps his view of the venue outside. Slim figures wisp by, toting flutes of champagne and tiny canapes. They’re not even looking. 
Bile rises in Nico’s waterlogged throat. They need to look.
-
Lewis is watching the Games. When he turned it on the television in Nico’s room, Nico almost vomited, but Lewis was adamant that the broadcast stay on. He watches the Games even when the Capitol doesn’t parade him around at viewing parties to provide expert analysis. He tells Nico that it’s important to bear witness to what the Capitol is doing to the children of Panem, but Nico doesn’t buy it. He knows that Lewis just likes to torture himself. He’s always been a martyr. 
Nico curls up underneath Lewis’s arm and tunes out the sounds of slaughter. Of exploding canons and warbling mockingjays. 
When Lewis utters a disgusted sound at the TV, Nico looks up. The flatscreen is displaying the gory remains of at least three tributes splattered on the face of a snowy mountain. The Career that Nico replaced is standing in the middle of it all, an impish grin on his face and blood up to his elbows. He sticks his tongue out and wags his index finger at the camera. 
“Typical District 1 overindulgence,” says Lewis, repulsed. “You can tell he’s never thought about anyone other than himself in his life.”
Nico smiles smugly where Lewis can’t see it. 
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violetpixiedust · 9 months
Text
something sweet for sydcarmy that i couldn’t get out of my head
the rigid slope of his sun-kissed nose bloomed a vibrant scarlet as it brushed against the ebony complexion of her petal soft cheek. the delicate curvature of her face was reminiscent of the stained glass cherubs that danced across the evanescent sunlight when it seeped into his weekly aa meetings, undeniably gentle, radiant. honey-suckle curls drooped down to meet hip length braids, framing the divine structure of her body below him, laid atop his rustled sheets. the pair was askew, tangled, dewey with a veil of essence akin to the first morning fire ups at the bear. a husky moan left his cupid’s bow shaped lips, as manicured nails ran down the flushed expanse of muscle peaking through his rare pristine white tee. one calloused hand urgently pushed the hem of her tight red turtleneck up below her concealed mounds, fingers twitching against her unconsciously arched ribs. the other wandered below the little charcoal skirt that had taunted him endlessly during their menu experimentation in his minuscule kitchen that day. barely exposing a flash of ivory each time she whipped around to fetch a knife, paprika, salt, a clove of garlic that had ‘slipped’ off his counter top. a pretty little outfit he knew the woman in front of him wouldn’t be caught dead wearing around the likes of richie, marcus, gary, fak, even ebra- a soprano moan cut off his possessive train of thought, hyperactive mind practically melting into oblivion as his warm lips frantically kissed the exposed underside of her jaw, basking in her light scent of lavender soap and lilies. desperate to claim, claim, claim-
“carmy-“ his denim clad hips unconsciously ground down into hers at the crack of her voice, the sound of his name leaving her mouth like a prayer. the ribbons of their desperate moans intertwined in spite of the ache that pounded down the doors they had once desperately attempted to seal shut.
“syd. oh fuck. fuck! please-“ the wetness that had previously concealed his hazy cobalt gaze trickled down his freckled cheeks, staccato groans swallowed by her plump pout that had been decorated with brunette lip gloss, now smeared across his cheek.
“c-an i-i take this off-?” carmen shuddered as she raked her nails through his dampening curls, waiting not a second after her confirmation to tug the poor excuse of a garment down her sinfully bare legs, leaving a burning trail in its wake. carmen felt his heartbeat pound in his ears, the once dreaded feeling akin to his panic attacks now fuelled by unbridled desire, urging him forward as he marvelled at the sight of the younger girl in front of him. shell shocked as the quick absence of her shirt revealed a lacy lingerie set, ivory, scraps of fabric reminiscent of lacy chef whites barely concealing the most intimate parts of her. transparent enough that he could make out the dusky shade of her nipples through the wispy fabric, her sticky mound. it tumbled out of his mouth before he had the chance to bite it back.
“god, i love you.” and he would have been mortified, hightailing it out of his own apartment to avoid the sight of his sous leaving the bed of her pathetic loser of a boss- had the girl not taken charge, straddling him in under a few moments, fingers encircling his golden chain to hold him steady, as her lips slammed against his in a teeth clashing kiss, a valiant effort in pushing down what apologies would have inevitably come up. her tongue was doused in lambrusco, spurring carmy on as his tattooed arms pulled her impossibly closer to him. desperate to memorize the scent of her, the silhouette of her, the taste of her, before he faced the consequences of his confession. he only went slack when she finally breathed shakily in his ear, hushed, as if she was telling him a secret, missing the glimmering onyx of her doe-eyes as they softened incredibly at the very sight of him.
“love you too, chef.”
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turntechtestifi3d · 3 months
Note
please PLEASE tell me about your dirk/vriska moirals thing.
(and any other of your weirder ships)
ok so the Dirk <> Vriska thing started as a joke because. the fucking carnage those two would cause. like can you even image?? vrisdirk core
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realistically they’d probably be closer to kismesis (fighting over who gets the narrative spotlight) ((Ult Dirk vs Alt Calliope type beat))** however i think they have the potential to defy all odds and come together as moirails, maybe pale/black valication. they’d be good at ego-checking each other, Dirk being very blunt about his friends shortcomings (as we see with Jane and Jake, especially) and Vriska being. Vriska. 
they’ve got a lot in common in regards to forcing themselves to play active/leadership roles in their sessions (Vris more successfully than Dirk, but both still clearly struggling with trying to mold themselves into the “hero” of the game) and their hero worship of their ancestors. people have said it before but Dirk & Roxy are literally troll socialized, and there’s a lot of parallels to be found between the way Vriska idealizes Mindfang and tries to force herself to be Exactly Like Her (based on her journal, aka a flawed and inaccurate picture of her) and the way Dirk hero-worships Alpha Dave and tries to model his entire sense of self after him (based on his movies, aka a flawed and inaccurate picture of him)
they both prioritize doing the “necessary” thing over the morally “correct” thing, and tend to view other people as extensions of themselves.  there’s a chance that these similar qualities could double up and make everything 10billion times worse, but there’s also a chance that recognizing their own qualities in each other could help them balance each other out—based on how Vriska and Dirk both react to other versions of themselves (contempt, embarrassment, etc) they would probably be quick to shut down their own qualities in other people. they can recognize when the other is about to do something shitty because they have similar thought processes. and it’s easier to stop someone else from making stupid decisions than it is to stop yourself (when ur Dirk or Vriska, at least)
so yeah weird moirails dirkvris is a banger to me. they’re probably straddling the border of blackrom and literally nobody else understands it but hey, it’s working for them ^_^
**on this subject, Ult Dirk <3< Alt Calliope is really fucking funny. Dirk is pitchbait for cherubs fr 
other ships i have a soft spot for:
Dave <3< Meenah, specifically Alpha Dave <3< the Condesce. this one is mostly just hilarious to me i’m gonna be real. i think Condy having a spades crush on A!Dave and then targeting him during the rebellion as a weird form of hateflirting is genuinely hysterical. Dave does not understand this at all, but he knows she’s obsessed with him so he’s constantly taunting her about it (subtly, so he doesn’t get executed). Condy of course interprets this as him pitch-flirting back, and the whole situation just gets worse and worse until Dave & Rose try to kill her. it’d be funny if this kind of dynamic carried over to their kid selves too, so Meenah <3< Dave basically. she keeps hitting on him (trying to beat him up) and he’s just like. huh.
Aradia <3 Kanaya <3 Rose. based entirely off this one scene on the meteor i think it was ? (not sure) where Rose and TZ were flustering Aradia by talking about her death-fangirl stuff. that was cute they’re cute. also the one time Rose and Aradia talk pre-scratch, Rose says she finds Aradia interesting and wants to keep talking to her. Kanaya is here because i love rosemary and i think worlds #1 goth girl Rose Lalonde deserves to have two undead girlfriends. characters who break the narrative <33
Dave <> Kanaya and Dave <> Aradia. basically i want Dave to have all the moirails ever, biggest pale slut in the whole universe. i’ve already talked abt davekan, but i think Dave <> Aradia has a lot of potential. time players…..time players……..MAN. i’m so glad we’re getting to see them interact more in hs^2, i loved their pesterlogs in homestuck proper and the last upd8 with them was very fun :)
Jade >8o Dirk. they’re auspistizing each other the way Jade does with w Karkat. actually these two have a lot in common lol, between their dreamselves, growing up with similar isolation issues, and fighting with their alternate (including robot!!) selves. Dirk can get her out of her own head, and Jade wouldn’t put up with any of his shit. Earth C AU where Jade auspistizes the Dirk splinters that make up his Ult self and hs^2 never happens because theyre too busy bickering with each other about it. also i think these two in any kind of relationships ever would just fucking kill Dave. imagine your ex girlfriend getting together with the alt version of your abusive brother like atp i’d just end it all 
Aradia <3< Vriska. toxic yuri win. i just think they’re cool…..girls who literally murder each other <33 so awesome i think they could have a good blackrom going on if it was a post-game/earth C setting. 
Roxy/Jade/Jane/Calliope. they all hang out in the void spiral place together :) i liked their group dynamic when they were all hanging out and cosplaying and such. plus i enjoy all of these Roxy ships independently (roxyjade, roxyjane, calliroxy) and i think she deserves to have a massive collection of girlfriends. get John in on this too i want the Roxy girlfriend singularity 
oh on that subject, Roxy <3 Sollux is good. or a fwb type relationship. this is entirely the fault of that HS:BC update i’m sorry but that shit was so funny. John voice Sollux are you banging my ex wife. Harry Anderson voice Sollux are you banging my mom. also hilarious because it’s continuing Sollux’s streak of pulling girls that are way out of her league (Aradia, Feferi, and now Roxy) and Roxy’s streak of collecting girlfriends like pokemon. it’s a gamer4gamer relationship what’s not to love. they both blow up computers 
uhhh now for more problematic ones. i don’t “ship” these per-say, i just think they r interesting
Bro <3< Rose. i’ve read a couple fics w this premise and it’s awesome. there’s a decent amount of pitch dirkrose but Bro/Rose would be so much worse…..poor Rose is in WAY over her head someone get her outta there. Bro beefing with teenagers will never not be funny to me. the fuck is his problem fr 
Peixes/Crocker-cest. Jane <3< Meenah……Jane <3 Condyyyy. Meenah and Jane fighting for heir status (as Jane is the heir to crockercorp in the alpha timeline) and it develops into a pitch relationship. hs^2 setting where corporate king Jane Crocker is sleeping with one of the enemy generals. yayyy. Condy <3 Jane is 100% a grooming thing like come on, the Batterwitch was literally MIND CONTROLLING him. yikes. that’s super fucked up and i think people should get weirder about it
Alpha Rose <3 Mom Lalonde. we have Striders guardiancest but i’ve never seen any of the Lalondes??? it’s a tragedy. this would be so fucking good you guys don’t understand. why does everyone hate women
ummm yeah there’s probably more that i could think of, but that’s all i got rn 👍👍 hope some of these r good
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two-red-lungs · 2 years
Text
I’ll See You (In My Dreams)
Eddie x Fem!Reader Hurt/Comfort
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Summary: Eddie Munson has been declared dead for five months. Five agonizing, numb months. And nobody seems to care. (Angst with happy ending)
Song Inspiration: x
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The weather had turned. Oppressive summer cicadas fading to a whisper, then a deathly silence, replaced with the rasp of autumn leaves and a brilliant Hawkins forest filled with fire-orange foliage and a chill creeping into the west wind.
Not a lot of Jack-o-lanterns out this year. Not with all the ruin. Houses were still being repaired. People had left: a lot of people. A tiny, cursed town made even emptier.
But you had stayed. God help you, you had stayed.
You slammed the door to your car, rounding the front in the leaf-strewn parking lot, exhaling smoke from your cigarette. Dustin clambered out of the passenger seat and straightened his lapel.
“You ready, kid?” You asked him.
He nodded, tight lipped. You gave him a pat on the shoulder over his jacket, crushed the cigarette butt under your heel, and followed him into the Hawkins church graveyard.
The earthquake hadn’t touched it. Thank god for small mercies. The little quaint rows of dark graves, lichen-dusted and overgrown, were in disturbed. You wove through the rows. It was quiet. Crows called from the forest. Most of the headstones were old, but there were quite a few fresh ones. Too many.
You were only here for one.
A small one. Simple grey granite. Simple engraving. Everything else has been too expensive: too far out of Wayne’s budget.
Christ. Just seeing it made your heart seize.
There were no flowers on Eddie Munson’s grave. They kept getting stolen. People muttering about how he didn’t deserve them. You couldn’t muster the strength, the fire to hate them anymore.
“Can I, uh.” You said tightly to the open air. To Dustin, standing behind you. “Can I have a moment? Alone?”
He swallowed and ducked his head. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.” He ambled back, away towards the church. Giving you space.
You breathed. Inhale, exhale. That’s what the therapist had said to do, anyway. Just breathe. She made it sound so easy. But nowadays your chest felt so tight, all the fucking time. “Edward Munson”, the headstone read. “1966-1986″. The engraving of a cherub angel right below it: wings spread, hands cupping its face, eyes shut. “Gone, but never forgotten.”
An empty grave. They never recovered his body. Too dangerous.
“...Hi.” God, your voice was so shaky. Ruined from the chain-smoking, now. “Uh, Eds. Hey. I, um. Miss you. Hope wherever you are,” you paused to look around at the weak, dappled autumn light coming through the dying forest, “it’s better than this place. Somewhere with sun. And free booze. And lots of, uh, babes in bikinis running around, because you’d probably be into that.” You smiled for a half-second. It faded fast.
“Wayne’s okay. He’s still working. Gotta keep the lights on, and stuff. I’ve been spending more time with him. Keeping him company, you know? I cook him dinner a lot. We watch movies. Sometimes we sit out on the porch and smoke. He... uh, he doesn’t like to talk about you. I think it hurts him too much. And fuck, who could blame him for that?”
Great. Fuck. Here comes the tears. A knot in your throat, heat in your eyes, blurring your vision. 
“...Hey, do you, um. Do you remember our best date? December, when we got snowed-in at my place? And we tried to dig your van out of the snowbank with fucking.... plastic toy shovels because I didn’t have a real one,” You were grinning again, looking at the grass between your feet, tears damp on your lashes, “And you were just so frustrated you threw yours into the neighbor’s yard? And then we just looked at each-other and burst out laughing? God. That was so fun. And then you, uh. Then you kissed me.
“...God. God. Fucking jesus christ sonovabitch motherfucker I fucking-” you choked. “I miss you. I fucking miss you. So much, every fucking day. Sometimes I feel like I wake up with a fucking hole in my chest, like someone has punched straight through me, Eddie, and I don’t know what to fucking do I miss you so much.”
You wiped your face. Wet, hot water on cold skin. “Ugh. I’m a mess. And I’m a smoker, now, too. I found a... a pack, you left in my room, and it all sort of spiraled from there. I keep finding you, do you know that? It’s like you’re everywhere I look. Your favorite music playing on my cassette mix. Your laugh coming from someone else. Your shirts hanging in my closet. Sometimes, I swear, I fall asleep at night and think I can still smell your stupid hair product on my fucking pillow. I miss you. I miss you.”
The headstone was silent and unresponsive. An autumn breeze ruffled the weeds. 
“Our anniversary is coming up. October 30th. Basically Halloween. First date we ever went on: the corn maze. You scared the shit out of me, jumping out of the maze wall like that. The look on your face when I punched you was... god, it was priceless. It was perfect.” More tears. Fucking tears. You were so tired of tears: tired of how they wrung you out like wet rag every night. “What we had... was perfect. Some real, actual fairytale shit. The knight and the princess. It was good. God, Eddie, it was so good.
“And you know what the worst part of it was?” You turned your face up to the sky, at that clear, unrelenting blue. “I think I fell in love with you. Right at the end. Right when the daffodils were starting to bloom in the spring. You looked at me, in the van, and I just realized... I realized I was in fucking love with you. And I never got to say the words out loud.”
You let yourself have your moment. You let yourself cry. Standing there, cold and tired and sleep-deprived and reeking like burnt tobacco, in front of the grave everyone else reviled. 
It passed. It left you hollow. 
You pulled your jacket tighter. “At least I have my dreams, right? I see you there. Like every night: you’re just standing there smiling at me. I loved that smile so much, Eddie-bear. Big megawatt smile. Mister Sunshine.” You fumbled for another cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag. “I, uh. I gotta go. Dustin needs a ride home, and I need to go clean the trailer for Wayne before he gets back from work. But I’ll come back. I’ll always come back. I promise.”
Another breeze. Shifting grass stalks. The crow on the distant tree branch squawked and took flight, a blot of black against cerulean blue. 
You looked over your shoulder towards the stone church, catching Dustin’s eye and jerking your head to call him over. He tromped over the patches of weeds. “I’m done. You can... you can say what you need to.”
He paled. “I’m okay. I just wanted to visit.”
You bumped his shoulder with yours. “It’s nice of you. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
He went even paler. His throat bobbed. “Yeah.”
“Let’s get you home.”
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Dustin waved goodbye to the car in his driveway, dodged his mother’s doting kisses in the living room, and hauled the phone and extended cord into his room, firmly shutting the door and sitting down heavily on his bed. He took a moment to run a hand through his mass of curls and blow air between his lips before reaching for the dial and punching the number in. A number he knew by heart: he didn’t dare write it down. 
A ringing line. A click. Silence.
“...It’s Dustin. Dustin Henderson. I need to speak to him.”
The agent’s voice was gruff on the other end of the line. “Kid, you can’t keep calling this number. It’s for emergencies.”
“I know. I know.” Dustin wetted his lips and crossed his legs on the mattress. “Can I just... for a few minutes? Please? I’ll make it fast.”
The agent sighed, low and tired. There was shuffling on the other end of the line, the sound of movement. “It’s the Henderson kid. You have five minutes.” The agent said faintly. 
The phone readjusted.
“You know, every time this thing rings I think the world is ending a second goddamn time.”
“Eddie.” Dustin breathed, grinning at his bedroom wall. 
“Hey, pipsqueak.”
“Man, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yeah, well...” There was a grunt, and a shuffle: Eddie, moving away from his designated agent, taking the phone with him. “The whole point of this witness protection shit is that you don’t, right?”
“How are you holding up?”
A dry, derisive laugh. “Well, considering I’m in the middle of goddamn nowhere, being babysat by some big asshole with a gun, eating microwave soup for lunch every day, with an entire state still wanting me for murder and everyone else thinking I’m a worm-filled corpse, not too bad.”
“...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Eddie heaved a sigh. Dustin could see him in his mind’s eye, a hand running down his face like he always did when he was exasperated. “It’s fine, man, it’s fine. I appreciate it, actually. Nice to talk to someone who doesn’t communicate almost exclusively in grunts. I’ve got, like, crazy cabin fever.”
“Have they told you how much longer you need to stay there?”
“No, man. They have not. I’m guessing until the fucking... satanic panic shit dies down and people stop writing articles on ‘Edward Munson, the devil of Indiana’.”
Dustin could hear the strain in the young man’s voice. It was a heavy burden to bear. Eddie was all alone, now. The world had abandoned him. And everyone save for Dustin and a handful of agents that had retrieved him and revived him even knew he was alive. It was for his protection, they told him. There was no way to clear his name, not really. Not ever. He’d always have this staining his name. All he could do now was start again.
“I’m really, really sorry, Eddie.”
“I know. I know you are.” The line was silent for a moment. “So why’d you call, man? Did you really miss your dear old DM that much?”
“Are you alone right now?”
“Yeah. Mr. Impassive just stepped out for a cigarette. What’s up?”
“She visited your grave again today.”
 A muffled swear followed by several more, and a long, drawn-out beat of silence. “She did? God. Christ. Fuck.”
“She visits like, every three days. Ever since your uncle had the headstone installed.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” Another pause. Again, Dustin knew so clearly that Eddie was probably hanging his head right now, probably running a hand through his even longer hair. “I really fucking miss her, man.” His voice wobbled. 
“I know.”
“That’s my girl. And she thinks I’m dead.”
“She doesn’t have to.” Before Eddie could say anything, Dustin launched forward. “Eddie, I think I should tell her.”
“What? Are you insane?” Eddie hissed. 
“Just- just hear me out, okay? Isn’t this the same girl who kept your relationship secret from everyone for months? And nobody suspected a thing? The same girl who you dealt to for like, three whole years, and not even her friends knew she smoked? If anyone can keep a secret, it’s her.”
“I know that, man, she’s- goddamn perfect. Henderson, you can’t tell her. Do you even- fuck, do you know how much danger that would put her in? Hawkins thinks I’m a serial killer.”
“Eddie, she needs to know. It’s wrecking her. She’s even stopped going to college.”
A throaty noise of pain escaped Munson over the phone. “I know. I know. I just... fuck. I want her to know, so bad. Jesus Christ, you think I don’t want her to know? I’d cut off my own arm just to see her again. But it’s too risky. And the government goons would be pissed.”
Dustin pulled out his trump card. “Eddie... she said she was in love with you.”
Silence. Utter silence. 
“At the church today. I had to stand there and listen to her say she loved you, that she still loves you, and that she never got to tell you. And I had to just... act sad, like I thought you were dead too. I don’t know how much longer I can lie to her.”
“...She said she loves me?”
“Yeah, man.”
The quiet was deafening. It went on for so long Dustin was wondering if the call had disconnected. 
“Do it.” Eddie’s voice was tight. 
“What?”
“Do it. Tell her.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. But, Dustin, man... do it gentle, okay?” Eddie’s voice had taken on a soft, wounded tone. A hurt Dustin hadn’t heard before. “Do it so fucking gentle. And tell her... tell her I love her. Tell her I love the shit out of her. That I have since the shovels.”
“...The shovels?”
“She’ll know what I mean.”
They chatted for a few more minutes. Somber and low: about Wayne, about Hawkins repairs, about Steve and Nancy and Garette and the rest of his band-mates. And then the agent stepped back in from his smoke break and commandeered the phone, severing their connection with a click. Dustin was left alone, holding the plastic phone to his ear, staring out the window and watching the sun track across the neighborhood outside. 
He ran a hand down his face. A habit he’d picked up in school from the metal-head. One more night, he promised himself. He’d tell her tomorrow. Shatter her entire world, re-open her wounds, flip reality on its head. 
But tonight, she could still have her dreams.
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thedevilinmybrain · 8 months
Note
harry and louis have a kid but aren't together anymore but everytime Louis get the kid back to harry he stays and they fuck
"Tired him out at the park?" Harry asks, holding the door open so Louis can come in, their four year old slumped into his shoulder. His dark curls are sticking up a little all over the place, cherub face slacked in sleep.
"He's going to be a footie legend. I'll telling you, Haz. Fucking magnificent." Louis praises in a hushed whisper, handing over the overnight bag with a grin. "Legendary."
"Did you feed him anything other than chicken nuggets?" Harry rolls his eyes fondly, shuts the door behind them witha solid click, the lock automatic.
"Yeah, 'course. Did the whole routine, bath and cuddles before this." Louis rolls his eyes, leads the way as the pair of them go to put their son down. Kisses to forehead and Harry turns on the white noise machine while Louis pulls the Peter Pan blanket up over the toddler's shoulders, makes sure he's in tight, before the sneak out the door and softly shut it behind them.
"I'll be back on Thursday to get him, alright? Same time?" Louis asked, starts making his way slowly towards the front.
"Louis," Harry murmurs, that low tone drawn out, accent thick. Louis knows what it's all for even before he turns, doesn't stop him from inhaling sharp at the sight of Harry opening his robe. He isn't even wearing lingerie this time, just naked skin and a splatter of familiar tattoos.
"Hazza." Eyes roving, Louis settles back on Harry's flushed cheeks, his bitten bottom lip.
"You could stay," Harry grins a little devilish, an angel with horns.
"I could." Louis agrees, of course he does. What the fuck else is he supposed to say when Harry arches his back a little like that?
"You should." Backing towards his open bedroom door, Harry beckons with his finger.
"Alright." Louis sheds his jacket on the way. He won't be leaving for a while.
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sluttyten · 1 year
Text
감이 오지? (Can You Feel It)
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Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist
Day Six: Daddy Kink w/ Shotaro
Word Count: 3,957
** a touch of choking, dominant!Shotaro, and mirror sex. Enjoy!
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When you first met Shotaro, you thought he was pure and innocent. A few quick interactions with him over the span of a week, and your mind was changed. In front of the cameras and the fans he was the picture of adorableness, like a baby animal inspiring affection from everyone who looks at it. But behind the cameras, when that act fell, when the sweetly cherubic grin and giggles became a smirk and a challenging glint in his eye, you learned the reality of Osaki Shotaro.
He was a force to be reckoned with.
In your dancing career you’d worked with many teammates, coaches, choreographers, challengers. Shotaro seemed to take on all of those roles.
You had a couple years of experience on him, but there was no denying that he had the talent. He was an idol, you were a backup dancer. And he used his advantage to take charge of the practice room, and it amazed you when the choreographers stepped back and let Shotaro coach you and choreograph you and the other dancers. They sat back and let Shotaro analyze the way all of you moved, spitting out his corrections, singling out dancers who messed up. He was part of this team, but you wouldn’t necessarily know it.
At the end of the first week, you wondered if any of you were going to make it to the stage that you were all prepping for. Shotaro, as well as the choreographers themselves, had many comments and criticisms about all of you. Shotaro more so than the rest because he monitored all of you like a hawk, even where you stood in the back of the choreo all the time, he’d called you out on little mistakes a few times.
The other dancers would grumble, bitching about Shotaro under their breath when he left the room.
“Does he think this is the fucking military?” One of the girls groaned, collapsing to the floor when Shotaro and his manager left the room for a quick phone meeting. “Fuck, like, we don’t have to all be in totally perfect unison.”
On the one hand, you could see that side of things. Shotaro drilled all of you toward perfection, and that could be extremely exhausting. On the other hand, you agreed with Shotaro’s vision. Perfection, nailing each angle and move identically to achieve perfect unison was an impressive sight in choreography.
So you kept your mouth shut about him. You respected him, liked him even more because there was passion in him, a drive you admired, and there was something more that spoke to a deeply-rooted desire in you that you didn’t quite have a name for.
After a week and a half of practicing choreo, it all reached a breaking point. A storm had been building all day—a literal storm brewed outside, as well as the figurative one inside the room. When one of the girls finally snapped at Shotaro, she stormed out of the room, tired of him berating her about getting one move right. To be fair, it was the same move he’d tried telling her how to do properly several times, she was just refusing to listen to his instruction, and as she was taking a notable role in the choreo at that part, her messing up was obvious.
Practice was called to an end then as everyone’s tempers were running a little high. The other girls, the choreographers, and one of Shotaro’s team who’d been there to film the practice for behind the scenes content filed out of the room, leaving only you and Shotaro and his manager behind.
“I’m staying to practice some more, hyung,” Shotaro tells his manager. “I’ll just catch a ride to the dorm some other way.”
You linger at the back of the practice room, inconspicuously moving things around in your bag like you’re actually doing something more than biding time until his manager leaves. You don’t have to wait long. Shotaro’s manager flees as quickly as he can, as if he can escape the sour mood of the room.
When you straighten up from your bag, you see Shotaro watching you in the mirror.
“You didn’t want to run away like the rest of them?” He asks, a tone of annoyance in his voice. “I know they think I’m a dick. That I’m scary.”
You smile a little bit at that. He’s intimidating and a little bit of a control freak, but he’s not a dick and he’s certainly not scary.
“I’m not gonna run away, Shotaro.” You walk closer towards him, and when you’re close enough to touch him, you do. You reach out, pressing a finger to his shoulder, you give a light push. Shotaro’s eyes gleam, his lips tilting in a smirk, his body turning as you follow through with your push, starting to circle him. “I’m not scared of you, sir.”
You turn your back to him so you’re facing the mirror. You watch in the reflection the way his eyes sweep up and down your back, a long look that gives you the confidence to ask for what you want.
“Can you teach me her part in the choreography? I bet I can do it better.” You’re feeling cocky, but it’s not an ungrounded confidence. You know you can do her part in the choreography, you just want to show Shotaro that you know. Maybe then you’ll get a better role.
“Will you actually listen?” Shotaro asks, stepping up behind you, so close you can feel the heat of him. “She can’t seem to handle that.”
You nod, catching his eye in the mirror. “I can handle you. I’ll let you take control, do whatever you say.”
There’s a double meaning behind your words, and you pray Shotaro understands. You’re here for the choreography, but you’re here for him too. The respect and admiration you have for Shotaro isn’t limited just to his abilities as a dancer. He’s hot, and there’s something about the way he commands the room that you find so attractive, so sexy.
Shotaro clicks his tongue, and he tilts his head alongside yours. His breath fans over your cheek, sending your heart into a frenzy you try to hide. He tells you, “Follow my lead.”
He slides away from you, leaving you feeling cold. But you watch him move over to the speakers in the corner as he queues up the music. You move into position.
When the music starts, it’s easy. This part you know by heart, memorized over the last week and a half.
You watch the mirror, the seams in the wall-length mirror frame the room with only you and Shotaro in it. You follow your moves and his, noting the complimentary smooth movements, each angle perfect, each shift in weight timed precisely at the same moment.
It’s different doing this here without the others. Having to locate the proper position without the others there to help coordinate yourself, but you’re also playing a slightly different role now, and as the part comes up of the girl who stormed out earlier, you watch Shotaro even closer, measuring the distance between you and him so you do this perfectly as you move into his space from behind.
You’ve watched them perform this bit a dozen times to unsatisfactory results. She doesn’t ace it the way Shotaro wants, and she doesn’t have the level of chemistry with him that would sell the performance.
As you circle around to stand in front of Shotaro, you try your best to let out all the caged in feelings you have for him. Let it show in your performance, on your face and in the way you move with him.
“Loosen up just a little here,” Shotaro instructs, his arms moving around you, touching you to guide your body into the proper angle, his hands on your arms to move them into the exact position. “Other than that, you’re doing perfect.”
You continue the rest of the song seamlessly, his instruction flowing with the choreography.
When the song finishes, Shotaro moves over to pause the music, before coming back over to where you’ve sat on the floor.
“Let me show it to you exactly. Step by step.” He offers his hand down to you. You slide your hand into his, and Shotaro pulls you to your feet.
He doesn’t start any music as he moves you to stand in front of him. He just hums the counts, slipping easily into the choreography.
This dance is sexy, intimate, in the way that idols perform sexiness and intimacy in a performance through gaze and suggestion. You’ve watched him and the other dancer perform this multiple times over the last week or so. They never touch. It’s always sliding gazes and hands hovering above skin, but there are no points of actual contact when they dance together.
This evening, there is no space.
Shotaro’s hand comes to rest on your waist, his body sliding up behind yours.
It’s not even that there’s no space. There is an utter lack of space, an erasure of the meaning of the word, only clothes exist between your body and his.
You watch Shotaro in the mirror, his body curling around yours, his hand drifting over your belly.
Your entire body thrums with barely-contained desire.
You know this choreography, you know what it’s supposed to look like. You know without a doubt in your mind that you are no longer following choreography.
His hand drifts higher, rising from your belly to your sternum. You pray that he can’t feel your heart making a valiant escape attempt from the cage of your chest. His palm presses right over your desperate pulse.
“Shotaro,” you sigh his name.
“Mm?” He hums, and you swear you can feel it all the way to your core. Your eyes are locked on your reflections in the mirror, the sight of his head bowed over yours, his hand rising yet again to skip over your collarbones, his fingers spreading around your throat. 
He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t apply any pressure as his hand comes up over your throat, but the picture in the mirror is just too pretty for you to contain yourself. 
A whimper breaks free first. You body giving in to its base desires as your hips rock desperately, needing something. And that encourages Shotaro. He brings his other hand to your hip, holding your hips back against him as he strokes a thumb down the span of your throat, leaning down while lifting his gaze to meet yours in the mirror. His lips are just about brushing your cheek when he asks, “Okay?”
You nod.
“No, I need to hear you say it.” Shotaro’s thumb presses in then, sending a sharp thrill through you that dissolves your feeble brain-to-mouth filter.
“Daddy,” is all that comes out.
But it’s enough.
Shotaro smirks.
You reach for his hands, covering each of his with your own. You press your fingers against his around your throat, and your other hand pushes his hand at your waist down beneath your shorts. 
“Touch me,” you beg, rolling your hips forward, curling your hands against both of his.
He pauses there, waiting. His fingers circling your throat, his other hand dipped just beneath the band of your shorts. Shotaro rocks his hips forward slowly, his body fits so perfectly against yours that you can feel all of your senses going a little haywire already. 
“Look at you,” he coos softly, “Already so desperate for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet?”
You moan in response, rolling your hips back in circles against his growing erection. Shotaro’s fingers bump your chin, tipping your chin up so you’re looking yourself in the face in the mirror. You do look desperate for it. His hand looks so nice around your throat, a pretty necklace to compliment the way his hand looks as he buries it deeper inside your shorts.
The bulge of his hand in the material of your shorts is obscene, especially considering that if you flick your gaze just a little to the right, you can see the door to the practice room reflected in the mirror. The door isn’t locked, nor is it solid. There are window panes on either side of the door as well as a panel of glass set into the door. The hour is late, but not late enough that the company building is abandoned. If anyone were to walk by or–god forbid–step inside the room, what the two of you are doing would be incredibly obvious.
Not that Shotaro seems all that bothered at the moment. 
His hand glides lower, skimming fingertips down into the heat, slipping over your clit, fingers spreading through your pussy lips to get to where you’re wettest. 
All you can do is try to keep your head up, eyes fixed on you and him in the mirror. Try to keep quiet because you know how sounds echo from this room. That’s so difficult to do when Shotaro is swirling his fingers over your clit, replacing his hand on your neck with his lips.
“I wanna hear you say it again,” Shotaro murmurs against your throat. 
“Daddy,” you moan without any further prompting.
He smiles at you in the mirror. “Good girl.”
You can’t help thinking of the sweet face Shotaro shows to the fans, starkly in contrast to his expression right now. He looks like he could eat you alive, in the best possible way, watching closely every change of your expression–the way that your mouth goes a little slack when he explores deeper inside your shorts, teasing his fingers there at your entrance. He grinds his hips against your ass in circles that match his movements against your clit. Your head sinks back against his shoulder, but still you watch your reflection.
The pair of you look good together like this. 
It’s explicit, obscene, this dance you both improvise. Your bodies roll together; Shotaro’s erection fits firmly in the cleft of your ass, and soon he’s moaning in your ear as your ass squeezes around his covered bulge. His fingers work quick circles over your clit. You watch as your knees buckle a little. Shotaro’s arm goes tight around your waist.
“Can Daddy fuck you?” He asks, grinding forward slowly, drawing out the sensation. 
All reservations about the unlocked door of the practice room, the possibility of being caught, all of those fly out of your mind, replaced instead by the overwhelming need to be dicked down by Shotaro right here, right now in front of this mirror in the practice room.
“Yes, God, please.” You reach for the waistband of your shorts, already pushing them down before Shotaro can get another word out. “Fuck, Shotaro.”
His hands twist in your shorts, dragging them down the rest of the way, and you look up into the mirror to see him admiring your bare ass in the moment right before he brings his hand down against it. “What did you call me?”
Shotaro, you’re tempted to say again, but you know what he wants to hear. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”
“Good girl,” he says, ducking in to peck you quickly on the cheek. “Now get on your hands and knees.”
The practice room’s flood is hard on your knees immediately. You face the mirror, watching Shotaro reach his hand inside his sweatpants, eagerly awaiting him pulling his cock out. He doesn’t disappoint. His cock is thick and heavy in his hand when he reveals it, and you wish you had more of a chance to admire it, perhaps the chance to suck his cock, but Shotaro drops to his knees behind you, his hands once again landing on your hips and your ass. 
Your entire body is flushed with the heat of your arousal as Shotaro slicks his fingers up against your weeping pussy. “Gonna be so sweet for Daddy, aren’t you? Finally getting what you’ve been wanting, right? Do you think I haven’t seen you during practice, watching me from the back? I’ve been watching you too, sweetheart.”
“Watching me too?” You ask, losing yourself in a gasp as Shotaro sinks two fingers into you. 
“Couldn’t you feel me watching you?” Shotaro asks. “You sure seemed like you were putting on a show sometimes when I watched you in the mirror.”
Of course you were. You were practicing for a performance. Though, admittedly, there had been a few occasions when you had thought you’d seen Shotaro’s attention lingering on you, and perhaps you’d put a touch more into looking sexy. But you weren’t about to admit that aloud to him.
Shotaro fucks you on his fingers, scissoring them inside you. “Gotta make sure you’re ready to take me,” he explains when you drop your head forward between your shoulders with a whine and a desperate push back of your hips.
“No, I’m ready. I can take it.” You lean down on your elbows, rocking yourself back on his fingers. “Just give it to me, Daddy.”
Shotaro hesitates for only a moment, and then he’s moving, pressing forward, nudging his cock up against your entrance, his fingers sliding down to entertain your clit instead, and there he goes, pushing into you. You moan, lowering your face into your arms. Shotaro is big, thick and heavy as he draws deeper inside you. All you can do is breathe through it, adjusting to him.
“Does it feel good?” Shotaro asks, his tone teasing as he pulls back slightly to give a little thrust. A garbled sound is all that escapes you, to his amusement. “Can you feel it, sweetheart? Or should I do it a little harder?”
Another garbled sound from you, though you hope this one sounds like encouragement. He feels so… filling. Stretching you around him in a way that leaves you feeling complete in that moment. And when he starts moving, giving shallow thrusts at first, your eyes roll and you have to keep your head buried in your arms. 
Slowly the steady rolling of Shotaro’s hips grows more intense. Bigger thrusts with bigger reward. Your heartbeat is ever-present in your pussy and in your belly and everywhere, even in your fingertips as your attempt to push up from the floor at last, wanting to look at the image of the two of you reflected in the mirror.
It’s a pretty sight. Shotaro’s head is bowed, watching his cock disappear inside you, watching the way your pussy stretches and hugs his cock. His hair is damp at the temples, curled a little in front of his face. He’s so handsome in that moment, so sexy and cute and crushworthy, all you want is to twist back around and drag him into a kiss.
But before you can go about initiating the change in position, Shotaro gives one particularly sharp- and well-aimed thrust that knocks the strength right out of you. Your arms give out again, and you once more bury your face against them. 
Shotaro picks up a steady stream of fuckfuckfuck, and you feel as if you’re not too far from it either. His fingers work rapidfire on your clit, his other hand reaches for your hair, pushing his fingers through it like he’s about to yank on it (which you really wish he would because damn that would feel so good), but instead he brushes your hair aside in favor of curling his fingers once more around your throat.
Your gasp of surprise catches as Shotaro applies pressure to your throat just right, skilled like he actually knows what he’s doing, his thumb pressing in. Your eyes roll, your heart pounding, a thrill racing through you. 
Shotaro choking you is that perfect strike of flint, the spark that sets you alight. 
Your orgasm rocking through you does nothing to slow Shotaro. He fucks you through it until your thighs are twitching, your eyes roll and stream with tears. His fingers are still fast-moving on your clit. This is much, much more than you could have hoped for–the sweet, innocent Shotaro you’d first met a little over a week ago is long gone, replaced by this dominant Shotaro who keeps pressing into you even as you’re tipping into overstimulation.
His fingers slip from your throat, and you gasp in a clear breath, exhaling his name.
Shotaro’s fingers twist in your hair, pulling you up so your back is against his chest, holding your head up so all you can see is your face, teary-eyed and flushed with arousal, staring back at you from the mirror. 
“Look at yourself, pretty girl, look at how good I make you feel.” Shotaro’s lips are against your ear, his breath hot on your cheek. “I hope you think about me, about Daddy’s cock deep in your belly, every time you’re in this room, looking in this mirror while you try to dance.”
You somewhat doubt that you’ll ever look in a mirror again without thinking of this. 
Shotaro holds you there like this, faced with yourself in the mirror as he continues thrusting into you, your body rocking on hands and knees, your face contorting with the pleasure as Shotaro finally hits his breaking point.
You lift your gaze to his face as Shotaro cums. You watch his face crumple, his mouth fall open as he moans for you, moans in relief while he pulls out of you. You can’t see, but you can feel, as Shotaro jerks off over your ass, his cum splattering over your lower back, painting your ass, dripping down the cleft of your cheeks over your pussy.
Shotaro slumps back onto his heels on the floor, his breath coming hard and heavy for a few moments. You finally let your legs slide out from under you, bury your face in your arms again, and you lie there like that to recover, not even caring that your bare cum-covered ass is out for the world to see.
It’s only when Shotaro regains his senses, tucking his cock away, crawling over your stretched out form, that you’re covered up. You make a half-formed sound when you feel him shimmying your shorts back up your legs, up over the sticky mess he left on you. Shotaro’s hands settle on either side of your hips as he leans over you. His lips touch against your shoulder, his fingers brush against your hair.
“Hello? Are you okay?” His voice is light, teasing. “Did my cock knock you out, pretty girl?”
You twist around beneath him, rolling onto your back. Shotaro grins, cocky and pleased with himself at how dazed and dick-drunk you still look. 
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you only have time to nod halfway before Shotaro kisses you, his lips warm and intoxicating, making you forget that you’re still on the floor of the practice room. That all of this has transpired in the practice room, on what is probably a less-than-sanitary floor. But he’s kissing you, and you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than that.
Your fingers twist in the front of Shotaro’s shirt, holding him there, keeping him kissing you until you’re both breathless. 
Shotaro drops a last peck to your lips, and as he sits up, lifting himself away from you, you try to draw him back in for one more. He only laughs, tapping a finger against your lips. “Ah, ah, pretty girl. It’s getting late.” He sits back on his heels to watch you push up onto your elbows, and then he asks, with a grin that throws you back to the cherubic version of him you first met, “Do you think you could give me a ride home?”
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weird-workings · 1 month
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Alec Bohm 🌾 (18+) Headcannons
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ALEC
he’s perfectly content with slow, soft, making love
he honestly prefers it when he comes back from away games
it gives him time to hold you as close to him as possible
he doesn’t always want to have rough sex or a kink/bdsm scene
but if you want rough and kinky?
it’s a complete shift
especially after they lose a game
he plays golden retriever in public but once he gets you alone?
I said in my dating headcannons he likes when you take charge and yank him around
but Sweetheart
you only get to do that because he lets you
he’s dirty
nasty
I said it
I’LL SAY IT TWICE
HE LIKES NASTY, MESSY SEX
you cannot convince me otherwise
I’ve never met a man with long hair who isn’t some type of freaky
and he’s no different
(he’s from Nebraska for fucks sake)
100% dom
does not sub ever
D E G R A D A T I O N
will fuck you stupid
will call you his stupid little slut
he likes the idea of bondage
but he doesn’t want anything restraining you other than him
he doesn’t leave many love bites or hickies
the handprints on your hips, wrists, and ankles are harder to hide
he has bruised your hips/ass with how strong his thrusts are
will spit in your mouth
only spanks you when you want to be a brat
he threatens to fuck it out of you
but he likes your feistiness a little too much
he’ll still deny your orgasms though
his dom drop is kind of severe between the scene and aftercare
the rough and gruff is gone and he’s back to his happy-go-lucky cherub self
his aftercare is immaculate
he’s so soft and vulnerable
remorseful about how rough he was, even if you loved every minute
kiss him to shut him up
give him reassurance
Ok I might have gotten carried away with that but I stand by every damn word of it!
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ennas-aesthetic · 3 months
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redeemer in death
rated M, ~2k words
Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Relationships: Crowley & Jesus (Good Omens); Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Tags: Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions); Character Study; Scene: Crucifixion of Jesus 33 AD (Good Omens); Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens); She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens); Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens); Angry Crowley (Good Omens); Emotional Hurt; Crucifixion; mentions of flogging; Angst and Tragedy; Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens); Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens); 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens); Exploration of religious trauma; One Shot
Summary:
"The Big Plans those wank-wings up there are talkin' about? What they’ve fawned over for ages? It's this. She wants Her Son dead."
"You'll be there, of course," Ligur adds. "Front row seats. We'll need a report."
"'Course," Crawley says. She drains her cup in one go. Looks like Jehoshaphat’s shit wine would not last till Passover, after all. "Report, right. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
༻❁༺
Before his Crucifixion (and impending Death), the Serpent of Eden tempts the Carpenter from Galilee one last time.
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___________________________
Crawley becomes very, very still. Vaguely she notices that there’s a ringing in her ears, though where it’s from she cannot tell. “You think… Do you think I was sent here by God to tempt you?”
He is quiet now – face contorted, eyes squeezed shut. His bloodied lips are trembling, whispering words that Crawley cannot understand. She has never understood Her, the ways with which She uses and maims, and now Her Son is shivering with pain and agony on the floor, born to die like a lamb for slaughter, and all She can do is watch from afar.
And Aziraphale says She is benevolent. Aziraphale says She is omniscient, not to be questioned. Unbidden in her mind Crawley sees the anxiety that disfigured the cherub-turned-principality’s lovely face: How much trouble could I get into just for asking a few questions?
“No, fuck that,” Crawley whispers. And then, more angrily, “Fuck that! I’m not here for Her, Nazarene. I’m here for you! I’m offering you the same thing I tried to give you in the Wilderness! You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to be their tool, not when they don’t give two shits about you!”
Read On AO3
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atiny-piratequeen · 1 year
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Find Your Way Home (Ch 𝟷/𝟹)
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𓆩⟡𓆪Summary:
Wooyoung is a culinary student and he and two of his best friends have been brought along to Namhae to learn and study the farmers out in the countryside and disconnect a bit. Reluctant at first, he just wishes he could've been back in the city and close to his long-time crush Yeosang. Things change when he lays his eyes on the dimpled country boy staying with them that show them around and teach them more about Namhae's way of life, all with a spine-tingling Satoori.
Maybe things aren't so bad out here in the sticks, after all.
𓆩⟡𓆪Pairing: WooSan + Endgame WooSanSang
𓆩⟡𓆪Genres/Aus: Non-Idolverse, Fluff, Romance, Humor, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Fish Out Of Water Tropes, Au, Mutual Pining, Country Boy San, Culinary Student Wooyoung, Poly Endgame (I promise ik Yeo literally isn't in this first part just trust me)
𓆩⟡𓆪Tws: Mentions of not-so-subtle Homophobia, Isolation, Prejudice, Anxiety, Swearing
𓆩⟡𓆪Sws: Sexual Exploration, Muscle Kink, Frottage, Groping, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Teasing, Praise,
𓆩⟡𓆪Rating: Explicit (18+)
𓆩⟡𓆪WC: 12.7k+ (LMAO)
𓆩⟡𓆪A/n: This is part one of two commissions by the lovely @schone-lie! I know I went...way over what you asked for *wheeze* But your prompt was just so good, I hope you and everyone else reading enjoys this little two-parter xoxo
𓆩⟡𓆪Next Chapter𓆩⟡𓆪
𓆩⟡𓆪AO3| Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪
𓆩⟡𓆪Network Ping- @kwritersworld | @kdiarynet | @k-vanity 𓆩⟡𓆪
𓆩⟡𓆪©atiny-piratequeen. do not repost, translate, or use my works𓆩⟡𓆪
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Trees roll by, one after the other, some with blossoms sprouting from them, some with cherub birds sitting upon the branches, singing a beautiful melody that carried with the wind. The road is bumpy and nearly non-existent, and the chatter in the car is interrupted every now and again by the sound of chuckles and the occasional startled; ‘oof!’ that comes from someone mid-sentence. 
Wooyoung fucking hates it. 
“Fix your face, I promise a little fresh air isn’t gonna kill you.” Wooyoung looked up front, glaring at Kibum through the rearview mirror. 
“When you said we’d be learning on location for the majority of the summer I expected…more.” He grumbled. Kibum narrowed his gaze right back at him, unimpressed. 
“After several hours of you bitching, I was hoping you’d get tired. You could have, at any time, decided to not come.” He reminded him, turning the steering wheel. Changbin hummed from his spot in the front seat and Yeonjun, who sat in the back with Wooyoung, looked equally displeased, though he’d been primarily on his phone and had been keeping quiet for most of the drive. 
“And miss out on 80% of our summer course? Plus I couldn’t even opt in for the digital video courses because the internet connection in this place is ass .” 
Key turned into a driveway and parked, turning around to look at Wooyoung as if he was his own misbehaved son. 
“Right, so you wanted to come. Shut up, quit ya bitching, and take a walk on the beach or something later. Maybe you’ll pull that broomstick out of your ass. I’m your teacher and the three of you are my best students, but so far the only one who hasn’t made me want to throw him out of this vehicle while it's moving is Changbin. Take some time and disconnect for fuck’s sake.” He leveled him with a stare, and while displeased, Wooyoung didn’t say another word, simply crossing his arms in annoyance. Yeonjun’s brows furrowed as he failed to load something for the tenth time and put his phone away, muttering an annoyed curse under his breath.
“City boys, I swear.” Kibum grumbled, stepping out of the car and sliding a pair of sunglasses on his face. 
He’d pulled up to what looked to be a multifamily home, and if they weren’t so annoyed, Wooyoung and Yeonjun might have been impressed by the size of the home. 
“Tag! You’re it!” 
Four heads turn to the left as a little girl came bounding around the corner, her pigtails bouncing as she ran full speed down the street. She giggled and squealed until she ran into Kibum, bouncing off of the man and nearly falling, had he not reached out to grab her hand. Her lip wobbled for a moment before she looked up, staring at him. 
“Oh!” 
He smiled, kneeling in an instant. 
“Goodness, you’ve gotten big, Gahyeon. Are you okay?” 
“UNCLE KEY!” She latched onto him in an instant, her arms and legs wrapping around his torso like a koala. The three men behind him blinked in surprise before they looked up, hearing laughter come from upfront. 
“Baby girl, what did mommy tell you about running out like that? It can be dangerous if there are cars or bikes.” A short woman stood before them, her eyes catlike and intimidating as she sized up the three men. They all bowed without hesitation, and she smiled. 
“My name is Chaerin. This is my home. You three boys will be staying here with me and my family this summer. To whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?” She inquired. 
“My name is Changbin, Noona.” 
“Yeonjun, it's nice to meet you.” 
“Wooyoung, thank you for sharing your home with us.”
Chaerin smiled in approval, looking at Kibum as he stood to his full height. 
“Let’s go inside, gentlemen. I’ll introduce you to my family and who you’ll be staying with up on the top floor.” 
The men filtered into the home, toeing their shoes off at the door and standing back as two little boys also rushed by, looking no older than four or five. They spotted the strangers and ducked behind Chaerin’s legs, peeking out after she laughed and placed her hands upon both of their heads. 
“Eomma, who are they?” they whispered. Chaerin smiled and ruffled their hair. 
“Your new hyungs.” 
Their eyes lit up, and in an instant, Wooyoung felt a pair of tiny arms wrap around his leg. He looked down, unsure of what to do as a wide-eyed boy looked at him, already missing one of his front teeth as he smiled up at him. 
“My name is Eric! You’re my Hyung? Are you going to stay? You can share my bed! It’s a racecar bed! Hyung do you like cars? Blue is my favorite color! I hear you're from the city! Do they have a lot of blue cars in the city?” Eric spoke a mile a minute and Wooyoung looked up in mild distress at Chaerin. She laughed and offered no kind of help, amused at the situation, while her other son, a small boy in a bear onesie, didn’t move from his spot, staring at them with a guarded look. 
“Jongho? My baby, won’t you say hi?” 
Jongho shook his head and hid behind her leg. 
“Not until Sannie comes home. I don’t know them, Eomma.” 
Chaerin smiled and picked him up, sending a courteous smile to them. 
“Don’t mind my baby here. He’s a bit more guarded. His favorite boy in the whole world is out working today so he’s in a cranky mood.” She informed them. 
“Who is San? Is he another one of your sons?” Changbin inquired, picking up Eric and laughing at his chatter before they followed Chaerin deeper into the house. She shook her head, setting Gahyeon on the counter before turning to them. 
“Yes and no, he’s a boy Jiyong and I took in. He’s a sweetheart, I’m sure you all will love him. He’s about the same age as you all.” She leaned against the counter, taking in the men across from her once more. 
“Namhae is a lot different from where some of you are from, I’m sure. I’m from Gangnam-Gu. So I know full well that this may be an out-of-sorts experience for you all, but I ask that you approach this little town with an open mind and a sense of exploration.” She sent them a smile, watching the three youngest and the way their eyes widened. 
“ You’re from Gangnam-Gu?!” Wooyoung gasped in surprise. Chaerin nodded, crossing her ankles. 
“My husband and I are fashion designers. We live in Gangnam for most of the year, but spend the summer months here in Namhae. San lives here full-time and takes care of the house while we’re gone, he's a good boy. Be nice to him, you hear?” She pointed a painted nail at all of them, smiling when all of them nodded without hesitation. 
“Miss Sannie…” Jongho quietly muttered from beside her, pointing at the stairs. Kibum smiled. 
“Are you gonna show us upstairs, Jongho?” 
He nodded and walked towards the stairs, occasionally looking behind him to make sure they were following. One by one, he toddled up the stairs before looking back. When he noticed them following, he sped up, guiding them to the upper floor. 
It was cleaned, not a speck of dust to be found, but one could tell that it definitely was lived in. Well-kept plants sat in the windowsill, with some of them beginning to flower. There were bowls lined up on the counter, seemingly in preparation for a meal for later. Three sleeping bags sat rolled up on the couch, with little cards attached to each of them. 
Jongho waddled all the way to the bags, grabbing the cards before he made his way back, looking up at the culinary boys. 
“One for Changbin-hyung….Yeonjun-hyung…Wooyoung-hyung.” His pronunciation had been a bit off as he handed it correctly to each man, and Wooyoung felt a bit of his annoyance melt away. Jongho truly was a cute kid. 
Turning his attention back to the letter in his hand, he noticed it had been lightly scented, and brought it to his nose without a second thought. When he did, he was pleasantly surprised to find it had been misted with a cologne that had some amber and vanilla notes to it. 
His favorite. 
Opening the letter, he scanned over it with a curious tilt of his head. 
“Hello and welcome to Namhae! I’m sorry I can’t be here as soon as you come in to greet you, and I probably won’t be back until close to sundown. I believe this is your first time visiting this little village and I’ll be happy to show you around and help you get accustomed to a slower-paced way of living! I’ll cook dinner tonight so you all can rest, and we can start exploring the village and the forest just outside then, too. If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know and I’ll happily do my best! 
These sleeping bags are for camping nights, by the way. There are two rooms that have beds big enough to share. Kibum-hyung said Changbin and Yeonjun can take one and Wooyoung and I can take the other.  
Let’s make this summer one to remember! 
-San” 
Wooyoung looked at the small mountain beside his name and smiled. 
At least everyone so far seemed nice. 
Jongho, satisfied with the small smiles on the men’s faces, nodded and turned to waddle away, carefully taking the stairs one step at a time. 
“Alright boys, that’s enough daydreaming, come help me unload the car.” Kibum’s voice called from downstairs, snapping them out of their collective bubble of thought. Changbin looked at his other two friends and jabbed his thumb toward the stairs. 
“I don’t think it’ll be that bad.” He gave them an optimistic smile. Yeonjun checked his phone, sighing. 
“It probably won’t be but I wish the connection were better. Soobin-”
“Soobin will be just fine without you blowing his damn phone up every two seconds. You can still send him messages, it just looks like it’ll take longer for it to get through.” Changbin lightly nudged hum, hardly flinching at the swat Yeonjun landed on his arms, both of them bickering as they headed down the stairs. 
Wooyoung tucked his note in his pocket and followed. If he were being honest, Yeosang would’ve probably loved this place, even if it did limit his connection with the outside world. 
-Later-
Wooyoung had been drifting slightly on the couch, curled up beside Changbin when the door suddenly opened. There was a grunt from someone, and the undeniable scent of garlic instantly drifted into his nose. 
“I’m home!” 
“OPPA!/HYUNG!” 
Wooyoung startled into a sitting position as a chorus of screams rang out. He watched Gahyeon, Eric, and Jongho go sliding across the floor, jumping up and latching themselves onto the person who’d just come in. 
Instantly, Wooyoung felt like he’d been grabbed by the throat. 
Standing in the doorway, was a man standing about the same height as he did, his dimples deep and prominent as he smiled, spinning the three children around as they clung to him. His hat had fallen off in the process, revealing inky black hair that clung to his forehead from the presumed sweat of the summer heat outside. Wooyoung could hardly see his eyes as he smiled, laughing as the three children began to excitedly chatter about the day without pause.
“Yah, let the poor man come inside and get comfy first!” Chaerin scolded, sticking her head out of the master bedroom. San’s laughter died down after another minute or two of cuddling, and it was then that he met Wooyoung’s gaze. 
Wooyoung awkwardly moved his hand, sending him a quite pathetic wave. 
“Hi.” 
The man’s face lit up and he crossed the room in an instant, bowing without dropping any of the kids. 
“Oh! You’re here safely! I’m glad!” He beamed. Wooyoung had been a bit taken aback by his energy, but nodded. 
"I'm guessing you're San?"
"The one and only~ I'll be your local guide 'round here. I'll take care of you all, don't worry." He beamed, hands on his hips. Changbin sent him a smile. 
"Thanks. Your letter said you'd make dinner. Did you want any help?" He inquired. San shook his head, lightly setting the trio of toddlers down. 
"No, no. First meal's always on me when it comes to friends and family. Do any of you have any allergies?" He looked at them with an almost doe like expression, and Wooyoung had no choice but to tease him. 
"Garlic." He responded, keeping his voice neutral. Namhae had been known for its production of garlic, amongst other things. San's eyes widened immediately, lips parting as a horrified noise left his lips. 
"Oh no , wait hold on I have to look into a different meal I'm so sorry , oh god I almost killed him-"
Wooyoung covered his mouth, laughing behind his hand as he watched San fret. Kibum looked up from the book he had been reading across the room, glaring at him. He sent Wooyoung a look akin to a mother about to hurl her shoe, and Wooyoung tried to stifle his laughs. 
“I’m kidding. I just wanted to tease you a bit. I don’t have any allergies.” 
San blinked owlishly, looking moments away from having a crisis, before his brows furrowed. 
“Oh!...Oh.” He crossed his arms, pouting as he looked at him. 
“Oh, haha. I’ll start cooking, I’ll call you all when it’s ready.” He set all three of Chaerin’s children down, kissing their heads before making his way to the upper floor. Wooyoung watched him go, noticing the lines of his muscles after he pulled off his jean jacket. 
Changbin gently nudged him, sending him a knowing look. 
“You’re so obvious about it.” He teased. Wooyoung rolled his eyes and leaned against him, playing an offline game on his phone. 
“If I’m gonna be stuck in the country, I might as well enjoy the view.” He muttered. Changbin chuckled and went back to idly drawing. 
The sound of simmering meat soon drew Wooyoung’s attention, alongside the scent of garlic and onions. 
Yeonjun lifted his head, sniffing a few times. 
“Hm…Bulgogi. And-” He sniffed once more. “Some kind of fried chicken and…soup? I smell broth.” 
Chaerin looked at him in interest before tilting her head. 
“You got all of that from a few sniffs?” She inquired. He smiled proudly and Kibum made a motion with his hand. 
“These three are my top students. Yeonjun has a very sensitive nose, Changbin can tell each and every ingredient you use in any dish, and Wooyoung has quite a photographic memory, you show him once how to cook a meal and he’ll never forget.” 
All three of Kibum’s proteges smiled and Chaerin put her hands on her hips, holding out a glass to them. 
“Alright then. Tell me what’s here.” 
Changbin took a sip and smacked his lips together. Yeonjun sniffed once and sat back with a smile on his face, crossing his arms. Changbin nodded and smiled, handing the drink off to Wooyoung for him to enjoy the rest of it.
“Oh, that’s good.” 
“Tell me what you picked up on, then.” She smiled, gesturing. Changbin wrote them down on a piece of paper she slid over to him from the counter and then passed it over to her, motioning for Yeonjun to tell her verbally. Wooyoung watched them, sipping the drink with a small smile on his face. He’d never had something like this before. 
“Rice, surprisingly, water, almonds, cinnamon, almond milk, evaporated milk, vanilla, aaaand agave. Right?” he inquired. Her lips quirked, sending him a thumbs up, showing them the paper and the identical list Changbin had written out for her. 
“That’s impressive, boys. It's called Horchata. I had a friend of mine overseas teach me to make it a few years back and now it's a personal favorite of mine and my husband’s.” She noticed the glass that had been passed to Wooyoung had been nearly completely downed, a small cream colored moustache left at the top of his lip
“-and apparently a favorite of Wooyoung’s too.” She smiled. 
Footsteps drew their attention to the stairs and San poked his head down, a towel around his shoulders as he smiled at them. 
“Dinner is almost ready.” 
One by one, they all filed upstairs, sitting around the table. San served each of them, with garlic fried chicken, bulgogi, a side of rice, and miso soup. 
“I know it’s probably nothing compared to city-style food, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. It's what my Grandma and Grandpa used to make whenever we had guests over.” San set out glasses in front of everyone, letting them have their choice of what to drink while he moved to help the little ones settle into their chairs. 
Wooyoung took a bite and immediately felt warmth bloom inside of him. The meat was of good quality and had been marinated perfectly. It hadn’t been the most exquisite taste he’d had in the world, but something about it made him feel like he had been welcomed home after a long journey. 
“What brings you all here, anyway?” San inquired, breaking apart pieces of the unspicy chicken he’d made to the side so Jongho could eat. Kibum pointed his chopsticks at his three students. 
“These three want to join my restaurant team, and they certainly have the potential, but I want them to take the time to understand different types of cuisine, and sometimes that includes the difference in culture and region. There’s a certain soul people put into their food that’s different from person to person.” He explained. Yeonjun didn’t say a word, cheeks bulged with food. Changbin simply nodded while Wooyoung’s head had been lost in the clouds. 
San glanced across the table at the men before he nodded, listening to the light conversation at the table and adding his two cents here and there. 
The rest of the dinner had been light-hearted and casual, with San helping carry the tired toddler trio downstairs before returning upstairs. 
“If it helps, there’s some better connection in the southern part of the house. Not the strongest, but it’s something.” He offered, finding Yeonjun checking his phone once more. He perked in response to this, not-so-subtly excusing himself and jogging downstairs. Changbin yawned and retired for the night 
Wooyoung sat by the window, staring out at the village. Most of the businesses had closed already for the day, and there wasn’t the familiar sense of business that he was used to. Instead, the night was still, with the crickets and owls replacing the birds from earlier with their own nocturnal songs. 
“I hope I can help you enjoy this a bit more.” 
Wooyoung looked over his shoulder, blinking in confusion as San sat beside him, one knee pulled up to his chest. He stared up at the moon through the window, humming for a moment as he looked for the words. 
“I’ve only met Kibum-hyung once last year. His proteges ended up leaving before the end of a full week. I don’t know what happened to them after that, or if they even stayed with his culinary program, but Namhae is a lot more special than it seems at first.” San spoke quietly, as if to not disturb Changbin as he rested just a few feet from them. Wooyoung sighed and rolled his tongue along his cheek. 
“I’m sure I’ll get over it. It’s just a bummer. Yeosang and I had plans this summer and instead, I have to be here.” the words sounded a bit more aggressive than he had meant it in his head and San pressed his lips into a line before the mildly offended look was gone a moment later. 
“Yeosang, you mentioned him earlier too when you were eating. Is he your friend?” He inquired, trying to steer the conversation a bit away from Wooyoung’s offending tone a second ago. Wooyoung realized how he’d come off and shook his head. 
“Sorry I didn’t mean it like that, what I mean is-ugh sorry. That’s really such a dick way of putting things.” He apologized and San smiled softly, lightly patting his knee. 
“Thank you. Continue.” 
Wooyoung looked down at his hand before he went back to answer the question. 
“Yeosang is my best friend. He loves things like this, I’m sure he would have been perfect for this kind of trip, but he has studies to do so he couldn’t take any time off this summer to come with.” Wooyoung sighed and San hummed, tilting his head ever so slightly. 
“I take it you two have been friends for a long time?” 
“Since childhood. I met Changbin and Yeonjun in high school and the four of us have been nearly inseparable. This is the first time since who knows how long we've been apart.” He mumbled. San nodded, gently squeezing his knee. 
“How bout I be your friend? You gotta see my pretty face every day for the next three months, anyway.” He winked. Wooyoung looked back at him and sent him a smirk. 
“Since you’re offering, I think that sounds lovely.” He shot back. San chuckled and removed his hand from his knee, standing to stretch. A sliver of his stomach drew Wooyoung’s attention as his t-shirt rose with the motion, with a definable dip in his hips and a neatly trimmed trail leading down from his navel and disappearing into the waistband of his pants. 
The moment he dropped his arms, Wooyoung looked up as if he hadn’t been ogling. 
“I’m gonna take a bath and head to bed. Will you follow me for a sec? I just wanna make sure you have the right room.” he beckoned Wooyoung to follow him before making his way out of the room, yawning audibly. 
The room was cozy, with some more plants sitting upon a desk along with some messily arranged stationary that matched the letters the three of them received. A smile came to his face, and he found it cute how much San had seemingly fretted about their arrival. His wastebasket was half full of crumpled paper, the remnants of rejected letters, and as San cleared his throat, clearly flustered, Wooyoung sent him a smug smile. 
“You really were excited to have us come, it seems.” He teased. San rubbed the back of his neck, not denying it as a blush crept up to his cheeks. 
“I don’t have any friends my age, so it's nice to have these summers where new folks may come by. Plus, just like I can teach you all about this village and our way of life, I’d like to learn more about city life, too. I’ve never been outside of Namhae.” 
Wooyoung’s smile fell, picking up on the lonely tone in his voice and the way he refused to meet his eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out, and an awkward pause stretched between the two of them. 
“Erm. I’m gonna go take that shower now. I’ll try to come back quietly just in case you’re asleep before I get out.” San bowed and made his way out hastily, leaving Wooyoung stunned by the revelation. 
Wooyoung shook himself out of it a moment later, shuffling over to his bag to get something comfortable to wear to bed. It was large, though with two of them, they probably would be a bit snug. He hummed quietly and shrugged, climbing into bed and resting on top of the sheets. Once he did, he felt himself drifting, nuzzling the pillow. 
He was already long asleep by the time San returned. The slightly older man looked at him, gently draping a light blanket over his shoulders before he carefully made his way into the bed, tucking himself under the covers and curling up ever so slightly, smiling to himself.  
-6 am-
“Okay, time to wake up.” 
Wooyoung cracked his eyes open, a disgruntled noise leaving his lips as he looked up. 
“Wha-”
“It's time to get up and at em, we’re actually late.” 
Wooyoung squinted at his phone screen and sent San a dirty look. 
“Are you out of your mind-” 
“Nope~ Cmon, we gotta go!” San smiled from ear to ear, already dressed and heading outside to wake Changbin and Yeonjun. 
Roughly twenty minutes later, all three of the city boys were trudging downstairs, where Kibum had already been waiting, offering them cups of convenience store coffee. He had a knowing smile on his face as he looked at them. 
“Oh don’t worry, boys. Once you get the hang of it, your body will wake you up naturally.” 
Even Changbin sent him a dirty look as they took the coffee, following San outside to his car. It looked to be older than all of them if Wooyoung was being honest. San hopped up into the car, smiling from ear to ear as it started up. 
"I do a lot of work on ol' Atiny here. Don't worry your heads one bit. She'll get us there no problem." San winked. Wooyoung really did find himself liking the man's Satoori more than he should, climbing in the car without any further complaint. 
The drive to the garlic farm was a rather long one. San didn't put on the radio, keeping his voice down as he spoke quietly to Kibum up front, as if giving the city boys in the back the opportunity to fall asleep for the ride. 
Wooyoung appreciated the gesture, but he kept himself awake, listening quietly. 
"Have you been taking care of yourself?"
San smiled softly, looking forward. 
"I certainly have been trying. I just do what I can."
Kibum hummed, settled back in his chair. 
"You could always move to the city. Spend some time with some like-minded folks."
San drummed his fingers along the wheel. He didn't say a word for a while. 
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it after the festival incident. The years after that haven't been kind to me, honestly."
Wooyoung perked slightly at that, feigning disinterest as he listened quietly. San had such a sorrowful tone in his voice as he mentioned whatever this 'incident' was. 
Kibum shook his head and opened his mouth to say something before he thought better of it and simply closed his mouth and let out a small huff. 
"If you ever change your mind, you have my number. That or let Jiyong and Chaerin know and I'm positive you'll be able to get on your feet in the city."
San hummed a tune Wooyoung had never heard before, pulling up a winding dirt road toward a farm. 
"We'll see. I appreciate it, regardless." He parked the car and turned the engine off, sending Key a dazzling dimpled smile before turning to the back. 
"Alright, gentlemen! Time to get up and at em!" He rose his voice, startling the trio to attention. He smiled sweetly and pointed out to the fields. 
"First, is our lesson in farming. Today, we pick garlic bulbs to get them prepped for sale later down the line." 
The men piled out of the car, looking out into the field and finding some middle-aged and even senior-aged farmers already out and about, their baskets already a quarter of the way filled. San smiled and pointed to his left. 
“This way.” he guided them, smiling sweetly and waving and nodding in acknowledgment at some of the farmers that caught their eye. Wooyoung couldn’t help but notice some of them seemed…less than enthused to wave back, and some ignored him outright, watching the group pass with a small shake to their head once they believed they weren’t being watched by the group of young men. 
Wooyoung felt his lips purse in displeasure, looking at the back of San’s head. If he noticed, he didn’t seem phased in the slightest, handing each of them a small, hand-held rake-like tool. 
"You're lookin' for the ones that have some browning in the lower leaves. These garden forks can loosen up the soil around them so you can get the bulbs out. Once you do, set it in your baskets." San instructed, moving aside and kneeling. 
Wooyoung watched as Kibum got right to it, with Changbin and Yeonjun exchanging a look and pairing off to begin their harvesting. Wooyoung lingered for a moment before he stepped a bit closer to San, kneeling and glancing at him. 
San was much faster than anyone he'd ever seen before, and Wooyoung’s brow furrowed in no time. San noticed his lack of movement and glanced at him before sending him a charming smile, his eyes crinkling and his dimples deep as he slowly raked his fork over the soil, carefully softening it. He checked the stem, running his thumbs over the bottom leaves. Wooyoung followed the motion with his eyes, noticing the browning at the base. He burrowed his fingers into the softened soil, digging in slightly before he gently worked the bulb out, no longer trying to be subtle in his silent instruction. 
“Like this.” He smiled, chuckling at the way Wooyoung’s cheeks darkened ever so slightly in embarrassment. Wooyoung coughed ever so slightly and shied, looking down at the plants in front of him. He panicked, grabbing the first one and pulling, completely forgetting some of the steps. San opened his mouth to correct him gently, letting out a small ‘oop-’ when he watched Wooyoung rip the stalk clean apart from the rest of the bulb. 
He stared at the greenery in his hand before looking at the ground, an offended expression crossing his face. San snorted, a full-blown laugh leaving his lips as Wooyoung turned his gaze over to him. 
“You- are you laughing at me?” he inquired, letting out a scandalized gasp. San bit his lip, eyes drifting away from Wooyoung’s betrayed expression as his shoulders bobbed. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It was just very cute.” he reached down, softening the soil and gently digging the bulb from the ground. 
“What you want to do is gently work it out of the soil by the bulb, not the stem. When we clean off the bulbs later, we actually secure the stems together in bundles and then let them dry, so we want to try to leave the bulbs and stems as intact as we can.” San scooted closer, his knee brushing against Wooyoung’s as he used the garlic stem beside the one Wooyoung had failed to harvest properly. Wooyoung watched him closely, copying him step by step and triumphantly wiggling his own garlic bulb free. 
“I did it!” He grinned. San smiled and nodded. 
“You did it. I’ll be right here to help you out if you need it. Please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m right beside you.” San encouraged him with a gentle tone of voice that made Wooyoung’s heart stutter. He smiled in thanks and got back to work. 
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he groaned, sweat rolling down his brow. San had stepped aside to check on Yeonjun and Changbin, laughing at something Wooyoung’s ears couldn’t pick up on. The cicadas chirped loudly, the sound echoing through the fields as San turned his head, catching Wooyoung’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. 
“You look thirsty. I have some water bottles in the car, let me go bring them for ya.” He jogged down the trail, heading back to the car. Wooyoung looked down at his basket, proud of what he had already done, when an old farmer made his way up to them. 
“Good morning!” Kibum noticed him first, bowing in greeting. His three proteges followed suit, bowing in acknowledgment. The farmer sent them a pleased smile. 
“New folks, huh? It’s nice to see some city folks out here gettin’ their hands dirty. Here, I’ll share some with you all.” He reached into his basket, handing over some of the bulbs he had harvested, not so subtly checking how many they had gotten in their time out in the field compared to his own. He made a small hum, grabbing a few extra bulbs for Wooyoung. 
“Here ya go. I hope you lot enjoy our little village while you’re here. I will say though…” he lowered his voice, glancing in the direction San had left in. 
“I’d be careful around that one. He ain’t right.” He whispered. Wooyoung felt his smile fall, the hospitality the man had given him a moment before now revealing itself to be a ruse. Kibum narrowed his gaze instantly behind the man’s head. 
“What does that mean, exactly?” he pressed, keeping his voice even, though his tone didn’t raise above a stiff, neutral volume. 
“He’s an odd one, is what I’m sayin. I’d just be careful, just a word of advice.” He laughed at something none of them found humorous, making his way down the opposite path as San began to return, holding a cooler full of beverages for them. 
“Sorry for taking so long-” He paused, noticing the four men watching the farmer leave. Wooyoung’s brows pulled together in concern, shifting his attention over to San. Before he could think to ask him what the man could possibly mean, he watched San fidget, his grip nearly white-knuckled on the cooler’s handles before he shook his head and set it down, putting his dimpled smile back on. 
It didn’t reach his eyes this time. 
“C’mon, everyone. I packed some things to drink in here and Chae-noona made sandwiches and stuff for us. I think a break is in order.” 
Wooyoung shook off the bitter feeling that had manifested itself in his stomach and moved to sit beside San, sending him a smile. 
“You’re prepared. Thanks so much for your hard work.” He thanked him and took a seat in the dirt. Yeonjun and Changbin followed suit, all of them thanking San and sitting in a circle with him. San looked taken aback at first, eyes widening before he relaxed, sending them a thankful smile. Kibum smiled and nodded in approval, sitting with the younger men and enjoying their breaks together. 
-7pm- 
Wooyoung sat by the windowsill once again, sending messages back and forth to Yeosang, his mom, and some of his other friends at home. 
Or, trying to, anyway. 
He really did have to get used to being out in the sticks. 
San came in after a moment, yawning as he climbed into bed. Wooyoung followed the motion with his eyes. San layed down hugging his pillow, letting out a sigh as he put his head into it. Wooyoung tilted his head to the side. 
“That was a pretty big sigh there. You alright?” He inquired. San didn’t move for a moment or two, and Wooyoung almost thought he hadn’t heard him. He opened his mouth to ask again, but San shifted, looking at him. 
“Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.” 
Wooyoung unconsciously sat up straighter, looking at him with his undivided attention. 
“Go ahead, I doubt you’ll make me uncomfortable.” 
San paused for a moment, letting out a small laugh that didn’t sound genuine as he fixed his gaze on Wooyoung. 
“What did that guy say out in the field? You all looked…angry when you came back.” 
Wooyoung’s expression immediately soured. San noticed but didn’t say anything else, waiting to see if he would let him in on what had made them respond like that. 
“He came up to us and was really nice, but then he said some weird shit about you being ‘odd’ and ‘not right’ and it was really rude. Who does that?” Wooyoung crossed his arms and San looked away for a moment, sighing. 
“A lot of the people in this village think I’m a bit…off. I understand if you don’t wanna sleep in the same room as me anymore. I can sleep on the couch or somethin’.” He murmured. Wooyoung sent him an incredulous look, laughing. 
“Why? You’ve been nothing but nice to me. I’m not gonna just listen to some random person who’s clearly speaking in bad faith over someone who’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. Besides, even if something about you was different , that doesn’t give anyone the right to act like that with people accompanying you. Jiyong-hyung and Chaerin-noona wouldn’t just let anyone be around their kid without checking their background thoroughly and making sure they were safe. As far as I see it, if they trust you, and the old man trusts you, I do too.” Wooyoung stood and made a point to come to the bed, plopping down beside San with a force that made them bounce for a moment before they settled in their respective places. 
San made a surprised noise and looked at him in surprise before blinking. 
“....Just like that? You’re not gonna ask?” 
“I think that may be the problem here. It's none of my business right now. If you want to tell me what he could be talking about, that’s perfectly fine. If you don’t, that’s fine too. I just met you, I don’t expect you to pour your heart out to me and tell me your entire life story in 24 hours because some guy was trying to be a jerk out in a garlic field. I’m going to learn who you are from this experience and our time together. You’re more than welcome to tell me whatever you’d like whenever you’d like, and I’ll be happy to listen if and/or when you do, but until that conversation comes, it’s none of my business.” Wooyoung spoke a mile a minute, and San just watched the side of his face in wide-eyed wonder, brows up in surprise. Once he was done, he smiled and the stress that had gathered in his shoulders melted away. 
“I’ll work hard, then.” He quietly responded. Wooyoung rolled his eyes and rolled to face him, their faces much closer and their hands brushing as he looked at San. 
“You don’t have to work hard. You just have to be you.” 
San searched his eyes quietly before smiling and letting out a small nod. 
“I see. I understand. Thank you.” 
Satisfied, Wooyoung nodded and rolled over, his back to San. 
“Now get some rest. I’m tired as hell and I know you’ll inevitably wake me up at ass crack o clock for more good ol’ farming.” He playfully cooed, trying to mimic San’s natural Satoori. San let out a hum and rolled over, as well. 
“Fair enough. Good night, Wooyoung.” 
“Mmm. Goodnight, San.” 
-The Next Week-
Wooyoung had woken up the moment San had begun stirring. The aches from the days before had settled in his bones, and he wasn’t in any real rush to get up. He’d been doing a myriad of different things since they’d started their work here in Namhae, and Wooyoung had long since stopped complaining about the manual labor. He actually found it quite enjoyable to be able to harvest some of his own food and then cook them later. 
The smile Kibum had let out when he admitted that one night during dinner prep made an embarrassed flush rush to his cheeks, but he simply huffed and continued cooking while explaining every step to his audience consisting of Jongho, Gahyeon, Eric, and San. 
Speaking of, in the present, San moved about the room quietly, scratching his head as he shook off his own tiredness. Each step was careful and deliberate, nearly cat-like in manner as he moved without a sound, navigating the room in the dark. 
Wooyoung watched him with half-lidded eyes, lifting his head slightly. 
Before he could open his mouth to greet him, San peeled his shirt off and over his head, tossing it into a basket situated near the door. Wooyoung felt his mouth go dry, watching the muscles ripple across the expanse of San’s back as he shuffled about the drawer for a different shirt. 
Anything he had to say immediately went out of the window as he admired the man, transfixed on his form as San muttered to himself about ‘looking good’. It took everything in Wooyoung to not blow his cover and just blurt that he already did look good. San finally found one, plucking a black T-shirt from his drawer and putting it on in one fluid motion. He grabbed the waistband of his sleeping pants and Wooyoung feigned rolling over, deciding to give the man some privacy. He’d oggled enough as is, and he’d feel like a creep looking at any more of San without permission. 
“Hm?” San notice his pseudo-rousing and paused in changing, looking over his shoulder. Wooyoung pretended to snuggle into the pillow, his heart thundering in his chest as he heard San shift somewhere behind him. He came closer, leaning down to gently push some of Wooyoung’s bangs out of his face. Wooyoung nearly twitched, his fingers flexing against the pillow as he heard San quietly sigh. 
“Don’t ruin it, San.” He quietly muttered to himself before he pulled away, clearing his throat and gently shaking Wooyoung’s shoulder, leaning a respectable distance from him. Wooyoung opened his eyes, making a few mutters that made him seem like he was disoriented and only just now awakening. San sent him a smile, though he didn’t meet his eyes as enthusiastically as he usually did. 
“Hey. Sorry, but we should probably get an early start today. We’re going fishing and it’s best to get out there before too many of the other villagers head out and we have to worry about the fish not biting from the crowd.” he let him know in a gentle tone. Wooyoung looked up at him, feeling a conflicted emotion as San turned and headed out with the pair of pants he was going to change into, clearly intending to change elsewhere. 
He ran a hand through his hair, ruffled it about, and then pushed himself up off of the bed. 
-8am-
“So you think he’s hot? I personally think it’s great.” Yeonjun crossed his arms as he sat beside Wooyoung, slightly queasy from the boat ride. Wooyoung nearly threw his hands up to get him to be quiet, making a series of noises that were unintelligible. 
“Shut the fuck up before he hears you!” Wooyoung hissed, smacking him in the arm. Yeonjun let out a  yelp and shoved his shoulder, scowling at him. 
“What’s the problem? We’re gonna be stuck here for months anyway, might as well have fun if that’s what you wanna do. Besides, if it keeps you distracted from the trainwreck back home with Yeosang, maybe you do need a distraction.” 
Wooyoung nearly hit him again, frowning. He’d been infatuated with their mutual best friend for longer than he could remember, but it seemed like he would always kindly rebuff his advances or was just flat-out too oblivious to realize that they were, in fact, advances in the first place. 
He looked down at his shoes and Yeonjun caught the crestfallen look on his face, frowning. 
“Look, I’m not speaking bad on Yeosang, I never would, but I just think if you finally have someone else in your sights that has caught your fancy, you should go for it. Besides, if it doesn’t work out well, who cares? You’ll be going back home after the summer is over and you can pretend you didn’t take an L if you do fumble.” Yeonjun tried to tease, but his playful smile fell as he watched Wooyoung’s gaze drift to the other side of the boat where San had been helping Changbin set up his rod. 
Wooyoung didn’t laugh along with his teasing and Yeonjun hummed, hugging him from the side. 
“Chin up, bestie. You’re not bagging anything with your eyes all puppy-dog-like and pouty.” He told him before he stood and cleared his throat. 
“San! Can you help Woo next? He’s really eager to learn!” he called. Wooyoung’s eyes widened and San looked over, smiling and nodding. He jogged over and stopped in front of the two of them, holding a rod in each hand. 
“Okay, I’ll be happy to help.”
Yeonjun took one rod and smiled at him. 
“I actually know how to fish. My boyfriend taught me a while ago, I’ll head over there, you can teach Woo, though.” He smiled and strode away, leaving San shell-shocked as he watched him go. Wooyoung let out an exasperated sigh, looking up at San, waiting for his usual eager instruction. Instead, he looked like his brain had shut down completely, blinking owlishly. 
“His-” He didn’t even finish, but Wooyoung could see the thoughts in his mind running a mile a minute as he opened and closed his mouth. 
Wooyoung tilted his head, ready to ask him if he was okay before everything clicked into place. 
-“You could always move to the city, live with some like-minded folks.”
“I can’t say I haven’t considered it after the festival incident.” 
“I’d be careful around that one, he ain’t right.”
“He’s an odd one, is all I’m sayin’.” -
Wooyoung reached and gently touched his wrist, startling his attention forward. San looked at him and he sent him a smile. 
“He means Soobin. They’re really cute. I think you’d love to meet him someday. He’s a pretty athletic type like you and Changbin. I think it’d be nice if we all got to introduce you to some people in our circles, to be honest. Chan and Yeji would probably immediately adopt you to like, best friend status.” He told him. San looked at him, then back at Yeonjun, watching him laugh and chatter with Changbin before he fixed his gaze on Wooyoung once more. 
“F-friends? All of these people are friends of yours?” There was a slight shake to his voice, a temporary fumble before he caught himself. Wooyoung took the fishing rod and walked to the edge of the boat. 
“Teach me how to cast this and I’ll tell you more. Early bird gets the worm, right?” he grinned. San nodded, clearing his throat and instructing him on how to safely cast his line after choosing his bait. Once their lines were all out, Wooyoung leaned on the rail, the sea salt twinged air blowing his bangs as he looked out at the ocean. 
“Let’s see. Soobin is Yeonjun’s boyfriend of like, three years? Chan and Changbin have been dating for like five, and Yeji joined their relationship like two years ago-” 
“Wait.”San looked at him, eyes widened in surprise. Wooyoung laughed.
“They’re polyamorous. It’s honestly so cute and mushy when the three of them are together, even if they do like to playfully bully Changbin, it’s all in good fun.” Wooyoung put his chin in his palm and looked out at the sea. San watched him for a while. 
“So…is the Yeosang person you keep mentioning your boyfriend, then? Unless you’re not into that I’m sorry for assuming-” San immediately began clumsily trying to backpedal before he even got a response. Wooyoung couldn’t help but to think he was cute. 
“Yeosang…I’ve had a crush on him for as long as I can remember. I don’t think he knows, though. I don't have a boyfriend right now.” He hummed, eyes looking at his line to make sure he wasn’t missing any potential fish biting. 
San looked at him, then fell into a comfortable silence, staring out with him. 
Wooyoung couldn’t help but to notice the smile that never left his lips as he enjoyed the lull of the boat and the ocean. 
-5pm-
“San, come here, I’ll show you how we make this stew. My mom used to make it all the time.” Wooyoung beckoned San over, smiling as he all but darted across the room, eyes wide like a child’s as he looked over Wooyoung’s shoulder. 
San watched his every move and soon stood beside him, copying him without a word, his eyes narrowed from his focus. Wooyoung laughed suddenly, drawing his attention up to his face instead of the fish he had been cleaning. 
“What?” He inquired. Wooyoung sent him a teasing look. 
“You look really handsome when you focus like that. You get this cute little furrow in your brow.” He complimented. San paused, a blush creeping up to his ears. 
Wooyoung smiled devlishly, proud of himself as he turned his attention back to the fish. 
“So then after you clean it-” he continued on as normal, watching as San cleared his throat, trying-and failing-to hide the face he was caught off guard by Wooyoung’s flirting. 
Chaerin poked her head into the kitchen a few hours later, smiling as she saw all of the young men working together, watching as Yeonjun taught San some of the fruity drink recipes and Changbin let him taste test the meat he had been searing on the other side of the kitchen. The four laughed like old friends, and it warmed her heart to hear San finally have some friends. 
She pushed herself off of the door frame and sat down at the table, kissing each of her babies on the head before they all got back to working on a puzzle to pass the time. 
When they finally sat down at the table to eat later, the sound of laughter filled the room, drifting throughout the home until late into the evening. It had been nice to see San laugh and talk with people his age. The light blush on his cheeks brought a smile to her face that she hid behind the rim of her wine glass. 
╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗
The next month had been…something. One of three down, and it seemed after that faithful day, something had shifted between San and Wooyoung. The two worked so well together, one would be easily fooled into thinking they had been close for years themselves. 
Wooyoung had gained more of a keen eye for some of the villagers looking at the four interact with each other. It was five including the times Kibum would come along, though he had begun to pull back and let them explore on their own time. 
They were never outwardly hostile, but some of them did make a point to not go near the quartet or would whisper behind their hands when they thought no one was looking after they would pass. Wooyoung wasn’t naive, he wasn’t a stranger to the concept of people being less than favorable when it came to another person’s preferences and lifestyle, but something about the whole ordeal made him especially angry because San had been so isolated in the home town he’d clearly loved so much over something so fucking stupid . 
Wooyoung had stuck to him like glue because of it, choosing to go with him whenever San was out and about, be it for working out in the fields or out at sea or just for recreational exploration of the island. Yeonjun and Changbin would give them their alone time occasionally, thoughWooyoung never prompted either of them for it. 
He was grateful they did, however. 
San had gotten comfortable with him in their time together, brushing against him at nearly every possible opportunity, hugging him from behind, even playfully tilting his chin up here and there when he caught him off guard and spacing out. 
All of it made his heart thrum in anticipation, but he’d always been left hanging, neither of them taking that extra step forward to commit to…whatever this flirting had been. 
It had been driving him quite crazy, if Wooyoung was being honest. 
Today they stayed inside, sprawled out on the floor with a small fan circulating between the two of them. It was scorching outside, and today had been the first day all of them agreed to stay inside and not do any farming. 
Yeonjun made a point to grab Changbin, saying something about teaching the little ones how to make homemade ice cream before he tugged him downstairs, leaving Wooyoung alone with San. The Namhae native set down a glass of juice beside Wooyoung before he tugged at his shirt a few times, muttering something about needing a bigger fan or finally investing in a new aircon. 
Wooyoung watched him out of the corner of his eye, his lips curling up teasingly. 
“If it’s too hot, just take your shirt off.” 
San paused, looking at him with a brow arched. A month ago, he would have blushed up to his ears and probably would have declined with a flustered stammer, but now, Wooyoung found him not backing down from his teasing gaze. His own lips quirked as he tilted his head up, looking down at him with a look Wooyoung swore was more sultry than anything he’d ever seen on the slightly older man’s face. 
“I bet you’d like it if I did, huh?” 
Wooyoung sat up himself, sizing him up and smiling back despite the furious ba thumps of his heart. 
“And if I say I would? Then what?” 
“Then prove it. You can take it off of me if you’d be so inclined.” 
A beat of silence stretched between the two of them and San’s expression almost broke, his words catching up to him and his heart nearly leaping out of his chest when he realized how forward he had been. Before he could apologize, Wooyoung pushed himself up off of the floor, standing in front of him and tugging him forward by his belt hoops. 
San nearly stumbled, a surprised look on his face as he looked at Wooyoung. Wooyoung swallowed down any nervousness he felt, his face dangerously close to San’s as he ran his thumbs over the end of his shirt. 
“I really will take it off. If you don’t mind, that is.” Wooyoung gave him a moment to reconsider. San held his gaze for a moment before he lifted his arms, nodding and breathing out a quiet; ' Go ahead.’
Wooyoung pulled it up and over his head, tossing it to the side. He didn’t immediately look down at his chest, instead fixing his gaze on San’s face once more, taking in his expression to make sure he hadn’t been made uncomfortable. 
It was quite the contrary, actually, and instead, he looked at him with slightly parted lips, his chest rising and falling a bit quicker than normal. Neither of them spoke for what felt like forever, but once again, Wooyoung spoke up. 
“If you want, you can take mine off, too.” 
San’s jaw settled for a brief moment, and Wooyoung had a passing thought of how it would feel to cup it in his hands. San reached for his shirt, fingers hesitating. 
“You don’t think this is weird? That I’m weird? ” 
Wooyoung put his hands over his and closed them on his shirt. 
“I don’t know what the people in this village have said to you before, but no. This isn’t weird. San, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me when it comes to this. I understand.” He murmured. San grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head with a surprising gentleness, his hands hovering just off of Wooyoung’s hips, unsure of where to place them. Wooyoung noticed and stepped closer into his space, feeling the heat radiate from his chest. 
“You’re staring.” Wooyoung purred. San nodded, clearing his throat and looking away bashfully. 
“Sorry. You’re really..uh.”
“Pretty? Attractive? Sexy as fuck?” Wooyoung teased. 
“Yeah. All of those. And then some.” 
Wooyoung felt his cheeks grow hotter, staring at San’s honest expression before he finally took the time to drift his eyes down his body. He’d seen San in skin-tight tank tops and t-shirts before, even seen his back bare a few times, but this had been the first time San had faced him while shirtless. 
You, uh, could certainly tell he was a man who did extensive amounts of manual labor. Despite the fact that a month had passed of them working together, Wooyoung had never seen him from the front. And his ogling was a bit more than telling. 
San watched him with a quiet gaze, not saying anything. Wooyoung looked like he wanted to run his hands over his abdomen, touch and feel all of his defined muscles, but he simply bit his lip. 
“Y’know, this is the first time in a while I’ve been speechless like this.” 
San felt an excited flutter in his chest as he reached and lifted Wooyoung’s chin, a gentle movement he’d done countless times before in their recent time together. Wooyoung looked up instantly, staring into his eyes. 
“I…I’m pretty sure I’m just as caught off guard.” He responded, his thumb idly running over Wooyoung’s cheek. Wooyoung waited for a moment before he hummed, noticing San not making any other movements. He thought back to Yeonjun-and later Changbin’s-encouragement for him to just let loose and have fun while here and spoke up. 
“You look really kissable like this, you know.” 
San’s thumb paused instantly, his eyes widening ever so slightly. He opened his mouth, a quiet, yet scrambled noise leaving his lips until Wooyoung put his hand on his own cheek, mirroring him. 
“Do I look kissable, San?” He continued, turning his head ever slightly to kiss San’s palm. San’s hand twitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t back away from him, nodding. Wooyoung sent him a fake pout. 
“I can’t hear you, Sannie. Do I look kissable to you? Would you kiss me?” He teased, pressing another chaste kiss to San’s palm. San’s fingers flexed and he turned his head back fully, staring into Wooyoung’s eyes. 
“Are you teasing me?” 
“Yes and no. I really want you to kiss me, but I’m trying to behave myself because I see you’re terrified.” 
San’s expression was unreadable for a moment before he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Wooyoung’s. The city boy hummed, pleased with the initiation, and kissed him back, his hand sliding from San’s face to cup the back of his neck. 
San broke the kiss much sooner than Wooyoung would have preferred, looking at him in surprise. Wooyoung made a small ‘nuh uh’ noise, pulling him back in for more, peppering his lips with small, chaste kisses that eventually lasted longer and longer until the two of them were making out in the middle of the living room. 
Wooyoung pushed him back gently making him sit on the couch as he sat down and straddled him. 
San panted, setting his hands on Wooyoung’s waist, looking up at him with a blush on his cheeks and his eyes slightly blown. Wooyoung smiled, arching a brow as he cocked his head to the side. 
“You could grab my ass, you know. I don’t think you have to be so polite with touching me, yknow.” 
San looked at him before he slowly lowered his grip, squeezing handfuls of Wooyoung’s ass as he kissed his Adam’s apple. 
“You didn’t say you were comfortable with that, yet.” 
Wooyoung smiled, running his fingers through his hair and leaning into his ear. 
“I’m comfortable for a lot more than this, but if I tell you all that entails, we might make a mess of this couch.” He purred. San’s fingers flexed as he let out a breathy ‘holy fuck?’ followed by his usual boy next door laugh, though it was much airier than Wooyoung had ever heard it before. 
“You city folk really are somethin’, huh?” 
Wooyoung shrugged his shoulder. 
“Trying to be subtle never got my message across before. I think Yeonjun’s right and I should be a bit more forward with things I want.” 
San hummed and tilted his head to the side, gazing up at Wooyoung. 
“And what do you want?” 
“More kisses. Your hands all over me. Your cock down my throat.” 
San blinked in surprise and Wooyoung laughed quietly, sitting directly on his cock. 
“You’re biiig , you know that?” Wooyoung purred, tilting his head as he rutted his ass back. San inhaled sharply through his teeth, hips bucking slightly as Wooyoung slowly rolled and rocked his hips back and forth. He smiled at the expression on his face, leaning close and kissing the shell of San’s ear. 
“Of course, you know that. Are you pent-up? It’s been a month and I’m pretty sure you haven’t touched yourself. Does it ache, Sannie?” He hummed, nipping his earlobe. 
“That’s- fuck- that’s unfair, Wooyoung.” 
“Tell me what you want to do, San.” 
"I don’t-I don’t know- anyone could walk in on us.” San panted, though his actions didn’t match his words, still grinding his cock against Wooyoung’s ass. Wooyoung cupped his cheek and met his eye, his own half-lidded. 
“We could always move, you know. Our bedroom is down the hall.” He casually reminded him, running a finger down his chest. San swallowed dryly before he picked Wooyoung up effortlessly. Wooyoung yipped, eyes widening for a moment before he clung to him. San walked them directly to the aforementioned room. 
He set Wooyoung down with a gentle motion, making sure he held the back of his head before setting it in the center of his pillow. Wooyoung didn’t let go, however, pulling him down and wrapping one of his toned thighs around his waist. San grunted in surprise before kissing him, placing his palms by either side of his head to brace himself. 
Wooyoung’s fingers ran up his back, kneading and lightly clawing at his muscles as they kissed, moaning into San’s mouth as he rolled his hips down, their bulges grinding against one another. San swallowed the sound, moving one of his hands, running calloused fingers down Wooyoung’s neck, collar, chest (stopping to trace the black ink adorning his ribs), and torso, hooking a finger in his waistband and tugging teasingly. 
“Should I take them off now, Woo? Hm?” 
Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at him, opening his mouth to tell him off for daring to turn and tease him, like that's not what he had been doing to San this whole time. Anything he had to say fell flat the moment San’s hand disappeared into his shorts, grabbing his cock and arching a brow at the strangled gasp that tumbled out of Wooyoung’s lips. 
Wooyoung moaned as San stroked him nice and slow, leaning into his ear, 
“You’re talking about how hard I got, look at you. Do I get the treat of hearing more of those pretty moans, Wooyoung?” He purred, twisting his wrist on every upstroke, watching Wooyoung’s expressions like a hawk. Wooyoung’s eyes slipped closed as he breathed out a shaky ‘yes, please.’ San smiled to himself, whispering sweet nothings as he jerked him off, loving every small gasp and whine that came from Wooyoung’s lips and the way he tried-and failed-to keep his voice down as San teased the underside of his cock with his thumb. 
“San~”
“Yes, baby? You’re singing for me, it sounds so good.” San’s satoori rattled around his head and Wooyoung shuddered, grabbing the waistband to his shorts and shoving them down to his knees, sighing at the relief he felt the moment he did. 
San’s eyes drifted down to Wooyoung’s flushed cock, smiling as he rolled his fingers over the tip, smearing precum all over the crown. 
“You’re making a mess. You can cum whenever you want to, baby. I’m not going to stop you.” He encouraged, placing encouraging kisses on Wooyoung’s collar and neck as he watched his cock out of the corner of his eye. 
“San-nn…fuck, San slow down I really will cum if you keep going.” He shuddered, his hips bucking, thrusting into San’s fist despite his pleas. San, however, listened without complaint, slowing his motions and kissing the corner of Wooyoung’s eye as he looked at his expression. 
“I could cum just from looking at you like this.” He hummed, leaning close. Wooyoung met him halfway, pawing at his pants, silently urging him to join him in his nudity. San obliged and reluctantly let him go, sitting up on his knees to unbutton his pants. Wooyoung’s eyes immediately gravitated downwards, biting his lip at that neatly trimmed trail that disappeared into his boxers that he’d only seen glimpses of. San tossed his pants and boxers into the hamper, turning to give his attention back to Wooyoung and smiling at the way Wooyoung stared at him, biting his thumbnail. 
“I want you back on top of me,” San spoke, laying down on his side of the bed. Wooyoung laughed quietly and tossed a leg over his hip, straddling him and sliding down so their cocks were flush against one another. 
“My, you’re awfully bossy.” 
San hummed, not denying the claim as he held Wooyoung’s ass, grinding and rutting so their cocks once more slid against each other and each man’s abs. Wooyoung sighed in pleasure, bucking his hips and closing his eyes as he let San match him below, feeling steadied by the country boy’s firm grip on his ass. San moaned his name below him, making a mess as his precum smeared onto Wooyoung’s abs cock. 
“Kiss…mm Wooyoung c'mere-” 
Wooyoung nearly fell forward as San pulled him down gently, hand cupped on the back of his neck. He adjusted himself, his chest against San’s, their heartbeats both erratic and frantic as they kissed, groaning ever so slightly as they continued to grind and rut on each other. Wooyoung spread his legs wider, a needy hitch in his breath coming out then he felt San's rough fingers rolling over his rim. He shuddered, lifting his hips high, but San only squeezed his ass with his free hand and brought him back flush against his body with a firm tug. 
"I want you to cum like this, pretty boy. Make a mess of the abs you wanted to see so bad." He purred. Wooyoung gasped and bucked, clenching on nothing as he struggled between which he wanted more of, San's kisses, his voice, his fingers along his rim, or his cock between his legs.
" San ." Wooyoung pleaded needily, his body quivering against San’s. 
“C’mon, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He urged, his own voice sounding strained as Woouyoung groaned in his arms. Wooyoung kissed him desperately to keep himself from possibly raising his voice to a level that would get them caught. 
San groaned back, inhaling sharply as Wooyoung tugged his hair, cumming messily against his abs as instructed. San purred, mumbling praises between kisses as he let out a sigh, cumming a minute or two after him. 
The two men sat in each other’s arms, panting as they reeled. Once he’d gathered his bearings, Wooyoung looked down, cheeks darkening at the mess left behind. 
“Shit, man, you really were pent up, huh?” 
San looked down at the mess splayed across his stomach and laughed airily, letting his head thump against the pillows.
“Hah…yeah, I guess you can say that.” 
-8pm-
Wooyoung swung his feet as he sat on a bench outside a convenience store San and he had walked to. The night air had been a much-needed 180 from the temperature earlier. He held San’s jean jacket over his shoulders as he waited for him, smiling up at him as San jogged outside, two bags full of snacks in either hand. 
“Hey, you could have come inside.” He told him, smiling as he fished out a Melona bar for Wooyoung. He shrugged a shoulder, looking up at the moon. 
“It felt nice out here.” was his response. San hummed and nodded, his eyes spotting an old couple across the way sending them a weird look before whispering amongst themselves. 
“Isn’t that…”
“Mhm, I think it is. What a shame, he grew up to be such a handsome boy. What a waste.”
San’s jaw ticked ever so slightly and Wooyoung followed his gaze. He frowned when he noticed the duo as well and looked back at San. The countryman sent him a smile that didn’t meet his eyes and pointed behind him. 
“We should head back. The little ones are waiting-oh!”He let out a noise of surprise as Wooyoung stood and hooked arms with him, marching back inside the convenience store. 
“Wooyoung? What’s up-”
“You forgot something.” He murmured, looking up and down the aisles. San stumbled a few times before he managed to match Wooyoung’s steps. 
“I did? What is it? Why are you in such a rush-”
Wooyoung didn’t answer him, smiling and letting out an ‘aha!’ as he finally found what he was looking for. San peeked over his shoulder, cheeks going beet red as Wooyoung plucked a box of condoms from the shelf and a bottle of lube. He looked at the label, nose scrunching before putting the bottle back and grabbing one beside it. San stared at him, his eyes the size of dinner plates as Wooyoung meticulously dragged him up and down the aisle, grabbing a few more things before he marched up to the counter, setting everything down. 
The cashier looked at everything before looking at the two of them over the rim of her glasses, arching a brow. San didn’t say a word, completely stun locked into place, while Wooyoung merely arched a brow back at her, waiting. 
“Did you want everything erm…in the same bag?” 
“Yep, it's all going to the same place.” 
She nodded, clearing her throat and scanning each product. Wooyoung paid her without incident and pulled San out, making a point to make eye contact with the old couple that had been whispering about San before. Once they spotted him, he leaned in and planted a kiss on San’s cheek, smiling at the way the dimpled man instantly blushed all the way down his neck, flustered babble leaving his mouth as Wooyoung proudly pulled him in the direction of Chaerin’s house.
“Wooyoung-”
“They made you uncomfortable. Fuck em. Besides, I wanted a kiss.”
San looked at him, a vulnerable look crossing his face, 
“Even out here?” 
“Especially out here. Fuck 'em.” Wooyoung repeated. San looked at him for a long moment before he reached down, holding Wooyoung’s hand. He didn’t get the chance to ask if it was okay before he felt a reassuring squeeze. He smiled, turning his attention back in front of him. 
They walked about two blocks in comfortable silence before San spoke. 
“This town has several festivals.” He started, his footsteps matching Wooyoung. Wooyoung looked at him out of the corner of his eye, making a small sound to let him know he was listening. San took a deep breath, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand. 
“It’s kind of a tradition in this place to ask out someone of your fancy to accompany you to one of them. I asked a boy in my grade in my last year of high school. It didn’t go well.” 
Wooyoung frowned, rubbing his knuckles. San’s voice didn’t waver as he spoke, his arm occasionally brushing against Wooyoung’s as he walked with him. 
“No one got violent or anything if you’re worried. I’ve heard some…unsavory stories about these kinds of things not going well in other places with people who see folks like me…”He looked at their hands. “Folks like us …I’ve heard some scary things. I guess in the grand scheme of things, I can be grateful all that happened was some mockery and the village deciding I was ‘weird’ and ‘not right’ and deciding to keep their distance from me unless absolutely necessary.” he muttered. 
Wooyoung moved to stand in front of him. 
“No. While I’m glad no one hurt you…physically, you’re hurt emotionally. And that’s just as important. They have no right to treat you like this. A whole village turning on someone? Trying to label you as some kind of freak for just loving someone differently? Fuck. Them.” Wooyoung hissed out, leaving no room for opposition. San looked down at him and smiled. 
“Y’know, I’m really grateful for people like Chaerin-noona and Jiyong-hyung. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have even known there were people out there who don’t care. Who will stand beside me and see me for who I am. I wouldn’t have met you.” He murmured the last bit quietly. Wooyoung smiled, opening his mouth to say he was grateful for being able to meet him when he noticed a sad look cross San’s face. 
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave.” 
Wooyoung felt like he’d crashed through a windshield, that one sentence sobering him instantly. 
That’s right. He’s only here one summer. And one-third of it was already gone. 
Wooyoung frowned, fidgeting. San noticed and panicked slightly. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to bring the mood down like this. Please forgive me for runnin’ my mouth.” He frantically apologized and Wooyoung looked at him, pressing his lips together in a line before he shook his head. 
“San, are you a man who likes challenges?” He inquired. San looked at him with a tilted head. 
“Challenges? I…I don’t know? I mean I guess I do like challenging myself or something, but I don’t really get the opportunity to get competitive with others, if that’s what you mean.” 
“How about this? If I can make this the best summer ever for you, you come back to the city with me.” 
San stared at him with his lips parted, completely speechless. Wooyoung nodded, rubbing San’s knuckles. 
“It’s just an option but…Chae-noona did say she has her home back in Gangnam that you could live in…and you can even stay with me, I don’t mind. My hyungs Hongjoong and Seonghwa hyungs own a shop in town that gets a lot of business, I can ask them to hire you. If…if you want.” He stuttered through the sentence, fumbling his words in a way San had never seen him do since he’d met him. 
“You’d let me live with you? Just like that?” San inquired, his voice quiet, reserved. Wooyoung nodded, looking into his eyes, making sure he could see the truth shining in them. 
“If it’s not abundantly clear by now, I like you. Like, I really like you. And if I can be the selfish city boy for a bit, it would be devastating for me to leave this place and leave you behind, especially with all of these assholes treating you like an alien and the crunchiest internet connection and cell phone service known to man making it difficult to keep in contact with you if we do part.” 
San looked at him for a long time, his expression hard to read. Wooyoung felt anxiety creep up his spine the longer they went standing there, but he didn’t say a word, just waiting. 
After a while, San nodded. 
“Okay. I’ll take you up on that challenge.” He smiled. 
Wooyoung let out a relieved sigh before he gave him a quick peck. 
“Don’t scare me like that, oh my god.” He held his chest before moving from his spot in front of him, walking beside him once more. San smiled and his feet once again matched his pace.
“No one’s ever challenged me like that.” He chuckled. Wooyoung laughed, the nervousness still evident in his tone. 
“It’s not something I just go around doing, I assure you.”
San smiled as they walked through the front door, immediately having three little ones flying in his direction. He let Wooyoung’s hand go, bending down to scoop them up, when he noticed Jongho gravitate to Wooyoung instead, hugging his leg. Wooyoung looked just as surprised, kneeling to pet the brunette toddler. 
“You okay? What’s wrong?” 
“Missed Hyung.” 
Wooyoung’s gaze softened as he hugged him, picking him up and smiling as Jongho let out a ‘weeeeee!’ sound. 
“I missed you too, big guy!” He smiled. San watched him and felt like a weight had been rolled off of his shoulders. 
Wooyoung had challenged him, that much was for sure, but he probably hadn’t realized he’d already accepted the offer in his head. 
The real challenge, San decided, was to not make it completely obvious how infatuated he’d become with the city boy. 
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