#so he sucks it up and drinks it and maybe even almost likes one blend or two
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The Duchess of London (2)
Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby x fem!reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, drugs, blood, gore, fighting, guns, fluff.
A/N: Wrote the first part damn near a year ago! Wanted to finally finish it off. Please know that another part is highly unlikely! No beta. Enjoy! Credits to the gif artist.
Thomas Shelby ends up on your doorstep three months later.
Technically, it was the door of the Gentlemen’s Club, Adonis, where you helped to manage the talent and had a few stocks invested in.
If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed him entirely. Tommy remained seated in the back of the room near the door, one leg crossed over the other, fingers delicately grasping the rim of a glass. It was a talent of his, being able to blend into a room seamlessly while still maintaining a sense of distinctiveness. You couldn’t lie, the thought of seeing him again taunted you day after day. Thinking about his plump lips on yours, hands pressing against your neck-
A throat clears. “I believe it’s your turn, Duchess.”
You blink a few times, returning to the present. Sir Donald Chesnut fixes you with a stare, pool stick tapping the floor impatiently.
Giving him your best innocent smile, you nod and saunter around the table. There were two of his stripes left compared to your four solids. The men who gathered to “watch” all gawked as you bent over the velvet lined table, dress straining against your backside. You’re sure to milk their attention for all its worth, a teeny frown sprawling across your face as you stand back up.
“Must I repeat the rules of the game for you, miss? See those colored balls? You have to hit them into the holes. Do you understand?” Donald taunts, voice barely masking his mockery.
You smile and shrug. “Gee, I just can’t seem to decide which one to hit, they’re all so pretty!”
A few in the audience chuckle at the perceived naivete. Thomas takes a swig of his drink, watching your hands carefully.
“Let me assist you then.”
Donald pushes up against you, hands helping to position yours correctly. Upon steading them, you attempt to hit one of your balls but fail to do so. You jerk back into him as you laugh, hands fanning at your cleavage.
“I’m not even sure how I got the other balls in, must be a lady’s luck.” you comment.
“Sure.” Donald nods, already gearing up for his next shot. He sinks his two remaining balls with ease but misses the eight ball by a hair.
“Oh! You almost had it. Maybe I can catch up.”
“Good luck.” Donald tuts, hands grazing your ass as he passes behind you.
The act drops immediately and you get to work cleaning up the table. The balls clinking against each other before they sink into the pockets fills you with such pleasure you fight hard to maintain your poker face.
The eight ball lays just a few inches away from the right corner pocket, albeit at an odd angle. If you weren’t careful, it was an easy shot to miss and you didn’t want to give this fucker a chance to win. That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with your prey.
“Are you gonna call it?” Donald asks.
“Eight ball, middle right pocket.
Donald huffs out something that sounded like a mix between a snort and a sigh. “No fuckin’ way. You can’t make that!”
You don’t take your eyes off of him as you station yourself off center to the ball, cocking the pool stick until the weight of the wood feels comfortable in your hands. Sucking in a small breath, you let the stick slip through your fingers as you exhale. You could feel everyone else in the room hold their own collective breath as the ball pings around the table, making haphazard patterns until it slowly nears the pocket.
The eight ball all but comes to a complete stop before it finally drops into the pocket, the white ball close behind. You refuse to move, afraid that any sudden shift could cause the other ball to fall in behind it.
The ball edges you as it nears the pocket but you release a sigh of relief as it comes to a halt. You don't dare celebrate openly, just smile and wink at Donald, who was turning more red by the minute. Murmurs fly and papers shuffle as the men protest about their lost money.
Thomas finally approaches you as the others file out of the room, for sure in search of ways to better their bruised egos.
You don’t pay him any mind as you rack the balls up.
“You look like a professional.”
“You can too. Would you like to learn how to play?”
Tommy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can keep steady hands.”
You hum in response, eyes shifting up to meet his. “That’s unfortunate.”
He is quiet as he comes to stand in front of you, hands reaching up to brush against your cheek. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
You pour Tommy another glass of whiskey before settling on the plush cushions next to him. The office space you acquired wasn’t as glamorous as you’d hoped it’d be but it provided a sense of solace where you could conduct business without hosting unwanted people in your home.
“So, is this a visit for pleasure or business? Perhaps both?”
Tommy knocks back his drink, throat bobbing as the cool liquor coats his mouth. “Marry me.”
You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head. “Pardon me?”
“I need you to marry me.”
“No,” you hold out a hand to stop him as you notice that he’s reaching into his coat pocket. “Have you gone fucking mad?”
“I need to form an alliance with the Elephants and this is the best way in.”
He fixes you with that stare and for a moment you’re sucked into his abyss, thinking about the possibility of becoming Mrs. Thomas Shelby but as quickly as the thought comes, it fades. This wasn’t your fight and you found it hardly fair that you were being used as some sort of pawn. You were familiar with his antics and knew that anyone being used by the Shelby clan typically resulted in death. As it so happens, you were pretty fond of your life at the moment.
You stand up from your seat abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I can’t marry you, Tommy.”
“I know it’s not an ideal proposal but you’ll have full control over the wedding details-”
Stopping mid pace, you turn to face your childhood friend. “What, did the war fuck with your hearing? I said I won’t marry you.”
Tommy drops his head, reaching back inside his pockets in search of a cigarette. He gets up to lurk near you, admiring the sour look on your face. “Is this how Marcus turned you down, eh?”
You swallow thickly, resisting to meet his gaze. Of course he knew about Marcus, he knew about everything and then some. The all knowing Shelby’s with their endless amount of dirt, ready to throw it on anyone who stood in their way.
“I don’t know to whom you are referring.” you lie, terribly so. Tommy could hear the pained yearning in your voice.
“Marcus Toussaint, old money from the Toussaints of France. Made their fortune from coal. He’s the youngest of four brothers, the only eligible bachelor left. You two met in Egypt, he was financing an archeological dig and you were there on holiday. Nights spent filled with mutual lust and passion, I assume. He buys you an estate in the Mediterranean, where you spend the majority of the summer.”
Your eyes slip close at the mention of Egypt, a time where you felt you could truly be yourself and not be on guard all the time. Marcus was delicate, thoughtful. He never questioned you about your past and was very encouraging about you wanting to pursue artistic hobbies. He was the one who taught you how to play pool.
“Unfortunately, your summer was cut short when he was forced to return home and he decided to take you with him. He wanted to make you a part of the family but they knew all about you and decided that a two dollar whore from the slums of Brimingham who made her living spending long nights in the beds of men she did not know was not good enough for Marcus. You try so hard to fit in with that crowd, prancing around in your fancy gowns with your nose held up so high that you still can’t smell the shit on your shoe you’re tracking into their houses.”
A rage you had learned to smother was bubbling beneath the brim of your being, a feeling you had never thought would be directed toward Tommy. You knew what he was doing, plunging a knife so deep into your heart and twisting until he got what he wanted out of you. It was all a mistake. You have been used over and over all your life. You were not going to be used by him, even if it cost you your life.
You lick your lips which have since gone dry, forcing your face to return to stone. “It’s always a delight to see you, Mr. Shelby. Travel safely.”
With that, you turn on your heels and exit the room in silent fury. A pair of observant eyes watch you from the stairs above, then switch to regard the back of Tommy as he leaves a few minutes after you.
You normally spent most nights at the club but decided it’s worth it to leave and blow steam off at home, your head a jumbled mess. Everything Tommy said was true but what he didn’t know is that Marcus had told you his family made prior preparations for him to marry the daughter of a tycoon and that he had no say in the matter. You were silly enough to believe him.
You were so caught up in what had just occurred that you hadn’t noticed you were being followed until a hand clamps over your mouth, a black hood shoved over your head.
Tommy watches absent-mindedly as the young woman slips back into her dress, dancing leisurely to the music coming out of the bar a few blocks down. The window was cracked and she was thankful, having put up with enough of Tommy’s smoking. He was on his third cigarette since they finished fucking and she was sure by the time she actually left, he would have finished half the pack.
There’s a knock at the door and the woman stops to look at Thomas expectantly. He doesn’t move an inch but jerks his head near the sound. The woman is cautious as she opens it but cracks the door wider when it’s revealed to be a bellhop.
“Delivery for 317.”
The woman grabs the silver covered platter and thanks the boy. She smiles as she brings it over to Thomas.
“Did you order me something special?”
“No.”
His bluntness doesn’t deter her, she simply shrugs and searches the vanity for her earrings. Tommy takes the lid off to uncover a note folded in half.
The Royale. 8pm.
The hood is snatched off unceremoniously and suddenly you’re in the storage room of a butcher shop, in a chair with your hands tied behind your back. Some of the girls you used to run with when you were younger surround you, with Bobbi aka Big Red at the center.
You give your best smile. “Ladies, are we starting a sewing circle? Book club? I hear Agatha’s new mystery is to die for.”
The first punch comes from Janie on your left. You rock your jaw, hands straining against the rope. “I take it that you didn’t like the novel.”
The second one is from Georgiana. The bitch. To think you were there for her when she found out her husband was screwing her sister.
After the fourth punch, this one to your gut, you were beginning to get fed up.
“Alright, does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“You’ve gotten too big for your britches, that’s what.” Big Red finally speaks up. She took over operations when the leader you knew, Mary, got locked up. Operations almost went to shit but you had to hand it to her, Bobbi knew how to run a tight ship. She wasn’t as popular with the women and laid down stricter rules. Several of which you had broken.
“I don’t have time for riddles, Bobbi.” you chide.
Bobbi snaps her finger and Georgiana brings a chair over so that Bobbi could sit in front of you. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, missy. When Mary put me in charge, I swore I’d keep her seat warm until she got out.”
You tsk. “Last I checked, you squeezed your fat ass in her chair.”
That earned you a hard punch. You needed to dial it back if you wanted to keep your face intact.
“You’ve been fucking one of the Shelby’s.” Janie purrs, popping her gum obnoxiously.
“Not just any Shelby, Thomas Shelby.” Georgiana tacks on.
Big Red makes a motion with her fingers and the clucking chickens get quiet, always obedient for their mother hen. “You know fraternizing with a family like theirs is off limits. Do you know what could happen to us if you were caught with him? We struck a decent deal with Sabini and the last thing I need is for you to jeopardize everything we’ve worked for because you wanted to get your cunt licked.”
You knew that a few girls were messing around with some men who worked for Sabini but you didn’t realize it had gotten so deep. Outside of Thomas and his boys in Birmingham, Sabini had the next biggest family in the area with a huge control over land. It wasn’t like anyone was stealing from them but nothing hurt men more than a broken heart and bruised ego.
“Well, since you like spreading your legs for dirty men like Thomas, poppet, you’re gonna do us a huge favor and use that pretty little face of yours to sway him into staying another night in London. Get him to this location,” Bobbi stuffs a slip of paper down your bra. “We’ll handle the rest.”
Big Red puts your cheek tenderly before snapping her fingers. Georgiana and Janie descend on you like vultures and the only sound echoing through the room is muffled grunts of you getting your ass kicked.
Thomas flips out his pocket watch once more.
8:22pm.
It was unlike you to be late but he figured it was for good reasons. Women and their unnecessary grooming. Growing up around Ada and practically being raised by Polly got him used to being late for certain functions. The waiter enters again and Tommy is ready to refuse another offer on refilling his glass but stops once he sees that you’re being escorted in.
You were mesmerizing. Your body was wrapped in red silk, the material caressing your figure in all the right places. White gloves covered your arms up to your elbows and the front of your dress drapes downward in a cowl design, showing a sufficient amount of cleavage to leave the wandering eye wanting more. To complete your ensemble, you wore a tilted hat with a veil to cover the majority of your face.
Thomas is a gentleman as he stands while you enter, only returning to his seat once you sit on your own.
“You’re late.”
You cock an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re still here.”
As if the waiter was eagerly awaiting for you to take your seat, you barely have time to set down your purse before the first course is brought out. It looked decadent but your stomach was still rolling from earlier. You weren’t sure when your appetite would return.
Thomas doesn’t touch his food either. “So, I take it you’ve changed your mind.”
You take a long sip of wine, swishing the red liquid around the glass before knocking the rest of it back. “Something like that.”
The cigarette makes an appearance. He lights it, waiting for you to continue.
“Look at us. Both came from nothing and here we are. Eating at the finest restaurants, wearing the finest clothes, sitting at tables that otherwise we would’ve been shooed from. And for what? Money?”
Thommy nods, almost as if you’d ask a rhetorical question. “Yes. Money, power, control. I’m taking care of my family just like you would take care of yours.”
“I have no family.” you state, voice a whisper.
“That’s why I’m asking you to be a part of mine.”
The door to the private room swings open and the waiter appears, yet again.
“For fucks sake!” Tommy yells at the poor fellow.
“My apologies, Mr. Shelby but your other guests have arrived.”
Tommy steals a quick glance at you. “I don’t have any other guests.”
You don’t dare turn around in your seat as the echo of numerous footsteps sound off, trailing from the hallway until they reach the dining area.
“Well, well. Looks like the gang's all here.”
The voice sends a chill down your spine. Amelio Sabini. He wasn’t head honcho but far enough up on the food chain for it to mean something.
Tommy clears his throat and puts out his cigarette. He doesn’t stand.
“What? No warm greeting for me or my brothers? Alright then.”
The vultures descend on the table, squeezing in where they could and kicking their feet up. You recognize some of the women on their arms from the club.
“Amelio. You’re interrupting my dinner.”
“Really? Cause if I remember correctly, we were invited. I know you didn’t start eating without me, Tommy. That’s bad business.”
“What’s bad business is discussing it in front of the women. You lot,” he points to the scantily clad girls. “Out.”
The girls all cling to their men, throwing each other nervous glances. You envied them just a little. To be pretty and clueless. It wouldn’t get them very far though.
Amelio gives a signal and they suck their teeth, sulking back out into the main part of the restaurant. You attempt to walk out with them but a goon keeps you firmly in your chair.
“Where are you heading off to, puddin’? You’re the main dish.”
“I take it you’re acquainted?” Tommy asks but you hear the condescending tone laced in the question.
“She’s the one that invited us. Knows the Royale is my favorite. Have you tried the raspberry and chocolate souffle?” Amelio gives a chef's kiss. “Eccellente!”
The men squabble as you mildly disassociate, understanding that this was going to end in one of two ways: you live or you die. And if you did die, Big Red was gonna get what’s coming to her, that’s for damn sure.
Your small break from reality is abruptly ended when the cold metal of a pistol is shoved into your hands.
Your hands graze the gun, a once familiar object now feeling foreign.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” Amelio coos. “Let’s not draw this out any longer, eh? We all know how this ends. I don’t want to draw this out any further. Va bene?”
You nod your head slowly, steadying your grip on the weapon. You aim the gun directly at Tommy, unblinking. “Sorry it had to happen this way.”
Tommy gives a half shrug. “Likewise.”
You’re quick to pull the trigger and watch as the bullet whizzes by Tommy’s head and glides straight into the neck of the waiter. The platter in his hands falls, the Beretta masked as the “souffle” tumbling to the ground.
And just like that, the room cascades into a full out battle. Tommy wastes no time in grabbing his own gun and you throw yourself into the heat of action, taking out two more of Amelio’s men before you get clipped in the left arm. You throw yourself down on the ground in search of cover.
Arthur and the other Blinders crowd in from the kitchen, helping Tommy to clear out the room. Finn is careful as he drags you towards the back door, where a car is waiting.
“We can’t just leave them there!” you scream through the searing pain.
“They’ll be fine, trust me!”
Before you could argue your point further, the doors to the car get slammed shut and you’re whisked away from the scene.
Making it back to a small office Tommy owned was nothing short of a miracle. You had never seen or been a part of such a gunfight. However, it wasn’t the shooting that pissed you off.
“I know this was your idea.” you murmur, wincing as Tommy pours more alcohol in your wound.
“I told Big Red to persuade you, didn’t know that meant leaving you with a bruised eye.” Tommy says, double checking to make sure he cleaned the graze thoroughly.
You shake your head. “She’s got it out for me, apparently. You could’ve just asked-”
“I did ask you. This was reassurance.”
You pull away from his touch, a disapproving look etched into your face. “It’s like you don’t even trust me! We’re cut from the same cloth, remember?”
Tommy puts away the whiskey, reaching around you to grab at the gauze. He wraps it around your arm tenderly. Satisfied with his work, he takes a pack of smokes out of his pocket, tucking one between his lips.
He saddles up to where you’re perched on his desk, spreading your legs to stand between them.
“I never doubted you once. There were things that needed to be in place and I wanted to make sure it happened.”
The deep pools of his eyes drag you under and once again, you find yourself pulled into his orbit. No matter how hard your gut alerts you to the dangers of falling in love with Thomas Shelby, you ignore the blaring alarms and steel yourself. He wasn’t like the others, happy to parade you around on their arm like some sort of trophy. You had a mind, a working spirit that was hard to break and a reputation to uphold. You didn’t want to be the dainty, seen but not heard wife.
You wanted to be his equal.
Plucking the cigarette from his lips, you take a quick puff from it, exhaling slowly. “I should go.”
“I’ve arranged for John to take you to the hotel. We didn’t have much time to grab clothing from your place but I can have Pol take you shopping tomorrow, if you’d like.”
“You got me a room?”
Tommy chuckles slightly at the question, demeanor unwavering as he takes a small metal item from his pocket, flipping it in-between his fingers like you’ve seen him do many times before with a coin.
“I got us a suite.”
You stare at the key, understanding that it signified much more than a cozy night in. Accepting this key and going to see him meant that you were tethering yourself to a man you swore was just casual. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of commitment.
He pries your hand open, setting the room key in it before closing it gently. Nearly forgetting how to breathe, your eyes flutter close as Tommy seals the deal with a kiss.
He runs a lone finger down your cheek, his own lips plump with the sheen of your affections.
“My proposal still stands.”
Tommy says nothing else as he exits the office, doors groaning in protest at his departure. You open up your hand again. Would you still remain the Duchess or become a Queen?
#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x fem!reader#Thomas Shelby x female reader#fic: the Duchess of london#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x fem!reader#Thomas Shelby x you#peaky blinders fanfiction
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Day 5 - caf
since my scribbles can be totally illegible, here’s a transcript
Obi-Wan: Here you go, Cody
Cody: Oh, thanks, sir
Cody: this... it’s caf?
Obi-Wan: Ah, yes! I’ve noticed my teas are not really to your tastes, so I stocked up some caf for you instead! I hope it’s okay
Cody: ... oh
Cody: ...thank you.
#codywan#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#star wars#tcw#starwarstober23#little comic#I absolutely love the trope of them doing flimsiwork together and drinkin tea and caf#and Cody doesn't really like the teas Obi-Wan gives him but drinks them anyway because no one has EVER offered him something like that#and he'd rather jump out of an airlock than hurt Obi-Wan's feelings#so he sucks it up and drinks it and maybe even almost likes one blend or two#but ofc Obi-Wan notices at some point that Cody obviously isn't a big fan of teas so he'll get him caf instead#and if Cody already marveled at someone offering him something like tea this is a whole another level#a cup of caf is practically a love letter to Cody#I love them so much#codywan every day all the time#THEM#idiots in love#I also always struggle with coloring comics like do I color them or not????? so they end up colored kinda in this half-assed way usually#also if it hasn't become clear yet I can't draw backgrounds and struggle with that too so everything always takes place in some weird LIMBO
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💘 & “here, you can sleep in my shirt.” BUT also with “no way am i letting you sleep on the couch!” i’m apparently on my friends 2 lovers shit tonight 🤩 hehehe
good thing i am Always on my friends to lovers shit! this took a lot longer than i expected, but i hope you like it ruby <3 - [1.2k] | join the party!
By some strange twist of fate, and a run in with an interdimensional nightmare, Steve Harrington had become one of your closest friends.
You can’t complain, Steve is everything you’d ever hoped for in a friend. He’s kind to you, gives you his full attention when you’re talking, makes you call him to say you got home alright. He’s the perfect kind of friend you unknowingly fall in love with.
That was the one fatal flaw of being close friends with Steve Harrington. You’d fallen in love with him without even realizing until it was too late.
You hadn’t intended to, honest. You do your best not to show it, but the knowing looks you get from Robin when your eyes linger maybe a second too long tell you you’re not as subtle as you want to be.
That same look is burned behind your retinas when Steve walks back into his living room and drops down next to you on the couch with a sigh.
“Robin’s not coming,” he says. His head lulls onto his shoulder so he can look at you. You hum, leaning further into the cushions and pulling your knees up beneath you.
“She say why?” you ask and Steve shrugs.
“Something about her mom needing her home,” he supplies. His gaze falls to the array of snacks on his coffee table, all set out for the movie night you were supposed to be having with the older teens until they’d all bailed one by one. Part of you thinks it’s part of some secret scheme neither you or Steve are a part of.
You clear your throat, not letting your brain dwell on the thought for any longer.
“Well, your stolen movies aren’t gonna watch themselves,” you joke, nudging Steve’s shoulder. He smiles almost the second your hand touches him, a soft chuckle escaping him.
“They’re not stolen. They’re borrowed. Without Keith knowing,” he stands from the couch to put one of the movies in. When he comes back to sit next to you, he holds his arm up as a silent invitation to settle into his side. Your lower lip gets sucked between your teeth and you hesitate for a blink before scooching over and against him.
You make it through one movie before the rain starts, two before it starts thundering. It’s late, the sky dark and blending in with the night outside. You doubt you could see through the curtains of rainfall were it not for the streetlights lining the sidewalk.
“I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive in this,” Steve says, coming to stand by you as you peer out a window near the front door.
“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him and looking back before he catches you.
“Maybe you should stay the night,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like your heart isn’t falling into your stomach at the mere suggestion. Your fingers drop their hold on the window curtain in shock. The curtain falls back into place, shielding your view of the storm outside.
You look at Steve with eyes slightly wider than normal.
“I don’t have any clothes,” you say dumbly. Steve just shrugs, a small smile sliding onto his face.
“We’ll find you something,” he says. He nods his head towards the stairs, motioning for you to follow after him. You’re thankful he can’t see you as you head up the stairs towards his bedroom, a place you’d only been inside maybe once or twice. You’re certain you look like a fish out of water, certain every emotion you’re feeling is painted on the outside for anyone to see.
You linger near the doorway of his bedroom as he heads towards the dresser. As he rifles through his drawers you let your eyes flit across his room, drinking in the little details of it that all add up to Steve.
“Here,” his voice breaks through your reverie. You blink a few times, head shaking slightly. In his hand is an old, worn t-shirt. “You can sleep in my shirt. I’ll find you some pajama pants.”
You take the shirt from him. It’s soft between your fingers and so are the pajama pants he eventually finds and hands to you. He directs you towards the bathroom to change and you slip inside quietly, shutting the door with a click.
For a moment, you let yourself lean against it and catch your breath as the reality sinks in. You’re spending the night with Steve in his house and he’s letting you wear his clothes to bed. Clothes that definitely smell like him when you put them on.
Seeing your reflection in the mirror makes you a little giddy, chest a little sticky with something unfamiliar. When you come out of the bathroom, Steve’s not in his room. You set your folded clothes on top of his dresser, hoping he won’t mind you leaving them there for the night.
“They work out okay?” you jump, spinning around to see him enter his room. Your hand clutches your chest and at his amused smile, you let it fall to your side.
“Yeah, thank you,” you breathe, glancing down at the clothes he’d loaned you. You get a whiff of that scent that’s all Steve when you do. You swallow and look back up at him. He’s smiling at you, something fond and sweet that makes you squirm.
“Alright. Well,” he jets his thumb over his shoulder. “You know where to find me.”
“What?” you ask, brows pinching. He looks a little sheepish.
“You can take the bed. I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” he says, voice a little confused. You shake your head.
“No way am I letting you sleep on the couch,” you say, completely adamant. Steve blinks at you.
“Okay…but I’m not letting you sleep on it either,” he says, taking one step further inside his room. You purse your lips, glancing at the bed in the center of the room.
“We can just…share the bed. We’re adults,” you sound entirely more calm and collected than you feel. Steve thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s already feeling borderline unwell seeing you in his clothes and now you’re offering to share a bed?
“Right, yeah, um, okay,” he stammers, cheeks twisting into a slight pink. The two of you pause for a moment and then slowly make your way towards his bed and climb beneath the sheets. For a moment the two of you lay stiff as boards on your backs, trying your best not to touch the other.
When Steve reaches to switch his lamp off, the room suddenly blanketed in darkness, you let yourself relax. You can still hear the rain hitting against the house, though it’s not as intense as it was before. Steve shifts next to you and you listen to the sheets rustle.
The two of you whisper your goodnights, hardly audible over the sound of the rain. Some point in the night, when a particularly loud clap of thunder wakes you, you’re only half aware of your body pressed to Steve and your legs tangled together. The feeling alongside the constant pitter patter of rainfall outside lets you drift back to sleep easier than ever.
You’ll have all the time to be flustered about your position in the morning. But for right now, you let yourself indulge in something you’d only been able to experience in your dreams.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington blurb#📝: a writes!#allie's valentine's house party <3#allie's vday party blurbs!#the last vday blurb who else cheered!
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Carbonated Jumbo-Gro.
The ground shook. This was a new phenomena for this part of the country, but far from a rare one. It shook in steady, rhythmic quakes, timed between heavy, excited breathing of whale-sized lungs.
As the shaking intensified, the employees of the bottling plant ran for the exists, blue and white collars blending into a mass of panic. None of them knew why this calamity was approaching them, but it was unmistakably zeroing in on their location.
Maybe he was just thirsty.
The gigantic Jack lumbered forward, his fat thighs generating unbearable heat as they slid against each other, seemingly immune to the sensation of chaffing. In fact, his titanic body seemed to be immune to many of the disadvantages of extreme size and obesity, which was good for him and terrible for the world around him.
He was, after all, extremely sized and extremely obese.
That size seemed to extend to his eager and erect cock as well, heralding his approach like a meaty compass pointing the way. He paused as he looked and leered over the masses of panicking people, licking his lips in an inhumanly massive combination of lust and hunger. He could eat these people, or he could strand them over his most sensitive spots…but that would come later. Right now, he had a mission.
Stepping through the wall of the plant, he chuckled dully as the steel frame easily collapsed under his incalculable and inescapable weight. So many large high pressure drums lay before him, almost all useless for his current purposes.
Except one: the carbonated Jumbo Gro. Jack didn’t know what advantage carbonation gave this wonderful stuff, but he’d long stopped asking logistical and even logical questions about Jumbo Gro. It made him the biggest person on earth, and that was enough. Well, second biggest right now. But that would change in a minute…
At least, that’s what Jack thought. But as he eagerly kicked the other vats out of the way and tried to cross the length of the warehouse to his prize, he found himself in shadow.
“What do you think you’re doing, tiny?”
Jack froze, turning to gaze into the navel of the only person in the world he had to look up to. Garg towered over him, dripping sweat from his ungainly fat folds. His back alone had rolls to make Jack look malnourished, and his thighs were thicker than the other giant’s entire body. This…wasn’t good.
“Going for a drink?” Garg laughed at the obviously ploy. “Great idea! Don’t mind if I do!”
With a casual display of godlike strength, he bent over and ripped the target vat from the ground with his fingertips, greedily sucking its contents dry through fat lips. Jack paled. Oh fuck. Oh no.
The rumbling in Garg’s city block of a gut was even louder than the rumble of his steps, confirming that his drink was, in fact, quite carbonated indeed. And then, the belch.
The loudest sound ever recorded was the 1883 eruption of the volcano at Krakatoa, clearly audible from as far as forty miles away. This new eruption was as massive to the former record-holder as Garg was to a normal human being. The warehouse, and indeed all structures for miles around, simply collapsed, practically disintegrated from the shockwave. Everyone in sight of the mountain of man was knocked into unconsciousness. Even Jack had to clasp his hands to his head in pain.
“Heh…here…it…comes…”
Jack had mixed feelings on not being able to see Garg’s latest growth spurt, but he almost immediately found his entire body pinned under the other giant’s churning sac as the big became even more horrifically bigger. The ground Garg stood on became a crater as the earth itself failed to withstand his unending mass, his echoing moans of orgasmic pleasure rivaling his belch for sheer power. He doubled in size once, then again. He could swear the curvature of the earth was just becoming visible to him. The entire city certainly was. It looks delicious.
Even though it was puny enough to be lost in the shadow of his throbbing cock.
“…HUNGY,” he declared, having neither the will or ability to deny his body, and its insatiable need to grow…
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Hold on to the memories (Specs x Tucker)
happy new years my loves!! be safe alright? 💕✨️🎉🍾we survived 2023!!
be nice this is my first time writing this pair AND for this fandom lmao
Read on AO3!
December 31st- 11:45 pm.
Parties suck.
Specs ditches it ages ago, opting to slink behind the porch swing and cradle his remaining daiquiri as if his life depends on it. Which it does. There is no way he could handle the rest of the year—fifteen minutes of it left, sober. Not that hiding matters anyway. Outside there's an even bigger group of people, shouting, screaming along to the song playing on the speakers. Fireworks crackle above his head, a rainbow mishmash of colors that blend into the misty sky, along with some cigarette smoke.
He can't remember why he even showed up. He didn't know any of these people fooling around like idiots. Was he even invited? Or did he just go along with Tucker?
He jolts from his daze to realize something. 'Oh fuck I lost Tucker. How did I lose Tucker? He's not exactly an easy person to lose!'
Thankfully Tucker wasn't his designated driver, but he still liked having him around for moral support.
He couldn't remember the last time he saw him. It was...maybe it was when he was wandering around the house. The music was pounding in his ears, and Tucker had mentioned something about helping his cousin with..something. What was that something?
"Don't go anywhere, Specs, I just need to help Taylor clean up the—you know. Ugh."
Puke. Right. Someone had puked inside the cat's litter box. And that was when Specs decided to step outside to get some air.
He takes another sip of his drink, swallowing away the tartness of it all, the blended ratio of lime to rum being too uneven for even him to find it delicious in any capacity. Not to mention it seemed to make his vision worse. It wasn't unusual for his glasses to slip off, seeing as they needed to be adjusted every other second, but upon touching his face, he feels the frame right on the bridge of his nose. He simply hadn't noticed, with the noise and the overwhelming atmosphere of it all. He wouldn't mind going home before midnight. Maybe he could catch Elise and they could go spirit hunting.
Except she was off playing bingo with her friends, so even if he did get back, she wouldn't be there.
His glass was empty now. Specs places it aside and exhales, resting his back against the edge of the porch stairs. It was only when he let himself wander for a bit towards the lawn that he notices a tall, bearded man moving towards him.
"There you are!" Tucker says and with no hesitation plops right next to him.
"Surprise, you found me." He replies flatly.
"You're not that hard to find. Five-foot nothing guy with glasses." He ignores Spec's noise of faux outrage. "And, I happened to notice you ran off without telling me."
"Aw, you do care."
Tucker shoots him a look, before taking a swig of whiskey.
Specs leans over, bumping his shoulder against him lightly without thinking. "I needed the fresh air." He admits after a moment of silence.
"Air's not that fresh out here."
"It's better outside than in. Can't stand the noise."
"Well it is a New Years party, kinda expect it to be a little noisy."
"New Years Eve party," He corrects. "No one actually celebrates New Year's Day 'cause they're too busy recovering from their hangovers. Y'know, it almost makes zero sense why it exists. There's nothing special about it. And...and new years resolutions? Like who the hell does those? It's so dumb. And fuck, it's so loud."
"Specs, how drunk are you?" Tucker smirks, allowing the other to lean closer almost into his lap.
"Yes." He grumbles.
"If you hate the noise so much, why did you show up?"
"You know why."
Mischief twinkles in his warm brown eyes. "Guess I do." His voice is gruff, but comforting. “Because I'm your best friend, and the only person who would invite you to a party. There's a first time for everyone, Specs.”
“Fuck off. That's only partly true.”
“Mm.”
"What time is it?" He gestures at Tucker's watch.
He glances down. "Nearly midnight, about a minute."
"Ha, you've got a few seconds then to figure out your resolution."
"I thought you said resolutions were dumb?"
"They are, that's why I expect you to do one. Duh."
He rolls his eyes. "Alright, my resolution is---"
Someone shouts over the buzz of voices. "Ten seconds till midnight! Everyone couple up, and get ready!"
It takes them a second to realize what's going on. Men with women, men with men, women with women, all huddling in the cold, waiting in anticipation as they start to count down.
10...9...8...
"Is this the part where we kiss?" Specs whispers, not realizing he says it aloud. "Oh fuck."
7...6...5...4...
Tucker seems taken aback, his eyes wide in astonishment at the suggestion. "I---think so? Do we?"
He shrugs. "Not if you don't want to! My mouth started doing the talking...before I finished thinking."
Tucker chuckles. "
Let's do it, man. It's tradition."
3...2...1
Neither man knows who moves first. Specs feels Tucker tenderly cup his cheek to tilt it slightly, his rough, chapped lips finally pressing against his in a soft gesture of affection. Specs didn't expect to feel anything but a quick burst of adrenaline. Instead he felt light, tingling all of a sudden---and it wasn't because Tucker's beard was tickling him.
When they pull away, Specs is left wanting more. He catches a glimpse of Tucker's eyelashes fluttering open, and he nearly passes out at the sight. He never realized how beautiful he is, never grasped just how his eyes seemed to shine under the moonlight.
"Woah."
"Woah." He echoes. "That was..."
"Yeah...that was...really---" His cheeks redden, at a loss for words.
"Nice."
"Yeah, nice, that's the word I was looking for."
"Happy New Year?"
"Happy New Year." He nudges him. "You never told me your resolution."
Tucker winks, placing his hand in Spec's hip. "Don't need to. I already did my resolution for this year."
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Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:
Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.
At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.
And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.
aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,
(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))
also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏
far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).
right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check
for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏
if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring
kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.
colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me
but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing
coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.
colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !
and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business
just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]
he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.
he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.
the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers
his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.
he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.
when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.
he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.
the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?
they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !
he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.
he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.
the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.
and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.
he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.
the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.
the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...
when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.
he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.
of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.
if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.
the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...
it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.
colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.
elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.
she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.
surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.
he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.
when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...
...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.
thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.
the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.
of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.
vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.
if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.
elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.
and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.
things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.
he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.
this is where the reader steps in !!!
you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that
but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.
tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.
you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.
you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.
eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.
elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...
ah. there it is
you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?
that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?
you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.
you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo
you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.
the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.
he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.
as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.
"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"
when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.
meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.
you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.
elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.
"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.
"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.
"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"
"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol
you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.
he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"
you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."
and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?
but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.
"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.
as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"
you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move
"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually
the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.
"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."
your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3
you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.
but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.
he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere
he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."
he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."
over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.
"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.
at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.
"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"
the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.
his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.
his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.
"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.
"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.
he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."
"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.
"let's get to it."
#blurb#ask#goddamn will they EVER let each other finish a sentence.???#sorry dialogue is Not my forte 🙈 im a prose kinda girlie hardcore#also yahhhh i just kind of . totally abandoned the ending to cater to my h/c fantasies. sorry not sorry 😎#halfway thru the second block of bullets i realized the hc format was completely pointless and i had basically written a full fic#on the other hand im nothing if not a stubborn bitch so.. not changing the formatting now.!#if u think about this too hard u start to see a lot of plot holes#or at least further questions about the specificities of vamp lore in this au#to that i would recommend u pls ignore them 🥰#GODDD i started writing this directly in the ask. like a fucking FOOL#knowing FULL WELL how this stupid post editor not only eats ask drafts for breakfast and spits out their bones#but ALSO that the even STUPIDER copy/paste restrictions would hit#since theres a character block limit separate from the character POST limit 🙄#so ive had this tab open for almost a week and have just been walking on eggshells around my laptop praying to not lose it dfghj#MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF TO POST IT TBH#also smitty ive got a sidenote for u as well but its gonna go on main lmao. one sec#oh god............ just realized i did the ff.net thing with the in-text ANs 😳😳#pOST CANCELLED; EVERYBODY GO HOME
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Hear me out. It's the first time I will confess this. I feel like I'm being judged in a confessional with a priest on a Sunday night.
Thing is... I can't get over Axl. I swear for the love of all existence. I can't tell what it is, he's not even the type of PERSONALITY I EVEN USUALLY ENJOY. Or used to, before I met him. Because now... nowadays I want to put him inside a portable blender... Not any type, but something like Ninja QB3001SS Ninja Fit Compact Personal Blender, for Shakes, Smoothies, Food Prep, and Frozen Blending, 700-Watt Base and (2) 16-oz. Cups & Spout Lids, Black, and I would drink him with vitamins, apples and bananas. I mean, it would cure my depression, it's the remedy, I swear.
Frankly, many will find this very controversial and against human politics, but I would literally take him home and give him the best of the best food. It's no joke, I would see him existing on the streets and I would take him in my arms after patting his head exactly 3 times. I would give him so many delicious sachet, that ones that costs more than my soul. I would let him on MY sofa. I would give him FOOD. And I WOULD pet his head. I mean, maybe he would be a cat parasitizing at my house but I would love it. He literally reminds me of those orange cats who always tries to jump between platforms and fails miserably, falling ridiculously on the ground, and then starts spinning and spinning around the house at light speed for no reason at all. I... obviously I would be filming everything... and laughing at him. But I would feel bad in the end and give him more sachets. I would pet his head. Violently.
I think an Axl tamagochi would solve all my problems. Like a really small pocket sized minuscule little British guy saying almost incomprehensible things to me, and I would smile at him. It's SCARY how much I feel the urge to pat his head violently when I see him. I literally wanted to take him home and wrap him in the duvet peacefully. And I'm not. Like this. At all. But he broke me. I'm not the same person as I was before.
Somehow I think that my orange cat is the one to blame for this. I lived with him since he was a small kitten, and I swear he reminds me of Axl so much. And vice versa. Holy shit.
First off let me apologize in advance for this answer not standing a ghost of a chance measuring up to this ask. Holy shit anon. Also if it's any consolation I was a "Love the tragic edgelord cool guy archetype" person for years but something about Axl Low changed me. Maybe I just like the funny little guy, or maybe I just wanna know his secret for being so unflappably positive (Ive posited in the past that all Axl lovers are Inos searching for their time-crossed lover to heal their broken hearts and I think that has something to do with it. Suck on that theory, Sigmund Freud)
Second off, you're so right. So 1000% right. 1. Drinking Axl Low would cure both of us; if it worked for Ino it'll work for us!
2. Anon the cat analogy... perfect characterization. He would 100% be the cringefail orange cat, fumbling cat parkour followed by zoomies. Reminds me of this fucking fantastic piece by @scribblesscribblings which I'll link Here (I pray to god that's the right link I'm doing this on mobile) if you haven't seen it already give it a reblog cause it's amazing
Axl Tamagotchi would in my case ruin my life because I would be monitoring that 24/7. Aside from that it'd doubtless be the most glorious piece of Axl merch ever concieved. I would pay anything (I'd pay anything for any kind of Axl merch but I digress).
As for the confession booth bit I cannot absolve you because if liking Axl Low is a sin then neither of us will see heaven. In which case I'm with drama CD Sol on this one: "God? I don't want anything with him!" (at least I think that was in the drama CD. It's from SOMETHING anyway...)
Thank you for this ask I'm howling. This kind of deep expression of affection for Gear characters is literature to me. It's art. And if we can all adopt a little bit of the Axl Low mentality I think our lives will be better (since regrettably we cannot drink him haha)
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Dex Vicente Rosenhein
warnings : yandere behavior incoming but not too prevalent yet, this is more of a generic and vague introductory blurb, stalking if you squint, violence, monsters
Dex isn't the golden retriever type at first glance. First impressions are lukewarm at best, at worst it devolves into a fist fight. If you even notice him at all, he's just another quiet, bitter nerd keeping to himself in a corner, growing through middle and high school alongside you at a distance.
Dex had always been bad at socializing, and he never seemed to get better at it like his peers did. He also never cared to suck up to teachers or follow rules that he found inconvenient or boring, so he was offered no protection from the school's faculty when his smart mouth and short fuse got him into trouble with his fellow students, which was often.
Skipping school and constant fighting was only barely tolerable, but like some kinda 80's kid he wore skates everywhere he could get away with it, which is most places when you don't care too much about getting in trouble. Whether you noticed him much or not in middle and high school, or maybe even tried to get to know him (if you were hoping to upset your parents it would have worked), he disappeared from school without so much as a goodbye or forwarding address.
It isn't until years later that you encounter him again in college, the slouched, lanky figure topped by a pair of tall, ivory horns that occasionally flash with electric sparks of blue is hard to forget. For someone who tries so desperately to blend into the background, how starkly he stands out both in height and appearance is one of the biggest inconveniences of his life.
Dex seems startled when you approach to say hi and catch up; he's the only person from your high school you've seen here and you're curious as to whether the rumors that circulated about him having been expelled have any merit. Surprisingly he doesn't seem as apprehensive to your attention as you remember him being, and he's amiable enough to disclose that he moved after the death of a family member (but not much else).
You see him around a lot more in college then you did in high school, you share a few classes, have the same free time and tend to study or hang out in the same places. He's still bad at socializing, but it's clear that he's at least trying with you, however awkward the results may be. If you're not perceptive enough to see the subtle shift in his expression that softens his eyes when he looks at you, the sparks that run up his horns are a more obvious tell.
College life continues in a steady pace of study, leisure and youthful amounts of partying (which is to say, a surplus). Another surprise comes in finding out that Dex also frequents these parties despite his aggressively introverted nature. It's at one such party in the late fall, right on the cusp of becoming winter when the air is chilly but not yet biting, when he comes up to greet you where you are idling by the makeshift bar. His ice blue eyes glow intensely under the colorful strobing lights overhead, and his gaze feels more piercing than usual. If you had to hazard a guess, the red cup in his hand is likely far from his first. He isn't tripping over himself in a joyful stupor or letting the booze make his mouth run, but he's looser, relaxed and boldened enough to let his gaze wander over your face and hold your gaze freely when normally he seems physically incapable of looking you in the eye.
He's pulled away by friends after a bit, leaving you in the crowd. You're considering going for another drink when you're almost knocked off balance by a toweringly tall figure bumping into you from behind; you almost expect it to be Dex again, but instead a much burlier man is there, eyeing you very brazenly. His apology is an insincere attempt at a pickup which you're quick to reject; the douchiness just oozes off of him in waves. He's pushy, but eventually leaves, glowering at you in a way that gives you the slightest of chills.
The encounter just ruined the whole party for you honestly, so you call it a night. It's a bit earlier than you would normally leave but the night is not young by any means and the temperature shows it. The party was held in one of the college neighborhoods just outside the campus itself so walking back to your dorm was the obvious choice in your state. You tuck your coat tighter around you and start the trek.
As your set your slightly inebriated pace, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. As the walk drags on, the rustling of leaves in the wooded strip across from the row of houses you're walking in front of feels less like wind and more like something malicious, following you, waiting for... For what, you couldn't be sure, considering you've been well and truly alone and defenseless for the past five minutes at least.
As if prompted by your thoughts, a low growl rumbles out from the trees, shadows obscuring the source until it steps closer; an impossibly huge wolf is prowling towards you with teeth bared. Other than being at least three times bigger than wolves are supposed to be, there's something unsettlingly human in the hatred in its eyes. Your eyes are locked together, the tension in the air keening until its broken by the wolf snapping at you and surging forward.
You startle, trying to push your shaking limbs to movement but between the shock and alcohol, you only manage to fling yourself onto the ground, just barely out of the way of the wolf as it tears through the space with murderous intent. It whips around, another growl making the air shake; there's no way you'll be able to get away a second time. It moves slower this time, relishing in seeing you trembling on the ground below it, its fangs drip as its mouth opens to sink into your neck-
A brilliant blue light suddenly fills the street alongside a violent crackling sound. The wolf above you jerks and screeches out a whimper of pain as it convulses and falls to its side, disoriented but not incapacitated. You take the opportunity to scramble to your feet and take off; a chance to live has been presented and like hell you'll waste it. Behind you, you hear a snarl and the sound of paws bigger than your head pounding against the pavement after you. You risk a look over your shoulder just as a second figure, this one definitely human, rushes from seemingly out of nowhere and tackles the thing away from you, even with a size difference equivalent to that of a rat and cat. The blue light from before flashes again, and you turn your head back to keep from being blinded, the last thing you see before you sprint around the corner that puts you in sight of your dorm building is the tall, shadowed silhouette of a man with tall, pale horns.
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i said forever ago i would start writing on here and i turned out to be a big fat liar, so heres my first try, more to come, suggestions and questions welcome ywy
#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere scenarios#tw yandere#yandere x you#honestly ive never posted writings online before so im sfjhskfhskh#dex oc
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@koopzilla - cont.
Crammed into a booth fails to explain it! The overgrown tortoise is outright stuffed! Even with his legs stretched out, his toes gash the cushions (living or otherwise) in the opposing seat! Tiers of scaly belly fat make an appetizer of the table, gnawing at its edge. Slight bumps had spilled several offerings of sake down the king's chest already. Almost as many as he had scarfed. A disgusting blend of sweat and alcohol dribbles over the curve of his gut. Adjustments have the back of his shell tearing through the fabric of the booth. A jerk bumped his funny bone into the wall on his side and knocked a waiter over on the other...!
Staring bitterly into his captor on the other side of the table, his expression silently screams.
Unsatisfied.
Restaurants outside of his own kingdom are simply not built to contain him.
His eyes drifted to the neon sign mounted on the door though. The very sign Donkey had prompted to drag him in here in the first place. In obnoxiously bright letters, it promised Bowser...
All you can eat sushi.
"Lightweight. I could have taken a hundred of those." Too bad he is wearing half his offerings. His roaring stomach shouts to the waiters. A pound of his fist nearly snaps the table in two as his mouth follows up. "I'M GONNA EAT THIS PLACE OUTTA BUSINESS!! SUSHI. NOW!!"
Maybe he's just been enjoying his side of NON-spilled drinks, or perhaps he's used to being the oversized elephant in the room when getting dinner with the plumbers in their extra cramped world, but DK honestly doesn't notice the Koopa king's stuffed sausage situation. A fat guy like him was bound to spill over anything naturally right?
The smell of sweaty scales, spilled alcohol and ...FISH was a bit of a deterrent for most waiters in the establishment. As well as the other dining patrons, of which seemed far and few in between the longer the two of them sat and seeped. The air quality around their table was probably warrant for the restaurant to get demoted at least 2 grades. Not that DK noticed so much after smelling worse hanging around the slimy pit king.
Knocking back the rest of his small glass (literally the size of a fingernail) of the sharp and creamy liquid with a hint of cucumber at its base, he shoves his flank sideways against his seating guest playfully, though rough enough to cause the table treating the other's gut like a high-chair situation to rattle, and little fingernail sized plates of soy sauce and wasabi to dance around. "Oh yeah?? Well maybe if you wanted to show me that next time you'll suck it in!" A teasing half grin follows grabbing the next two drinks placed down by staff before the other can wobble to grab and spill them both. He then extends one out to the Koopa king's claws nonchalantly.
"...dude!" The table snapping in half and falling in his lap almost makes him drop HIS drink, but he manages after a moment of balancing the portion of tabletop on his lap as a sort of serving tray. "How're they supposed to bring it to ya when you fuck up the table? Chiiiiiiillllllll..."
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intoxication
Adrian was an idiot at the best of times. Get a few drinks in him, and he’s an idiot who’s in love with you.
pairing: adrian chase x f!reader
tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, mention of violence, receiving oral, established relationship, compliments...like a lot, sub!adrian
word count: 3.2k+
a/n: ahhhh this is my first time writing for Adrian and I hope yall like it!!
The man threw back beer most of the time, but if you asked what he wanted—and Chris wasn’t around—he’d order the pinkest drink on the menu. Stuffed with peach liqueur, blended strawberries and garnished with his own tiny umbrella from home, Adrian would suck those down and be onto the next before you could finish a beer. He could hold his own, lasted longer than you, but fuck did he take forever to sober up.
One dewy night you’re pulling him out of the bar, arms linked, and his forehead beaded with sweat as you make your way to the Sebring. He can walk just fine, but you’ve taken to guiding him ever since he saw a man pissing in the brick alley and drunkenly beat him to a pulp. It was dark enough that Adrian was unidentifiable, but you’d be remiss if something like that happened again on your watch. Thankfully, when your arm was in his he was too focused on cooing sweet little compliments your way to notice any misdemeanors in the immediate radius.
“You’re so pretty, like a little bunny. Like the Cadbury bunny, leaving sweet little chocolates wherever you go. Just the prettiest lady, in the bar and this parking lot and in my life.” Adrian’s speech wasn’t slurred, but it was slightly breathy, like his lungs were too full of air and the only way to get it out was by hurtling these compliments your way. “Pretty lips, and eyes, and I just wanna give you little kisses all the time.”
“Little kiss here.” Adrian brought your hand to his lips and left a little kiss on the back that was wetter than you maybe would’ve wanted. “And a little one here.” He turned your palm to give another. “And five little ones all over here.” His voice was sing-songy as he puckered his lips against each of your five fingers.
“And maybe a kiss…there?” He raised his free hand and pressed two fingers against your lips, letting his arm lazily drop as it slid along your mouth.
You licked your lips and they were sticky with the taste of sugar and citrus. Did the man dip his hands in his daiquiri or what?
“Let’s wait till we get home safe, okay?” You watched his expression shift to disappointment as you opened the passenger door to the Sebring and he slumped in.
The lost puppy dog look on his face was too much to handle, so you leaned down into the car to give him a small kiss. You intended it to be a little peck, but Adrian was quick to put his hands against the sides of your face and hold you there. His lips were also sticky and sweet, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to just stay there kissing him for the next several hours. Adrian’s tongue slid into your mouth as his lips parted and closed and pressed hard against yours in a rhythm that was so desperate it was almost nonexistent.
You grabbed onto one of his wrists, digging your nails in to get his attention. He stopped kissing you and just looked up through his eyelashes, glasses slid down the bridge of his nose.
“Adrian, home is only a five minute drive. Can my sweet boy wait?” Your breath hit his mouth and his lips formed a pout.
“Mmm…” he affirmed, head lolling around as he watched you walk around the front of the car to slide into the driver seat, “you can drive? Cause if you’re even a lil tipsy…” He lifted a hand and made a cutting motion along his throat, a lazy laugh following as his hand thumped back down at his side.
“I had two beers two hours ago, m’fine.” More than anything, you were tired and just wanted to fall into bed.
Adrian let his head fall to face you, and he was holding back laughter as he looked at you, “I know. You’re a pretty bunny, not a dumb one” He closed his eyes, “My pretty bunny that I just love sooo much.”
“Okay, I love you too, Adrian.” You turned the keys in the ignition and offered a hand to Adrian, who was just about falling over the middle console looking at you.
Rather than taking it, he adjusted his body and slumped over further to rest his head in your palm. You laughed, and the ride home was silent save for Adrian’s languid breaths as he stared at you with doe eyes and the smallest smile on his lips.
He was assailing your hand and arm with kisses when you pulled up to the house, and you decided to humor him by sitting there with the car parked for a minute or two until he realized you’d stopped.
“Hold on, shh, stay there.” He brought a finger to his lips as he shushed you and jumped out of the passenger seat, rushing over to the driver’s side to pull the door open and grab your hand.
“I’ll guide you now. This is my home.” He shut the car door behind you, and shook his head, “Our home. I was here first, but you should always feel welcome. Your name is on the lease, too, now.”
You laughed as he wrapped his arm around your back to bring you inside, because you knew he was dead serious. There wasn’t a hint of irony with that man, and you loved knowing exactly what you were getting with him.
Your gaze lingered on his profile as he walked you inside. The soft curls matting to his face in the heat, how much his nose jutted out of his face, the little mole on his cheek, the dimple in his chin as he frowned, his Adam’s apple thrumming in his throat as he rambled on about something you were too zoned out to be comprehending.
Adrian let go of you to fumble with the key in the lock, and he just about slammed the door open when he finally got it. He braced himself against the entry wall to kick his shoes off, and stretched a hand out towards you, which you took to steady yourself as you slid off your own.
“Kiss?” Adrian slides the hand you were holding up your arm, gripping your tricep to yank you close. “We are home. Also, we’re safe.” He shuffled the two of you towards the open door, kicking it with his foot to close it.
“The lock on that door is working.”
“Oh, is it? You’re sure it’s not a faulty one?” You draped your free arm over his shoulder, fingertips playing along the back of his neck.
He shivered, but looked at you with a strong frown, “I have no real way of knowing. But if someone does come in, I’ll fucking kill them. Or you will, probably.”
As you dragged your hand down the back of his t-shirt, along his spine, he shuddered deeper, and a small whine left his lips.
“Let me kiss you. Come on, please?” He pressed tighter against you, but you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away slightly.
Silently, you slid from his grasp and into the bedroom, knowing he’d be on your heels and against your lips the moment you made it to the bed.
The room was illuminated by street lamps outside, and all you could see was his silhouette coming toward you in the dark room. He was so eager that his entire body fell on you as he tried to kiss you, both of you tumbling backwards onto the thick comforter. It didn’t deter him, of course, if anything it encouraged him to kiss you deeper and stronger.
“I need you. Please sit on me. My face, my dick. I don’t give a fuck. Please.”
His breath was hot and sweet as he spoke between kisses, tongue pressing into your mouth and sliding against yours. It felt as if he’d wanted every inch of your bodies together, his torso lay hard against you, not enough to crush you but enough that you knew that his mind had already dedicated this night to you. Your pleasure, your happiness; but you’d be stupid to think that he wasn’t also getting something out of this.
The man had come from kissing before, and he’d very nearly gotten there several times with his mouth between your legs. Nights that were about you were just as vindicating for him.
“You’re so pretty, so so pretty.” Adrian propped himself up with his fists on either side of your head, and your eyes dragged along the way his muscles pressed against his skin and you longed for them around your body, against your bare skin. He shifted his weight to one side so he could trace a finger against your hairline, flicking little strands out of your face to see you better.
He pet your face, running his thumb along your cheekbone and down to take your chin between his thumb and index finger.
You parted your lips, tilting your head down against his grasp to take his thumb in your mouth. You slid your tongue around and watched as he stared, his mouth agape and eyes wide with bewilderment. Between your legs you felt what you were doing to him, felt him jut his hips against you without control. A shuddered breath escaped his lips.
“Why don’t you get down on your knees?”
Adrian’s eyes shifted from your mouth to your eyes, and he slid his wet thumb against your now closed mouth, pulling on the corner and leaning down to give you a hungry kiss that filled your mouth with moans.
“Yes, okay. Yes.” He scooted off of you and onto his feet, dropping to his knees, fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans.
You could gauge how drunk he still was by the way his face twisted with frustration when he couldn’t immediately get it. By the way his patience wore out within ten seconds and he decided to instead yank your jeans down off your legs. He didn't even bother with your underwear, opting to press his mouth between your legs over the soft cotton, soaking the fabric with his saliva and your wetness after a few moments.
When you were good and wet, he pulled the fabric off to the side to press his tongue to your clit. The underwear dug into his skin, and as he continued sliding his tongue around you, desperate and fueled by your moans, he unintentionally ripped it away from you.
He stumbled to the side as the fabric gave, fist sliding over your thigh and gripping the now ruined underwear.
“Motherfuck—sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll replace them, I promise. I’ll go out first thing.” He looked up at you with furrowed brows and his lips in a frown, dimples in his chin kind of making the whole thing worth it. He looked so helpless, waiting for you to say something. Anything.
You leaned forward and put your hands on his shoulders, sliding your hands down his biceps, drawing the moment out just a bit longer. He had his hands on the outside of either thigh, thumbs tapping in wait.
“Adrian, it’s okay.” You whispered, and visibly saw the tension drop from his body, “But—”
You beckoned him with a finger, drawing him in close until he was just below your face, “I don’t think you were done down there. And if you think this night’ll end before you f—”
Cut off by a moan, Adrian was back between your legs in an instant. His hands slid up your thighs to your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and, as a result, tighter to his mouth. His tongue lapped slowly against you, pressed flat to get you wet, before he started to slide the tip around your clit, his mouth sucking lightly.
As your breathing got heavier, you had to prop yourself up on an elbow, while your free hand slid into Adrian’s hair, grabbing tight and holding him between your thighs. He responded by slipping his hand away from your back and underneath your shirt, up your torso, fingernails gliding along and giving you goosebumps. You felt a light vibration between your legs, and heard Adrian start to moan.
He sped up as he felt your chest heaving faster, moans turning to the sounds he’d make during a good meal. Sustained, guttural mmms almost making you laugh because fuck was he into this.
The only thing that stopped you was that you knew he’d take it to heart.
That, and the fact that his tongue was working you open so hard that you doubted you could laugh amidst the steady climb you were feeling. Your grip in his hair tightened, and you started to rut your hips against him, encouraging him to go faster. He put his hands on your hips and held you there firmly, keeping you from squirming away as you were prone to do without trying.
His hands held you so tight you hissed at the sharpness of his nails in your skin. You knew how strong you were, but it was often lost on you just how much stronger Adrian was physically. He could throw you around this room if you wanted. But both of you knew that where he wanted to belong was right here, on his knees, in front of you.
You both preferred it that way, too.
“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Adrian. My…good boy. My…” your words were failing to land as he worked harder to make you come, his own sounds exacerbated by the pet name.
He took a hand off your hip to palm the front of his jeans, his dick making the denim just that much more uncomfortable.
You took the opportunity of his lack of grip to fall back on the bed, letting go of Adrian’s hair, legs shuddering and arms outstretched to grasp at the sheets.
Adrian broke from your clit to kiss your inner thighs, leaving little marks with his teeth before he went back to finish you off. You were teetering on the edge already, that brief break all but sent you over, and when he rolled his tongue around your clit once again, you were gone.
You let your head fall fully back, digging into the mattress. If you’d been able to do anything but lie there trying your hardest to sink into the sheets, you would’ve seen Adrian peering up at you, drinking in the way your body looked as you came. You didn’t even give him a second to breathe before you were standing at the edge of the bed, pulling him up to yank off his clothes.
His shirt came off first, and you ran your hands down his torso. You crouched down to get his jeans off, kissing the boxer briefs to feel his hardness underneath. Adrian stared down, mouth agape as you pulled down his underwear and slid back up his body in one move, your tongue flat against his abs all the way up.
Too stunned to speak, Adrian let you take the lead and you pushed him down onto the bed, your shirt coming off a second later. You straddled him, sliding his dick between your lips and grabbing his hands to place them on your chest.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you, wanna come inside you, make you mine. I wanna…I wanna…” He trailed off, searching for the words when you stole them by sliding him inside you. He gasped, as if in pain, and his hands held tight to your waist, but he moved them to the top of your ass the moment you started to rock back and forth atop him.
Having already come once, you were focused on getting Adrian as messed up as you could. And nothing got him fucked up faster than the sight of you on top of him.
“Please…kiss me. Kiss me.” His eyes were screwed shut as you fucked him, and you obliged, leaning down to kiss first his pecs, then his collarbones, hitting each cluster of freckles you could find. You sucked a small hickey underneath his Adam’s apple, kissing all up along his neck around to behind his ear.
He writhed underneath you, “Come on. Kiss me.” His voice was soft and whiny, knowing that begging too blatantly would lead to more teasing.
You drug your lips against his jawline before finally touching his lips, but the second you were, one of his hands was tight on the back of your neck, fingers knotted at the base of your skull in your hair.
In all ways but one Adrian submitted to you. He’d be on his knees whenever you wanted, would fuck you however you liked. But kissing? That was his. The rhythm, the timing, the length, you’d gladly submit this one thing to him because fuck could the man kiss.
You kept grinding on him, his dick filling you up each time. Despite claims from…others, Adrian had big time boyfriend dick and you couldn’t get enough. It was perfect for you, and you were perfect for him.
There was nothing hotter than being on top of him and watching the expressions on his face shift. He was struggling to keep it together now as you bounced on him, your own pleasure making you desperate for him faster and harder and more.
He moved his hand from your neck and onto your hips to hold you steady as he started fucking up into you.
Even though he’d taken control, you knew by the look in his eyes that he was still at your mercy. Waiting for another kiss, or your hands on his chest, in his hair, around his arms.
You responded by burrowing into his neck, arms wrapping around and hanging loosely in his hair. You kissed him where you could reach, both of you fueled by the moaning that filled your ears.
Adrian came first, and you watched eagerly as his eyebrows knitted together and he rode out his orgasm, pressing hard, broken thrusts into you as he did.
You grinded against him as he cooled down, and he pressed a thumb to your clit to help you get to your second orgasm of the night. It was a small one, but you looked him in the eyes and rode it out, watching a close lipped smile spread across his face. You leaned down to kiss it off of him, shuddering as the final shockwaves left your body.
He wrapped his arms around you, keeping himself inside you as you lay on his chest.
“Mmm, thank you.” You could hear the sleep in his voice, feel his jaw move as he yawned.
You looked up at him, “For what?”
He shrugged with a smile, blinking slow but watching you intently.
You rolled off of him, too tired to care about the mess this instant. The sheets needed to be washed soon anyway.
He turned to face you, arms tucked under his head. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your nose.
“Everything, I think.” He scooted as close to you as he could get and closed his eyes.
You lay there, watching him fall asleep, the air hot and pushing you towards sleep.
Wrapping a loose sheet around the two of you, it was only moments before you obliged.
#adrian chase x reader#vigilante x reader#adrian chase x you#vigilante x you#adrian chase#mine#my writing
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Smoke & Mirrors
☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader
☼ Genre: fluff, smut, hybrid au, snow leopard hybrid!seokjin, bodyguard!seokjin, heiress!reader, f2l
☼ Count: 6.2K
☼ Warnings: 18+, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, manhandling, dirty talk, slight degradation, spanking, gags, panty stuffing, brief choking, big dick!seokjin, creampie, cumplay, praise, oral (f receiving), biting, orgasm delay, multiple orgasms, dom/sub undertones, confessions
☼ Summary: What’s an heiress to do on a boring arranged date? Maybe her hot bodyguard can be of some service to her.
☼ a/n: Hahaha... So it’s been a hot minute, huh? I hope you take this humble offering of hybrid Jin as compensation. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙
You hide a nose wrinkle behind your wine glass. The wine is far dryer than you’d prefer, but then again you hadn’t been the one to order the bottle. Your date had assured you that this was an excellent bottle. While you’re sure that it is, he hadn’t even bothered to ask what type of wine you preferred first. At least he had let you order your own food, even if you dislike the selection. You’d much rather grab something cheap and greasy and go eat at home on the couch.
Your parents would probably have a heart attack if they knew that you had let something so “low class” touch your lips. You certainly never would have chosen this restaurant for a date, your parents though, they adore this pretentious place. They had actually arranged everything about tonight, down to the man sitting across from you, Minho. He seemed nice enough, if perhaps a little oblivious, or maybe he just didn’t care how bored you seemed to be. He did talk a little too much about himself, seems like you’ve got another one of them to deal with. But he’s far from the worst you’ve been set up with. He’s at least cute enough to stare at.
One date had been so unbelievably rude that you couldn’t stand to look at him and so your eyes had continued to drift over to Seokjin, your hybrid bodyguard, the entire night. Your eyes do the same now though and Seokjin stands against the wall a few feet away passively, gaze moving idly across the room as his long tail flicks on occasion. His ears twitch at the different sounds as he processes and dismisses them, always on guard and ready to protect you at a moment's notice.
Seokjin was a snow leopard hybrid that your parents had hired to be your bodyguard 3 years ago, after a… particularly unfortunate date. When you’d first met, you hadn’t even known he was a hybrid, making a comment about the nearly white blond shade of his hair before a tilt of his head revealed the two rounded ears nestled among the strands. They blended into his hair almost perfectly aside from the spots of black at the tips. His tail reaches almost to the floor and is thick and soft looking and you always have the strongest urge to bury your fingers in the fluffy strands. Some days, when he’s particularly relaxed, you allow yourself the intimate touch, listening with contentment as his purrs rumble against you in response to the gentle caress of your hands.
Seokjin’s eyes slide over to you, seeming to sense your gaze on him and he raises an eyebrow at you before he returns to scanning the restaurant. You turn back to Minho, who seems to not have noticed your momentary distraction as he continues to recount a story from his college years. At least you think that’s what it is. It’s possible that it was his high school days. You’ve maybe tuned out of the conversation a little more than you had meant to.
As much as you hate going on these arranged dates, you have to keep up appearances for your parents. You certainly couldn’t disgrace or embarass them right now. You have to play their games until you can play the winning hand. So in the meantime, you’re stuck sucking it up and wearing expensive dresses and going to expensive restaurants, eating expensive food and drinking expensive wine while smiling and playing nice with whatever guy they’ve decided might make a good connection or end in a good business deal. You wish you were home right now with good food and comfy clothes.
Minho pauses to take a sip of his wine and you take this as your opportunity for a small break. You stand and plaster on your sweetest smile.
“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment. I need to run to the ladies’ room to freshen up.” You simper, grabbing your purse before turning without giving him a chance to respond.
Seokjin falls into step behind you and you hear Minho mutter something under his breath, though you don’t catch exactly what.
The bathroom is blessedly empty when you enter and you step up to the mirror to idly fix your makeup.
You hear the lock click and fight down a smirk. “Minho seems nice, doesn’t he, Seokjinnie? He’s very interesting, I can see why my parents set us up. He’s cute too. Can you imagine our kids? They’d be positively adorable.”
You're pushed against the counter, your hand darting out to catch yourself before you face plant into the mirror. You let the smirk stretch your lips finally as you glance at Seokjin in the mirror. His eyes are dark and he’s clearly unhappy at your comments about Minho.
“Jinnie?” you coo. “What’s wrong? Don’t you think Minho is nice?”
Seokjin growls, front pressing firmly to your back as his lips press to your neck. You know he’s itching to dig his teeth in, canines drawing lightly across the skin. “He asked why a dirty hybrid had to shadow you and said that once you’re dating him then you’ll have no need for me.” His lips brush the shell of your ear. “What do you think about that, princess? Think you have no need for me?”
“Oh, I’m sure me and Minho could use you. You can’t just get rid of a good bodyguard.”
Seokjin growls again and the sound goes straight to your pussy. He inhales deeply behind you and a deep chuckle replaces the growl. “Oh, princess. I think you have some other ideas for your bodyguard already.”
With that he hikes your dress up, bunching the skirt around your hips so he has total access to your lower half. He pushes against your back until you're flat against the counter, too low to catch sight of yourself in the mirror now, but you can still see the predatory way Seokjin is staring down at your ass. You fight down the urge to wiggle your ass and aggravate him further. Another growl echoes in the small room as his hands grope at your lace clad ass.
“And who was this for, princess, hm?” You whine as his hand comes down on your ass when you fail to answer. “Answer, slut. Who did you wear these for?” He punctuates his sentence with another harsh spank. The jolting sting causes another gush of slick to dampen the lace covering you.
He tuts when you take too long and spanks you once more, forcing the answer from you finally. “You! I wore them for you,” you gasp, lace suddenly feeling itchy against your smarting skin.
Seokjin makes a thoughtful noise, hands smoothing over the delicate fabric before surprising you as he grabs a handful of it. Then he’s tugging and, for a second, the elastic simply digs into your skin. Just before it becomes too much, another tug has the seams ripping apart as Seokjin tears your panties off.
You pout. “I liked those, you know.”
Seokjin spanks you again. “What does a slut need with these, hm? They’re just in the way.” His fingers trace along your dripping pussy and you whimper. “Be quiet.” He hisses.
You lick your lips. You really should be quiet. You’re in public and you’re quickly starting to run out of time. You have to get back to your date soon. Seokjin’s finger dips into your entrance. You’re far too curious to see how he’s going to keep you quiet. When his finger slips out to thrust back in, you accompany it with a moan. He tsks in disappointment and a finger presses to your lips. Obediently you open, but instead of being met with warm skin like you expect, it’s fabric. And with a quick press of your tongue against it, you realize it’s your torn panties.
You groan, the sound now muffled, and Seokjin makes a pleased noise at it. “Do you think you deserve to cum, slut?” You nod. He has you so riled up that it wouldn’t take you much to cum. Seokjin snorts. “I don’t think you deserve it.”
You whine at that. He can’t be serious. There’s no way he’ll make you go back out there like this. He wraps a hand around your throat and tugs you back up. His lips brush your ear and he waits for your gaze to find his before he speaks.
“I’ll tell you what, if you can be a good girl for me for the rest of this date, then when we get home, I’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.” You’re nodding before he even finishes and he just chuckles, fingers tightening momentarily to grab your attention. “You don’t even know what my conditions are yet. Are you that much of a slut that just the promise of an orgasm will make you agree to anything?” You nod again and that earns you a nip. “If you hold all my cum in your slutty little pussy without spilling a drop until we’re home, then you’ll get everything you want. Think you can do that for me?”
It sounds easy enough. But you know the date’s barely begun, you haven’t even eaten yet. And there’s no telling how long Minho will babble afterwards. And with your panties gone, you don’t even have a protective barrier anymore. But you’re so desperate to cum that you nod once more.
Seokjin hums and you hear the clink of his buckle being undone and the sound of a zipper and then his cock is rubbing along your folds. You whine around your panties and Seokjin’s hand on your throat tightens again. The head of his cock presses at your entrance and when he doesn’t move you take the initiative and push back until he slips in.
You gasp, hands scrambling for purchase against the smooth granite counter. Seokjin is huge. You don’t know if it has to do with his hybrid genes making every aspect of him large or if it’s just all Seokjin. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to the full feeling but you know you’re well and truly addicted to it. Seokjin’s ruined you for anyone else. He’s only half inside of you and you already feel full to bursting. He pauses, lets you adjust to his girth, knowing the signs of when you’re ready as you begin to grow restless. His gaze in the mirror greedily takes in your form, tits pressing to the thin silky material of your dress. Every shift is noticeable under the bright lights surrounding the mirror.
His hand drops from your throat so that both are now free to grip your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh. He pulls away until just the tip remains before he’s slamming fully back into you. Your hands slap against the counter for balance as the force of his thrust jolts you forward. Seokjin’s pace is fast and brutal, the only sounds filling the bathroom are skin slapping against skin, your muffled moans, and Seokjin’s quiet, possessive growls.
Seokjin seems to also be mindful of the time, at least more mindful than you now that most thought aside from the stretch of his cock hammering into you has fled. His thrusts speed up as he chases his orgasm, clearly fueled by thoughts of you sitting through a date dripping his cum and smelling only of him. Even if the other isn’t a hybrid, can’t smell the way his scent will cling to your skin, Seokjin knows, and that’s all that matters. The one claim he can lay on you right now, to mark you as his.
Your pussy clenches around him and Seokjin buries himself to the hilt as he cums with a groan, face buried in your neck as he fights the urge to bite and mark. Something he typically reserves for your thighs, chest, torso. Places that are easy to hide so that no one catches on to the truth. At least not yet. He allows himself a moment to bask in your warmth and the afterglow before he slips out, slapping your ass once more. He steps back, tucking himself back into his pants and he looks like nothing salacious happened at all. Hair neatly styled in place, clothes unruffled once he finishes buttoning himself back in.
He tugs the panties from your mouth, tucking them into his pants pocket like it’s something as simple as a business card. “Don’t forget your task, princess.” He grins, smugness dripping from every word.
You glare at him, straightening slowly as you do your best to stay clenched and keep his load inside of you. You smooth your dress out, glad that you at least chose a fabric that didn’t wrinkle. You turn back to the mirror, glad that aside from some smudged lipstick, you don’t look too out of sorts. Nothing that a few tweaks won’t fix. You take a minute to make yourself presentable before moving to the door and unlocking it.
Seokjin grabs your wrist just before you open the door, tugging you close to press a kiss to your temple. “Be a good girl for me, princess.”
You swallow and nod. You want to just leave now. You have no idea how you’re going to make it through an entire dinner wet, aching, and full of Seokjin’s cum and the promise of being fucked within an inch of your life once you get home.
Minho looks up from his phone once you arrive back at the table. You pout as you slide back into your seat and you give him a playful roll of your eyes. “There was such a long line. All this talk about not stereotyping and yet here we are, long lines at the ladies room.” It’s a dumb excuse, you can tell by the way you catch Seokjin trying to smother a laugh from the corner of your eye and you personally hate that those words left your mouth. But something like that would’ve been heard at a party your parents threw and you suspect that it’s something that Minho will eat right up. You just have to play up the airhead heiress, that’s what all of them think of you as anyway. You bat your eyelashes at him. “I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”
Minho returns your smile, easily accepting your words, though you’re not sure if it’s because the lie is actually convincing or if he just goes along with it in hopes of something later. You shift, biting your lip as the material of your dress drags along your sensitive ass. You shoot a quick glare at Seokjin but aside from the ghost of a smile gracing his lips, he pays you no mind.
Turning back to Minho, you try your best to keep up at least some pretense of interest and politeness but all you can focus on is keeping your pussy clenched. Not only to get what you want later and avoid punishment, because while Seokjin didn’t mention a punishment explicitly, the threat was there all the same, but because your dress is a soft rose color and anything that leaked onto it would be instantly visible. You’re just glad that you lucked out and Minho seems content to take up most of the talking.
Your food arrives and you force yourself to at least eat some of it, though the portions are small enough that you could eat all of it and still be hungry. Just one of the many reasons why this is actually your least favorite restaurant, food far more pretentious than you really care for.
Maybe you can sweet talk Seokjin into ordering pizza when you get home. He’s likely hungry too, not even getting to sit and eat. Eventually Minho shifts the topic to your parents' tech company and while this is something you do enjoy discussing, you quickly realize that he’s not interested in discussion, he just wants to tell you how he’s going to run the company once he takes control.
You blink at him as he prattles on before shifting your gaze to Seokjin. You can see the tick in his jaw that says he’s angry and you’re sure that if he could then he would be tearing Minho a new one. Well, that simply won’t do, you’ll just have to do it for him. Though even if he didn’t want to, you are quickly growing tired of Minho’s derisive attitude to your family’s legacy. The only person who will be running your parents company ever is going to be you.
You give Minho an indulgent smile that he returns as he continues to outline a terrible plan for shrinking one of your newer divisions. The one that is actually the fastest growing and shows the most profit potential. Well, at least you’ll have a valid reason to give your parents for why this date failed. Most of the others weren’t so hospitable and you had to craft plausible and logical reasons why each and every date you’ve been on would simply be the worst idea for the company.
On top of that, that division was your father’s pet project. And it just goes to show how little Minho apparently knows about the business in general, but especially yours. Your father has been quite public about his hand in the division. A simple internet search would show you that.
You run a manicured finger around the rim of your glass as you lean closer, Minho mirroring your lean eagerly, clearly expecting the ditzy heiress to tell him how wonderful his ideas are. “That’s such an interesting plan you have.” You see his mouth open like he’s about to thank you, face the picture of superiority and smugness but you continue before he can utter even a sound. “However, I think you’ll find that that division will actually be growing in the future.”
Minho frowns and you can see him working through how to respond to something he likely didn’t expect you to have said or even had knowledge of. Typical. “Well, you can’t possibly know that. And you don’t need to concern yourself with such matters. I’ll take care of the company.” He smiles again but you can see the tinge of unease that dims it just the slightest. Good.
You lean your chin against your palm, speaking as if you were speaking to a child. “That division is our best one. It’s already small and downsizing it further would harm the company as a whole. You’ve clearly done no research beyond the division name otherwise you’d know the market demand emerging for that. And you will not be running the company. I’m the heiress to it. It is my company.”
The waiter arrives with the check in hand and you’d like to think that it was just a stroke of cosmic timing but you’re sure Seokjin had something to do with it. You smile at the waiter, slipping more than enough cash into the little leather book before handing it back to them. You turn back to Minho and rise, reveling in the shocked look on his face.
“For your information, I have a business degree and am working on a master’s in business as well. If there’s anyone at this table that is qualified to run the company, it’s me. Now, this has been just positively lovely, but I think it’ll be just the one date. Have an excellent rest of your evening.”
With that, you turn on your heel, not bothering to check if Seokjin’s following because you already know he is. He snickers as you get closer to the front doors and you know it’s because he can hear whatever Minho is saying at your abrupt departure.
You wait at the curb for your driver, pulling your phone out to check it. You only have a few notifications, most from instagram that you immediately swipe away, and a couple of texts from Hobi wishing you luck on your date and to try not to embarrass the poor man too much. You snicker, too late for that now. You have nothing from your parents yet, so you assume Minho’s still sat inside stunned and hasn’t called them to tattle. You’re sure it’s coming but that’ll just have to wait for morning. You have more important matters to take up the rest of your evening.
Seokjin opens the door for you the second the car pulls up and you run your fingers lightly across his thigh just to hear his stuttered inhale. You sit gingerly, mindful that you still have a drive home to make it through but you make sure to shoot Seokjin a faux innocent smile just before he closes the door so he can round the car to take his seat on the other side.
You’re thankful that the ride is short. Seokjin pays no attention to you the whole way and if it was any longer than it would’ve been unbearable. You know that he can’t interact with you beyond the limits of his job when you’re around people that could talk to your parents, but it was still disappointing that he didn’t even look at you in the car. Once the driver stops in front of your building, you’re out of the car before Seokjin can even open his door.
Your cheeks warm in embarrassment and you give a quick bow to your driver with a murmur of your thanks before you’re turning to go up to your apartment. Seokjin snickers as he enters the elevator after you, professional persona melting away once it’s the two of you once more, and you glare at the smugness written all over his face.
Seokjin doesn’t let you get further than slipping your shoes off before he’s pressing you against the wall in the entryway. “Still think that your date was nice, princess?”
You whine and squirm, now that you’re alone with him, your need to cum makes your knees nearly buckle. And as much as you’d like to continue being a brat, you want to cum more. “He was a pompous fucking ass.” You push your ass back against him and glance at him over your shoulder. “Well, what I heard from him anyway. I was a little… too distracted to listen to him blather on about himself.”
“Oh?” He asks innocently but you can feel the smirk pressed against your shoulder. “What had you so distracted, princess?” He coos, punctuating it with a nip to your skin.
You whine, pushing into him again. “Jinnie…”
He hums and then he’s pulling away so he can drag you a few feet more into your apartment to the counter that divides your kitchen from your living room and he pushes you face down onto the cool surface. Your thoughts flit back to the restaurant bathroom and when you were in this same position and heat floods you. Maybe you should redecorate. Get some more mirrors.
You’re desperate for any touch from him. His hands skim down your back, making you shiver as they come to rest on the swell of your ass.
“Were you a good little slut for me?” He sounds more like he’s speaking to himself as he lifts the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up around your waist.
His hands knead your ass for a moment before he shifts and then you feel his breath ghost across your skin. His palms rest on your thighs at the junction where they meet your ass and his thumbs stroke the skin for a moment before he uses them to part your folds, leaving you fully exposed to his scrutiny. He makes a thoughtful noise but makes no other movements and says nothing more. You grow anxious, shifting nervously. You were positive that none had dripped out but the longer he stared without saying anything made doubt creep in.
There’s a soft growl and then one of his thumbs is swiping along your slit, taking a moment to press against your entrance. His hand leaves and you mourn the warmth for only a second before clenching at the sound of him sucking his thumb clean.
“My, someone was actually a good slut.”
You only get a moment to bask in his praise before he’s leaning forward and licking a wide stripe up your cunt with no warning. A startled moan leaves your lips as your hands slap against the counter, searching for anything to keep you steady. Seokjin chuckles, tip of his tongue just barely dipping into your dripping hole.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, slut? Were so desperate for back at the restaurant?” His lips wrap around your clit and suck and you can’t formulate enough words together to give him an answer. “What’s the matter, slut? Cat got your tongue?”
He snickers at his own joke as his nails dig into the skin of your thighs and goes back to licking at your hole, suddenly determined to clean you completely. You feel your orgasm building and you’d be embarrassed by how little he’s had to do to get you here, but you’d been wired since the bathroom. Seokjin, however, seems content to take his time and clean every drop of his cum from you at a leisurely pace. You whine and push your hips back into his face but that only earns you a harsh slap to your ass, leaving the skin smarting.
“Just because we’re home and I said you were good doesn’t mean you can start acting like a brat again, whore.” He bites out, turning his head to nip at your thigh.
The spike of pain makes you jolt, pussy clenching at the emptiness you feel now that his tongue is laving across the tingling skin of your ass.
“Jinnie… Please?” You whine, squirming as he nips at your ass again. “Please, more… need more, Seokjin.”
“You need more, huh? Is what I’m giving you not enough for my little slut?”
You shake your head. “No, wanna cum… Was good for you.”
“Tell me what you were thinking about while your date was trying to sweet talk you into handing over control of your family’s company.” He demands, mouth finally moving back to your pussy as his tongue swirls around your clit.
You cry out, body wound tight by his teasing, and so you don’t fully comprehend that he’s actually expecting a response until his mouth is once again pulling away and another stinging slap is placed on your ass with a growled command of ‘speak.’
“I… thought about coming home, how badly I wanted to just leave before the food even got there… Thought about how good your cock felt fucking me in the bathroom…” His teeth graze your clit when you trail off, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, but it’s enough of a warning to force you to keep going. “Wanted him to follow… hear what you do to me, how well you fuck me… so that he would sit there through dinner knowing that I was full of your cum, that you’d already marked me, that I’m yours…”
Seokjin lets out a pleased purr against you as he doubles his efforts in eating you out and doesn’t punish you further when you stop speaking, too absorbed in the toe-curling feelings washing through your body with every swipe of his tongue. You gasp out his name, muscles tensed as the coil in your belly threatens to snap at any moment.
“Yeah, come on. Cum for me, princess, you’ve done so good.” He murmurs, lips never leaving your pussy.
His lips wrap around your clit and that combined with his words pushes you completely over the edge, cumming with a cry of his name. Seokjin only slows marginally, working you methodically through your orgasm, not stopping until he’s deemed you finished and you’re thoroughly oversensitized.
He pulls away finally and smacks his lips in satisfaction. “I’ll never get enough of the taste of you and of us.” He plants a gentle kiss on your ass that has you twitching from sensitivity.
Seokjin stands, draping himself across your back as you struggle to catch your breath. His warmth seeps into you and you feel like you could drift off despite the uncomfortable way the counter is digging into your hips. He nips at your neck with a chuckle.
“You don’t think we’re done, do you, princess? I believe I promised to go until you were begging me to stop.”
With that, he’s tugging you upright before slipping an arm beneath your knees so he can carry you to your bedroom. You squeak at the sudden weightlessness, hands clinging to his jacket. He sets you on your feet next to the bed, hands cupping your checks and for a brief moment, his expression softens. He presses a light kiss to your lips and then the soft expression is gone. The next kiss is forceful, nearly bruising as his hands abandon your cheeks to skim down your back to the zipper of your dress.
It’s tugged down agonizingly slow, the sound loud in the quiet room. His hands slide back up your arms, fingers toying with the straps for a moment before he’s tugging them off your shoulders and your dress slips off your body to pool at your feet. He pulls back, pushing you back onto the bed where you land with a bounce.
Hands wrapping around your calves, he tugs you to the edge of the bed. He looks positively predatory as he parts your legs. “So wet and messy. What a dirty little slut I have.” He punctuates with a slap to your thigh.
“Yes, yes I’m your dirty little slut.” You squirm as his breath ghosts over your pussy, still sensitive from your first orgasm but the need to feel him again is quickly overriding that sensitivity.
His plush lips ghost along your thighs, tongue darting out to teasingly trace your lips. You whine and every time you try to push closer to his face, he pulls away.
“Jinnie, you promised…”
There’s a nip to your thigh. “Patience. You’ll get what I give, when I choose to give it.”
You pout, getting another slap to your thigh. You can’t help the urge to egg him on further, this being a dance the two of you have long since perfected, with all the proper safeties in check. So well choreographed that you know what would happen if you continued to misbehave the way you are. And that’s not quite what you’re in the mood for tonight. That’s far more hard, possessive, rough.
You want something drawn out, almost sweet but not quite. These dates have begun to wear on you and you know that while Seokjin says nothing, they are wearing on him too. It can’t be easy to watch the women you love date other men and have to quite literally watch it happen because it’s your job. The words have never been said between you, but you know you both feel it deep to your core.
Seokjin’s lips press to your thigh and draw you back into the moment and you simply sink into the feeling of him and whatever he wants to give you. There’s a quiet hum, like Seokjin’s had some line of thought like yours, read something in your body only the way that he can and he’s agreeing with you.
His tongue laves slowly across your pussy, drawing a soft breath from you. The moment draws out, feels like you’ve been wrapped in gauze. Everything is a little hazy, soft, as Seokjin takes his time taking you apart, breaking you down to the very last atom. His tongue moves like he might reach every last inch of you and that he won’t stop until his claim has been laid on each and every last cell of you.
Your hands thread through his hair, brushing gently over the fluff of his ears. The strands weave between your fingers, held not to control but to keep you grounded to the moment, the feeling, to Seokjin. Your second orgasm is so carefully pulled from you that you don’t realize it until it’s crashing over you, another layer of gauze that leaves you feeling fuzzy and weightless, anchored by your hands in Seokjin’s hair and his mouth on your cunt.
The third follows quickly after, so close that you idly wonder if it’s truly a third one or still part of the second one. Seokjin didn’t stop or slow between the two, expertly manipulated your body to draw as much pleasure from you as possible.
He slows now, lips occasionally leaving to press kisses to your thighs, until he finally stops, cheek pressed to the skin of your thigh and breath puffing hot against it. When you glance down, his eyes are closed in rapturous bliss, half his face shiny with your slick. As you watch, his eyes flutter open, making contact with you and the moment hangs between you. Something deep and longing that you can’t fully put a name to.
Moving slowly, or maybe it just seems that way to you, he stands back to his full height, striping himself of his suit. Your eyes catch on the tie as it’s tugged loose. You hadn’t noticed it earlier. It’s the same soft rose shade of your dress. Warmth pools in your belly as the small bit of fabric is dropped to the ground.
Naked before you, he steals your breath once more. He’s as gorgeous now as he was the first time you laid eyes on him. Even though you had been angry at the time. Not at needing a bodyguard, but the fact that your parents had hired him so that you could continue to go on dates. Your first few days with him had been tense and slightly antagonistic. But then one day, he had cracked a bad joke, under his breath and you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear it. But you did and it had sent you into a fit of giggles. After that, you two have been close, in one way or another.
Broad shoulders that taper to a trim waist, his tail twitches behind him, cock thick and hard and beading with precome. Finally, he places a knee onto the bed, arm slipping around your waist as he shifts you both further up the bed. He settles you carefully among the pillows, blanketing your frame with his. Enveloping the two of you into a bubble of bliss where it is only him and you.
Looking down at you, something soft swims in his gaze. He looks about to speak but rather than words, he dips down to press a kiss to your lips. Settling between your thighs, his cock rests against you, but you are too taken with his soft, plush lips against yours to squirm against him with need. You surrender yourself to him, letting him guide the kiss at whatever leisurely pace he decides.
Time falls away, you don’t know how many minutes pass, it could be hours, days, weeks, before Seokjin shifts to line his cock up with your entrance and slowly, so achingly slowly, he sinks into your heat. You sigh against his lips, the sound swallowed by him.
You shudder with each slow thrust, every drag of his cock against your walls has a soft sound spilling from your lips into his. It’s so different from in the bathroom at the restaurant. Seokjin takes his time, you’re unsure if it’s because of his promise then or if he’s just so overwhelmed now that this is all he can manage.
The feeling in your belly simmers, every motion of Seokjin against you forcing it up, up, up. Until something slips out. A quiet ‘I love you’ murmured so softly against his lips that you almost think you imagined the words instead. If not for the fact that he freezes as the words leave your mouth.
A shudder ripples through him followed by a deep, chest rumbling growl. His mouth pulls free of yours, parted lips falling onto the juncture of where your shoulder meets your neck. Teeth dig into the delicate flesh, pain swirling with pleasure as you feel the restraint in him to keep from sinking his teeth fully into you. To mark you as his.
Sharp canines scrape your skin as his pace picks up, no longer sweet and gentle, but frenetic with a need you don’t fully understand. Your nails dig into his back, moans and pleas falling from your mouth now that it’s free. A clench of his jaw has his teeth dig in further as his hips stutter in rhythm. Another deep growl rumbles in him as he cums, eventually tampering to contented purrs as he lets your pussy milk his cock.
Finally unlatching his mouth from you, his tongue swipes across the heated skin soothingly in apology. He slips out of you, turning you both onto your sides and gathering you close to him, tail draping across your waist. Silence settles over you both and you nearly drift off before Seokjin speaks up, reminding you of your little confession.
“I love you too.”
Your heart stutters and you feel warm with glee. You press closer to him and press a kiss to his chest. You know it won’t be easy, but you’ll make it work. You wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.
#bangtanarmynet#hyunglinenetwork#kwritersworldnet#ksmutclub#purplearmynet#btswritingcafe#seokjin x reader#seokjin smut#seokjin fanfic#bts x reader#bts smut#bts fanfic#jin x reader#jin smut#jin fanfic#hybrid au#hybrid seokjin
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Make Your Mark On Me
Summary: 'if you stepped through that threshold, the comfort of friendship would be something not so easily retrieved again.'
Pairing: Sam Wilson x agent!reader
Warnings: friends-to-lovers, angst, Explicit sexual content, Oral (f receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, size kink, Sam has shmeat.
Word Count: 2.8k
Authors Note: Words cannot describe what this man does to me. Sam Wilson, sir, thank you for your service. And thank you @sweeterthanthis for all her help and support✨🖤
The crystal chandelier bounced iridescent sparkles through the bustling ballroom, shimmers of glimmering light twirling around as if you were in a kaleidoscope. You scanned the area, careful to not make your presence known. You were meant to blend in -- to fade away into the background. It was a job you had done easily for years.
You were never meant to leave your desk. Infact, when you had agreed to take the job as the Avenger’s personal technical analyst in the first place, your only request was to never see any real action. You were more than happy to stay put, in the ears of your colleagues rather than actually holding the gun.
Your job was safe, predictable, routine.
That was until Sam Wilson came crashing into your life.
The mission, for anyone qualified, would have been easy. Dress up, play pretend, hack into a terrorist database…
Okay, that part you could do with your eyes blindfolded. Though, that wasn't the point.
“Don’t suppose you know who I’m supposed to be looking out for?” You spoke under your breath into the small comm snug in your ear. You stumbled for a moment, the heels Nat made you wear proving to be less than ‘easy-peasy’ as she so casually put it.
“Big guy in the corner.” Sam echoed in your ear. “And may I just say, you are looking gorgeous tonight.”
You rolled your eyes, as if he was standing right beside you and not somewhere blended into the crowded room.
“We’re working, Wilson. Besides, I know you're out there charming the pants off of some model.” You retorted, the remark intended to make him laugh but he only scoffed, as if the idea wounded him.
“Babygirl, you think so little of me. I’d much rather take your pants off.” Sam’s words were smooth, well rehearsed and at this point, expected.
It’s the way it had always been between you two. Of course, you’d never let anything come of the innocent banter, except the occasional burning cheeks and lingering touches. Sam was your best friend, and that was how it was always going to be.
Besides, Sam Wilson could, and had on many nights, pulled any woman he set his sights on. You weren't about to be added to the ever growing list of women that hobbled out of his bedroom at three in the morning.
“Well, jokes on you. I’m not wearing any.” You mentally facepalmed yourself for the awful retort, a smile pulled across your lips at the melodic sound of your friends' laugh.
“Grab a drink, gorgeous. Loosen up for me.” He cooed, his tone playful as you swiped a champagne flute off a passing waiter. “The office you want to get to is upstairs. Last door on your left. You can meet me around back when you’ve secured the file.”
You nodded your head, bringing the glass to your lips and letting the liquid quell your nerves. You could do this.
Easy in and out.
Carefully you made your way through the crowded room, hyper aware of your surroundings as you quietly slipped through the masses. You smiled politely at a group of men who let you through, though it didn't go unnoticed how one of the strangers lingered their hands on your hips a little too long as you slid by.
“Don’t be nervous. I got you.” Sam’s words caught you off guard, the earnest in them causing you to fumble with your retort.
“You watching me, Wilson?” You mumbled, making your way up the stairs and towards your mission. It was almost over.
“Told you before we left, I’m not letting you out of my sights.” Sam chuckled softly, adding, “I got eyes everywhere baby. Your ass in that dress, by the way-”
“Watch it Sam.” You warned, but you couldn't help the smile that formed on your mouth, his words warming your cheeks. Because with Sam it never felt like objectification. With Sam there was always so much kindness behind his words, you almost took it for honesty.
Which, of course, it couldn't be.
“Okay, I’m at the door. How do I-”
“Is the little lady lost?” A deep gruff voice startled you as you spun on your heel only to come face to face with the same handsy stranger.
You cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly and trying to steady your voice. “N-no, sir. Just looking for the washroom.” You answered a little too quickly. There was radio silence on Sam’s end, and that made you a little nervous.
“Sir? I like the sound of that. Why don’t I escort you, and you can come up with a way to replay my kindness when we get there?” He toyed with the idea, his words crass as he gripped your forearm.
“Uh- no thank you. I can find my own way.” You stuttered, suddenly aware of how alone you truly were in this dark hallway with him.
“It wasn't a question.” He snarled, pulling you against him but before your body could even collide with his, he was on the floor.
You opened your eyes, a very worried Sam standing where the stranger once was. His eyes scanned you for a moment before he realized how startled you truly were.
“Did he touch you?” He spoke, and though he meant well, his tone came out dark. It was a side of Sam you very seldom saw, and now, watching his jaw click back and forth into place, you couldn't help but shiver. The stranger was lucky he only knocked him out.
“Only here,” You rubbed your arm where he had grabbed you and instantly Sam pulled you against his body, his hands running small circles in your back. “I’m fine, Sam. Really.”
Sam chuckled softly, pulling himself out of his rage and back to you. “Course’ you are. That’s my girl. Now let’s finish this thing and get you home.”
After you hacked into the computer database and retrieved the file your team needed, you and Sam slipped into the small black car. The ride home was one filled with silence and though it was usually comfortable with your friend, this time was anything but.
“He really didn't hurt me.” You finally spoke, trying and failing to reassure the nervous man.
“I know, but-” He began, but you squeezed his hand, the touch shutting him up instantly. If only it was always that easy. You chuckled softly at the thought.
“Baby, you had my back. Just like you said you would.” You bolstered, your eyes fleeting from his only for a moment as they landed on his lips. You mentally shook your head, averting your gaze to his lap, which wasn't really much better.
This strange warmth that began pooling in your stomach coaxed you into an unease you couldn't shake until you got back to the compound. Sam walked you to your room, resting on the door frame as you shuffled in, your eyes trained on the floor.
There was something different brewing between Sam and you tonight.
Something you had buried deep down and seldom let out. Maybe for fear of rejection, but deep down you knew he would always let you down easy. So perhaps it was the notion that, if you stepped through that threshold, the comfort of friendship would be something not so easily retrieved again.
“Why haven't you just kissed me?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. They seemed to slap Sam across the face, halting him in his place.
“Excuse me?” He managed to speak, words caught in his throat.
“I- I just mean… You look at me the same way you look at them. Hell, I’ve seen you pull the same lines on me you use on them. So why haven't you-”
“You want that?” He questioned. Now facing him, you could see a glimmer in his eyes you could only place as mischievous.
You worried on your bottom lip taking in Sam’s muscular form. It wasn't as if you hadn't noticed how incredibly beautiful he was before, but someone you had downed your attraction under a list of excuses. But now, in the dim lighting of your bedroom with the years of built up tension sizzling around you, you couldn't think of a single one.
“I just think I’d like to know what it’s like. At least for the night.” You spoke in sincerity, padding across the room towards him. You could tell he was bewildered by your sudden confidence, and to be fair, so were you. You could blame it on the champagne or maybe the bodycon dress Nat had squeezed you into, but you knew it was just Sam.
“Baby girl, if you cross this line, there’s no going back.” He warned, a false seriousness in his words. But there was honestly there, and you knew it, too. There would be no back peddling, but there was something in the way your hands were shaking; body vibrating with the notion of Sam close to you that had you wondering if you even cared.
“Show me.” You couldn't help the smirk that pulled at your lips when Sam sucked in a breath, his eyes never leaving yours.
You expected him to buckle. Turn away and walk out of the room, desperate to hold onto whatever reminisce of a friendship you still had. But he surprised you as he closed the distance, one hand sliding onto your waist and pulling you flush against his chest and the other cupping your jaw.
His thump traced your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp to spill from your throat.
Sam smiled softly at your reaction, his tongue flicking out to dampen his lips and -
You could have passed out right there. All the air in your lungs dissipated the moment his soft lips touched yours. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him in, craving more, urging him on.
You could feel his smile in the kiss as you moaned, completely lost in the way his hands roamed your form. He was intoxicating, the heat of his body mixed with the warm smell of vanilla and nicotine incinerating any worry that had been floating in your head. You could only feel him - and the mattress as you fell backwards onto the bed.
Sam’s fingers found the bottom of your dress, dipping underneath the fabric as he pulled it up around your ass. His lips left yours, only to connect with the column of your throat, teeth gracing your jaw as you breathed him in.
The tension in the room changed suddenly when he caged you down onto the bed, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.
“If you want me to stop-”
“Stay, please.” You gasped out, his eyes meeting yours and seeing the same desperation mirroring back.
“Fuck.” Sam growled out, eye rolling back in his head as you watched any hesitation melt away.
You were on your back moments later, his lips on your thighs and he held your knees apart. His mouth on your clothed cunt, tongue lapping against the wet fabric as he stretched it and with a snap, he tore it away. You gasped arching your back as if to soften the blow as he caught your clit in his mouth.
“Stay put, gorgeous.” He hummed against your sloppy folds, his nose rubbing against your clit as he devoured you; tongue puncturing your dripping hole as he drank you in.
You slapped your hand over your mouth, not at all eager to be added to the list of screamers Sam had come home with, but it was easier said than done. And by the way he was eating you out, it was only a matter of time before you were a whimpering mess.
“Don’t hold back those beautiful sounds.” Sam encouraged, a finger curling inside you, pulling at your walls as you choked on a moan, eyes rolling back in your head when he found your throbbing clit again. With only a few more twirls of his tongue, you were pouring out onto him, your first orgasm ripping through your body as he ate up every last drop.
“Fuck. You taste so sweet, babygirl.” Sam gasped, wiping your come from his lips as he flipped you over, instructing you to get on your knees and hold the headboard. “Gunna’ fuck this pussy so good. Gunna’ ruin you, gorgeous. Want you remembering that you asked for this.”
You could only whine in response, most of your will fucked away by his skilled tongue. But you had no idea what was to come. Sam lined himself up with you then, stroking his warm head in your slick folds as he began so rip you open with his cock.
You were no one near a virgin, but you probably could have fooled Sam as he coaxed himself further into you. On instinct, you arched your back away from him, terrified of his size as he began to slide deeper and deeper -
Sam grabbed you by your waist, holding you still as the tip of his thick cock kissed the deepest parts of you. “Nuh-uh, you're gonna’ take every last inch, baby girl. I know you can. Be my good little thing.”
You bit back a scream, letting go as you sunk back down onto his cock. You knew for a fact that you wouldn't be sitting comfortably tomorrow. Or for the next few days…
Before you could beg, Sam bucked his hips against you, pulling a gargled sob to vibrate from your chest as he fucked into you. There wasn’t any possible way he could get any deeper, but as he dug his fingers into your hips and speared you against his base, you swear he discovered a new part of you.
With one hand holding you steady and the other tangled in your hair, Sam made you his. You throbbed, pussy fluttering around his cock as he kept his brutal pace.
“That’s my good girl. Fuck.” Sam couldn't contain himself, a smile forming in his lips because he finally had you. Not only that, but he was balls deep, spanking your ass and coaxing screams from your beautiful lips. “Taking this cock so good.”
You didn't have the ability to answer him, gripping the headboard for dear life as you began to come undone for the second time tonight. And he knew, too; the cocky bastard.
“Thatt’a girl. Hold onto that for me. I know you’re close, but hold on .” Sam grunted against you, his large hands gripping your ass and watching your puckered hole glisen with your come. If he had it his way, he’d make another meal out of you, but he knew you were only moments from soaking his cock.
“I cant- oh- Sam!.” You screamed, your body betraying his demand. “Yes, yes…” You chanted the word, on the brink of complete destruction as your orgasm began to-
With a whine, he pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back and folding you in half. You gripped your knees, and gasped and he sank back down into you. With a few deep pumps you were right back where you were, whimpering and pleading with him to make you come.
“Just wanted to see your pretty face when you come apart.” Sam admitted, a crooked smile forming on his mocha lips and your swear, it was the sweetness of it that had you tumbling over the edge. He was just so beautiful, you couldn't hold back.
And just like that, the golden God between your legs turned you into a screamer. His name left your lips so many times, you swear it became your new religion. A prayer you only spoke for him.
“Where do you want it?” He suddenly sounded vulnerable, but then again, so were you. Cockdrunk and flushed from his assault. You lost yourself in his question until you noticed how hard he was gripping your thighs, holding back his orgasm as he shook, slowing his thrusts.
“Fill me up, Sam.” you pleaded, and just like that, he crumbled. A broken growl left his lips, one hand coming to wrap around your throat and hold you steady as you consciously make the effort to speaze your used cunt around him.
“Fuck, yeah. Just like that” A few sloppy thrusts later and he was painting your throbbing walls with his hot spend. The both of you shivered, panting against one another as you took in the mess you’d made. You had shattered everything platonic in a matter of minutes, and yet the goofy grin plastered on Sam’s lips was unyielding.
“You’re my best friend.” He grinned, still catching his breath. He stroked your face, tucking your damp hair behind your ear as he kissed your lips tenderly.
“I don’t want you like a best friend.” you puffed, framing his jaw in your hands as you took him in.
In this new light, Sam looked ethereal.
Like something otherworldly and for a moment, you knew that even if everything would change the moment you left the confines of your bedroom, Sam would always be yours. And that would always be enough.
#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson#sam wilson x you#sam wilson x y/n#Sam Wilson x reader smut#Sam Wilson smut#captain america x reader#tfatws#sam x reader
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Every Little Thing
Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!Reader
Words: ~4.3k
Summary: You and Colin are two slutty pea in a pod neighbors, but maybe you could be more?
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex), idiots in love, excessive alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!
A/N: Ugh, I love Colin and I can’t believe it took me so long to write him. Before I get a bunch of notes about it, they’re gonna realize their feelings eventually but it might take a couple fics because they’re both morons, but they’re pretty morons so it’s fine 😉
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Divider by @firefly-graphics
Oh god, what the fuck was that noise? Why was your phone ringing at 8 AM on a fucking Sunday?
You picked up the offensive object and growled when you got a look at the caller ID.
“Colin, it’s Sunday morning, this had better be really good. I didn’t get home until 4 AM.”
“She won’t fucking leave.” He hissed over the line. “She wants to go out for waffles.”
“I fail to see how this is my problem.” You grumbled, rolling over onto your back and flinging your arm over your eyes. “Just ditch her at the fucking waffle place.”
“C’mon, Y/N, that’s like a second date. What about our deal?” That fucking deal, he definitely benefitted more from it than you did.
“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled, sitting up with an exhausted groan. “Gimme 5 minutes.”
“You’re the best!” You could hear the fucking grin in his voice and rolled your eyes at him.
“Yeah, I fucking know.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm before you hung up on him, stretching your whole body as you moved to put on some clothes.
It only took you a few minutes to pull on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and then you were stomping across the hall to Colin’s apartment, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him.
“Colin Shea!” You pounded on the door viciously. “This is your wife! I found your little love nest! What hooker do you have in there now?”
You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you heard a commotion from inside, someone was cursing up a storm and you were pretty sure you heard a couple of slaps.
“I can hear you in there.” You tried to make it sound like you were on the verge of tears. “What about Colin Junior? I’m not raising that baby on my own, you bastard!”
The door slammed open and a very angry looking woman stormed out, shooting a glare over her shoulder and calling Colin a motherfucker as she scurried down the stairs. He came rushing after her with a frustrated look on his face, rubbing the side of his jaw and scowling when he got a look at the shit eating grin on your face.
“My wife?” He asked incredulously, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his naked torso as you just continued laughing at him. “That was kinda mean.”
“8 AM on a Sunday, Shea.” You booped his nose with your finger and winked at him before turning to head back to your place. “You wake me up before 10 AM on a weekend and you take what you can get. I’m going back to bed.”
“Wait, Y/N, don’t you wanna have breakfast or something?” He jogged after you, ignoring the glower you shot him as you opened your door. “I’ll make you my famous eggs.”
“Did you not hear me when I said I got in at 4 AM?” You frowned at him when he kept you from closing your front door. “Colin, quit being so clingy. If I wanted to have breakfast with some annoying dude I would’ve actually brought that lawyer from last night home.”
“A lawyer, huh?” He was giving you one of those stupid looks that he typically reserved for girls he was trying to bang but that he definitely knew didn’t work on you. “And that didn’t even do it for you.”
“I mean, I still rode that beard for a good hour, but he was super depressing.” You kept knocking your door against his foot with an annoyed air. “Which is why I need to sleep, so get out of my fucking doorway.”
“Fine, we’re hanging out later though!” He called as you slammed the door in his face.
You just ripped off your clothes and crawled back into bed, burying your face in your pillows and cursing the sun as you did your best to fall back asleep.
It must have happened at some point, because you woke up six hours later with a mouth full of cotton and absolutely drenched in sweat. Why was it so fucking hot?
The pillow case tried to come with your face when you rolled out of the bed and you threw it away from you with a huff as you padded to inspect your air conditioner.
It wasn’t on. You knelt in front of it and whined as you tried flicking it off and on and nothing happened. This could not be happening, not with summer just about to start. It was supposed to be in the 90s today. No matter what you tried, it didn’t turn on. Granted, all you tried was unplugging it and plugging it back in, but that always worked with your computer.
The call to the repair company was no luck, they were closed for the weekend. This was going to suck, you fucking hated being hot. You moved to your kitchen to try to find some way to cool off after opening every damn window in your place to hopefully get some kind of air circulation going.
That’s when you spotted it.
The frozen margarita machine you had bought on an absinthe fueled online shopping spree and never gotten around to returning. It was like a little miracle right there in your kitchen, designed to help you cool off and get drunk so you could forget about how fucking hot it was while you did the week’s worth of chores you had been procrastinating.
You hummed happily when that first gulp of frozen tequila goodness slid down your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing but who fucking cared, it was hot. Time flew by as you downed those things like it was your fucking job, scrubbing your pots and pans and singing little songs to yourself.
Music started drifting through your open windows but you barely registered it even as you started singing along because it was Queen and how could you not.
It was the third time you had filled that margarita machine and you were feeling fantastic, dancing around your kitchen as you continued cleaning your dishes. Whoever was playing music was still going strong and you began belting when they started doing Seven Seas of Rhye.
“You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you foreveeeEEER!”
“Hey, Y/N!”
Your badass high note devolved into a shriek and you turned to chuck the cup you were holding at the intruder on the fire escape, cursing when you saw it was Colin. He managed to duck out of the way at the last second with a muttered fuck and you sighed as you watched your mug sail over his shoulder.
“Fuck, Shea, that was my favorite mug!” You pouted, stamping your foot a little and taking another gulp of your margarita. “What the fuck are you doing on my fire escape?”
He gave you a stupid cocky grin as he watched to try to lean on one hand on your counter and almost go down when you missed it at the last second.
“Are you drunk, honey?” Fuck him for calling you honey, that wiley asshole. “We could hear you singing from the roof.”
“I’m just a little buzzed.” You hiccupped. “Who’s we?”
“My band.” He crawled into your apartment and caught you when you tripped over your own feet again, still grinning at you like an idiot. “The ones you were singing along with.”
“That was your band?” You had never realized how blue his eyes were. “You guys sound great!”
“Yeah, you sound pretty good yourself.” He grabbed the cup you were holding and gave it a sniff, coughing a little before he set it on the counter. “Maybe you should come hang out with us instead of drinking what I think is blended jet fuel and ice all by yourself.”
“If I’m gonna hang out with you guys I think I should bring a pitcher of margs.” He was really fucking pretty, had you noticed that before? “Don’t wanna be a bad hostess.”
“Oh, baby, you’re wasted.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you felt your chest flutter a little bit. “No more margs for you. Come sing with us while you sober up. No, no.” He pulled you back when you tried to crawl out the window and started dragging you towards your door. “Ladder doesn’t really seem like a good idea right now, let’s take the stairs.”
You tossed your head back as you laughed, slapping his chest while you leaned heavily on him and let him guide you through the hall and to the stairs to the roof. Those were some firm pecs, you were a little marvelled at the way your palm just bounced right off so you slapped it again.
“Wow.” It was like your hand was moving independently from your brain as you gave him a pretty brazen squeeze. “Your tits are fantastic, Colin.”
“Holy shit, Y/N!” He was laughing hysterically when he shoved the door to the roof open. “Your drunk game is on point sweetie. Guys, this is Y/N, the killer vocals you heard from downstairs. She’s a little tipsy.”
They introduced themselves and you promptly forgot all of their names, your hand trailing down Colin’s chest until you could press it against his abs. This was getting weird, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But seeing and touching were apparently two very different things.
“We still doing Queen, boys?” You said, finally tearing your eyes away from Colin after poking him in the bellybutton and grinning when he made a noise like the Pillsbury doughboy. “Cos I’m good with whatever.”
“What about some Journey?” He slung his SG over his shoulder and watched you carefully as you grabbed the mike one of his bandmates was handing you. “You wanna sit down, hon?”
“Don’t call me hon, sweetheart.” You teased, giving him a wink and tapping the mike a couple of times. “I’ll be fine. Journey feels a little basic but ok. Faithfully or Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’?”
That grin he gave you should not have been affecting you like this, maybe you did have too many margaritas. The bassist started playing the opening riff to Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ and your grin got even wider, your hips moving to the beat as you kept your eyes on Colin. You laughed happily when he joined in with the guitar part, joining in after the piano had done its thing and losing yourself in the music.
He could not take his eyes off of you, he was pretty sure you’d never been this fucking cheerful around him before. Not that you were especially grumpy or anything, or that your typical dry wit didn’t immediately endear you to him. But seeing you with that goofy grin as you sang every fucking Journey song they had in their roster until the sun set was not helping the already prodigious crush he had on you.
Now the two of you were sitting on the couch he had dragged up there months ago and watching his bandmates pack up their gear, saying goodbye to each of them as they headed down the stairs and left you two to lean against each other and sigh happily. You had your legs flung over his lap as he plucked at his guitar strings lazily, kicking your feet slowly and leaning back on the sofa as you watched him closely and sipped on a bottle of water.
“You ever do any actual performing, honey?” He asked, his fingers running over your calf absentmindedly. “Cos with that voice you could probably line up some gigs.”
“Just karaoke.” You murmured. You were definitely sobering up now, but you were still hyper aware of his hands on your skin and it was giving you some feelings you weren’t totally sure about. “Lemme see that thing.”
“What?” He gave a little huff when you grabbed the neck of his guitar and pulled it into your lap. “Baby, do not tell me you play.”
“I mean, it’s been a little while, but I think I remember a couple chords.” You gave him another grin and his chest started to hurt.
“Jesus, a couple chords?” He laughed to cover the absolutely filthy sound he almost made when you started playing, it was like he had made you on a computer. “Honey, that’s Led Zeppelin.”
“Yeah, but it’s easy Zeppelin.” You teased, turning your body so you could lean against his chest and not missing the low rumble you felt when you tucked your head against his shoulder. “It’s Coda.”
“Uh-huh.” Being this close to you was doing something to him, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to smell your hair.
“Why haven’t we slept together, Col?” Fuck it, you might as well do this.
He choked on the water he was drinking, turning his face so he didn’t spit it all over you as you stopped your playing and grinned at him.
“I seem to remember giving it a good try when you moved in.” He managed to get himself under control and turned his face back to you. “But you said you had a rule about not fucking people who live in the same building as you. Something about not shitting where you eat.”
“That’s about sex with coworkers.” You said, scrunching your face up as you tried to remember what your exact justification had been.
“Which is what I told you.” He tried to scoot away from you but you followed after him. “To which you replied, ‘doesn’t matter, not gonna happen’.”
“Huh, that seems awful short-sighted of me.” You scooted closer again and this time he let you. “C’mon, we’ve fucked almost everyone else in this city, we’d have gotten to each other eventually anyways.”
“Jesus, what a romantic sentiment.” He was trying to focus real hard on his softeners, but they weren’t working with you squirming against him like that. “You really want to do this?”
“I mean, I think we’d enjoy it.” You set his guitar aside and turned so your chest was pressed to his. “It’s not like we’re gonna catch feels, or anything. Just gonna see what all the fuss is about.”
“Right.” Maybe this would get his little crush out of his system. “Let’s not do it on the roof, though.”
“God, no. My place?” You stood up and started heading towards the fire escape.
“Yeah, ok.” He watched you climb down to your apartment before sliding down the ladder after you like the damn frat boy he was.
As soon as he climbed in the window you were dragging him towards you, swallowing his tiny cry of surprise when you pulled his mouth to yours. His lips were unbelievably soft against your own, and when he opened up and stroked your tongue with his?
Fuck.
“Shit, Colin.” You purred when he started trailing his lips down your throat. “I feel like maybe we should’ve done this sooner.”
“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was muffled as his mouth moved to your chest, one hand moving to hook under the neckline of your camisole and pulling on it until your breasts popped out. “Well fuck me. No wonder you know so much about fantastic tits.”
You laughed at that, arching into his face and grinning down at him as he buried his face between your tits and gazed at you through his lashes. Those stupid, long as all fuck lashes that were brushing against your skin as he mouthed at your soft curves.
“Jesus, fuck.” You wound your fingers through his hair when he dragged his tongue over your nipple, tugging on it softly and guiding him further into your apartment. “God, you really know how to use that mouth of yours, sweetie.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He teased, moving his face back to yours and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he started carrying you towards your bedroom. “You wanna find out, though?”
“You tease all the girls you fuck this much?” You nipped at his lips and grinned when he moaned into your mouth, reaching behind you to open the door to your bedroom.
“Nah, that’s just for you, baby.” He cooed, giving you a quick peck on the lips before dropping you on the bed with a huff.
Every place his fingers touched sent a jolt of heat through your body straight to your core, your eyes never leaving his as he started kissing and nipping his way down your torso after pulling your cami over your head. He grinned against your thigh when you moaned after he yanked your shorts down your legs, sucking a soft bruise into your flesh before rubbing his face over your clothed core and inhaling deeply.
You throbbed under his lips as he pressed gentle kisses over the fabric that covered your mound, hooking your legs over his shoulders and trying to grind into him when he tugged at your panties with his teeth and let them snap back into place teasingly. His fingers skimmed up your legs until he could hook them under the band of your panties and drag them off you, sighing heavily when he settled back between your thighs and got a good look at you.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He spread you apart with his fingers and flicked his tongue out to run over your slit softly, moaning when he finally tasted you.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You ran your fingers through his hair and beamed at him, rolling your hips against his face when he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth with a low hum.
Colin chuckled into your cunt at that, pressing gentle kisses all over your soft folds before dragging his tongue over you in a heavy stripe. Your body reacted immediately when he reached your clit, your back arching off the bed and your legs curling around his neck as he repeated the same process but at a much slower pace.
Two of his fingers slid inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and you keened, gripping his hair by the roots and tugging hard when he started stretching you open while his lips drove you wild. The rhythm of his suction and release matched the curling of his fingers inside you and made you want to scream, your free hand reaching above your head and digging hard into your pillow as your body tried to rise off the bed when he brought you right to the edge of your peak right away.
“Col, Colin, oh fuck.” He felt like your thighs were gonna suffocate him but those sounds you were making for him had him past the point of caring about a silly thing like oxygen. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”
Your whole body seized against his face as you let out a gorgeous fluttering moan, soaking his lips and chin in your release as he hummed with satisfaction into your pussy. He sat up when you finally released him, removing his clothes in a rush as he watched you pant underneath him and run your tongue over your lips. God, you were fucking beautiful, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to do this.
Before you had a chance to say anything he was hooking your knee over his elbow and thrusting into you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion and releasing his breath in a thin hiss when he felt your satiny walls flutter around him.
“Ah, fuck, you feel amazing.” He ducked his face to catch your lips with his before pulling back with a groan. “Shit, I forgot a condom. Uh, I’m clean, just got tested last week.”
“God, you’re fine sweetie.” You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “Also clean and I have an IUD, so we’re peachy. I am a little mad at you though.”
“Yeah, why?” He wasn’t too worried, you were still grinning at him as he started moving his hips slowly.
“Well, Jesus, fuck, you’re big.” You almost lost your train of thought when he tilted your hips just a bit and his cock hit you deep. “I usually like to reciprocate oral, sweetie. I barely even got a look at what you’re packing down there.”
“You’ve seen it before.” He groaned when you wrapped your free leg around his hips and rolled your body against his.
“Just glances though.” You gripped his biceps and dug your nails in, biting your lip as he continued dragging his length over every inch of you at an agonizing pace. “And never hard.”
“Honey, there’s no way I’m pulling out for you to take a good look so you’re gonna have to make due.” He teased, grinding against your clit and grinning when your eyes fluttered closed.
“Fine.” You huffed, frowning a little before winking at him. “We’re switching then.”
“What?”
You didn’t answer, just giving him a cocky grin and gripping his hips with your thighs. One quick move and he was under you, a small sound of surprise leaving his lips when you were suddenly straddling his hips and grinning down at him.
“Oh yeah, that’s better.” You placed one palm on the center of his chest and curled your fingers through his chest hair as you rose up on your knees before sinking down again nice and slow, loving the low groan you felt reverberate in his chest when you clenched around him. “Good for you, Col?”
“Yes, yeah, s’ good.” He was completely mesmerized by you, his eyes trailing over your body as you arched your back and continued to ride him.
The way he was reacting to you was making it hard for you to focus on what you were doing, his eyes soft and relaxed on yours and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly moved his hips to meet your own. You could’ve lost yourself in those eyes if you really wanted to.
Shit, none of that.
His fingers started trailing up your sides when he fucked up into you suddenly and he lost it at the way your tits bounced for him, sitting up with a whine and nuzzling into your chest before wrapping his lips around your nipple as he started bucking wildly.
“Shit, fuck, Colin.” He was hitting your cervix with each punch of his hips and it was taking all your self control to not pass out from how hard he was railing you, wrapping your legs around him and dragging your lips over his jaw. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come again.”
“Yeah? Good.” He cupped your jaw and brought your face back to his, tugging at your lips with his teeth while he gazed into your eyes. “I wanna watch your face while you come.”
You kept your eyes open and trained on his, worrying his bottom lip with your teeth and resting your forehead against his as you felt a warm coil gathering in the pit of your stomach. It was like you were falling into those lust blown pools as he took you apart, your lips crashing against his as the coil snapped and you gasped his name into his mouth.
The feeling of your entire body fluttering around him was too much, and he followed you with a low growl. He muttered your name under his breath as he spilled his cum inside you, holding you close to his chest and rubbing his nose against yours.
You fell on top of him when he collapsed back against the bed, the two of you laughing breathlessly as you tangled your limbs and molded your lips together before pulling back and gazing at each other some more. Both of you lost yourselves for just a beat, your chests heaving against each other’s before disconnecting and rolling off the bed in two opposite directions as you did your best to compose yourselves.
“I’d say you definitely earned all those screams I’ve heard coming from your apartment, Shea.” You teased, trying your best to lighten the mood and not dwell on the desire you had to ask him to spend the night.
“Yeah, well I’ve always thought so.” He was avoiding looking at you as much as possible, searching the room for his clothes and fighting the urge to pull you back into the bed and snuggle with you. “Have you seen my converse?”
“Yeah, here.” You shoved his shoes at him after pulling an oversized tee over your head. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so…”
“Right, I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” He shuffled towards your front door and pulled it open before leaning back to look at you one more time. “You can join us for band practice any time, by the way.”
“That would be great.” That smile you were giving him made him feel like his heart was going to break. “I promise not to be sloppy drunk next time.”
“Aww, drunk Y/N was pretty fun, but ok.” He winked at you then left in a hurry, slamming the door behind him.
You fell back on your bed and ran your hands over your face in frustration, hating yourself for coming up with this stupid idea because now all you wanted was to have breakfast with that beautiful idiot tomorrow after sleeping on top of his chest.
“Goddamn it.”
Colin grabbed himself a beer when he got back to his apartment and chugged it, sinking into one of his barstools and considering the fact that he was absolutely not over his crush after everything the two of you had just done.
“Shit.”
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#natalie writes#colin shea#colin shea x reader#colin shea x fem!reader#colin shea x you#colin shea x y/n#colin shea smut#what's your number#chris evans#chris evans smut#chris evans character#smut#eighteen plus#eighteen and over#do not interact if you are a minor
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I had someone last time ask me about time stamps, so all of these from this point out will have the time stamp at the top of each set of quotes. I am currently in the process of retrieving the time stamps for the previous 5 posts, and will link an updated version when I have retrieved them all.
Link to the video is here: https://m.twitch.tv/videos/1149389841
Favourite moments of Joe and Cleo model streams part 6!
(I am very sorry I tried very hard to make this not as long as it is. There will probably be another extended cut post because there was just SO much happening in this stream)
—
00:00:57
Cleo: Welcome to the stream. Mine and/or Joes. Or, both.
Joe: Yay!
Cleo: I suppose that’s what the “and” means. In that statement. That would make sense. Glue pot’s ready—
Joe: It makes sense to me.
Cleo: …that makes me even more nervous that it makes sense to you, Joe. Not gonna lie.
—
00:16:34
Joe: So, anyway, last night at dinner, uh, like I— I had put this interview on while I was cooking and I kinda left it on as my daughter sat down for dinner and I was like “hey, this is an interview with this very famous journalist from about 50 years ago. Uh, he’s got a really interesting voice and a really interesting cadence, and I wanna kind of listen to it so I can— maybe copy it as like a joke in one of my videos.” And my daughter listens to it for about a— a minute—
Cleo: And then says “now that’s— is that you?”
Joe: *laughing* She just turns to me and she’s like “my friend…her parents got her…did you know they make crayon applesauce now? It says crayola. It tastes. Like they’ve blended a brown crayon. And sprinkled it on top.”
Cleo: That sounds grim.
Joe (prideful laughing): And it just kind of matches the cadence while also talking about something terrible to ingest?*laughing* And I just start cracking up because like— *laughing continues* she gets it! And she’s just like “why are you laughing?” Because you just— you nailed it! You nailed the pauses, you— you nailed the subject matter, like this is— this is just great!! And she’s like “no! This is a real thing! This crayon applesauce is terrible!” And I’m just laughing and laughing and she’s like trying to explain why it’s not good, and I’m like “I understand why it’s not good, but—“
Cleo (reading chat): “Joe’s daughter is awesome.” I think you’re probably correct. Joe’s daughter is indeed awesome.
Joe: Yeah, I’m very very happy with my daughter. (Reading chat) What was for dinner? Well not crayola applesauce!
—
Cleo (in response to someone complimenting her 3rd Life videos): Awe! Thank you joytobake, that’s really nice! I am…always pleased when people like my personality. Because I’m never sure that people should, you know?
Joe: Yeah, that’s— that’s what we were talking about— I think before we started streaming, was like, Cleo really gets me, and that’s a huge red flag.
Cleo: That’s a— yeah. As a human being. Understanding Joe - massive red flag. Huge. This is a danger. To everybody. And particularly Joe.
Joe: It’s the terror of being truly known.
—
00:47:08
Joe: Up until this point I didn’t show the instructions, but now I feel like I have to.
Cleo: Because otherwise people are going to judge your competency?
Joe: Yeah! They’re gonna go “ok. Any idiot can figure out how these pieces go together” but if you look at these instructions, that’s not true. I’m a spectacular idiot, and I have no idea what I’m doing with these.
Cleo: I mean. I want— I want to confirm. Yes. Spectacular.
Joe: Yes. Thank you Cleo.
Cleo: *snicker* You’re welcome Joe. I always like to insult the people I care about the most.
Joe (quietly): I know…I appreciate it.
Cleo (Watching chat): I’m waiting for Cam to confirm that.
(Cam in chat: She insults me SO MUCH, she called me a gibbon last night…)
—
00:59:42
Joe: *reading tips*
Cleo (reading chat): “you can’t stop Joe when he’s on a role.” This is true.
Joe (not paying attention): *still reading tips*
Cleo: I mean you can, you just have to go: Joe. Joe. JOE. And then he stops sometimes.
Joe (quietly, but with emphasis): WHAAAAAAAAAAT??!?
Cleo: I’M DOING A THING!
—
01:00:46
Joe (reading tips): “This is an encouragement donation for more of you singing in the future.” Ooo, I think Cleo would like that because the future is not now.
—
01:02:23
Cleo (genuine singing): Ground control to major Tom…
Joe: *listening in awe*
Cleo: …That’s…pretty much all I know…
Joe: Oh, I was gonna let you keep going, I— I wanted to hear more.
Cleo: Oh no. That’s pretty much all I know.
Joe: But yeah. Hypothermic haddoc writes (singing) “tell my wife I love her very much!” …I was waiting for you to jump in with the (singing) “she knoooooows!”
Cleo: Again. Again, I don’t know the song very well.
Joe: Oh. And here I am sitting in my tin can—
—
01:47:54
Cleo: *leaves to get a drink*
Joe: While you’re getting your drink I guess I’ll provide some musical entertainment.
SILENCE
Joe: …I don’t have anything prepared. So, let’s see…do we have any birthdays? *laughing* if it’s anybody’s birthday I’ll sing to you while Cleo’s gone.
Cleo: I’m back.
Joe: Oh ok. Well, sorry birthday boys. And girls.
Cleo: feel free to sing to people. I’m sure people want that.
Joe: no…well, I was gonna do it while you were away cause I need to get up and get my drink as soon as you’re back.
Cleo: Oh, go and get a drink and I will sing happy birthday—
Joe: So I’m gonna go get my drink, I’ll be right back.
Cleo: —to people who have chosen to spend their birthday…here…I’m not judging, uh, but— (upbeat singing) Happy Birthday to you! You smell like a zoo! (Talking) …uh, etcetera etcetera… (Singing) I forgot how this song goes! Nevermind it sucks to be you! *blows a raspberry*
—
01:49:09
Cleo: I mean it’s Cams birthday on Saturday, and I will sing to Cam on his birthday. His birthday is not today. I mean he probably wants me to not sing to him on his birthday, to be fair—
[Cam: Please don’t sing to me]
Cleo: —but you know, I might do it anyway. Cause it’s obnoxious. And I will laugh. (Reading chat) “Happy Birthday! Here’s some genocide! Please don’t sing to me…” *laughing* I won’t sing to you if you don’t want me to, Honey.
[Cam: Not happy birthday at least lol]
Cleo: I might torture you in other ways though.
—
01:50:55
Cleo: Hiiiiii Jooooooe.
Joe: Hello! Joe Hiws hewe! I am back fwom my dwink bweak!
Cleo: …what is that voice?
Joe (in a Kermit the Frog/Swedish Chef/Yoda hybrid of an accent): I feewl wike it’s fwom home star wunner or something, I don’t know! It’s almost Kermit THe Fwog Hewe, but not quITe!
*Cleo laughing*
It’s a little— (Normal voice) I dunno. I still had some of my drink in my throat, so I was like— I didn’t wanna like accidentally cough it out on the microphone as soon as I started talking. So I was just like (weird voice continues) I’ll do thIS vOIce
*Squealing giggling from Cleo*
(Same iteration of previous accent now blended somehow with the voice of Goofy from Micky Mouse) It’ll keep my mOUth in a shape that if I start— me coughing up a dwink it’ll just go into the chEEks on EIther sIde. It’s a natuwal, uh bARRier against, uh, hydration escapism! Uh yuh!!
Cleo: *giggles* Ok Joe. Ok.
Joe: *high pitched laughing* I don’t know Cleo! I’m just gonna keep making noises until people give me money! It’s jus— it’s how I pay rent.
Cleo: *laughing* Making noises until people give you— ahhhh…..
Joe: Yeah
Cleo: — actually…..yeah. Yeah. Yeah…Um (reading chat) “it’s drunk Kermit” *wheezing*
Joe (drunk Kermit The Frog voice): It’s 5:00 somewhere!
Cleo: *laughing* thanks for this. I needed— I needed this moment of— of— whatever this was.
—
01:53:54
Joe: So my daughter said the most Wednesday Adams thing to me the other day—
Cleo: Oh no
Joe: Except she didn’t do the deadpan delivery. She was very upbeat about this. So apparently “UP” has, on Dinsey+ a series of shorts about the old man and the dog. Right? And they’re called something like “a Dougs Life” cause Doug is the name of the dog
Cleo: yeah.
Joe: and she goes “oh! And it’s short! Like a dogs lifespan!”
SILENCE
Cleo: …Your…kid is very much your kid, you know that right?
Joe (proud dad): I know right?!
—
01:58:20
Cleo: I mean…you’d kill it at the Met Galla. Not gonna lie.
Joe (excited): Oh my god— I wanna get one of those Manuel suits that has like all the rhinestones and the flowers on it? Um, but, you know, like, those are very expensive.
Cleo: We live with what we can afford. Maybe someone can make you a Diamond encrusted suit that you can wear on camera. And have all the sparkles as green.
Joe (very excited): Oh my gosh— actually— so—
02:20:45
Joe: Meanwhile in my Discord everyone’s posting what they describe as “eye searingly beautiful” lime green wedding dresses. For my next wedding. Um—
Cleo: *snicker* is that what you’re wearing for your next wedding?
Joe: you know, honestly at this point I don’t wanna make any assumptions about anything.
Cleo: *cackling*
—
02:31:07
(This is context for the next one)
Cleo (reading chat): “some people have too much time on their hands” I mean, I personally would not drive 8 hours to see— um…
Joe: …me?
Cleo: I dunno, I might drive 8 hours to see you.
Joe: I offered to drive 8 hours to see you when you were coming to Disney and you said no, so I’m gonna assume that you would not drive 8 hours to see me.
Cleo: I mean, I— li— the key word there was “might”. I wou— I would have to have my mini frea— well I was freaked out at that point. When you offered, and and I was just like “oh god no.” Because, you know, social anxiety is a thing.
Joe: Mhm. I’ve heard of that.
Cleo: Yeah. And I do not do well particularly meeting people for the first time, even people I’ve known for a while. I go very very quiet and umm…I think it’s worse actually with people that I’ve known for a while? Um, online, um…because— cause my brain goes “well you’re gonna make a s—your, your— your going to do something and say something stupid. You going— they’re gonna hate you in real life” um…so, yeah. My brain absolutely freaked out at that moment.
—
02:34:12
Cleo: But, you know, like I say, I get hate mail on the regular, it’s fine. I mean part of that is daring to be a woman on the Internet, but only part. The other part is the fact that I’m also an awful human being. So, you know.
SILENCE
Cleo: …the silence isn’t doing— the silence doesn’t do you— do me any favours Joe.
Joe: Well, you know, I didn’t wanna talk over you when you’re sharing your insecurities.
Cleo: yeah….
Joe: That seems rude.
Cleo: I mean—
Joe: So I wanted to make sure you were done.
Cleo: no no no no, that’s fine. I’m always done Joe.
Joe: And nOW I can actually tell you how I really feel.
Cleo: No, please don’t. Not onl— no. That will— that will make me even more uncomfortable.
Joe (upbeat singing): The praise train is on its way!! Choo choo!!
Cleo: Noooooooooooooooooo!! Nooo!!
Joe: For Cleo it’s her day!! Choo choo!!
Cleo: *noises of distress*
Joe: Cleo is really great!! Choo choo!! Choo choo!!
Cleo: *distressful crying*
Joe: She’s not merely ok!! She doesn’t have to be the best at talking to people for the first time!! Cause they’ll love her anyway!! And sometimes they’ll even rhyyyme!! Yay for Cleo!!
Cleo: *physically going through a full body cringe* noooo
Joe: See, it would have been rude if I did that in the middle of your thing.
Cleo: *sob laughing*
Joe: That would not have been socially acceptable.
Cleo (through tears): I’m not even sure it was socially acceptable now.
Joe: WHY NOT?!
Cleo: (sobbing and laughing simultaneously) I hate you so much.
—
02:38:05
Cleo (reading chat): “We all need a Joe in our life, who sings a theme song for us when we’re talking ourselves down” I’m not sure you do.
Joe: Yeah, that wasn’t really a theme song? Like, if I was gonna do a theme song for Cleo—
Cleo (with immense dread): Oh no…no…no…
—
02:43:07
Joe: I’d just like to point out (very obnoxiously high pitched voice) That this is Cleo’s average person voice, which means that 50% of people have an even higher pitched voice!
Cleo: …You know, I can’t actually stab Joe through the Internet. And I’ve always been upset about that.
—
02:53:36
Joe (with all the enthusiasm of a 16 year old girl gossiping at a slumber party): Ooo I wanna ask Cleo about giiiiiirls!!!
Cleo: Ask me about girls! I’m— I’m happy for you to ask me about girls.
Joe: Ok, so, do you— do you feel comfortable saying what your specific, uh, type of woman is? I’m— I’m curious about that.
Cleo: Um, it’s— it’s nerdy girls? Specifically. Umm…not too, um…you know, the kind of running, climbing, you know— sort of— person. You know, it’s— it’s the sort of— it’s the sort of— action girl kinda thing. I kinda like that type. That’s sort of my type.
Joe: Mhm. Yeah, like—
Cleo: Why, what’s your type of girl?
Joe: Well, uh, usually it’s somebody that is— very anti authority— un— un— dissatisfied with the status quo. So usually more punk, or that sort of thing.
Cleo: Yeah. That’s— that’s— that sort of plays into the action girl sort of thing as well. Yeah I get that. So yeah.
Joe: yeah, umm, you— yeah so I don’t know. Um— so not necessarily, uh, as focused on the athleticism element there, but I know like—
Cleo: Well it’s not really athleticism, it’s— it’s more— it’s more—
Joe: —in terms of like, um, hiking, cause like, uh, you know in college there’s like a climbing and camping club or whatever—
Cleo: Oh yeah, it’s not that sort of person. It’s— it’s more, um…getting out and having a go at things. Like, you know, not— not being afraid to—
Joe: Adventurous
Cleo: Yeah! Adventurous! That’s the word!
—
Cleo (whispering): I don’t know where this bit goes! *gasp* it goes over there!
Joe (whispering): You can do it!
Cleo: I can do it! I believe in me!
Joe: You’ll find a place to glue it! It doesn’t necessarily have to be the right place!
Cleo: I know!
Joe: You’re equally valid regardless!
Cleo: Thanks Joe!
Joe: You’re welcome!
Cleo: It’s appreciated!
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sucker (m.) | pjm
❥𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.
❥𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut, angst, vampire au, horror au (?), vampire!jimin x human!reader, supernatural au
❥𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language, smut; slight biting, oral sex [man receiving], fingering, penetration, unprotected & rough sex, slight dom!jimin, death & mentions of death, blood, mentions of alcohol
❥𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 10.9k+
𝒂/𝒏: I got this story idea after halloween and this is the first time I've written a vampire au, so I really hope you'll like it, this is something new for me but was so much fun to write!! banner by @dee-ehn (thank you luv, you did an amazing job!!)
𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)
Frat parties aren’t usually Jimin’s go-to place but considering the sudden circumstances, he had to agree and couldn't say no to his friend who had chosen the most overcrowded party. In other cases, Jimin would’ve chosen somewhere less crowded but enough to blend with his surroundings. Although, Taehyung deserves a few points for thinking this out considering today’s theme is Halloween. There’s no need to hide anything, especially their appearance that still doesn’t seem as weird as people dressed as pumpkin and other weird costumes. Just as a young male passes by, obviously dressed as Dracula while wearing a cheap cape, his friend snorts under his breath but Jimin can hear him perfectly.
“Horrendous,” Taehyung comments, scoffing at the guy that’s too preoccupied with a girl clinging to his side dressed as something both of them can’t recognize. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.” he grins, licking his bottom lip before they make their way into the huge house full of drunk people.
It’ll be hard to find someone sober or not drunk enough, Jimin thinks while his eyes scan the entire room.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung slaps his hands over Jimin’s shoulders while he clutches them but his friend barely reacts, already used to Taehyung's rough hands and strength. “Try to have fun.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, still looking around to map out the whole room almost as if he’s waiting for something to happen. He knows nothing will, none of these people are ready for tonight and are completely clueless. Sometimes, he wonders how it’d feel like to just let loose and drink alcohol like every other person here. Loud rap music boosts against the walls, barely good enough music to dance to, but it seems nobody cares about that and dance no matter how ridiculous they look. A group of young girls pass by them, one in particular eyeing Taehyung as she winks at him, giving him a hint that even she doesn’t know about.
“Well, that’s my cue,” Taehyung grins, slapping Jimin’s shoulder with enthusiasm from receiving attention even though he barely came in. “Two hours?” he asks, slowly backing away from Jimin’s figure who responds with a short but firm nod.
Sighing, with Taehyung no longer in sight, he forces his legs to move through the crowd which is just bunch of drunk college students. It’s hard to blend, especially if he’s the only one sober out of everyone. He walks through the house, not particularly knowing where he’s going since he has no idea where he is. This is his first time here — probably last too. They never come back, not even once. They always just move on and plan things together, with Taehyung. Somehow, his legs lead him to a kitchen, less preoccupied room with an exception since there are still some people sucking their mouths off. Jimin’s nose scrunches in a slight disgust at the smell of alcohol, knowing that it’s just the picky side of him.
Taehyung had been in charge of tonight’s plans, it makes sense this plan sucks. Jimin doesn’t like it here but it’ll have to do. His sharp eyes dance across the room, nose softly sniffling as a sweet scent fills it and then he sees something. Something that looks much more interesting than anything he could’ve seen here so far.
You.
In other scenarios, you’d probably spend your Friday night differently than in a frat house full of people you don’t know. That wouldn’t even be such a bad thing, if your friend didn’t bail on you because her ex wanted to talk. You’re not mad, you’re just annoyed that you’ve been standing here for the past fifteen minutes watching couples make out, while third guy tried flirt with you. May you add, completely wasted where you could smell the alcohol on their breath. That’s enough to make you not interested and disgusted at the same time. When another guy dressed like Joker tries to talk to you, you ignore him and tell him to fuck off. You’re not rude, not all the time. But it’s only natural of you to act this way, especially when you let them know you’re not interested and they still keep trying. It’s like it pushes them to be even more eager to try to win you over. Well, you’re not some trophy and drunk enough to do that.
The guy gives you an ugly frown, visibly displeased by your choice of words but luckily he leaves you alone and your heart slowly calms down. You don’t know what drunk men are capable of, but you get the idea. You need to be careful either way. Not drinking any drink from strangers and not provoke anyone who's drunk, even if it’s standing up for yourself. Those are the rules you need to keep reminding yourself, especially in this place where alcohol clouds most people's judgement and mind.
Ah fuck, tonight is supposed to be fun.
“Playing hard to get?”
Your head whips at the soft voice, completely contrasting with the awful music and people’s chattering drunken nonsense. Mouth opening in a mere shock, you’re met with a guy you’ve never seen before which isn’t that weird since you barely know anyone here. But you’d surely remember him, if you ever met him. It’s safe to say, he’s probably the hottest guy you’ve ever seen and looked your way. His blond hair is parted in the middle, swiped back as this particular hairstyle shows his sharp jaw but soft features. One of the most eye catching features are those thick lips, looking juicy and soft, like two pillows and the most delicious desert. And you can’t fucking believe you’re gushing over some stranger but you’re surely not done yet. His eyes are sharp and there’s a weird glint in them, maybe it's because of the orangey–red shade they hold. Black leather jacket hugs his frame along with, what seems like a casual white shirt underneath, and a great fit black jeans. You wonder what kind of mask he’s wearing, but then he grins at you and shows you his white teeth. Two sharp fangs poke his bottom lip, making you almost jump in surprise but you sigh in relief.
He seems to know you were just checking him out, judging by the slight smirk he’s trying to hide while he makes his way over to you.
“Just not interested.” you reply, deciding it’s better to find your own voice rather than to gawk at this sex god.
“I don’t blame you,” he speaks, your eyes flickering to his. There’s something that makes your heart skip a beat, maybe it’s his alluring eyes that seems to know everything. As if he could tell you’re mentally screaming at his hotness. “Young guys can be... very persistent and act upon their hormones.”
You snort, placing a hand over your mouth as you start giggling at his choice of words. “You can say it. They’re just horny and looking for sex.”
He smiles, tracing a tongue over his lower lip as his steps come to a halt just a few inches before you. He looks even more heartbreaking from up close. The lightning is shitty but there’s not an inch of flaw on his soft glass skin, he looks slightly more on the pale side, but that has to be the make up. At least he hadn’t overdid it like you’ve seen some other guys. And those eyes... what kind of lenses are they?
“You’re right, they can be like that.” he agrees, still sporting that secretive smirk adorning both his eyes and lips.
You snicker, causing his brow to raise in a mere confusion. “So, what? You’re not one of them?”
There’s no way such a handsome guy wouldn’t use his charms to get the best out of it. He said it himself, young guys are horny just like most girls. It’s not like you judge him for it, he can do whatever he wants as long as he’s respectful to others and doesn’t cross any boundaries.
“I’m certainly not,” he says, voice lacking of that sweet yet mysterious tone he used before. There’s something that flickers behind his eyes but it’s gone before you can dwell what it really was. “I didn’t come here to have sex.”
You’re surprised by his bluntness, not expecting him being so blunt all of a sudden, especially about that sex part since he basically ran his way around the topic of guys being horny and wanting to have sex. But you like it, even though you can’t bring yourself to grin like you want to, not when he’s staring at you with gaze darkening.
“Why did you come here for then?” you ask quietly, eyes searching for any kind of emotion or something that could give you a better glimpse inside of his mind.
There’s something about him. He’s mysterious, hiding something and you’re sure it’s just a part of his personality. Either way, it makes him even hotter and you’d drop onto your knees for this man. But there’s your dignity in the way and somehow, you’re glad about that. You’re not one to have a meaningless one night stand. Not that he’d probably want or care to have one with you.
It’s getting awkward, the silence between you two as he complements about his answer causing you to play with the hem of your stupid dress that aren’t even yours. But then something clicks inside of him and he smiles.
“To have fun.”
“Good luck with that.” you murmur, sarcasm lacing in your tone because you can’t believe Yeri just went after her ex leaving you ‘socializing’ (as she called it) with total strangers. Drunk strangers.
You don’t expect the hot stranger to hear you, your voice muffled by the loud music mainly, but he does when a deep chuckle erupts past his lips.
“Why’s that?”
“If you didn’t come here to have sex or get drunk, I don’t think you’ll have fun. Look at everyone.” you chuckle, arms motioning around you to prove your point.
He doesn’t, his eyes stay solely on you but you’re too busy being sarcastic and still bitter about this party to properly register that.
Jimin isn’t stupid. He knows how these parties work. Where’s alcohol, there’s a big urge to have sex and it proves to be right when everyone’s kissing or dancing which mainly leads to the sex itself.
“I take it you’re not here willingly.” he speaks up, eyes dropping towards your mouth where a fake blood is smeared in the corner of your lips.
It’s supposed to add a little bit of horror detail to your look, but you’re far from that.
“Debatable. My friend had decided to invite me at the last minute and now she ditched me because of her ex. Honestly, the guy is a total prick, I don’t know why she keeps running after him.” you explain, scoffing as you cross your arms over your chest.
Jimin reacts with a low chuckle, slowly licking his bottom lip before he takes a deep breath. It’s interesting to watch him, there’s something about him that you can’t quite put your finger on.
You wouldn’t tell Yeri’s business to just some stranger, or anyone, but maybe it’s those two shots of soju that let your mouth on the loose. He doesn’t know her anyway and you’re too annoyed to care, even though you do feel a pang of guilt.
“What are you doing here? Besides, to have fun here. Did you come here alone?”
Great, Y/N. Now you sound noisy making it sound like you’re asking if he has a girlfriend. Did you come here alone is a totally straightforward question, a very bad pickup line usually guys use. You’ve no idea why you just asked that. However, Jimin doesn’t seem to mind and even though, his lips quirk in a sly smirk and you act like you haven’t noticed, he shakes his head to give you an answer.
“My friend was particularly interested in this party.”
He doesn’t lie, it’s true. Taehyung did persuade Jimin to come to this one.
“Oh, so you were dragged into this like me,” you chuckle.
He isn’t, but he stays quiet.
“I wish she’d tell me sooner than four hours before the party had started. I wasn’t prepared, I didn’t even get to shop for my Halloween look and ended up with Yeri’s costume from last year. God knows what these dresses have been through.”
The incredibly handsome stranger laughs, like truly laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound ever. It makes you grin without even noticing.
“I do think you make a perfect mixture of spooky and ravishing nurse.”
Yeah, Yeri’s costume last year was a nurse but you put your own thought into it and put some fake blood in the corner of your lips and the top of your cheekbone. There’s some of it on your collarbone and arm just to make it more ‘scary’ but it’s just a huge fail. The dress is short, luckily not dangerously short for you to feel uncomfortable in them. You’re not even sure if this is a Halloween costume. Yeri looks like the type of girl to like foreplay, maybe she used it with her ex. Oh fuck, you can’t think about that.
His compliment completely blows all your thoughts out, your heart picking a pace as for the first time, your facade slowly falls down and you blush. Did he just called you hot?
“Thanks,” you grin, “Although, I think this costume is shitty it’s still better than being dressed as Harley.”
“Harley?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
You stare at him, watching his confused gaze before something flickers in his eyes and he just stares at you.
Well, not everyone had seen Suicide Squad.
“From the movie? Suicide Squad? Harley and Joker? They’re this lunatic couple and everyone’s been wearing their costumes for the past... three years, is it? I don’t even know but it’s so cliché. I think I saw four Jokers on my way to the bathroom. Don’t get me started on Harley.” you roll your eyes, leaning yourself against the kitchen counter that’s behind you.
The two of you just stand in silence for a couple of seconds, and you almost think it’s awkward even though there’s not an awkward atmosphere and you’re just standing in a comfortable silence.
“So, vampire, huh?” you fill the silence after a moment, catching his attention as he watches you with a serious look. “Not to be an asshole, but that’s an overused costume as well.” you add, wondering if you’re getting too comfortable with this stranger.
But he’s probably the most normal and sober guy you stumbled upon, even if he’s the one who approached you. There’s something odd about him, but that’s just because he’s not like one of those drunk assholes trying to get you into one of the rooms upstairs. He’s not rude, disrespectful and drunk and that’s all that matters for you to feel comfortable talking to him.
His features relax and he lets out a breathy chuckle, showing his fangs. “Their costumes don’t do the justice.” he comments, eyes watching one of the guy passing by who’s got vampire costume which makes you snort.
Overused, like you said.
“They do look cheap,” you comment, giggling. “Isn’t it uncomfortable to talk with those?”
He looks at you with confusion, mouth opening in realization when you point at your teeth to explain.
“No.”
It comes out short, surprisingly deep and serious and for a moment, it looks like he wants to say something else but decides not to when he closes his mouth.
“You look believeable, though.”
“I do, don’t I?” he chuckles, and your body relaxes when all the seriousness is gone.
“Your skin is pale, not covered in that awful white color and your eyes... wow, those lenses look beautiful. It must’ve been an expensive costume.” you tell him, head leaning towards him as you study his eyes.
They’re almost deep red. Weren’t they more orange before? The lightening is shitty and honestly, you’re too busy inspecting the beauty and uniqueness of his eyes.
He looks stunned, and it looks like he stopped breathing for a moment when you lean closer to him to study his eyes and face. He closes his mouth, not letting you see the fangs hiding underneath those plump lips and even though they’re slightly poking, you can’t see much. He’s dressed normally, not wearing some awful costume. He’s done the minimum with his costume but he can easily win as the vampire of this party. It’s not too much, decent enough to make people stop and praise his costume if they had the chance to be face to face with him.
“I’m Jimin.” he decides to say instead, not even showing his gratitude from your compliment but you ignore it.
It was more of a loud thought anyway. You’re distracted again, this time by his name.
Jimin.
Fuck, even his name is beautiful.
“Y/N,” you tell him, giving him a smile which you hide by taking a sip of your drink.
He watches you, eyes scanning your lips before they move down to your throat as you gulp. You’re too focused watching people dance to notice the way he licks his lips and gulps.
“So, are you studying here?”
His eyes shoot up, your voice catching his attention once again before he thinks through your question. It’s weird how long he’s taking to actually answer, it’s quite simple question that's got a simple answer.
“No,”
That’s it? Just no?
He must’ve noticed the faint frown that settles on your face before he gives you a little quirk of his lips, those plump lips stretching to a handsome smile that once again gets all your attention.
“Are you?”
“Huh?” you blurt out, embarrassed how quick that flew out of your mouth.
You’re even more embarrassed, your cheeks slowly tinting into a red color when he chuckles lowly under his breath, completely aware of your lack of attention because all of it was focused on his goddamn smirk.
“Are you studying here?” he asks, not hiding that amused smirk that slowly settles into a soft smile that encourages you to answer.
“Yeah,” you smile, “psychology.”
“Are you a future psychologist?” he asks, a glint of teasing in his tone but there’s a curiosity lacing on his soft pale features.
How did he guess that?
“Maybe?” you chuckle, poking your inner cheek with a tongue. “I thought that’s what I want to be in the future, growing up it used to be my dream.” you tell him honestly.
You’ve no idea why you’re so honest and talkative with a complete stranger. Even though you haven’t exposed anything too personal about yourself, it feels very simple to talk to Jimin. He holds this calm aura around him that makes you want to tell him your deepest secrets without you feeling guilty about it the next morning.
“Used to? It’s not anymore?” he asks, cocking his head innocently but you know he’s not stupid and knows what your words meant very well.
For some reason, it seems like he really wants to talk to you and urges you to talk more. He seems interested in you. Not seeing you as a snack and walking vagina, but maybe just someone he wants to talk with because he’s been dragged into this party just like you have. That’s one thing you’ve in common.
“Do you really wanna hear my heartbreaking life story?” you tease him, chuckling when the corner of his lips quirk up once again as he gives you a final nod.
“I’m quite intrigued.” he simply says, your heart skipping a beat for some reason and almost as if he could hear it, he lifts his eyebrow in a provocative and cocky manner.
“Will you tell me yours?” you ask in return, cocking your brow at him which makes him smile.
“Depends on how interesting yours will be.” he says, your lips set into a straight line before you purse them and give him a long sigh.
“It’s nothing drastic. I just feel like it’s not what I wanna do anymore, the worst thing of it all is that I’ve no idea what I wanna do in the first place. But it’d be a good job for me, something I need. It pays well and maybe, it’ll be more fun than I think it is right now. All I can think about is my dad and just the fact that I need to keep going. Life sucks, right?” you chuckle, trying to ease the sudden serious and saddened tone you had.
Jimin is not a person who gets bluffed easily but he acts like he hadn’t noticed anything.
“Your dad?” he asks, slowly watching your reaction as if he’s waiting for you to tell him some drastic news about your father.
“It’s just me and my dad. He’s got a huge loan for the next couple of years and I’m trying to help him, but the part-time jobs just aren’t enough. When I finish college, I’ll be able to find a better job and help him with that. He deserves it and that’s what keeps me going, y’know? I need to pay him back for taking care of me. But it’s okay, I just can’t wait until there’s no loan over our heads. I came to the conclusion that life can be happy and fun, even if there are things that suck.” you explain, noticing how interested he seems to be with your words, sinking all of the information you just gave him.
Despite how sad you seemed to be talking about your family, Jimin notices that you’re staying positive no matter what exactly happened in your life and what you haven’t told him. And that you’ve a goal, purpose you want to fill and probably a bigger heart that you're letting show to others. Maybe he’s wrong, it doesn’t have to be this way. He doesn’t know you. But it’s not right to think that it’s only you. Every person in this house, or even in the entire world, has something they want to accomplish. Dreams, goals and all of that. Maybe some of them don’t know it yet, they’re lost but that’s what life is for. To let them figure it out.
“That’s very nice of you.” he says, surprising you how serious and soft he sounds at the same time.
“But what about you? What is your life story?” you ask, wanting to change the topic because your life being discussed when you’ve had a few shots isn’t a good idea. Few more and you’d be probably bawling your eyes out just because you get emotional easily, especially if alcohol is involved.
“It doesn’t matter,” he chuckles, “It’s not interesting anyway.”
You don’t hide the disappointment that settles on your face, causing your lips to pout which makes him scrunch his nose cutely. What a shame, you really wanted to get to know him more. It’s like he’s putting distance between you two, keeping a safe distance but still wanting to be in your presence. He’s confusing you.
“But I told you mine.” you pout, mumbling under your breath like a child that just lost a game.
It’s comical, how you’re dressed in a sexy nurse costume and pouting just because you’re dissapointed. For the first time since being here, he feels unsure and actually stops for a second as you see his eyes dance between yours.
“My parents are dead. And I wish I could’ve made them proud like you’re making your dad.” he says, completely serious as you gape at him with an open mouth.
Is he serious? You don’t know him, his reactions are mysterious and despite him talking about his dead parents, he looks too serious and doesn’t show any sadness.
“I-I’m s--“
“Don’t,” he stops you, voice rough as he coughs and tries to mask his all of a sudden unfriendly tone.
It makes you speechless and actually bad for pressuring him into telling you more. Although, you’re not sure if that can be called pressuring.
“It’s been a long time since they’re not here. I’ve had time to process it.” he explains, hand brushing through his golden locks while you watch them bounce right back into its place.
You don’t ask how long they’re dead, or anything about them because it’s not your place to be curious about that. If you knew sooner about them not being alive, you wouldn’t even show him how disappointed you were of not hearing his shortened version of life story.
All you can give him is a slight nod, awkwardly glancing at your heels that, of course are borrowed from Yeri. Remembering that there's still almost a full bottle of soju that you snatched for yourself behind you, you turn around and pour yourself a shot as you glance at Jimin. He's staring at you, attentively paying attention to your face, as you give him a crooked smile.
“You want some?”
“No.” he answers, causing you to shrug as you drink the shot in one go, weirded out by the expression he gives you. It almost looks like he's glaring at you for drinking and it makes you give him a dumbfounded look.
“Aren't you thirsty?” you ask, his jaw clenching before he allows himself to relax and a low chuckle comes out of his mouth.
“You've no idea,” he grins, taking a step closer to you as he hovers over you, cornering you while your lower back digs into the kitchen counter.
Your eyes are big, staring at him in a complete shock by his sudden move but you can't move away. Your whole body is frozen, staring into his red eyes that stare right back into yours as if he's looking for something in them. His own hands lean against the kitchen counter right beside your waist, almost touching you while your heart trembles with excitement. And then when you think it can't get worse, he actually leans his face closer to yours as he takes a sniff of you. He hums at your scent, your cheeks flaring both in embarrassment and praise, mentally clapping yourself on the shoulder for choosing that expensive Yves Saint Laurent perfume you got from Yeri last Christmas. You've always saved it for special occasions, and even though you don't think of this party as anything special, you're glad you've listened to your own guts and used it. Let's just ignore the fact that you used it because you were counting on sweating, knowing the strong perfume will make you smell amazing either way.
He pulls slightly back, your noses almost touching as you can smell his own cologne, mixed with something that smells like mint. You don't even blink, not allowing yourself to budge as he gives you a tiny smirk.
“I'm particularly thirsty for something else.” he tells you silently, his voice getting a few octaves deeper but yet sounding calm and soft.
Your breath gets caught in your throat, the huge lump there almost uncomfortable, as you stare at him with still the same shock. Gulping, you blink a few times as you wonder what the hell just happened.
You should be mad because after all, he lied to you. He told you he's not here for sex, yet he implied something erotic and suggestive with a simple sentence that rolled off his tongue so easily and elegantly, but that's not the worst part. The worst part – that you're not proud of – is that you like it and you can feel yourself pressing your thighs together. This had never happened before. No guy could made your body hot without even touching you, and you wouldn't be so thirsty too for someone you only know by their first name.
“I thought you didn't come here for sex.” you manage to speak up, successfully without stuttering or sounding too nervous, although confusion and the slightest tremble in your voice is audible even to you.
“I didn't,” he confirms, nodding but not moving an inch from you. Without taking your eyes off him, you slowly blink as you watch him lick his lips. “But you look irresistible to my eyes.” he says simply, slowly reaching for the strand of your hair as he twirls it around his index finger.
He's not touching you fully, and unfortunately you can't quite feel his touch through your hair because even now, he delicately touches your hair like you're a fragile doll that may break.
“Then, why don't you do something?” you surprise yourself, not believing something like that just left your mouth. You would never say something like this to a stranger, no matter how handsome and freaking hot he is. But this is Jimin, it seems like everything is different with him.
And he laughs. He actually laughs like you've just told him a funny joke, and all you can do is stare at him like he just lost his mind. Is he just playing with you? Was he testing you? Before your crazy thoughts and theories could swarm your already confused mind, something else catches your attention that makes a prominent frown adorn your features. This doesn't get unnoticed by Jimin, his laughter dying down as he realizes where your eyes and attention are focused onto.
There are no longer any fangs poking out of his mouth, and you watch something flicker behind those red orbs that seem to glow in the gloomy lightning.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks, ignoring your look of confusion and curiosity that still lingers in your eyes that don't look away from his mouth just yet.
“Where are your--”
“Took them off,” he cuts you off, letting go of your hair. “Now, be a good girl and answer my question.” he hums, inching closer to you as you hold your breath.
“What do you want to do?” you ask instead, getting a breathy chuckle from him. You're not sure whether it's because of your question or because you purposely avoided answering his.
“You wouldn't wanna know,” he chuckles, eyes dropping down to your lips that are already nibbling on your bottom lip. “It'll bleed if you keep bitting on it.” he comments, licking his own.
“What, are you scared of blood?” you joke, releasing your mouth that seemed to get his attention, before the mention of blood causes him to snap those red eyes to yours.
“Not in the slightest,” he smirks, for whatever reason but it shoots butterflies straight to your stomach. “Are you?” he cocks his head to the side, reminding you of a snake that eyes its prey. Or some predator that has some fun with its prey before they kill it.
Fuck, you shouldn't have watched that horror movie Yeri suggested yesterday.
“Of what? Blood or you?” you find the courage to ask, raising a brow at him as you eye his from up and down.
He smirks, cocking his brow at you. “You tell me. Are you scared of me?”
Maybe you should be. No one has ever approached you, talked to you or given you this kind of attention before. This is a completely new territory that you're tiptoeing around, and it does give you some kind of thrill. Maybe it's because your life is boring and Jimin summons a new temptation that you've never felt before. There could be hundreds of reasons why you feel this way or what you should feel instead, but you can't bother yourself to think about it any longer. Because instead of feeling any fear towards the new stranger that has angelic features and voice, and with some kind of darkness that he's hiding, you feel yourself getting more interested and temped. In this case, he's like a forbidden fruit for you.
“No,” you reply confidently, head held high as you grin. “Should I be?”
This constant teasing and the lack of touch just sets a flame of temptation inside you that slowly drives you insane.
“Maybe,” he says, tips of his fingers reaching for your dress as he plays with the hem of it, fingers dancing dangerously at the top of your breasts. “You're the one who's gripping the kitchen counter for your dear life.” he teases, your eyes shooting to your hands that in fact, are gripping the corner so tightly that they turn white.
Embarrassingly, you let it go as you cross your hands over the chest to make yourself appear more confident, trying to mask the way your heart thumps loudly against your chest.
“That doesn't mean I'm scared.” you tell him, indirectly suggesting that there may be another reason why you appear to be so tense.
Judging by the tiny and already known smirk that slowly stretches across those beautiful and thick lips, Jimin confirms that he knew way before you even said it out loud. No matter how many times you seem to outrun him, he's always two steps ahead of you, having a prepared answer.
“What it could mean, then?” he asks lowly, feigning an incomprehensibility that this time – you see and are prepared for.
“Many things.” you gulp, breath hitching when the tip of his finger slightly touches your skin. It's short-lived and almost unrecognizable, but it still makes you shiver over the fact he's so close touching the top of your breasts.
In other scenarios, you wouldn't let anyone this near to you, nor someone almost touching your breasts that are covered in a costume dress.
“Care to share, my love?”
The new petname shoots excitement straight to your body, your cheeks flaring pink as you look away from him for a moment. You know he's aware of your reaction and how that little petname affected you, but you remain confident as you stare right back at him.
“I think you get the idea.”
In no way in hell, you'd ever tell him how much you wish to be fucked by him. Those sinful thoughts have to stay in your head, and even if you're not saying them loud like he wants you to, you know he's smart enough to get the idea.
“Tell me.” he presses, fingers playing with the top buttons of your costume that you can't unfortunately feel that much, except the tiny pressure he puts on them by playing with it.
“Jimin...” you whine, causing him to grin cheekily at you. For a moment, it looks like he lost that dark and mysterious aura. “Why won't you kiss me?”
You're done playing this game, your patience is slowly dying as you wish to feel his lips against yours. Even just for a second.
“Because you never asked me to,” he answers simply, surprising you by his diplomatic answer that sounds nothing but truthful.
“If I ask you to,” Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. He's doing this purposely, he wants you to make the first move. You feel like his goal is to make you desperate for him, which he didn't have to do for long. You don't get it.
“Will you kiss me?” you ask quietly, eyes searching his once again.
“Mhm,” he confirms. “If that's what you want.”
First of all, you're surprised that he's more interested in your own interest and consent, instead to taking the first chance of your attention and weakness for himself. And there's a chance that you were wrong. Maybe he hadn't been doing this to push you to make the first move, or to enjoy how you're squirming underneath his hovering figure. All he wanted this whole time has been your consent. Second of all, it makes him fucking attractive for doing so and no matter what the real reason is, you're willing to risk it all for this man.
“Jimin,” you tell him, voice strained and raspy. “Kiss me.”
For all you know, he could be playing with you this whole time and he doesn't have to be interested in you. Again, Jimin proves you that you're wrong and manages to surprise you all over again when in seconds, he pulls you closer to him and presses your lips together. Jimin seeks your lips hungrily, surprising you how rough and fast he is as if he was controlling himself this whole time. His hand is holding your head from the back for support, while the other one grabs your hip and squeezes it. Gasping, you shiver at the feeling of his tongue dancing across your bottom lip before he envelopes your mouth again. Your tongues move together, your own hands gripping his biceps that are hidden beneath his leather jacket. Jimin has a boosted energy, barely allowing you to breathe between the hungered kisses he's showering you with, and when you start desperately trying to catch your breath, you're forced to press against his chest firmly. It's hard, much harder than you've imagined and it takes an extra strength to actually make him budge, which primarily is the soft whimper that you let out against his mouth. He moves away, almost jumping away from you as he stares at you all frozen.
He watches your chest move quickly, trying to catch the oxygen that your lungs are craving for. You put your own hand over your chest, chuckling when you feel your heart beating fast and hard.
A group of drunk people stumble inside the kitchen, catching your attention as they laugh loudly, unable to walk properly as they're reaching for other bottles that are placed on the kitchen island. You weren't here alone this whole time, there are still a couple of people making out or talking, probably searching for somewhere more peaceful than the living room where the most people are. Considering this fact that someone might've seen you sucking off each other's faces, it doesn't bother you and it's probably mainly the fact they probably hadn't even noticed.
The sudden drop of soju bottle that breaks instantly and stains the floor snaps you out of your thoughts, your gaze shifting to the drunk girl who starts giggling over the fact she's too drunk and clumsy to the point she just dropped a bottle. Now, there's soju smell lingering in the air and staining the floor with shards of glass laying there.
Turning to Jimin, you catch the sudden scrunch of his nose at the smell of alcohol which makes you giggle, even though you find it not so pleasing either. Taking a few steps towards him, you grab him by his wrist and drag him deeper into the house. Surprisingly, he allows you to drag him as he stares at the back of your head until you stop and push the door open. You're quick to turn the lock, making sure there's no one disturbing you as he finally notices where you brought him. The bathroom is decorated in deep blue, the same gloomy lightning that comes from the round mirror and creates a much more dark and intimate atmosphere. Standing in the safe distance, he watches you turn around to him and lean against the small counter where the sink is.
His eyes turn dark, the red color almost unrecognizable as he keeps staring at you without making any move. Throwing out your insecurity, because this in fact is your first bold move that you've made on someone, you don't let it disturb you from your plan. Your palms sprawled against the bathroom counter, ass digging into the edge of it, you straighten yourself and cross your exposed legs.
“Are you gonna just stand there and stare at me?” you ask, one hand flicking your hair over your shoulder which catches most of Jimin's attention and his eyes get big. The exposure of your nakedness, the vein that pokes beneath your beautiful and warm skin makes him react instantly.
You yelp when he's suddenly in front of you, using the lack of your attention and the second of you closing your eyes to blink, he's gripping your face before he attacks your lips with his own, kissing you hungrily that he did the first time. Only this time, you're ready for the strength and intensity of his kisses, awaiting for his tongue that darts out into your mouth. You grip his jacket, trying to take it off but it's impossible with him holding you so close. Tugging onto the leather material, he gets your message and strips it off, tossing it carelessly onto the dirty floor. Your palms spread over his chest, feeling his hardened muscles that are surprisingly too hard. In an instant, you're turned around, hands gripping the sink as you feel Jimin's hands on your thighs, slowly disappearing underneath the skirt of your dress. You shiver, his hands cold against your heated skin as you look back at him as much as your current position allows you to.
Unfortunately, you get only a brief glance at Jimin who turns you around rather aggressively. From this position, you can barely see him in the reflection of the mirror but as he looks up, you're met with his red eyes that stare at you back.
“What do you want?” he asks lowly, hands slowly caressing your ass cheeks that aren't covered by your panties, his nails grazing over the soft flesh.
Thank God, you chose to wear sexy underwear – the only sexy underwear you own.
“You,” you breathe out, telling him the obvious answer that he probably just wanted to hear. “You.. Jimin.”
You hear his low hum before your panties are pushed aside and dress hiked up, enough to let his fingers replace the lacy material. As soon as the tip of his cold fingers meet your heat that's coated with your slickness, your breath hitches. He starts rubbing the area, making sure he does the same thing to your clit before he pushes two fingers in. You gasp, not expecting him to enter you all of a sudden, especially with two fingers that stretch you deliciously. It slightly burns, but your arousal that's used as a lube helps a lot and it makes it easier for him to get in.
Jimin's surprised by your tightness, wondering when was the last time someone touched you while his red eyes flicker to your reflection to check your reaction. He's a monster, he shouldn't care if he's being too rough with you but for some reason he's curious to see how you react to his touch. A cocky smirk flickers on his lips when he sees your eyes closed and mouth open in delight.
“You like that?” he whispers, mouth hovering over your ear as he takes another sniff of you. Do you really smell that good?
He presses his thumb against your clit, circling it when he feels you clenching around and that's why he adds another finger. You gasp, mumbling something incorrect to both your and his ears. Again, he just smirks at your lack of response and how fucked out you already seem to be. He barely had to do anything.
Pulling your hips to him, he makes you arch for him with your ass pursed up almost dangerously close to his crotch.
Fucking you with his fingers, he has no mercy on you and your loud pleas of slowing down. He doesn't know you, but it feels like he reads all the signs your body gives him and with you clenching around his three fingers, being a mess that barely stands on her own feet, he knows you're close. The pleasure gets too much, his palms slapping against your clit as he keeps fucking you is nothing you are prepared for. The orgasm and the chase after it gets too intense, no longer in your hands and with you being able to control it, you're cumming around his fingers, sucking them right in. He slows down, but still keeps a sloppy pace that fucks you through it. Your whole body burns with tingles of post-orgasm and if it weren't for your hands desperately clutching onto the sink, and Jimin's body behind you caging you in, you'd probably fall like a potato sack.
He pulls out his fingers, sounds of slurping leaving his mouth as he cleans them. Unfortunately for you, you've missed that devilish sight of him doing it. You pry your eyes open, slowly straightening yourself as you turn around to check the devil himself.
Just as expected, he's smirking at you, proudly staring at your flushed cheeks and the quick rise of your chest. You surprise him, clutching his shirt between your fingers before you pull him closer and connect your lips together. He lets you kiss him, hands wrapping around his neck and finally feeling up his skin more properly. You're surprised how cold he is, yet no hint of goosebumps cover his skin.
“You're so cold,” you comment, rubbing your hands over his forearms trying to warm him up.
Glancing back at him, you're surprised by the dumbfounded look he gives you before his mouth quirks up. “You wanna warm me up?” he asks, cocking his brow at you as your mouth salivates, your hands completely stopping.
“Yeah,” you answer, no idea why the fuck would you even answer that when you should just put yourself to action. The little act makes him chuckle, leaning closer to you as you hear him gulp.
You think he's about to kiss you, his lips close to the crook of your neck and you tilt your head to the side, to give him a better room for that. However, you're surprised when his mouth never makes an actual contact with your neck. You slightly tilt back, staring at his frozen state as you see his throat bob.
“Jimin?” you ask, growing worried when he seems to be acting weird all of a sudden. “Are you okay?”
Your voice is muffled to his ears, he barely hears you as all he can focus is the way your blood pulses in your veins and the soft heartbeat of your heart. But you don't know that, all you can see is Jimin standing there gulping and not moving at all. It's until your hand makes contact with his cheek, your warm palm ready to envelop it but before you can even properly touch his skin, he's gripping your wrist at an extreme speed. You stare at him, almost jumping back from the sudden movement.
“You scared me,” you chuckle, trying to ease the tension as he takes a step back. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he answers nonchalantly, staring at you with those red eyes. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”
Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, surprised by the sudden change in his behavior and tone. He starts unbuckling his belt, your mouth salivating at the thought you're about to see his cock. It's been awhile since you gave a proper blowjob and although, you're not quite satisfied with your skills of giving one in the first place, you just can't wait to taste him.
If Yeri could see you right now, she'd never believe that it's the same best friend that has always been opposed to one night stands.
Dropping onto your knees, your face is facing his growing bulge as you look up at him for permission. He chuckles, licking his bottom lip as he nods his head at you, silently telling you to get to it already. You put his jeans down, not entirely just enough to expose his casual black boxer briefs, as they stay wrapped around his mid-thighs. His boxer briefs are next, your fingers too eager to see him rather than to tease and play with him. Something tells you that Jimin is not the type to enjoy teasing. His erection spreads free, finally out of the material of his tight jeans, and it slaps against his clothed stomach that's hidden beneath the white shirt.
You wish there was a better lightning and for a second, you contemplate whether to turn the main light on, just to fully appreciate his erected length. No matter what the lightning is, you notice how thick he is and a few veins that poke underneath the thin skin. From the light patch of hair to the red tip that's leaking with a little bit of pre-cum makes your mouth salivate like never before, and you make sure you gulp all of it before you can embarrass yourself. Not wasting any time, your hand curls around the base as you give him a testing squeeze which surprisingly, makes him barely react and when you glance up at him, he stares at you with dark eyes.
Little do you know he needs your touch, he needs to distract himself from the thirst and hunger, and that dark voice inside his head that tells him to do something completely different, rather than have you on your knees and ready to take him.
As if you could hear his thoughts – which you can't and he knows that – he almost sighs in relief when you wrap your pretty red lips around his tip. It doesn't matter that your lipstick is completely smeared from Jimin's lips and his furious kisses. Sucking on it, you let the angry red tip glisten with your saliva before you start pumping him. Through hooded eyes, Jimin watches you licking a strip up his cock as you go back to sucking him off while pumping his hardened length, this time harder and quicker. Jimin's low grunts that occasionally leave his mouth encourages you to take him deeper, the tip of his cock almost hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes burn with tears but you blink them away, curling your tongue around the head of Jimin's cock. His hand grabs the back of your head, clutching your hair in his fist as he starts moving his hips. It hurts a little, he's putting too much pressure and strength into grabbing your hair and the roots that burn your skull. But with your own arousal between your legs, slowly dripping down your thighs and the undying lust that you feel towards Jimin, you've no time to complain. It adds another pinch of pleasure, a pleasure that makes you moan around his length and almost gag when he thrusts into your mouth. Surprisingly, you look up and you find him checking your reaction.
Your warm hand around his cock and even warmer mouth that's wrapped around him feels surprisingly nicer than he thought it'd be. He takes his time to notice your reddened cheeks that he can see even from up, and with the dim lightning his red eyes catch the line of saliva that's drooling out of your mouth. And he growls, he actually growls and pulls you from his cock in seconds, before he's pulling you up and if it weren't for his strong hold, you'd surely stumble how quick he got you up. He backs you into the bathroom counter, to your previous position before he fingered you, but this time you're face to face. Your ass is digging into the edge of the counter, although you don't seem to care. You're too focused staring at Jimin that clenches his jaw, suddenly bumping into you as he starts kissing you. Whimpering into his mouth, you're surprised when he easily lifts you up and gets you seated on the bathroom counter. However your yelp is muffled by his mouth, his hands pulling you close to the edge, dangerously close that you're clutching onto him, scared of a possible fall. But Jimin got you, his body is caging you and creates a barrier between you and the floor.
Jimin's hand wrapped around his erected cock looks sinful, like nothing you've ever seen before, at least no one made it look so effortlessly hot. Your body almost trembles with the anticipation of feeling him inside of you, and you know it's coming because he starts pumping himself. Not even aware that you stretch your legs to give him a better space, plus giving him a view of the mess between your legs. He pulls you closer, nudging your thighs apart even more before his other hand moves your ruined panties more to the side. He gets a better view of your pulsating heat that's waiting just for him.
“What about a condom?”
He stops, eyes flickering to yours as he stares at you with unreadable recognition. It's enough that you're about to have sex with some stranger, even though it's very hot and irresistible stranger, but you don't know him after all. Are you ready to risk it for him? The rational you mentally praises you for remembering such important detail before it could've been too late.
“Don't have one,” he says through teeth, almost seeming to be annoyed that you stopped him.
Maybe you should grow offended or annoyed yourself by his reaction, but for some reason you don't. You just stare and wait for him to say something else.
“You don't trust me?” There it is – the smirk comes back and makes an appearance on his thick lips again.
“I don't know you.” you point out, cocking a brow at him.
“Yet, you're here sprawled for me ready to be fucked,” he chuckles lowly, your expression dropping as your eyes grow big. “I don't know you either, that's why we need to trust each other.” he says, but still doesn't move to do anything else.
Your mind is screaming at you, telling you over and over again how a bad idea this is and that you'll regret it. There's no actual threat of disease of a potential pregnancy (even though, you've been taking birth control since your teenage years) but you don't know that. He can't exactly tell you without having to explain something that he doesn't even want to or has to explain.
“Hm? What's it gonna be?” he purrs, his hand cupping your jaw as he starts caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Are we gonna trust each other?”
In a way, you're aware he's coaxing you into agreeing and using your temptation by using his low and tempting tone, but you don't find yourself calling him out for it. You're speechless, not able to move your mouth and find your own voice, even though you're not sure what your answer is going to be. But then he's pulling away, taking your silence as an answer which kind of surprises you because you thought he really is coaxing you into agreeing. Before he can fully pull away, you wrap your legs around his frame and cage him.
He opens his mouth staring at you as you can feel his hardened length touching the exposed skin of your thigh.
“Fuck me, Jimin.” you tell him, meeting him in the middle as you both crash your lips together.
The kiss is heated, even more than ever before and you shiver when you feel his tip against your heat. He looks at you, checking one more time as you give him a nod before you crash your lips together again.
He needs you as his distraction but he's not an asshole to take you without your consent, or trying to control you.
With that, he pushes past your folds and enters you. You gasp, pressing your face into his shoulder as you bite onto him gently. He doesn't budge, not surprised by the feeling of your teeth dangerously poking him through the fabric of his shirt. He's pushing in, bottoming out before he's already pulling out just to thrust back in. Jimin has no patience, already getting to work as he starts fucking you. With each thrust, it gets easier to move inside of you as your cum and arousal helps him. You're surprised how good you're taking him, even though your walls do burn with the sudden penetration and the new feeling of his thick cock. Even the pace is going too fast, the top of his thighs slapping against the back of yours while his balls make contact with your ass. The bathroom is filled with sinful sounds of skin on skin slapping, and it coaxes you to clench around him repeatedly. You can't keep up with the animalistic and rustless pace he set, whimpering and moaning his name all over again with an occasional curse falling out of your lips. Jimin grunts are no longer silenced ones, although he seems to be controlling his voice much more.
“Fuck,” you moan, head tilting back as your hands are doing a poor job at trying to hold you in place.
Jimin's hands are around your thighs, making sure your legs stay apart as he keeps fucking into you. You can feel sweat slowly dripping down your neck, even your ass getting sweaty from the contact of the bathroom counter.
“I'm--fuck, I'm close.” you gasp, clutching the edge even harder and before you can say something else, you're already cumming around him. “Ohhh, fuck, Jimin.” you moan out through your orgasm, his pace not slowing down even after you're done and gritting your teeth at the overstimulation.
His head falls into the crook of your neck, lips almost making contact with your skin as he starts shaking and grunting. You think he's close, that it's only a natural reaction of approaching orgasm and you're completely thrown back when he suddenly pulls away completely. His cock is out of you in a record time and as you blink, he's in the middle of the bathroom standing with his jeans and boxer briefs wrapped around his mid-thighs, along with still hardened cock that's coated with your cum. If the situation weren't so weird all of a sudden, you'd probably focus on the sight in front of you much more.
You watch Jimin's features twist in an almost painful expression, his nose scrunching as his whole body shakes. It's nothing too drastic but just enough to notice by the way he's shivering and trying to control himself. He gulps a couple of times as well, seeming like he's in a pain. You've no idea what has just happened and you just stand there completely clueless, eyes big and mouth agape.
“Are you okay?” you ask softly, wondering what the hell is wrong with him.
You hop off the counter, ignoring how sensitive you're between your legs and how hard it feels like to be standing on your feet all of a sudden.
“Don't,” he warns you, voice raising as he outstretches his arm to keep you from coming closer. “Don't come any closer.” he says lowly, head held high as you can't see his face.
“What, why? What happened?” you ask worriedly, your eyes filled with worry and confusion at the same time.
When you're about to take another step towards him, it's like he can sense it before you can even more your feet, his head snaps to you and he growls at you.
“Fucking stay away.” he warns you again, almost yelling at you as you jump in fear.
The last thing he sees is your scared eyes before he focuses his gaze to the floor again. He can feel the veins starting to cracking up on his skin, showing what he really craves for. He can't let you see. With your heartbeat being the loudest melody in the room and your smell filling it too, he can't promise not to do something he doesn't want to. That was the whole purpose of tonight, the whole purpose of approaching you and talking to you. He has no idea what's happening to him and why can't he listen to what his mind is telling him to do. He's controlling himself and he knows if he stays any longer, you're not going to make it without any harm.
And that's why he focuses his attention on something else, desperately listening to people slurring drunken nonsense and the loud music before something else catches his attention. It's not too much, just the only thing that helps with not focusing on your smell entirely. It's something no one else can hear, the whimpers and slurping sounds that could only mean one thing.
You notice how he zones out, your hands pulling your dress down to have at least some kind of modesty as you eye the stranger in front of you.
“J--”
His eyes snap to yours as he turns around. “You need to leave.”
“I-- what?” you blurt out, seeing him tucking himself back into the jeans. You ignore the feeling of disappointment that clouds your mind for a whole second, before you're back to confusingly staring at him.
“I don't know wha--”
Taking two long steps, he's right in front of you before he grips your face tightly into his hands. You whimper at the strength staring into his dark orbs that shine like never before.
“Get your friend and leave. You've to leave, right now.”
The firmness in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, however it gets somewhere in the back of your mind as you stare at Jimin with big eyes. Painfully for you, he lets you go as he starts backing away from you but there's nothing you can do. You can't bring yourself to move, nor rush after him when he flicks the lock open and walks out of the bathroom. You stand there, your mind suddenly snapping into action as the only thing you can think about is getting Yeri.
When Jimin makes it through the crowd, successfully hiding and blending with his surroundings, he stops and makes sure he has a great view of you walking out of the bathroom. He's watching you from the safe distance, seeing you trying to find your friend that seems to be nowhere in sight. When desperation is evident on your face since you've checked every room downstairs and you still can't find her, your legs lead you upstairs. He wishes he'd tell you to go alone, the longer you're staying... no, he doesn't care.
His mind drifts away to the moment in the bathroom, where his long canines started growing and all he could think about was sinking them to your delicious neck.
He can hear your faint heartbeat but he doesn't allow himself to get closer, not even if you're already upstairs opening every door of each room to find your friend. And when he sees Taehyung with a satisfied grin and blood dripping down his chin nearing him, it makes Jimin think only one thing. None of these people are aware of the liquid dripping down his friend's chin, thinking that it's just another fake blood even if Jimin can smell the metal scent from miles away.
You're growing annoyed when the third room you open, there's still no sight of Yeri but some drunk couples having sex or smoking weed. You scrunch your nose in disgust, wondering if these people don't know what locks are. As you're nearing another room, you just hope there are no naked people and any possible butts that you'll be seeing before you take the doorknob into your hands.
But nothing could ever prepare you for the sight behind that door.
The room is dark, the street lights create at least some kind of lightning but you still decide to turn up the lights. It happens in seconds. The first thing you recognize is the costume, the same one she proudly showed you this morning saying she'll be the hottest Black Widow. You stare at the horrific sight of the face of your friend which is almost unrecognizable. Her lifeless body is laying on a bed, blood trickling down her neck and staining beige sheets underneath her. Your piercing scream rings in your ears but you can't stop screaming from the horror sight in front of you.
Jimin hears your screams, his eyes shifting towards the house as he starts the engine.
“You killed her?” he asks, voice low as he starts the engine.
“Y'know how I get,” Taehyung chuckles, wiping the remains of blood from his chin and mouth. “I was hungry.”
Jimin grips the steering wheel tightly, stealing a last glance at the house and the party that slowly turns into chaos. That's why they never come back. They can't and he should've known his longtime friend would get one of his moods. Taehyung is crazy, much more dangerous than Jimin because he gets so into his own needs.
“You didn't have to kill her.” Jimin points out, leaving the driveway while the house keeps getting further and further.
“I didn't have to, you're right. But I did,” he sighs pleasingly, patting his stomach as he makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat. “And she tasted fucking great.”
Jimin's jaw flexes, slowly growing irritated by his friend's decision to end someone's life again. He should've gotten used to it by now, but he can't never really process it. It's even weirder now that he knows that someone wasn't just someone. It was your best friend.
And that night, almost everyone who attended that party had some regrets. And you've got many of them.
You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin.
Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.
If you just paid attention, maybe your friend would be still alive. And maybe you'd be in her place and would never make it out alive, if it weren't for the stranger with red dark orbs that hunts you every night.
#networkbangtan#bts smut#bts angst#jimin x reader#jimin smut#vampire au#kpop au#jimin angst#bts au#jimin fanfic#jimin scenario#bts oneshot#personasintro
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enough to share | matsuwaka issei x gn!reader x hanamaki takahiro
“fuck,” they moaned simultaneously, absolutely high on the feeling of you, only you.
warnings: 18+, timeskip!mattsun and timeskip!makki, THREESOME, degradation, brief mention of spanking, some drinking, dacryphilia
w/c: 1.3k
a/n: thinking many thoughts.
you’d been stressed: school had been kicking your ass, your friends were all busy, and your asshole-of-an-ex had made it a priority to make your life as close to hell as possible. all you wanted was to blow off some steam on a friday night, just to reset your mentality and approach the upcoming week with some shitty semblance of stability. you were expecting to have a mindless night of drinking and dancing, and maybe some sex if you became convinced you could fuck your problems away.
what you weren’t expecting was to be sandwiched between two irritatingly attractive men with their hands roaming freely all over your body.
“makki and mattsun,” they’d told you. “we know how to show pretty little things like you a good time.”
hesitant touches of strangers had long turned into sultry gropes of people that wanted nothing more than to know each others’ bodies. the way the three of you were moving on the dancefloor was downright scandalous—it was only a matter of time before you were asked to leave or cleared your heads enough to get a room.
makki was in front of you, his fingers leaving goosebumps everywhere they touched as they teasingly ran up and down your sides. his hair was a fluorescent purple under the lights, and a cheeky “bite me” was scrawled in bright orange along the patch of skin revealed by the unbuttoned top half of his shirt. he brought his face closer to yours, searching your eyes for permission before sucking your bottom lip between his, forcing you to throw your arms around his neck.
mattsun was behind you, dark eyes framed by neon green eyeliner and large fingers adorned by chunky, silver rings. his large palms roughly squeezed the plush of your hips, pulling you closer to his chest as he grinded into your ass. he buried his head in your collarbone, lightly biting into the skin, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder.
the alcohol flowing through you veins was making each sensation that much more intense, and you were rapidly losing your resolve, growing needier by the second.
“makki,” you breathed. “can we—can we get outta here? i want—”
the strawberry-blond flicked his gaze up to look up at you before focusing on the man behind you. they seemed to have a silent conversation before mattsun stepped to the side and grabbed your wrist. his otherwise detached demeanor seemed laced with a desire that made his pupils blow out and cheeks flush. “yeah, ‘hiro. you heard ‘em: les’get out of here.”
makki gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing temptingly. “alright,” he whispered. “alright.”
and so you found yourself in an unfamiliar hotel room, arched in the middle of the bed with your ass up and pressed against mattsun’s crotch and face smushed between makki’s legs, hands clawing pathetically at his thighs. the three of you were completely naked, a level of intimacy that had immediately propelled you onto first-name basis.
mattsun was two—now three—fingers deep in your twitching hole, and you keened from the pressure as he thrusted them in and out, tears streaming down your face and wetting makki’s abdomen.
“issei, issei please. want your cock ‘n me, want it so bad.”
“fuck,” he groaned under his breath. “’f you’re so desperate for it, who am i to deny you, baby?” you made the mistake of looking back and caught a glimpse of him rolling a condom over his cock. shit, you thought. its huge. how the fuck is that gonna fi—
before you could think, he lined himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in. “holy shit, you’re tight. 'hiro,” with clouded eyes, he looked up at his friend, who was now slapping his hard cock on your cheek, smearing pre-cum across your lips. “’ts so tight. jesus fu—ah! fuck, stop clenching, can barely m—move.”
makki soothed you, rubbing your back gently as mattsun bottomed out. “need a distraction, huh?” he ran his thumb along your lips, prying your mouth open, and rested his cock on your lolled tongue. “wanna suck?”
you nodded, teary doe eyes meeting his venomously lustful ones. you pursed your lips around the sensitive head and he hissed, tightening his grip on the nape of your neck. “damn, you’re good. so warm ‘n—hah.” you took more of him down your throat and swallowed, making his head shoot back, “shit.”
“can i move?” the man behind you grunted, getting somehow even more turned on than he already was from watching makki’s reactions. you made a gurgled sound of affirmation around the cock in your mouth. mattsun almost pulled out entirely, and the whine you were going to make at feeling so empty got lodged in your throat as he suddenly rammed his entire length back in, shoving you forward and slamming makki’s cock into the back of your esophagus.
“fuck,” they moaned simultaneously, absolutely high on the feeling of you, only you.
you went limp at the sensation of feeling so fucking full, and the pleasure coursed through your body, electrifying your nerves from a ball of white hot bliss in your stomach.
you moaned something resembling the word more, your noises muffled by the thickness stretching your lips open. they both obliged: makki grabbed the sides of your face and mattsun grabbed the sides of your waist, and they pounded into you mercilessly.
“such a fucking cocksleeve,” mattsun growled into the skin of your back. “you liked being used like this, don’t you? fuckin’ filthy.” he pressed a hand on the small of your back, driving your chest farther into the bed and pushing your ass higher. the new position changed his angle and had his cock striking you even deeper than before. your thighs were shaking at how overwhelming the ecstasy was.
“you’re so good, so good for us.” makki panted into the open air. he looked down at you with a small smile of adoration. “you’re amazing. god, you’re taking us so well.” you moaned at the praise, and the vibrations around his cock had him bucking his hips into you, and you gagged.
as your hold on both of them tightened, a string of profanities escaped both their mouths.
mattsun smacked your ass, the pain blending with the pleasure and your hole involuntarily locked around his length, making his eyes roll back at the pressure. “you like this don’t you? stupid slut.” his breath hitched as you fluttered, grasping his cock even firmer. “gonna cum soon? god, you’re a fuckin’ vice—ah!”
your climax hit you like a truck, and you clamped down as your muscles spasmed uncontrollably, soul nearly escaping your flesh from an orgasm so intense you feared it would kill you.
mattsun pressed into you one final time, his balls slapping against you, and let out an animalistic groan before spilling into the condom.
makki had set an unrelenting pace on your face, and as the stubborn grip your throat had on his cock got even tenser, his hips stuttered. “s’good, s’good, fuck!” he released his load on your tongue and you swallowed it greedily.
the three of you collapsed on the soft blanket, breathing heavily. your mind was dizzy and your limbs were practically useless, completely drained of any energy. as one of them went to get you some water and the other grabbed a towel from the bathroom, your eyelids flit shut and you let the exhaustion blanket you.
makki delicately dribbled some of the liquid into your raw mouth while mattsun dried the area between your legs. they positioned themselves so that they were on either side of you, cuddling. i guess you can really fuck your problems away, you thought, before peacefully drifting off in their arms.
© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.
#horsecock mattsun is canon btw#i need them both in me rn lol#kinky.inky#haikyuu!!#haikyu#hq#haikyuu smut#hq smut#haikyuu mattsun#hq mattsun#mattsun x reader#mattsukawa x reader#haikyuu makki#hq makki#makki x reader#tw.degradation#tw.impact play#tw.dacryphilia#makki#mattsun
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