Having A Praise Kink Is Sooo Embarrassing Like Yeah I Can't Get Off Until You Pat Me On The Head And

having a praise kink is sooo embarrassing like yeah I can't get off until you pat me on the head and tell me I'm the prettiest bestest goodest boy in the whole world. yeah and sometimes I'll ask "I'm good?" in the whiniest most pathetic voice and I'll need you to respond with affirmations about how good I definitely am before I can continue. in fact the term "good" is practically a magic word here. yeah sort of like an anxious dog. please don't ask about my relationship to my parents or other systems of authority growing up. anyway do you want me carnally

Jammies

{Author Commentary: So… I was unable to stop thinking about this & this… and I was enabled encouraged by the lovelies @daisyful-gvf @shutupdevvie @allieisacrybaby @earthlysorrows @jake-kiszkas-smirk and as always beta read by my dear @sing-against-the-sky }

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: 18+, minors DNI. (spoilers) subby/sleepy Josh, hand job/blowjob, cum tasting. spit sharing, biting m-recieving, nipple play m-receiving, slight edging, slight overstimulation

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no-other-mashter

1 year ago

Whatever you do, don't think about the fact that their love language is physical touch.

Feels Like Gold

Jake Kiszka x AFAB/GN reader

18+

Warnings: graphic sexual content, oral sex (both rec), penatrative sex, swearing, alcohol use, chris appearance (he needs his own warning), etc.

Word count: 1.9k

Ok so I've never written fanfiction BUT I really wanted some pirate jakey, so little summary is you've been 'disguised' as a man on his ship for a year and your captain is drunk, horny, and desperate ermmm yeah yay!

The year is 1689, you are disguised as a man, working as a deckhand on 'The Golden Fleet'.

The captain, Jacob Thomas, as any captain is, or at least should be, was ruthless. At the time, he is one of the most feared pirates of the seven seas. You have watched this man battle the greatest, he pulled a sword on fucking Blackbeard, the man beat guns with a fucking sword!

For the most part, the crew was scared of him, and reasonably so. No one dare disobey his orders or commands, no matter how insane, lest they want their head chopped off.

Despite all of this, you had taken a strange interest in him. Maybe even a liking. For a filthy, drunken pirate, he was surprisingly gorgeous. His eyes were entrancing, dark and deep, holding grotesque secrets of the sea. His skin was rough and tan from days in the sun on the water, working and commanding. His clothes were dark, worn down. Occasionally, he would steal new things when the ship stopped at ports. Silken shirts and nice leathers, but he usually just wore the same things till they fell apart. Over time you had taken a fondness to him, and it seems, he to you.

Usually, every few weeks, the ship would stop for a day at a port, not for the crews leisure, but for the captains. He needed his….fixes. He would disappear for the entire time, off with groups of maidens, whores, and when he returned, he would be in a much better mood. At the moment though, you were too far out at sea to stop. It had been around 4 months, and the men were starting to get desperate. Your captain, in particular, had been in a horrible mood. Far more angry than usual, screaming at the crew, and staying cooped up in his quarters, soaked in booze.

It was extraordinarly late at night, the moon was high, the ship was rocking with the waves and wind. You were lying awake in your makeshift bed, unable to sleep. Suddenly, you were approached by Chris, the first mate. He was standing above you. He nudged you with his boot to get your attention. "The captain wishes to see you..in his quarters." He gave you a little smile before disappearing.

You quietly make your way to Jacob's door, deep within the ship, away from the crew. He liked his privacy. You knock quietly at the worn down wood, and his voice bellows out, slurred. "Come in."

You carefully open the door, and you are met with a sight that makes your cunt weep. Jacob sits in an old chair, his legs spread open, his head hung down. His shirt was popped open, all but the last 2 buttons undone. He had a painfully obvious erection, prominent under the leather of his pants. His fingers on one side were curled around the neck of an almost-empty bottle of rum. His long hair had fallen in front of his face, and he peered up at you through it. "Birdie..c'mere" He said, beckoning you forward with his free hand.

Bird. The nickname he had bestowed upon you, when, on your first day on his ship, a seagull shit on your head. He had watched you struggle to wash it out, teasing you the entire time for it. A week later, the same happened to him, and he claims you cursed him.

You awkwardly made your way over to him until you stood between his legs. He slowly tilted his head back to look at you, taking in your features for a moment. His voice comes out low and raspy.

"Kneel."

You hesitate for a moment, frozen by shock. He couldn't be serious? You are quickly corrected that he is, when his eyebrows furrow angrily, and he raises his voice ever so slightly.

"You heard me. Kneel. Obey your Captain."

Not wanting to risk pissing him off any further, you immediately drop to your knees before him. He grins at that.

"There you go. Good." And with that, his free hand is buried in your hair, roughly shoving you forward until your nose is pressed against his crotch. You look up at him wide eyed for a moment, before relaxing a little into it, gently mouthing at him through the leather.

He groans. "Y'know what I want"

He fumbles with the button of his pants until it pops open, shoving them down his thighs until his cock springs free. He's incredibly hard, dripping with precum. This close you can smell him, every little scent, mixed together, making your head swim. It's musky. Sweat, salt, cigar smoke, booze, leather, dust, and something you can't quite place.

"C'mon, little birdie…love on my cock, won't you?"

Tentatively, you lick a long stripe up the underside of it before placing a little kiss on the tip. He takes another swig of his booze, his eyes locked on yours. He lets out a shuddering breath when you suck the head into your mouth.

He rolls his hips up and shoves your head down, forcing himself down your throat, groaning in pleasure when you swallow around him. "Fuck.." The word trembles out of him. "Natural, aren't you? You do this for the rest of the crew?"

You quickly shake your head no, and he grins, chuckling softly. Holding you by the hair, he bucks his hips up again, fucking into your mouth. He sighs. "Don't make me do all the work."

Slowly, you bob your head up and down along him, sucking and lapping at him lightly. His head falls back against the chair. Uncontrolled, slurred moans and curses spilled from his lips. You pick up the pace, hands grabbing at his thighs, his moans getting louder.

His hips stutter up, and that is the only warning you get before your mouth is filled with his release. He leans forward, his fingers digging into your hair as he moans breathlessly, writhing a bit, nearly dropping the rum bottle. After a moment he slowly pulls you off but grabs your chin, shoving your mouth shut, forcing you to swallow. He smirks when you do.

"There. Thanks, bird."

His calloused fingers cup your cheek for just a moment, running his thumb over your bottom lip, swiping away the saliva and cum left there. After a minute, he rises from his chair, setting the bottle down, he stumbles over to his bed. "Well, come on, then. I won't wait all night."

You scramble to your feet and over to his bed. He reaches over and grabs you by the shirt, throwing you down on to the bed with a little thud. His was much more comfortable than your own. His fingers hook under the edge of the shirt and pull it upwards. "Cap'n-" You gasp out, but it was too late.

He stares down at the cloth tied tightly around your chest curiously, one of his eyebrows quirked up in question. You look up at him, wide eyed and fearful. He runs a hand across it, and when you don't wince in pain, his curiosity grows ever stronger.

You struggle to form an answer, just looking up at him. "What- why?-" Jacob says softly, confused. His fingers find one end of the fabric and he unwraps it, pulling it off of your body. You turn your head away, hiding your face as you tremble beneath him, horrified.

"Oh, bird…." He looks at you in awe as he realizes. His hands run across your chest, squeezing lightly. After a minute he speaks quietly. "..'M not gonna kick you off the ship. Well, with a deal. You stay open to me, let me have you whenever I please, and this stays our little secret, Al-right?"

You nod quickly. "Yes- yes- anything you want, Captain." You say quickly, still shaking with the shock of it all. His hands slip down your stomach to your pants, unbuttoning them and tugging them down and entirely off of you. He shoves your thighs open and dips his head down.

He groans at the sight of your soaked cunt. Without a thought to it, he pressed his face against you, inhaling deeply as his nose brushed against you, his tongue delving inside.

He almost whines at the taste of you. It makes you cry out, your back arching up off the bed. His nails dig into your hips, holding you down as he lapped at you like he was a starved man, and your cunt was his very favorite meal.

He continues this for a few minutes, bringing you right to the edge. And when he knows you are about to release, he stops, grinning as he watches you struggle in frustration.

He lifts his head up, and, Gods, was he a sight. His eyes hazy, his hair a mess, his lips, shaded pinker than usual from kissing and sucking at you, and the best, his entire chin, lips, some of his cheeks, and the tip of his nose glistened with your slick.

He gets up to kick off his own pants, and abandon his shirt. You drink in the sight of his naked form, the only thing left being his jewelry. Doubloons that dangled from his neck. Carefully crafted, and carefully stolen rings of silver adorning his hands, and the hoop earrings that you got a glimpse of every so often when he pushed his hair back.

He climbed back atop of you, kneeled between your thighs. He pushed your legs up, one of his hands gripping the back of one of your thighs, the other, wrapped around the base of his cock. He gave himself a few quick strokes before pulling you up by the hips and lining himself up, letting his tip graze against you.

With one push, he was buried completely inside of you. His head fell forward, giving a loud groan, almost a growl. He stilled for a moment so you both could adjust to the feeling, before beginning to slowly rock his hips, starting out in time with the ship. He was fucking you in time with the waves. What a man.

"Fuck, you really are a little bird. Singing so pretty for me…"

The mixture of both yours and his moans fill the small room. His fingers had a grip on your hips that you knew would leave a bruise by sunrise. He sped up his movements, grunting through gritted teeth.

You could feel yourself quickly getting close again, and, by the sloppiness of his movements, it seems Jacob was too. You scramble to hold on to him, nails digging into his shoulders. He snarls, pounding into you roughly. "Come on. Fuckin do it!" He growls out the words lowly.

And with that, you felt the coil deep in your stomach release, crying out as the waves of pleasure washed over and through you, making you tremble. He was close behind you, giving a final thrust before spilling inside of you, his mouth open, his head hanging back.

You both were panting as you came down from your highs. After a moment, he slowly pulled out, making you whine. He smirked as he watched his cum dripping out of your cunt. "What a mess." He sighed, but had no intention of cleaning it up.

He climbed out of bed, retrieving his booze, and tossing a scrap handkerchief at you, letting you wipe yourself off. After taking a long drink of rum, he flopped back down on the bed and threw one arm over you, cuddled up close.

"Thanks, birdie."

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no-other-mashter

10 months ago

Sanguine Osculum

Upon exploring an abandoned manor deep in the woods, you find that truth is sometimes just as strange as fiction.

Vampire!Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Standard warnings for a vampire fic, along with 18+ themes in future chapters.

You'd heard the stories, of course. Deep in the woods, a desolate manor stood. The family who once called it home, they said, had all fallen victim to some illness, leaving the once bustling estate empty and unkempt.

But those who decided to explore it always spoke of an energy that seemed to exist there, of a presence that resided within the worn-down walls. Believers suggest that the spirits of the four young brothers who had once lived there still wandered the halls, unable to accept that they're no longer alive. Others just say it's a creepy old manor, empty and alone. These claims ignited a fire of curiosity within you, and you were itching to explore the place yourself.

The family, it seemed, had originated from somewhere in Europe, their lineage a long line of nobility and prestige. They were revered, held in high regard, as if royalty. Upon arriving here, however, their once illustrious name faded into obscurity. They vanished from the public eye, retreating into the confines of their manor.

This only added to your intrigue, if you were being honest. What secrets lie waiting in that old manor? Was it really haunted?

You decided one afternoon that you were going to find out for yourself, which is how you ended up stood in front of the dilapidated manor, a large pack on your back and anticipation thrumming under your skin.

The manor, once a symbol of opulence and prosperity, now sat in a state of disrepair and loneliness. Time had not been kind to the large estate, with ivy creeping up the decaying walls, nature reclaiming what was once its own. The windows, many shattered, stared out into the world with hollow eyes, as if yearning for what it once was.

The doors were still functional, with a large, ornate knocker staring back at you. Just for the hell of it, you lifted the heavy iron knocker and let it hit the door once, the noise echoing through the halls.

Nothing seemed to jump out at you, no ghosts, no squatters, no animals, so you assumed the place really was empty. You pushed the heavy door open with your shoulder, grateful you had worn something you didn't mind getting messed up as a loose splinter tore a small rip in your sleeve.

While the outside of the manor was in a rather sad state, the inside was surprisingly intact. It was dusty, sure, and some things here and there seemed damaged, but most of the furniture and knicknacks still sat as if no time had passed.

The foyer, once a grand entrance hall, greeted you with faded elegance. The air hung heavy with the scent of neglect, mingling with the faint aroma of aged wood and mothballs. Rays of sunlight filtered through the cracked and dusty windows, casting a dappled light on the old wooden floors. The faded paintings on the walls, still intact beneath the layers of dust, spoke of a time when this place was alive with laughter and vibrant conversations.

You were glad you had decided to bring your camera with you, eager to get photos of this beautiful place. Even the kitchen was elegant; black and white stone floor, white brick walls, and dark stained wood throughout the room spoke of the wealth of the family who once lived here. You wondered what kind of meals they enjoyed that were prepared here.

Your feet carried you to what seemed to be a ballroom of sorts. A large grand piano sat in a corner, intricate carvings decorating its glossy exterior. You were surprised by the lack of dust on it, as if someone took care of it.

The room itself was vast, adorned with chandeliers that hung precariously from the ceiling, their crystal droplets dulled and tarnished. The walls, once adorned with opulent tapestries and intricate artwork, now displayed faded remnants of their former glory. Gossamer curtains, moth-eaten and tattered, danced with the breeze that seeped through the broken windows, casting eerie shadows on the worn parquet floor.

As you reached the old piano, you felt a shiver up your spine. It felt like there were eyes on you, silently watching from some darkened corner. Looking around the sprawling ballroom revealed nothing, not even a mouse scuttling across the floor. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you couldn't shake that feeling.

And maybe you were just overly superstitious, but you didn't want to risk having a ghost angry at you for touching their stuff without asking.

"I-" You spoke up, stuttering at the way your voice echoed throughout the empty room, "I hope you don't mind if I play your piano. I won't break it, I promise."

And suddenly, you felt the tension in the room disappear, as if whoever was watching you was giving you permission.

You gently sat on the wooden bench, letting your fingers drift to the keys. Playing it, you were surprised to find it was still mostly in-key. You didn't know how to play much on the piano, just some simple melodies, but you enjoyed playing it, nonetheless. To be able to play a piece of history was so exciting to you.

You still felt watched as you played, but the gaze felt more curious now. Once you finished playing, you stood from the piano and glanced around the large room.

"Thanks for letting me play. I'll leave you be now," You say again to the seemingly empty room before heading back to the front room.

The sweeping staircase, its banister worn but still sturdy, beckoned you to explore the upper floors. Each step you took echoed through the empty space, reminding you of the tragedy that took place here. You couldn't help but wonder about the lives that once ascended these steps, the footsteps that once filled the hollow emptiness.

Rooms branched off from the main staircase, some to the left and some to the right. The right seemed to be bedrooms, which you left for later. The first room you came across was a library.

As you stepped into the dimly lit space, you couldn't help but be captivated by the sight before you. The room was lined from floor to ceiling with towering bookshelves, their wooden frames weathered by time. The shelves were filled with rows upon rows of books, their spines bearing the weight of forgotten stories and hidden knowledge.

Sunlight filtered through the dust-laden windows, casting an ethereal glow that danced upon the countless volumes. Each ray seemed to breathe life into the forgotten tales, giving them a chance to whisper their secrets once more. You could almost imagine the whispers of the authors, their words suspended in the air, waiting for someone to pick them up.

You ran your fingers along the books as you made your way deeper into the room, marveling at the fragility of their spines and the delicate scent of aged parchment that filled the air. The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of pages as the wind tiptoed through the cracks in the windows.

As you reached the center of the library, your eyes were drawn to an ornate desk, tucked away in a corner. The desk stood proud, its surface adorned with intricate carvings of flowers and vines. You felt watched once more, but this gaze was different. It was wary, but more gentle.

Speaking eased the tension last time, so you decided to do so again.

"Hello... I'm just here to look around. I won't take any of the books."

And again, the air felt calmer. You were certain there was a presence here, but it didn't seem angry or violent. Just... watchful. Careful of it's possessions.

You read some of the papers that sat on the desk. They seemed to be poems, or maybe songs, your eyes trailing along the faded ink. You didn't stay in the library very long, the dust making your throat tickle. You thanked the unseen presence again before moving on.

The room next door was a music room of some sort. Various instruments lay around the room, though two caught your interest: a beautiful violin and a very old guitar. At this point, you weren't surprised when you felt watched again, though this time, you felt a bit of annoyance seep into the room. You decided it would be best to leave the instruments alone; whatever was watching you seemed protective of them.

"I won't touch your things, I promise."

The tension cooled slightly, but you could still tell that you weren't wanted in here.

"Sorry if I'm intruding... I'll take my leave now."

You quickly exited the music room, letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. You decided to leave that room be for now; whatever was in there didn't want you in there with it.

The last room on the left side was a sitting room, bathed in the faint light of the slowly setting sun. As you stepped inside, your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged wood and lingering spirits.

An ornate bar, its polished surface covered by empty liquor bottles, commanded attention, taking up a large portion of the room. Crystal decanters, now empty and collecting dust, stood alongside tarnished glasses.

On the other end of the room, nestled beneath the glow of an antique chandelier, sat a cluster of chairs. Their faded upholstery now bore the marks of time, their frayed edges and worn cushions a result of the passage of years. A pool table, its green baize cloth marked with faint traces of chalk, stood nearby, its wooden frame showing signs of wear and tear.

You set your bag down and sank into one of the large chairs, the worn leather creaking softly beneath your weight. It was then that you felt it—an inexplicable shift in the atmosphere, as if the room had come alive with an unseen presence. The air crackled with a tangible energy, and a shiver danced its way down your spine.

The feeling of being watched returned, but this time, it was different. It was no longer a mere gaze, but a physical presence that settled in the room with you. You could almost feel the wamth of another person, almost feel the subtle disturbance of the air as they moved.

And then, in the periphery of your vision, you saw it. There was a flicker of movement, a shadow cast against the wall. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned your head, eyes narrowing in an attempt to make sense of the mysterious figure that now stood before you.

You could see dark curly hair and a white ruffled shirt, like the ones you'd see in those period dramas. Curious, dark eyes stared back at you as you stood on shaking legs, unsure of what you were looking at. The figure stepped closer, and you could finally see the rest of his features.

He was handsome, and reminded you of the old Greek statues you'd seen at the art museum once. There was something off about him, though, and his movements were too quiet for your liking.

It took a minute to find your voice, and it trembled once you did.

"H-Hello... I'm sorry for intruding..."

The young man looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow before finally speaking.

"You should leave. Your kind shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

His voice was low and rough, but there was a softer tone to the second half, as if he were genuinely concerned for you.

"U-um... okay..."

You glanced at the door, slowly walking to it and keeping your distance from the man.

"Can I ask if you're-"

"You really should take your leave. It's not wise to be here right now," he repeated.

You decided to take heed of his warning, slipping out of the room and back into the hallway. The air felt different than before, as if the manor itself was watching you. You quickly headed back down the staircase and out the front door, your heart thumping out of your chest.

Honestly you hadn't even realized it was so late, too enveloped in exploring. Reaching for your cell phone, you came back empty handed.

Shit. You left your bag upstairs.

You couldn't just leave it behind; you didn't have that kind of money. And your camera was in it too, and you definitely didn't want to lose that.

So, with a deep breath, you re-entered the manor. Climbing the stairs, you felt like you were making a mistake, but you continued on. You had to.

As you reached the landing, you could see the door leading to the sitting room standing ajar, a sliver of light peeking through the crack. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound reverberating in your ears as you approached cautiously, one hesitant step at a time.

Pushing the door open, you entered the room once again, your eyes instantly drawn to the spot where you had left your bag. It lay there, innocently perched upon the worn chair, waiting patiently for your return.

With a sigh of relief, you hurriedly retrieved your bag, pulling it over your shoulders before turning around and running directly into the young man from before.

"Why are you still here?" He asked, worry in his tone.

"I- um, forgot my things..." You replied, shocked that he wasn't a ghost like you first though. His body was physical, clearly, as you had run into him. His skin was cooler than your own, but not wildly so.

"Leave now. Please," He gently pushed you out of the room, and his tone worried you.

In your rush to head down the stairs, however, you slipped. You felt the ground approaching your face, and closed your eyes as you braced yourself for impact. But it never came. Instead, you felt gentle arms around you, and a new voice spoke quietly into your ear.

"Easy, Darling..."

You opened your eyes and looked up, your eyes meeting honey brown ones. This was a different young man, his short brown hair slicked back, showing off his soft features and slight stubble. He wore an off white ruffled shirt with a fancy jacket over it, his dainty features giving him a charming look overall.

"You should be more careful, Darling. You could've gotten hurt."

He had a boyish tone to his voice and didn't look like he was much different in age to yourself, though you could've been wrong. His hands were a bit clammy, but you ignored it as he helped you to the front door.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It's quite alright, Darling," He cut you off, before smiling softly, "Now, I must ask you to head back home. You shouldn't linger around strange places so late..."

You swallowed and nodded, not missing the way he looked you up and down, his gaze landing back on your face.

"As lovely as it was to meet you and listen to you play, Darling, I must ask that you not return. It's simply for your own safety. Oh, and don't tell anyone you saw us. We don't like visitors..."

You nodded again. You certainly wouldn't be telling anyone about this. It's not like they'd believe you.

The young man smiled again, giving you a slight bow.

"Have a lovely night, Darling," He whispered, closing the door once more.

As you drove home that night, only one thought filled your head.

You had to go back to that place.

-------

The manor seemed just as empty as before when you decided to return, just days later. The overgrown ivy still twisted around the stone walls, casting eerie shadows in the fading light of dusk. The looming structure stood as a silent sentinel, guarding its secrets within. The heavy oak door beckoned you forward, its intricate carvings a stark contrast to the peeling paint and weathered facade. You wondered for a moment if you imagined the strange people who you had met the last time.

You were tempted to raise the heavy knocker once again, but you knew deep down that you would get no response. The manor still seemed abandoned, frozen in time, a relic of a bygone era. Yet, faintly, you could hear what sounded like music drifting through the air, carried on a haunting melody.

Intrigued and unable to resist the allure of the sound, you stepped into the manor once more. The music was drawing you deeper into its depths, the soft creaking of floorboards beneath your feet adding to the somber ambiance that surrounded you.

After a minute of wandering the lower halls, you finally reached the grand ballroom. The doors stood ajar, revealing a scene straight out of a dream— or perhaps out of a period drama.

In the corner of the room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, a figure sat at the grand piano. His fingers danced across the keys with effortless grace, conjuring a haunting melody that seemed to reach the very core of your being.

Stepping closer, you recognized him as the young man from before, the one who caught you on the stairs. You couldn't see much of his face from where you stood, but managed to see that his eyes were closed and he seemed to move with the music. His brow would furrow and relax with the highs and lows of the melody, and his mouth hung slightly open, quiet mumbles spilling out unconsciously.

The scene before you was captivating, almost surreal in its beauty and mystery. The candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room, adding an ethereal quality to the young man's performance. The melody he played seemed to echo through the vast ballroom, filling the space with a sense of melancholy and longing.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but be drawn in by his music. Each note was played with such emotion and skill, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys. It was as though the piano was an extension of his own body, each chord and harmony a reflection of himself.

His body swayed with the music, his movements fluid and graceful. You could sense the passion and dedication he poured into his playing, his entire being consumed by the haunting melody that filled the room. It was a performance unlike any other, and one you knew he expected no one to see.

As the music reached a crescendo, his eyes fluttered open, revealing depths of honey brown that seemed to hold a thousand thoughts at once. But then, he played a sour note, his body going stiff as he slowly turned to make eye contact with you.

"What are you doing here...?" He asked, his voice laced with confusion, "I thought I asked you not to come back."

He stood quickly, his movements as graceful as a dancer.

"I'm sorry... I just- I had to... I needed to make sure what I saw last time was real..." You tried to explain, stumbling over your words as he approached.

"As much as I'd love to keep your company, darling, you can't be here," He whispered, using that name again. The one that only made you want to stay here longer. He stopped a few feet away from you and stood so still you couldn't even see him breathe. It was as if he was afraid to come closer, or even breathe the same air as you.

"Why is it so dangerous to be here?" You asked, taking a step forward, "That's what the other boy said too, the one with the curly black hair."

The young man tilted his head to the side, "Curly black hair... you met Daniel?" His confusion turned to concern, "You didn't happen to meet anyone else, did you?"

You shook your head.

He reached out, as if to turn you towards the door, "Then you still have a chance to leave. I'd do so before either of them know you're snooping around here again-"

"Sam?"

Another man's voice echoed down from the top of the stairs, and the brown haired boy, Sam apparently, stiffened.

"Damnit..." He muttered, grabbing your arm and leading you to a closet, "Stay in here and do not make a sound. Just trust me."

With that, he pushed you in and shut the door, leaving you in the dark, dusty storage closet. You pressed your ear against the door, straining to catch any sound from outside.

The muffled voices of Sam and the newcomer drifted through the wooden barrier, "Sam? Who's down here with you?" This voice was lower and had a slight rasp to it compared to Sam's more boyish tone.

"There's no one here, Jake. It's just me."

The other man, Jake, seemed to be unsure of that answer, his footsteps coming every so slightly closer.

"I can smell that someone else was here, Sam. You know that no one can-"

"Jake, it's probably just from the person who was here the other day. They were messing with my piano, so it probably still has their scent," Sam explained, though you didn't understand what he meant. You didn't stink, did you? You sniffed yourself but could only smell the dust and mildew in the closet. It tickled your nose, and you did all you could to hold in the sneeze threatening to come out.

"Maybe... I just don't like it when people come snooping around. If any of them find out, they'll be here with pitchforks and torches by nightfall."

Unfortunately, you could only hold in the sneeze for so long.

"Achoo! ... shit..."

The sound echoed through the dark, dusty closet, interrupting the stillness that had enveloped the space. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized your cover had been blown. The muffled voices of Sam and Jake abruptly halted, replaced by a heavy silence that seemed to last forever despite it only being a few moments.

The closet door was suddenly flung open as you locked eyes with who you assumed was Jake. His brown hair fell effortlessly to his shoulders, and there was an undeniable elegance about him, an air of regality that seemed to set him apart from the others. His outfit was different too; a red vest and jacket that showed off much of his chest and the necklaces that lay there, paired with red suit pants and white pointed dress shoes

But it was his eyes that captivated you the most. Like Sam's, they were a piercing amber-brown, but there was something about the way Jake looked at you that made you shiver. It was as if he was looking through you instead of at you. It was both unsettling and electrifying.

His lips curled into a snarl, revealing unusually sharp teeth that glinted in the sparse illumination, adding to his menacing demeanor. Without a word, he grabbed the front of your shirt, his grip firm and unyielding as he backed you against the wall.

With his face mere inches from yours, you could see every detail of his nearly perfect skin. His gaze bore into you, as if searching for answers you were not even sure you had. The intensity in his eyes was like a storm brewing, ready to unleash its fury at any moment.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you here?" His voice was low and dangerous, each word dripping with anger. The weight of his question pressed down on you, demanding a response that you struggled to form.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the sound of your own fearful breaths. In that moment, you felt like a mouse caught in the gaze of a cat, helpless and exposed.

The seconds stretched on, each heartbeat echoing in your ears like a drumbeat of impending danger. The dim light cast shadows across Jake's face, accentuating the sharp angles and the intensity of his gaze. It was as if time itself had slowed down, trapping you in this moment of uncertainty and fear.

But just as you thought you might crumble under the weight of his scrutiny, Sam spoke up, placing a hand on Jake's arm, "Let them go, Jake. I promise they're not a threat to us."

Jake's grip on your shirt loosened slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on you, "You know their kind and our kind aren't exactly friends, right, Sam? What's stopping them from ratting us out the second they leave?"

Ratting them out about what? For being weirdos living in some old manor in the woods?

"I- I won't say anything! I swear on my life!" You manage to blurt out, the words tumbling out of you in a desperate plea.

Sam butted in again, "Jake, please. It's the one chance we have to see what people are up to now. Please?" He sounded like a child begging their parent to let them keep a new pet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jake released his hold on you, stepping back with a wary look in his eyes, "Fine. But if you say one word to anyone, I'll gut you."

Jake turned on his heel and stormed off, his coat billowing behind him. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, fading into the distance like a distant thunderstorm. Alone with Sam now, you turned to face him, taking in the subtle downturn of his shoulders and the crease of worry etched into his brow.

"I apologize about him. He doesn't trust people very much anymore..." Sam's voice was apologetic and worried, "He'll eventually get over it. Just, ah, please don't tell anyone about us?"

You sighed in annoyance, still confused about all this, "Tell anyone what?? I still have no idea what or who you guys are!"

It was Sam's turn to seem confused.

"You... you don't? I assumed you had returned because you figured it out..." Sam trailed off, suddenly looking a bit embarrassed, his brows knitting together in a perplexed expression.

"Oh. Well... hmm..." Sam's voice trailed off, suddenly less sure sounding than before.

"Well?" you prompted.

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of whatever knowledge he carried. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I, um... my brothers and I... we're not human. Not anymore, at least..." Sam's voice wavered, the confession weighing down his every syllable.

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit, but all you found was raw vulnerability.

"You're... not human?" The words felt foreign on your tongue, a question you'd never thought you'd say.

Sam nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, "We're something else now. Something different..." His features were drawn with worry, his eyes pleading for understanding, "I know this is a lot to take in, but please... we mean no harm. We're just trying to survive, to exist in a world that isn't made for us."

Not human.

The words echoed in your thoughts as questions fought for attention in your mind, demanding answers that seemed to slip through your grasp like water through a sieve. Not human. Then what was he?

You could touch them, so probably not ghosts; they weren't rotting in front of you, so not zombies, a voice in your mind reasoned, trying to make sense of the impossible truth standing before you.

You looked at Sam, truly looked at him, and actually took in his features. His smooth, perfect skin that accentuated the sharp angles of his face, his amber eyes that leaned a little more red than brown, and his too-sharp teeth, elongated and pointed, glistening slightly under the light filtering through the dusty windows.

Oh.

It all made sense.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place with a resounding click, and suddenly, the world around you seemed to shift. Sam stood before you, a creature of the night, a being that belonged to the shadows.

"You... You're a vampire??" You ask in a hushed tone, a part of you still not believing it.

Sam nodded slowly, his features softened by a hint of sadness, "Yes, I am. And so are my brothers. We... we never wanted this life, but it chose us nonetheless." His voice was a whisper, full of longing for a world long gone.

"Do you... feed on people?" You ask, stepping back.

"No! None of us do. We can stay satiated enough with the wildlife in the surrounding forest," Sam assured you, taking a step to keep the same distance between you both, "Trust me, I don't like it either. I didnt like eating animals even before becoming this. But I can assure you that none of us will hurt you."

You cast a glance to the doorway where Jake had just stormed off, "What about him?"

"Jake's just highly overprotective of us. Most people tend to run screaming when they discover they're standing in a house full of vampires."

You stayed still for a moment, considering your options. You could run away like others apparently had, and try to forget this place and it's otherworldly inhabitants. But there was something in Sam's demeanor, a certain earnestness in his voice, that made you want to stay.

"You promise none of you will hurt me?" You ask, watching as Sam's face perks up at your words.

"I promise. I swear on my eternal life," Sam grinned, placing a hand over his heart. His teeth glinted in the light, but strangely, you weren't scared of him.

"Alright then. I'll trust you... Sam, was it?" You say, relaxing slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I never introduced myself, did I? My name is Samuel Francis Kiszka, and it's a pleasure to meet you, darling," Sam bowed dramatically, peeking up at you after a moment with another grin, "But you may call me Sam."

You told Sam your own name, chuckling when he decided to keep referring to you as "darling" instead.

"Now, I'd love to give you the grand tour, if you'd like?"

You, of course, agreed.

As Sam led you through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, you couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of the place. You followed Sam's tall figure, his movements graceful yet purposeful, as he showed you around the rooms you had only briefly passed through before.

The ballroom, with its ornate chandeliers and marble floors, stood as a reminder a bygone era. Sam spoke of the nights when music and laughter filled the room, when guests twirled in elegant gowns and tailored suits. His voice echoed in the vast space, recounting tales of extravagant parties and lavish gatherings that once graced the halls.

Next, he guided you to the kitchen, where the scent of spices and herbs still lingered in the air, even under all the dust. The massive hearth, now cold and dark, had once been the heart of the bustling room. Sam pointed out the intricately carved cabinets and shelves, explaining how the pantry used to aways be stocked with supplies from the nearby village, ensuring that those living in the manor at that time never went hungry.

Moving on, you entered the dining room, its long table still set with fine china and silverware. The high-backed chairs stood empty, a stark reminder of the absence of guests. Sam's voice softened as he described the family meals shared around the table, the laughter and arguments that had once filled the room now reduced to nothing but memories in his mind.

The last major room you were shown on the lower floor was the main sitting room. Though also covered in a layer of dust and it's windows cracked and curtains torn, it still seemed grand. The large couches were made of fine velvet and leather, clearly expensive in their time and still worth a hefty sum today. The large fireplace, all of its bricks imported from Europe according to Sam, used go heat nearly the whole house.

"Though, we don't really have a need to keep cool or warm anymore. In fact, we seem to run colder than ever before," Sam explained, "We can feel warmth but it doesn't do much, Sam continued, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. As he spoke, you noticed a flicker of something in his eyes, a distant longing for sensations that he could no longer fully experience.

The warmth of a crackling fire, the gentle touch of sunlight on his skin – all of no use to him in the eternity of his existence. Maybe all the romance novels had made you forget how lonely the life of an immortal must be.

"But enough about me," Sam turned to head out of the sitting room, gesturing to the large staircase, "I think you should formally meet my brothers."

---------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 2:

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Photo by @no-other-mashter

Sanguine Osculum Upon exploring an abandoned manor deep in the woods, you find that truth is sometimes just as strange as fiction. CHAPTE

Hands to Yourself

Danny Wagner x Reader

Subby bitchy Danny cuz i really want to slap this man around

words: 1098

tags: smut 18+!!!, oral (f!rec), masturbation, dom!reader, sub!danny, a bit of degradation, face slapping, hair pulling, coming untouched

It wasn’t often you had Danny in this position, on his knees, eyes gazing upwards, his hard cock throbbing against the confines of his boxers. Danny never liked to be submissive. It took you a long time to convince him to let you take control, and even now he tries to fight back. You know he secretly loves being your little bitch, though.

So there he was, on his knees below you, his hands at his sides. You’ve already stripped down to your underwear, and you glare down at him. He’s been mouthy all day, demanding you around, hovering over your shoulder to make sure you do each task right. You’re fed up with it.

“You’re gonna be a good little boy and do exactly as I say? Right?” Danny was silent, his gaze averted. You grab his chin tight, and turn his face towards you, he grunted. “Answer me.” his dark eyebrows furrowed, “Y-yes ma’am…” You smirked, tapping his cheek, “Good boy.” You slowly pull down your panties, making it a show for him. You practically see his mouth water as you reveal yourself to him, and his fingers twitch. “You’re going to please me with your tongue and only your tongue. You better keep your hands to yourself. If you behave you’ll get a reward.” You glance down at his throbbing erection. Danny shifts under your gaze. “Sit still. Get to work.”

Danny bites his lip and leans in, his tongue sliding through your wet folds. You sigh and your hands find his hair, gently grabbing the curls, “Mmm that’s it… put that pretty mouth to good use…” The tip of Danny’s tongue swirls teasingly over your clit, his fierce eyes looking up at you through his pretty lashes. “You can do better than that, baby boy. Make up for all the shit you’ve been giving me recently.” Danny groans, and he flattens his tongue over you and shakes his head from side to side. You groan and move your hips against his mouth. He slides his tongue past your wet entrance, the tip of his nose rubbing your clit. You grip his hair, “Fuck yeah- that’s a good boy-“

Suddenly you feel hands on your ass, and you pull him back by the hair, “What the fuck did I say about your hands?” Danny hisses through his teeth. “You will answer when asked a question.” Danny grits his teeth, “You told me to keep my hands to myself…” You nod, “That’s right, and you didn’t listen. I’ll give you mercy this time, but if it happens again you'll be punished. Got it?” Danny nods, “Yeah…” You tug his hair, “Try that again.” He winces, and nods, “Y-yes ma’am…” You smirk and pull him closer, “Go on, get back to work.” Danny groans and buries his face between your legs again, sucking and licking. You sigh and arch your head back. He latches himself onto your clit, sucking loudly. “Fuuuuck yeah baby…” Danny’s eyes close as he devours you.

Of course Danny wants to cum, but he could do this for hours without being touched and be completely content. You’re pulled out of your haze of pleasure when his hands are on you again, grabbing your thighs. You groan and push him back, “You just don’t know how to fucking listen, do you?” Danny growls at you, “God dammit just let me fucking touch you!” Your eye twitches, and you turn away from him. His eyes widen, “W-wait no baby- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean it-! You’re just so sexy and you taste so good- please don’t-“ “Shut up.” You snap. You walk to the bed, and sit down, legs spread wide. He looks up at you from his position on his knees, wondering where you’re taking this. You beckon him with a finger, “Closer.” He scoots closer to you, looking absolutely pathetic on his knees.

You bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing softly, “This is your punishment. You’re going to sit there and watch me cum. If you touch me one more fucking time you can forget about cumming.” Danny lets out an almost inaudible whimper as he stares at your hand working yourself. You stare down at his poor neglected cock, absolutely nothing left to the imagination with the way it’s straining against his boxers. You slip two fingers inside yourself, curling them as you rub the heel of your palm against your clit. Danny squirms, clearly trying to get friction. “Sit still.” You demand, and he obeys, looking like a kicked puppy. “You keep disobeying me, it’s almost like you don’t want to cum.” Danny shakes his head. “Oh? You do want to cum? Then start behaving like you do.”

You moan as a particular curve of your fingers sends a shockwave through your body, “Mmnh I’m close… you gonna be a good boy and watch? Watch me make myself cum because you can’t obey me?” Danny swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Yes ma’am…” He says in a small voice. Your fingers pick up the pace, chasing the orgasm that’s rapidly approaching. “Oh fuck- I’m cumming-“ You gasp out a moan and feel yourself clench around your fingers. Danny whimpers, and you almost missed it. You ride out your orgasm, and once again, you feel a pair of hands on you. You pull your hand away from yourself and slap Danny across the face. The sound he makes is something you’ve never heard him make before. He chokes out the most pitiful whine. You look down at him, his eyes are wide and his cheek is red. There’s a moment of silence, before he chokes out, “Fucking do that again…” Your eyes widen, “Yeah? You liked that? You liked when I slapped your bitch face?” Danny nods.

You grin, and land another blow to his other cheek. His voice cracks as he moans, and his body suddenly jerks. You watch as his cock throbs and pulses in his boxers, and a dark spot suddenly forms. Your eyes widen, “Did you just…?” Danny looks mortified as he looks up at you, “U-uhm-“ You let out a breathless chuckle, “Oh baby… fuck that was sexy.” Danny pants as he comes down from his sudden orgasm, “I’m sorry…” He says in a meek voice. You shake your head and get on your knees in front of him, holding his face and kissing him, “No no… you did good baby… that was so fucking hot.” Danny exhales shakily, “T-thank you… can we cuddle?” He asks softly. You giggle and kiss his cheeks, “Of course baby…”

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no-other-mashter

1 year ago

Thinking about gripping joshs jaw in my hand as I ride his thigh, telling him things like “such a pretty thing aren’t you” and “such a good boy letting me use you” and watching his cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink as he nods the best he can with your grip on his jaw, he could be using his hands to touch himself but instead he’s desperately pawing at you, grabbing the soft skin of your hip in one hand and grabbing your breast with the other, a firm grip on both as he murmurs out “please...please fuck me....sit on my cock it’s so hard for you” You keep holding his gaze up at you as you shift and sink down on his length, savoring the way his eyes roll back as you reach the hilt and the way he lifts his hips to get just a little deeper, rushing out “thank you..fuck-thank you” as his brows turn up in the middle.

yeah... no notes to add... that is... yeah.

To further it however; Josh desperately thanking you would pair so well with Josh later choking out "oh fuck! I'm sorry, I'm coming-! I'm sorry-" when he can't help but finish before he intended.

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no-other-mashter

10 months ago

22 with Danny 🥹

Doing each others hair

w/c: 2k

pairing: danny x reader

warnings: showering together but no smut, fluff 🫶🏻

thank you for requesting, I hope you like it!! ♥️

Prompt list here

The main door of your home opened, sending a jolt of panic through you. You weren’t expecting Danny to be home so soon, and your current state was very much reflective of that. Half of your hair was tied up, and the bottom half was doused in hair dye, although, admittedly, very poorly. You had greatly underestimated the dedication it would take to dye your own hair, and your arms were growing more tired by the second. Plus, it didn’t help that you couldn’t quite see what you were doing. The bleaching was an easy process, it didn’t take long and you still had motivation while you were doing it. Once you rinsed it out and blow dried, the mood shifted. You were hungry, tired, and ready to give up on your mission.

You expected to be finished by the time Danny returned home, but the process was taking longer than anticipated. When his footsteps echoed down the hall, you realized that it might just be easier to ask him to help, rather than to send him away. “Y/n?” He asked, nearing the door to the bathroom.

“In here,” you replied, loud enough so he could hear you over the music playing. “Come in.” You added, awaiting the door opening. After a moment, it did. He peeked his head around to get a look at you before he stepped inside. When he caught sight of the scene, he was met with a one that he certainly wasn’t expecting.

“What uh… what are you doing?” He asked, a smile on his lips and a small laugh following the question.

“Baking a cake.” You rolled your eyes. He chuckled, fully stepping inside.

“You need some help?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed. “My arms are killing me.” You set the brush down inside the bowl of red dye and turned to look at him. He lifted your chin, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips while being cautious about touching the dye. You carefully slipped off your gloves, motioning for him to give you one of his hands. When he did, you put it on him. He gave you his other hand so you could do the same.

He grabbed the brush, dipping it in the dye and positioned himself behind you. He was already aware of the process. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped you out, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You were quite keen on changing your hair up every so often, and in a true boyfriend fashion, Danny was always willing to lend a helping hand. “Red this time?” He asked, slowly applying the colour to your freshly bleached hair.

“Yeah, haven’t had it in a while. I thought it would look cool.” You shrugged.

“It will,” he agreed. “I like it already.” You smiled at his statement. He was always so accepting of anything you did, and made sure to cheer you on while you did it. He was the best boyfriend, and there was no arguing that fact. You had already done most of the work; he only needed to touch up the parts closest to your scalp. He worked in almost silence aside from an occasional comment. He finished it up with ease and placed the brush back in the bowl. He gently arranged the dyed portion on top of the towel you had draped across your shoulders. “All done.” He informed you.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to face him. He smiled down at you, just happy to finally get a good look at your face. That was something you loved about him; no matter what you looked like, or how much disarray you were in, he always looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world; like he was so lucky just to be able to be near you.

“Anytime, bug.” He replied, removing the gloves from his hands. Once they were safely on the counter, he grabbed you by the waist and gently guided you into him. He leaned down, giving you a proper kiss. You held him there for a moment, content with the action and realizing how much you’d missed him all day. When you parted, he gazed over your shoulder and looked to the dye that was still left. “What are you gonna do with the rest of it?” You turned, looking quickly at what he was referring to. You pondered, unsure of what you could use it for. You’d overestimated the amount by a little, leaving just enough to make you feel guilty about throwing it away.

An idea sprung to mind, eyes lighting up and a mischievous grin spreading across your cheeks. You turned back to him, letting your gaze fall on the blonde streaks that ran through his mess of dark curls. You reached up, finding a highlight that ran underneath his hair, hidden mostly from initial view. You looked to meet his eyes, just to find him already watching you. “We could match?” He let out a small laugh, already knowing what you were thinking before you said it. “Just an idea.”

“Yeah, why not.” He shrugged. “Just one, though.”

“Of course.” You nodded, feeling the excitement bubble within you. He’d never let you do anything to his hair before, but at the same time, you’d never really asked. “You sure?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah.” He assured you. “I think it would be cool. And I’d get to match with you, so that’s even cooler.” You felt a blush dust across your cheeks. Even after years of dating, he still managed to make you blush. Even after so much time, you often still felt the nervousness and giddiness of the crush you had on him all those years ago. You hoisted yourself up on the edge of the countertop with your hands so you could sit. Once you were secure in your position, you guided him towards you.

“Take your shirt off.” You said, grabbing the dish of dye. He did as he was told, throwing it on the floor. Your eyes drifted to his now exposed torso, finding your heart speed in your chest.

“Like what you see?” He teased, a smile still stuck on his lips.

“Always.” You breathed, no tone of joking present. Instead of lingering on the topic, you moved most of his hair around to one shoulder, securing it there with the elastic you had around your wrist. Carefully, you separated one streak of blonde. “You can still back out, you know.”

“I’m okay.” He laughed. “It’s just hair.” You couldn’t argue the point with him, because you always said the same thing. Without any further hesitation, you started applying the colour to his hair, too. It only took a few moments to completely saturate the hair, as it was only a tiny amount. Once you finished, you placed the dish back on the counter once more. You shifted slightly, pulling him into you a little bit further. You wrapped your arms around him, enveloping him in a hug. He looked down, careful as to not disrupt any of the hair that was processing the colour, and placed a kiss to your forehead. “How long do we have to wait?”

“‘Till it’s ready.” You hummed, cheek pressed against his bare chest.

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.” He laughed.

“About thirty minutes.” You said, closing your eyes and appreciating the warmth of his body. “How was your day?”

“Less exciting than yours.” He teased, fingers tracing small patterns into your lower back. “Lots of meetings, preparing for the next tour.”

“Don’t remind me,” you mumbled, your grip on him tightening a little bit.

“So you just decided you needed a change?” He asked.

“Yeah, got bored.” You explained, but he was well aware of your constant need to change up your hair. Over the years, it became normal for him to come home to the bathroom in complete disarray with coloured hair dye and towels all over the place. Often times, he ended up having to finish the job for you, but he never once complained. You thought the change kept things exciting, and he was always happy to see you happy. Plus, he’d think you were the most beautiful person in the world, even if you had no hair. He was in love with you no matter what, and proved it further every day that passed.

Minutes went by, filled with small chatter and many stolen kisses. When the time came to rinse the dye out, both of you thought it was easier to hop in the shower together. You stepped in first, the warm water instantly relaxing you. He let you enjoy the warmth for a moment before he helped you wash the colour from your hair. Once the majority was out, he searched for your shampoo and poured some on his hand. “C’mere.” He beckoned you towards him. You did so, allowing him the opportunity to lather the soap throughout your hair. He did it in a much more gentle manner than you would have, and took some extra time to massage your scalp, easing the tension in your head. Once he was satisfied with the amount of bubbles that had formed, he took it upon himself to try to form your hair into a giant spike at the top of your head.

“Stop,” you giggled, trying to push his hands away.

“No, hold on. I almost have it.” He pleaded. You stopped trying to fight it, in no way able to stay annoyed at him when he looked so happy. After a few moments, he managed to get it to stay up somewhat well. “There. It’s perfect.” He said in triumph. He only admired it for a moment before it inevitably fell. He didn’t dwell on the disappointment, wasting no time guiding you back into the water and washing it out for you. The beauty of the bare intimacy without the intent of anything sexual was overwhelming.

Once the shampoo was washed out, he carefully combed some conditioner through the ends of your hair. You stepped out of the way of the shower head, letting it sit for a few minutes. “Your turn.” You said with a smile. He stepped back into the water, wetting his hair and trying to maneuver himself down so you could comfortably reach his head. You did the same thing he’d done for you, leaving out the mohawk bit, and allowed him to wash the soap away. When it came time for the conditioner, you took extra time coating his hair and combing through the knots. Once you finished, he only gave you enough time to rinse your hands off before he was pulling you into a hug.

“I love you,” he hummed, guiding your face up so he could kiss you.

“I love you.” You mumbled against him, eyes closed in bliss. You both sat for a while, caught in an embrace neither of you wanted to break. Eventually, you parted and finished washing yourselves, then stepped out of the shower. You wrapped yourselves in towels, finding yourselves gravitating back to each others hold. “Thanks for helping me.” You mumbled, face once again pressed to his chest.

“I’ll always help you, bug. That’s what I’m here for.” He said, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Plus, I got a pretty cool hairstyle out of it, too.” You could feel him smile against you.

“We match.” You added, looking towards the steam streaked mirror. You lifted your hand, picking out the thin lock of red hair from his curls. “When you’re gone on tour, you won’t be able to forget me, now.” He let out a scoff, completely dismissing your comment.

“Like I could ever forget about you.” He pulled you a little bit closer, just to show you he meant what he said. “But, we do look super cool.”

“The coolest.” You agreed. “Everybody will be so jealous.” He laughed at your statement, nodding in agreement.

“I love you so much.” He whispered. “You look absolutely beautiful.” He ran his fingers through the freshly dyed hair.

“I love you,” you smiled. “And I have to admit, you look quite nice, too.” He pulled you into another kiss, both of you completely content by just being in each others arms. You knew that it would always be your happiest place, because you were certain you’d never find anyone else who was so willing to join in on your crazy ideas.

•

god i love danny he’d be such a good bf, always supportive and nice and sweet and i just love him sm :(

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