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fliccuMagic (When I'm With You)
Chanyeol/Baekhyun
NC17
2308 words
It's my birthday and I wrote myself some very self-indulgent, kind of surprisingly domestic, porn. I regret nothing. Inspired by this tweet from the chinguline exchange twitter: BH @ CY: "I can't wait to see you. I've been doing mouth stretches for the past 2 days."
Chanyeol had honestly never thought he was the insatiable type when it came to sex.
Sure, he liked it well enough. He’d spent his adolescence with his knuckles pressed up against his mouth and his fingers curled around his cock, trying not to make any noise as he tugged himself off beneath Spiderman bed sheets. And okay, sure, ever since Chanyeol had lost his virginity at seventeen to his first boyfriend, a cute, younger guy with dark hair and round eyes, he’s had his fair share of sexual exploits.
But really, honestly, Chanyeol had never thought of his sex drive as anything but normal or healthy for your average twenty five year old man of above average height and (if he does say so himself) above average attractiveness.
At least, that’s what Chanyeol had thought until he’d met Baekhyun.
They’d met at university, what feels like a lifetime ago now. He’d enrolled onto a psychology module to make up credits, neurosomething or other, and ended up spending more time making out with Baekhyun, who’d been bright and funny and beautiful from the very first moment they’d sat beside each other in that first lecture.
Chanyeol hasn’t looked back since. The line between friends with benefits and more than friends with even more benefits had blurred almost immediately. Pizza and video game marathons ended with Baekhyun bent over the arm of the sofa with his pants around his ankles. They’d stay up late studying furiously for finals and spend more time studying the inside of each other’s mouths.
It hadn’t stopped when Chanyeol had graduated, picture perfect in his cap and gown, diploma under his arm and rows of perfect white teeth that Baekhyun traces his tongue over every inch of later that night. Baekhyun enrolled onto a masters course (unlike Chanyeol, Baekhyun actually applied himself seriously to psychology: he’d passed neurosomething and everything). Chanyeol didn’t bother, had thrown himself straight into a graduate internship with the knowledge that he’d never master anything better than he has mastered Baekhyun’s body.
The sex doesn’t stop. If anything, it just gets better.
Even with Baekhyun pulling all nighters in front of his laptop, even with Chanyeol rising at the crack of dawn to join the rat race, standing on the subway in a pressed grey suit with the knot of his tie heavy against his throat. Even with all this they still find the time to map out each other’s bodies with a familiarity that makes Chanyeol ache when he’s watching Baekhyun sleep, long eyelashes curling against the rosy apples of his cheeks and his mouth hanging open unattractively.
Baekhyun’s masters course becomes studying for a PhD. Chanyeol’s internship turns into an actual position with perks like competitive starting salary and holiday pay.
Baekhyun ages like a fine wine and Chanyeol has never wanted to touch him more. He pushes Baekhyun up against the wall in the shower, spreads him out over the kitchen table, sucks dark bruises into the sensitive skin of his neck just to hear Baekhyun squeal.
Nothing and nobody has ever made Chanyeol feel the way Baekhyun does.
The work trips start out small, at first, over night stays at impersonal business hotels in Incheon, little things like that. Chanyeol snaps a picture of the beach from the balcony of his hotel room in Busan, watches the waves kiss the shore from twelve stories up and wishes Baekhyun were by his side.
The night Chanyeol returns home from his first overseas trip, three days and two nights in Tokyo, Baekhyun is on him before he even makes it through the door. He kisses Chanyeol like he needs him to breathe and Chanyeol’s whole body trembles with the realisation that Baekhyun has missed this as much as he has. Baekhyun, who has always been so independent and self-sufficient. Baekhyun, who has always professed not to need anything or anyone, is pulling at the buttons of his shirt like he cannot stand another second of distance between their bodies.
They don’t even make it to the bedroom.
Chanyeol expects it to get a little easier, the distance. They’re not teenagers anymore, after all. They don’t need it three times a day, frantic and messy and inexperienced. Anyway, Chanyeol is pretty sure he thinks about other things, like how he wishes Jongdae would stop tagging him in 9gag posts on Facebook, or how he needs to remember to do the grocery shopping this Friday because Baekhyun has that presentation and won’t get home till late. Or how Baekhyun looks nestled between his legs in the morning, sleep swollen mouth around his cock as he teases Chanyeol awake and- okay, okay, so maybe Chanyeol does think about sex a lot. But it’s definitely not every seven seconds, like he’d heard two women hiss scornfully from behind a copy of Seventeen on the subway last week. This shouldn’t be so difficult.
He gets sent to Beijing for a week.
Yixing was scheduled to go, one of Chanyeol’s seniors at the company, but a last minute emergency had cropped up and Chanyeol had still been half asleep when the call had come. His manager had begged him, offered him time and a half and his eternal gratitude, and Chanyeol was still too groggy with the last threads of sleep to realise he’d agreed until the word ‘yes’ had slipped from his mouth.
Baekhyun had helped him hastily throw together some belongings, then Chanyeol had left him on the doorstep as he raced down the hallway, carry on suitcase only half zipped and the ghost of Baekhyun’s sleepy morning kiss on the edge of his mouth.
This is the longest they’ve been apart since they met. Not that Chanyeol’s been counting. But by day five his ache for Baekhyun’s touch is like an itch under his skin, more constant and relentless than the mosquitoes that buzz through the balmy summer air.
They Skype every night. Chanyeol forgoes exploring the streets of another new city in favour of rushing back to his empty hotel room, a bead of sweat pooling on his temple as he prays for the complimentary wifi to hold out just long enough for him hear Baekhyun’s voice, scratchy and static but still like music to his ears.
Baekhyun’s smile is sweet like sugar even from five hundred miles away and Chanyeol wants to touch every single pixel of him. He’s wearing one of Chanyeol’s hoodies, the old varsity one with the tear on the right cuff, so big that it swamps Baekhyun’s tiny frame, pooling half way down his bare thighs. God how Chanyeol longs to bury his face between them.
“I can’t wait to see you,” he says softly and Chanyeol leans in closer, the stark white glow of his laptop screen illuminating the pimples on his cheeks and the dark rings beneath his eyes. Baekhyun swipes his tongue over his lips and Chanyeol feels his own throat constrict, “I’ve been doing mouth stretches for the past two days.”
Later, Chanyeol gets himself off to the thought of it, spills hot and sticky over his own palm to the thought of Baekhyun’s skin so warm and smooth beneath his fingertips. The thought of Baekhyun’s mouth, bruised and pink, around the head of his cock.
The sheets stick to the back of his thighs when Chanyeol rolls over to the clean side of the bed. He feels far from satisfied.
If anything it just makes the itch worse.
The flight home is torture. The last message he receives, just as the engines roar to life beneath his feet, is from Baekhyun. It’s simple, have a safe flight baby, but it still has Chanyeol’s entire body thrumming with need as he turns off his phone and slides it into the seatback pocket.
He watches with unseeing eyes as black stretches of ocean melt into glittering city lights and the bump of the plane when it finally, blessedly, touches down on Korean soil is enough to rattle his travel weary bones.
Stars are scattered across the sky like a spider web by the time Chanyeol reaches home.
The sound of the front door opening is almost painfully loud as Chanyeol steps in from the hallway, shedding his shoes and jacket and suitcase like an outgrown skin.
There are signs of Baekhyun everywhere. There are text books and papers scattered across the coffee table, an empty mug on the floor. The television has been left on static and it casts an eerie, grey glow over the room. The white noise makes Chanyeol twitch.
He passes the sofa on the way to the bedroom and it’s tempting to sink down there, fall face first into the cushions and stay until sunlight streams in through the windows. But he’s so close now, a few feet and a closed door away from the only thing he truly wants, and Chanyeol forces one foot in front of the other.
He expects Baekhyun to be asleep, but honestly, somewhere deep in the cavity of Chanyeol’s chest, he is not at all surprised by what he finds.
Baekhyun is soft and smiling and oh so very real, spread out before Chanyeol’s eyes like a feast. It takes every ounce of willpower Chanyeol has, every thread of self control that feels like it’s about to snap, not to throw himself on Baekhyun’s willing body. Not to collapse onto that bed and press kisses across every single beautiful inch of naked skin like he so wants to.
“You lounge around like an oil painting all the time or is this especially for me?” Chanyeol forces himself to ask, but the need in his voice is obvious in the way it trembles, falling out of his mouth as less of a joke and more of a plea than Chanyeol intends.
“Oh, this? This is just for you.” Baekhyun spreads his legs, bends them both almost delicately at the knee. Chanyeol’s fingers shake as he unbuttons his dress shirt. “I might have hacked into your work emails. Wanted to be waiting when you got home.”
Chanyeol’s shirt falls to the floor and his trousers are quick to follow, pooling heavy around bony ankles. “It’s late,” his voice cracks.
“All the more reason for you to hurry up and get over here.” Chanyeol imagines this must be what autopilot feels like, gliding at thirty thousand feet towards Baekhyun, who is brighter than the sun and softer than a cloud as Chanyeol climbs onto the bed and presses their mouths together.
Seven days and he still tastes like heaven.
Baekhyun curls beneath him, fingers coming up to tease over Chanyeol’s bare waist and Chanyeol sags. His limbs feel heavy but it’s easy the way Baekhyun shifts him, manipulates Chanyeol’s body until he’s prone on his back, long legs falling apart.
The first swipe of Baekhyun’s tongue across the head of his cock is so good it’s almost painful. Baekhyun clucks playfully but then he’s sinking down, so easy, so desperate and so easy, his mouth searing hot against Chanyeol’s skin.
If this weren’t Baekhyun between his legs Chanyeol would be almost ashamed of how soon he feels a sharp tug somewhere behind his navel. He’s this close, microseconds away from spilling down Baekhyun’s throat, when lithe fingers curl around the base of his cock and bring everything to a screaming halt.
“Don’t even think about coming before you get inside me,” Baekhyun says. He’s smiling, but his eyes are dark and Chanyeol feels that grip tighten in warning. “You don’t think my mouth is the only thing I’ve been stretching? I fucked myself open while I was waiting for you.”
Chanyeol moans, low and pleased. Baekhyun releases his grip on Chanyeol’s cock and then he’s up on his knees, plush thighs either side of his hips as he settles his weight comfortably across Chanyeol’s pelvis.
“Feels like you’ve been gone forever,” he groans. Baekhyun reaches behind him and it’s so easy for him, for them, to just be together like this. Their bodies slot together when Baekhyun rocks his hips back, the resistance so slight it’s barely there as he guides Chanyeol up into his body.
It’s a struggle to even keep his eyes open, but Chanyeol watches, lids heavy, as Baekhyun’s jaw slackens and quiet, kitten noises fall from his mouth.
He leans down and Chanyeol breathes against his open mouth, swallowing the gasps from Baekhyun’s lips as he fucks himself with increasing speed. It’s obvious that they’re both desperate for this now, for the familiar touch of each other’s skin. Baekhyun throws his head back and his thighs clamp around Chanyeol’s waist, hard enough to leave bruises Chanyeol will press his fingers against in the morning.
Baekhyun sounds almost relieved when he comes. He crumbles like chalk in Chanyeol’s lap, nose crinkling and heart pounding so furiously in his chest Chanyeol swears he can feel each beat thundering through his own bloodstream.
Chanyeol doesn’t count the seconds before he’s coming too, but he figures they can’t be more than nano, light fading to black in a moment where all he can see is Baekhyun, all he can feel and hear and smell is Baekhyun. Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun.
It’s Baekhyun’s voice that drags Chanyeol back to his senses. He’s whining, demanding and needy and oh so unmistakeably sated; Chanyeol catches bits and pieces, you stink of plane and been eating too much foreign food. But the beaming smile across his mouth says more than his words and Chanyeol surges up to press a messy kiss to his mouth.
“Glad to be home,” Chanyeol mumbles. Baekhyun squeals like a piglet when fingers tangle into his hair and tug, sharp little canine teeth pressing retaliation into Chanyeol’s lips.
For the first time in a week Chanyeol feels like he can breathe easy.
Not that he’s been counting.
Chanyeol/Baekhyun
NC17
2308 words
It's my birthday and I wrote myself some very self-indulgent, kind of surprisingly domestic, porn. I regret nothing. Inspired by this tweet from the chinguline exchange twitter: BH @ CY: "I can't wait to see you. I've been doing mouth stretches for the past 2 days."
Chanyeol had honestly never thought he was the insatiable type when it came to sex.
Sure, he liked it well enough. He’d spent his adolescence with his knuckles pressed up against his mouth and his fingers curled around his cock, trying not to make any noise as he tugged himself off beneath Spiderman bed sheets. And okay, sure, ever since Chanyeol had lost his virginity at seventeen to his first boyfriend, a cute, younger guy with dark hair and round eyes, he’s had his fair share of sexual exploits.
But really, honestly, Chanyeol had never thought of his sex drive as anything but normal or healthy for your average twenty five year old man of above average height and (if he does say so himself) above average attractiveness.
At least, that’s what Chanyeol had thought until he’d met Baekhyun.
They’d met at university, what feels like a lifetime ago now. He’d enrolled onto a psychology module to make up credits, neurosomething or other, and ended up spending more time making out with Baekhyun, who’d been bright and funny and beautiful from the very first moment they’d sat beside each other in that first lecture.
Chanyeol hasn’t looked back since. The line between friends with benefits and more than friends with even more benefits had blurred almost immediately. Pizza and video game marathons ended with Baekhyun bent over the arm of the sofa with his pants around his ankles. They’d stay up late studying furiously for finals and spend more time studying the inside of each other’s mouths.
It hadn’t stopped when Chanyeol had graduated, picture perfect in his cap and gown, diploma under his arm and rows of perfect white teeth that Baekhyun traces his tongue over every inch of later that night. Baekhyun enrolled onto a masters course (unlike Chanyeol, Baekhyun actually applied himself seriously to psychology: he’d passed neurosomething and everything). Chanyeol didn’t bother, had thrown himself straight into a graduate internship with the knowledge that he’d never master anything better than he has mastered Baekhyun’s body.
The sex doesn’t stop. If anything, it just gets better.
Even with Baekhyun pulling all nighters in front of his laptop, even with Chanyeol rising at the crack of dawn to join the rat race, standing on the subway in a pressed grey suit with the knot of his tie heavy against his throat. Even with all this they still find the time to map out each other’s bodies with a familiarity that makes Chanyeol ache when he’s watching Baekhyun sleep, long eyelashes curling against the rosy apples of his cheeks and his mouth hanging open unattractively.
Baekhyun’s masters course becomes studying for a PhD. Chanyeol’s internship turns into an actual position with perks like competitive starting salary and holiday pay.
Baekhyun ages like a fine wine and Chanyeol has never wanted to touch him more. He pushes Baekhyun up against the wall in the shower, spreads him out over the kitchen table, sucks dark bruises into the sensitive skin of his neck just to hear Baekhyun squeal.
Nothing and nobody has ever made Chanyeol feel the way Baekhyun does.
The work trips start out small, at first, over night stays at impersonal business hotels in Incheon, little things like that. Chanyeol snaps a picture of the beach from the balcony of his hotel room in Busan, watches the waves kiss the shore from twelve stories up and wishes Baekhyun were by his side.
The night Chanyeol returns home from his first overseas trip, three days and two nights in Tokyo, Baekhyun is on him before he even makes it through the door. He kisses Chanyeol like he needs him to breathe and Chanyeol’s whole body trembles with the realisation that Baekhyun has missed this as much as he has. Baekhyun, who has always been so independent and self-sufficient. Baekhyun, who has always professed not to need anything or anyone, is pulling at the buttons of his shirt like he cannot stand another second of distance between their bodies.
They don’t even make it to the bedroom.
Chanyeol expects it to get a little easier, the distance. They’re not teenagers anymore, after all. They don’t need it three times a day, frantic and messy and inexperienced. Anyway, Chanyeol is pretty sure he thinks about other things, like how he wishes Jongdae would stop tagging him in 9gag posts on Facebook, or how he needs to remember to do the grocery shopping this Friday because Baekhyun has that presentation and won’t get home till late. Or how Baekhyun looks nestled between his legs in the morning, sleep swollen mouth around his cock as he teases Chanyeol awake and- okay, okay, so maybe Chanyeol does think about sex a lot. But it’s definitely not every seven seconds, like he’d heard two women hiss scornfully from behind a copy of Seventeen on the subway last week. This shouldn’t be so difficult.
He gets sent to Beijing for a week.
Yixing was scheduled to go, one of Chanyeol’s seniors at the company, but a last minute emergency had cropped up and Chanyeol had still been half asleep when the call had come. His manager had begged him, offered him time and a half and his eternal gratitude, and Chanyeol was still too groggy with the last threads of sleep to realise he’d agreed until the word ‘yes’ had slipped from his mouth.
Baekhyun had helped him hastily throw together some belongings, then Chanyeol had left him on the doorstep as he raced down the hallway, carry on suitcase only half zipped and the ghost of Baekhyun’s sleepy morning kiss on the edge of his mouth.
This is the longest they’ve been apart since they met. Not that Chanyeol’s been counting. But by day five his ache for Baekhyun’s touch is like an itch under his skin, more constant and relentless than the mosquitoes that buzz through the balmy summer air.
They Skype every night. Chanyeol forgoes exploring the streets of another new city in favour of rushing back to his empty hotel room, a bead of sweat pooling on his temple as he prays for the complimentary wifi to hold out just long enough for him hear Baekhyun’s voice, scratchy and static but still like music to his ears.
Baekhyun’s smile is sweet like sugar even from five hundred miles away and Chanyeol wants to touch every single pixel of him. He’s wearing one of Chanyeol’s hoodies, the old varsity one with the tear on the right cuff, so big that it swamps Baekhyun’s tiny frame, pooling half way down his bare thighs. God how Chanyeol longs to bury his face between them.
“I can’t wait to see you,” he says softly and Chanyeol leans in closer, the stark white glow of his laptop screen illuminating the pimples on his cheeks and the dark rings beneath his eyes. Baekhyun swipes his tongue over his lips and Chanyeol feels his own throat constrict, “I’ve been doing mouth stretches for the past two days.”
Later, Chanyeol gets himself off to the thought of it, spills hot and sticky over his own palm to the thought of Baekhyun’s skin so warm and smooth beneath his fingertips. The thought of Baekhyun’s mouth, bruised and pink, around the head of his cock.
The sheets stick to the back of his thighs when Chanyeol rolls over to the clean side of the bed. He feels far from satisfied.
If anything it just makes the itch worse.
The flight home is torture. The last message he receives, just as the engines roar to life beneath his feet, is from Baekhyun. It’s simple, have a safe flight baby, but it still has Chanyeol’s entire body thrumming with need as he turns off his phone and slides it into the seatback pocket.
He watches with unseeing eyes as black stretches of ocean melt into glittering city lights and the bump of the plane when it finally, blessedly, touches down on Korean soil is enough to rattle his travel weary bones.
Stars are scattered across the sky like a spider web by the time Chanyeol reaches home.
The sound of the front door opening is almost painfully loud as Chanyeol steps in from the hallway, shedding his shoes and jacket and suitcase like an outgrown skin.
There are signs of Baekhyun everywhere. There are text books and papers scattered across the coffee table, an empty mug on the floor. The television has been left on static and it casts an eerie, grey glow over the room. The white noise makes Chanyeol twitch.
He passes the sofa on the way to the bedroom and it’s tempting to sink down there, fall face first into the cushions and stay until sunlight streams in through the windows. But he’s so close now, a few feet and a closed door away from the only thing he truly wants, and Chanyeol forces one foot in front of the other.
He expects Baekhyun to be asleep, but honestly, somewhere deep in the cavity of Chanyeol’s chest, he is not at all surprised by what he finds.
Baekhyun is soft and smiling and oh so very real, spread out before Chanyeol’s eyes like a feast. It takes every ounce of willpower Chanyeol has, every thread of self control that feels like it’s about to snap, not to throw himself on Baekhyun’s willing body. Not to collapse onto that bed and press kisses across every single beautiful inch of naked skin like he so wants to.
“You lounge around like an oil painting all the time or is this especially for me?” Chanyeol forces himself to ask, but the need in his voice is obvious in the way it trembles, falling out of his mouth as less of a joke and more of a plea than Chanyeol intends.
“Oh, this? This is just for you.” Baekhyun spreads his legs, bends them both almost delicately at the knee. Chanyeol’s fingers shake as he unbuttons his dress shirt. “I might have hacked into your work emails. Wanted to be waiting when you got home.”
Chanyeol’s shirt falls to the floor and his trousers are quick to follow, pooling heavy around bony ankles. “It’s late,” his voice cracks.
“All the more reason for you to hurry up and get over here.” Chanyeol imagines this must be what autopilot feels like, gliding at thirty thousand feet towards Baekhyun, who is brighter than the sun and softer than a cloud as Chanyeol climbs onto the bed and presses their mouths together.
Seven days and he still tastes like heaven.
Baekhyun curls beneath him, fingers coming up to tease over Chanyeol’s bare waist and Chanyeol sags. His limbs feel heavy but it’s easy the way Baekhyun shifts him, manipulates Chanyeol’s body until he’s prone on his back, long legs falling apart.
The first swipe of Baekhyun’s tongue across the head of his cock is so good it’s almost painful. Baekhyun clucks playfully but then he’s sinking down, so easy, so desperate and so easy, his mouth searing hot against Chanyeol’s skin.
If this weren’t Baekhyun between his legs Chanyeol would be almost ashamed of how soon he feels a sharp tug somewhere behind his navel. He’s this close, microseconds away from spilling down Baekhyun’s throat, when lithe fingers curl around the base of his cock and bring everything to a screaming halt.
“Don’t even think about coming before you get inside me,” Baekhyun says. He’s smiling, but his eyes are dark and Chanyeol feels that grip tighten in warning. “You don’t think my mouth is the only thing I’ve been stretching? I fucked myself open while I was waiting for you.”
Chanyeol moans, low and pleased. Baekhyun releases his grip on Chanyeol’s cock and then he’s up on his knees, plush thighs either side of his hips as he settles his weight comfortably across Chanyeol’s pelvis.
“Feels like you’ve been gone forever,” he groans. Baekhyun reaches behind him and it’s so easy for him, for them, to just be together like this. Their bodies slot together when Baekhyun rocks his hips back, the resistance so slight it’s barely there as he guides Chanyeol up into his body.
It’s a struggle to even keep his eyes open, but Chanyeol watches, lids heavy, as Baekhyun’s jaw slackens and quiet, kitten noises fall from his mouth.
He leans down and Chanyeol breathes against his open mouth, swallowing the gasps from Baekhyun’s lips as he fucks himself with increasing speed. It’s obvious that they’re both desperate for this now, for the familiar touch of each other’s skin. Baekhyun throws his head back and his thighs clamp around Chanyeol’s waist, hard enough to leave bruises Chanyeol will press his fingers against in the morning.
Baekhyun sounds almost relieved when he comes. He crumbles like chalk in Chanyeol’s lap, nose crinkling and heart pounding so furiously in his chest Chanyeol swears he can feel each beat thundering through his own bloodstream.
Chanyeol doesn’t count the seconds before he’s coming too, but he figures they can’t be more than nano, light fading to black in a moment where all he can see is Baekhyun, all he can feel and hear and smell is Baekhyun. Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun.
It’s Baekhyun’s voice that drags Chanyeol back to his senses. He’s whining, demanding and needy and oh so unmistakeably sated; Chanyeol catches bits and pieces, you stink of plane and been eating too much foreign food. But the beaming smile across his mouth says more than his words and Chanyeol surges up to press a messy kiss to his mouth.
“Glad to be home,” Chanyeol mumbles. Baekhyun squeals like a piglet when fingers tangle into his hair and tug, sharp little canine teeth pressing retaliation into Chanyeol’s lips.
For the first time in a week Chanyeol feels like he can breathe easy.
Not that he’s been counting.
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Date: 2014-05-18 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-05-18 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 10:05 am (UTC)It's been a while since I read BaekYeol as well as one of your wonderful fics. Thank you for this beautiful combination of two things I love~
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Date: 2014-05-18 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-05-18 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 03:56 pm (UTC)That's literally all I can say right now about this.
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Date: 2014-05-18 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 04:26 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing and happy birthday!
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Date: 2014-05-18 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-18 04:27 pm (UTC)and am i late am i late.. i am late but HAPPY BIRTHDAY and thanks for writing this!!! :))))
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Date: 2014-05-19 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-27 09:51 am (UTC)and this is so sweet ;A;
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