mostly smut, some of them are quite kinky-ish, just check the individual chapter warnings. the first ones are probably bad, they're older.
more on my Tumblr @goblinontour
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The two of you sat outside at a little rundown corner stand, the kind of place that had probably seen better days, with faded signage and creaky plastic chairs that always felt sticky, no matter how much they were wiped down. The smell of sizzling grease filled the air, mingling with the faint diesel fumes from the street. But none of that mattered, not really. Not when you were together and the hot dogs were loaded with enough toppings to make you forget about the city grime, or the fact that, logically, this kind of food should have you both feeling queasy by the end of the night if it weren't so damn good. You were both leaning into it, elbows on the metal table that wobbled whenever you moved too suddenly, devouring the indulgence like it was a meal fit for royalty.
Across from you, Alex was biting into it. Grease glistened on his fingers, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had this ability to make even the most scruffy look seem like it was part of some carefully crafted plan. He was halfway through his hot dog, ketchup and mustard smeared across the bun, a little dab of something clinging to the corner of his mouth. You were sure he hadn't noticed, and you didn't say anything. You kind of liked the imperfection of it.
He wiped his fingers on a napkin that was already streaked with everything else, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you. "You like it?" he asked, nodding toward your own half-finished one.
You took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before nodding. "Yeah, surprisingly good." you said. "I don't know if I'll regret it later, but for now...it's great."
He smirked, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "My dad used to bring me here after football when I was a kid. Same exact spot." he said, gesturing vaguely to the rundown stand. "It hasn't changed a bit. Same grease, same chairs that stick to your legs."
You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him skeptically. "You? Football? You don't exactly strike me as someone who'd be into football."
Alex chuckled, a soft, throaty sound as he leaned forward again, elbows resting on the shaky table. "What? You don't think I can appreciate a bit of footie? I loved it." he said, eyes glinting with nostalgia. "Every Saturday, me and my dad would play. He'd yell from the sidelines, try to get me to run faster, kick harder, all that...and after the game, we'd come here. It was like a reward."
You smiled at the thought, imagining a younger version of him, gangly and wide-eyed, trying to impress his dad on the field. "That's cute." you said, wiping some mustard from your thumb. "The food's good, but...I don't know if I'm sold on hot dogs in general. They're a bit-"
Alex cut you off mid-sentence, shaking his head as he raised a hand in protest. "Nuh-uh, don't you dare." he said, pointing at you with a playful glare. "I just put that in my body. I don't wanna know what's in it. Let me live in ignorance for tonight."
