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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He'd watched you slide out of the taxi first, caught the way you shifted your weight as you stood. It was then that he saw it: the faint, almost imperceptible tear at the side of your left thigh, just above your knee. You hadn't noticed. He could tell that by the easy way you moved, so blissfully unaware of that tiny betrayal of fabric. But he noticed. And all night, that threadbare little mark was all he could look at, all he could think about, as you both moved through the evening like actors on an unwritten stage.
It was funny, really — the way something so small could hold such power over him. That barely-there hole in your tights became a quiet obsession in that small amount of time, a tug at the edge of his mind every time his gaze wandered in your direction. There were moments when his attention should have been elsewhere, on the faces you both half-smiled at, the clinking glasses, the fractured conversations weaving around you both. But he'd find himself drawn back to that tear, imagining his fingertips grazing over the rough edge, feeling the vulnerability of the fabric giving way to your skin beneath it.
Now, the two of you sat side by side in the back seat of another taxi, heading home, silent and suspended in the soft yellow glow of passing streetlights. You were close enough that he could smell the faint trace of your perfume — something sweet and lingering, fading as the night wore on. He thought about reaching over, his hand brushing just above your knee, where that rip teased him from beneath the hem of your coat. Maybe if he let his hand rest there for a moment, his fingers could wander to that tiny flaw, catching on the nylon and teasing it wider. But there was still time on the clock, a stretch of ten more minutes that felt impossibly long with the weight of that simple, forbidden urge pressing at him.
He almost laughed at himself. All this over a barely-there tear in your tights, a glimpse of skin. But it was more than that. It was what it suggested — a chance to touch something you didn't even know he was looking at, to reach into that intimate, secret place where you'd let something small and imperfect slip through the cracks. It was everything unspoken between you, condensed into a stray thread he couldn't bring himself to ignore.
The traffic slowed, the taxi lurching to a soft halt at a red light. He thought about reaching over, again. Just for a second, just to feel the roughened edge beneath his fingertips, to let his touch travel that forbidden path. But he didn't. Not yet.
The leather seat beneath you groaned as he shifted closer, and he settled his head on your shoulder, pressing his cheek into you with a softness that felt almost vulnerable. Usually, it was your head that found its way to his shoulder — your quiet way of grounding him when words felt thin and hollow. But now it was him, nestling into you, like he wanted to bury himself in the warmth of your skin and hide there for a little while, away from everything that wasn't the two of you in this dark, intimate slice of the night.
