#& apparently i can go to uni for free where i live now

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

daisy, porn links vol. 3

this one is centred around their summer after high school (chapter 10) and the time after the series (college vibes, we love)

there might be spoilers in this for the series

daisy series masterlist – p links vol. 1 – vol. 2 – vol. 4 – vol. 5

school is over and summer is upon us. sure, Steve is a bit sad that he's gonna have to say goodbye to the uniform, but it's good that he can cheer himself up a bit with flowy summer dresses...

beg and beg and beg on his knees till you occasionally wear them without anything under. give him easy access to tease you to his hearts content. watch as he gets you literally dripping down your thighs and wound up in a way that he might not even be ready for. although welcome the happy surprise none the less. it's his fault, if you can't get enough of him after he has cum, then that's his problem. he'll just have to take it (which he happily does omg, you can overstimulate him as much as you want)

and i mentioned that they go out on all sorts of adventures that summer? this one gives me trip to lovers lake. it starts off by Steve helping you with touching up your sunscreen and turns into this. he'd be whispering in your ear about how you never know who else could get the same urge for a dip in the water, maybe someone is just around the corner? maybe someone is already lurking behind those trees over there...

he'd totally also do that kind of thing where you go through all your memories together, like travel to the places where they happened. one day he takes you out into the woods at the exact spot where he told you that he loved you. it started out with him just being like well we have to reenact the kiss, but then before you knew it this happened.

and that road trip? *screams* CAR SEX!

he will make such a mess all over the seats...(ignore that the car is actually moving in this one lol)

and even at night when he's maybe driving the last bit before getting to one of the motels you were staying at, you're getting sleepy, getting comfy in the seat beside him. he just has his hand glued on your thigh, caressing it dangerously high. and the sleepier you get, the more you slump in the seat, gliding down and causing your dress to ride up... well, let's just say that he keeps you awake till you reach the motel...

but eventually you arrive at college, now with a new roomie at your little student apartment...

one could say that he's amazing company

he is your best friend after all

and now he's always just right there, ready to distract and help you relax, counteract some of that uni stress that is inevitable

one day you come home totally ready to fall back on the instant ramen that keeps so many students alive. but then, just as you enter the small kitchen, there is Steve! apparently, he's sick of watching you live off that stuff just because you don't have time. I have the time, I can learn how to cook! can't be that hard. so it becomes a ritual on days when your classes run long. you come home and sit up on the counter, watching the last few moments as he finishes up dinner

as soon as the food is in the oven and his hands are free, the pants are flying off! I've got you, ace, I've got you, he will whisper while keeping you from slipping off tiny sliver of the counter you're balancing on as he pounds into you

and even though you were done with private school, he still made sure you kept the uniform...

and living together means showering together.

and you two tend to get dirty so easily...

guess that just means a lot of showers!

steve, are you seriously hard again? I literally just blew you in the shower.

the former high school athlete even convinces you to join him at the gym, even if that just means never getting past your warm up because holy shit is your boyfriend hot when he's working out

you don't really wanna go to any college parties, but Steve keeps telling you how it's a crucial experience and that he'll go with you so that you won't get bored or even anxious. sure, you could say that he makes sure you have fun... he drags you into the frat house's bathroom after maybe a few too many shots, makes you stare at your own reflection as he fucks you from behind, telling you to ignore the crowd of guys that eventually gather outside the door once your activities became clear over the loud music. although, you can't help but notice how his own moans and grunts become louder as the audience outside offer drunken comments

one new years, this is his resolution. that's all. he just wants to train your throat throughout the new year so that you'll eventually be able to take him like that.

it's not because he needs you to learn that skill. you truly don't need to do anything but smile at him and he's blowing his load

and he knows he's huge and that you can barely even handle the tip, but fuck if he doesn't wanna try...

he just loves you so crazy much

and living together also means just all of the cosy domestic moments

just lazy little moments like this

an alarm clock? what even is that

from now on Steve is your alarm. he'll never let you get up late for class...

long story short, having your best friend as a roomie was a good idea

probably the best idea ever

[tarot-junkie]

Ive been perusing off and on. Making observations as I dabble in/do a pulse check on other fandoms. I’m curious. I’m working on energy to get back into reading. It’s been hard, because my mental energy is not in the right headspace for readings. I draw cards and go completely blank. And it’s super frustrating, because it’s not clicking right now. So I’m trying to occupy my brain in the meantime. And I’m sorry I’ve been awful about responding. Soon.

I was reading around the internet on this topic before, and said I would have some feedback. Consider this part 1.

When I look at other fandoms I see the same examples of:

Proof of location via some surrounding item in a social media post (a countertop, a bed frame) and not always posts by the main character, either.

Checking into relationship validity via follows on social media. Sometimes follows of follows….and watching their updates to keep tabs.

Confirmation of location via time that the social media posts are made.

People looking at/for reflections and what they contain.

People emailing/contacting normal folks to verify data when a “sighting” happens. Pretending to be someone or something they’re not bc…well that’s just too much.

Hate accounts that cross-pollinate from one social media platform to another, and are well-known.

The assumption that the females are “bad” for their dudes (ok some might be… but STILL).

Some people who gatekeep data BUT I will say, some fandoms explain (pretty rationally maybe?) WHY they gatekeep and they discuss how they validate their sources. This is interesting.

The threat of doxxing is high on the lists for almost all, in some respect or another.

The assumption that either the actual celebrity OR some of the significant others are on tumblr, and loose association that “proves” it. It’s usually some rando Carol Burnett ear-tug scenario.

In most cases, wild conspiracy theories abound about the love lives, usually in the form of some succubus ingenue…who needs press and persuasion to MAKE IT BIG in the business.

Or this person is dating a racist (hear me out) based on 10 yr old tweets or affiliations dug out of the abyss. Can cite Jakey G, Henry C , Chris E and Ben B as examples where this was brought up. Which is not to say things don’t REEK from the disgusting posts made, but it is absolutely something people look for. Is it more gross that it’s not that hard to find, sometimes? Sad. Gross. Check check.

Or sexuality is ambiguous, which encompasses some part of the discussion. (This happens a LOOOOOOT too). Saw this for years in the Jakey g fandom, and dozens of others.

They always date some random midwesterner 😂😂 apparently the Evan Peters fandom is experiencing this knee-high-by-July uni-CORN bread gf now? Idk.

People automatically assuming a new couple is “endgame” regardless of the rumor starting yesterday or 2 years ago. lol. I’ve seen this seeeeveral times.

Some, not all, have either particular tarot readers- or are asked about frequently.(I find the ones asking about Leo D…I think that guy is who he is. And that’s that. Snooze).

This is barely scratching the surface, considering I’ve not ventured into the Styles and BTS dumpster fires. ✌️

If I’ve forgotten any items, feel free to let me know in the comments.

[hoonvrs]

Hey saint watchu doin 😊

Honestly had a really bad day today and Ur the only person I can talk to rn. Idk what's up with ppl forcing me to do things I don't like and telling me to stop doing things I love doing. As if whatever I wanna do is always wrong. My school has restricted me to do any crochet in the campus EVEN THOUGH I don't interrupt nor am I distracted during the classes. My mum has told me to solely focus on studies and do crochet in the holidays. BUT now they want me to do extracurriculars. Maybe I'm in the wrong but I have no interest in the acts of singing, dancing, art and other cultural activities. But I have to do them because I do nothing at home. Like I don't take extra classes for playing instruments, or go to other places for tutoring, nor do I learn anything involving self defense, dancing, singing, reciting. I don't even like sports. I just don't like these activities. But I have to do them and I'm being forced because they're 'good for me' and 'good for my future'. Which I get it's completely fine. But is crochet not? Infact I wanted to do a specific activity and my friend wanted to do photography. But since I chose that activity, she has to too because she won't do photography alone. And then she said it's my fault but when I said that I could switch for the sake of her not blaming it on me for the rest of the semester, she said no. I can't deny anything anymore. When they ask me if I want to do something and I say no, they ask why and I just say that I don't want to. But apparently that isn't a valid reason to say no. I would say all of this to my mum but she's friends with my friends mums and would try taking to them about it but I don't want the others knowing. Ill be honest saint you were the first person I could think of because no one else would just listen to me and not go tell someone else or start asking questions. I don't have anyone to talk to anymore. I just wish things were like before when in was like five and I wasn't allowed to meet my friends outside of school. When our parents weren't friends to the point they would steal away the only day my mum had a holiday I could spend time with her on. I wish I had someone to talk to. Now all I can do is look in the mirror, cry, and talk to myself. Saint you don't understand how much talking to u like this is helping me. We don't even know eachother personally but at least I can talk to you freely without any judgement. I just wanna live my life. I've never had a moment in life where I felt free since I was 5. I miss freedom.

-🌜(rant again 😭)

i can’t understand personally but i can definitely feel for you cause i have a friend in the exact same situation and honestly fuck them for not letting you do what you want in your own life, esp ur school cause in what world do they completely nan you from crocheting in school likes it’s really none of their business. honestly the advice i can give ( if you even want any ) is to not do it. nothing teaches a parent a lesson unless their kids rebel cause it honestly so much easier to ask for forgiveness then for permission, and they’ll see in the future all of that was so useless.

with your friend pls try and stand up for yourself, coming from someone who’s literally ignored her own cousins cause they were being bitchy it’ll be better to avoid and ignore her then to have to put up with her attitude. tell her no one told her to ditch photography and that she should learn some independence or she won’t get too far in life, and she might get offended but that’s her problem not yours.

i’m happy that you feel safe enough with me to share this but i’m so upset that you have to go through this, praying it’ll be js an emotional memory when you’re a little bit older with more independence cause parents will learn to give their kids freedom once they’ve hit an age where they can’t control them ( usually uni )

don’t let anyone try to talk you out of what you love or talk you down into staying in a toxic friendship just because you’re ‘parents are close’ or ‘you’ve known each other for so long’ they’re js manipulating you into wasting your energy and effort on stupid friendships and ik it’s easier said then done but you’ll feel so much better without that burden

[phaoi]

To be fair libraries are free in the US apparently, but not in my country. There is a monthly fee and the audiobook library is laughable here.

Then again most influencers are US american and cater to americans, so I don't think they have other countries in mind when taking the spon lol

Firefox has an extension that automatically skips sponsored parts on youtube vids by the way 😅

Hii <33

Yes, that’s a valid point - that post was very much just me getting annoyed at one particular influencer from Germany who I really appreciate. And she used to not do any spons and when she started doing them they were very carefully selected and mostly actual local stustainable brands. And now she keeps doing bookbeat spons which just really annoys me lol because until recently we even lived in the same city so I know she would’ve had access to my library as well! Ig what irks me about it is people with more money than the average person, selling people who have less than them products that they could get for much cheaper in other ways.

Also there's certain Booktubers who used to make creative, cool content (cough, cough Jack Edwards..) and nowadays all they do is content about buying hundreds of new books and consuming as much as possible. I wouldn't be as annoyed if they just once mentioned the existence of libraries and how cool they are. Booktube and Booktok are so fucking consumerist and there's such a focus on owning everything or having audiobook subscriptions and immediate access to every book that is currently trendy.

Libraries provide so many things for free or a very low amount of money and it's so great! Personally, I have three different library memberships. And I only actively pay for one of them - namely the one from my home town. It's only 20€ a year which is incredibly cheap considering that I gain access to 30+ libraries in my city and millions of books, audiobooks, movies, games etc. As well as access to their facilities even when they're closed bc you can just access them with your library card! I'm aware that that is probably not the norm outside of big cities or in other countries but I believe it should be a thing everywhere. Just the fact that everyone can go there and use their facilities for free, as well as the WiFi, the computers, the printers, the bathrooms and obviously all the media they provide is such an important thing to exist in a society where everything costs money. My other memberships are free. One from back when I was in New Zealand where libraries are free! And my uni one (which I'm indirectly paying for with my tuition ig). Because of this I basically have access to like 80% of the books I wanna read or listen to on Libby or as physical copies. And if they don't have it I find other ways to read it or listen to it or I just don't and read something else lol

[april-december]

Comments in the main reblog today, because I have a lot to say and I want to say it right.

If you don’t want to listen to trauma regarding grief and death, feel free not to read. I think I just need to get this down for my own catharsis.

Because you see, grief is a terrible thing. It’s the aching absence of the thing you love. What you love is gone; but the love remains and you no longer have that person or thing to give it to.

And then there’s anticipatory grief. This is when you know you’re going to lose that thing, and you are already grieving that loss, before it happens. But the thing is, that person you love is still with you! You want to enjoy the time you have! But you can’t, because everything, every joy and every sadness is tainted by the fact that you know: this isn’t going to last. They will be gone.

I am speaking from experience here. My Mum died in February this year. Her name was Brenda and she was 63. She died of Multiple Sclerosis, a disease so insidious that I can only think of one worse fate, and that is motor neurone disease. Sometimes MS isn’t fatal; you get episodes of it, and then it retreats into the background. Sometimes it is fatal; it progresses, relentlessly over years, stripping away every working function of the body as nerves and pathways are destroyed.

My mum was diagnosed when I was five. I was 37 when she died.

That is 32 years of knowing my mum was sick.

At five years old I was too old to understand much, just that she was ill, and the fact that some day, being mortal, my mum would die.

It wasn’t always apparent that it was going to kill her; at 17, she reassured me that she had the type that didn’t kill. A few years later it became obvious that she *did* have the type that killed.

My sisters left for uni. My dad got scared and ran away, vastly unhappy with his life. I became my mum’s Carer. We lived together from my birth until her death.

All this to say, I understand, intimately, how much it can fuck you up to know that the person you love most is going to die. And not to know when it’s going to happen, just that it will, just that they will die too soon, no matter what you do to try to help.

Because you can’t fight death. You just can’t.

And Agatha knew Nicky was going to die. She must have noticed him getting sicker. And that is terrifying, knowing that the thing you fear most is hurtling towards you, coming right at you, and you can’t stop it. It fucks you up. It fucked Agatha up for the next 270 years. And I bet you that in that montage up there where she’s teaching Nicky about magic, and singing and playing with him - it’s beautiful, but I bet that at every moment, there was some small part of her twisting in sadness because she knew it wouldn’t last.

And not knowing *when* it’s going to happen. Oh, that is the worst thing of all. Will it be today? Tomorrow? A year from now? Do I have a decade to enjoy? (Of course, it’s impossible to tell, and so it’s impossible to fully enjoy it without that fear that it’s going to be taken away).

Rio thought she was giving Agatha a gift: time with her son.

And we see it in the scene where Nicky is born. Agatha desperately asks ‘How much time?’. Because isn’t that the most natural question? You find out someone will die, the first thing you want to know is how much precious time you have with them. As if knowing will help to prepare you.

But Rio is gone already, giving no answer, leaving Agatha with this terrifying black hole of a question she /cannot/ divine the answer to. Agatha loves to /know/. Her crime against her coven was stealing knowledge she wasn’t supposed to have! She’s in her 70s in these scenes and she’s still shown with books, learning, and passing that knowledge on to Nicky. And there is this one burning, terrifying question she doesn’t know the answer to. That she has no way of divining. I think she might hold that against Rio almost as much as Nicky’s death itself; she never told her /when/, and then she took him in his sleep, when Agatha’s guard was down, when she couldn’t do anything to stop her.

And it eats at her, before Nicky is even gone. She does her best, or what she thinks is best. It’s fucked up, obviously, to keep a sickly child alone in the woods and make him help you kill. That’s why Agatha can’t face him in the afterlife. She can commune with the dead and she has never tried to contact her son because she’s too scared! But she is trying here, while he’s alive. She’s a survivor of parental abuse herself, and she is trying to show Nicky how much she loves him, even if her own trauma keeps her from seeking a community that could help them.

As they say, the love is there. It doesn’t change anything; Nicky died and Agatha made mistakes, huge ones. But the love was there.

I have to admit, I am so grateful that this show came out when it did; it’s helped me through my own grief immensely. Fiction is a safe lens through which we can examine our own pain. But even then, it has to be at the right time.

So I am weirdly grateful to Jac Shaeffer, to Kathryn Hahn, and everyone who worked on this show, for helping me safely examine my own grief, exactly when I needed it. I’m also grateful for these deep dives, because they’re helping me examine it further, in a format I find very comforting, like a good discussion about the class-taught books in High School English Literature class that I loved so much. So a huge thank you to rootspiral, who has dedicated so many hours to them.

So yeah. I’m not saying my experience is special. I’m not saying I understand this show on some special level that no one else comprehends; I know everyone is touched by grief in some way, shape or form. And that’s why it’s important, isn’t it? That’s why Jac Shaeffer has told this story twice now, and why it’s worked and been so good both times. Grief is universal. We are all mortal. It’s important to think about it, and talk about it. And it’s so important to have what Agatha didn’t: some kind of community or support system to help you through it when the time comes.

If she’d had that system, the grief wouldn’t have been any less. But someone might have been there to hold her through it, to help her. Maybe she would have felt safe enough to examine and deal with her grief, rather than burying it and desecrating it with 270 years of killing sprees and an absolute refusal to confront what was eating away at her.

And that’s what she finally got a little taste of with her Witches’ Road coven, wasn’t it? And that’s a tragedy all of its own as well, because she lost them, too.

God, this show is so good.

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3])

the river flowing. mushrooms and lichens growing from a fallen tree. nicky's other mom is always with them.

agatha clearly loves teaching nicky all she knows about magic, because she is a teacher at heart! and he's literally the first person she gets to pass her knowledge on to, she's relishing every minute of it.

meanwhile poor nicky is just hungry. because the fucker makes him live in the woods.

and I guess she finds it easier to be honest when it's about explaining how magic works.

oh no the way they're whispering is so cute??? and she'll keep calling it her purple long after nicky's death.

and this has been pointed out many times, but when nicky smiles you're sure reminded of how they went out of their way to find a kid who looked like aubrey plaza too

another thing that has been pointed out ad nauseam and it will be repeated again, because it's so good: I cannot heal you, like jen would. I cannot protect you, like alice would. and I cannot divine, like lilia would.

could a real coven have healed nicky, protected him, saved him from his fate? did she kill him sooner than necessary by keeping him cold and starving in the woods? agatha will never know, because despite all her love, she put her own fear over his safety. maybe nicky would have died anyway, but it's still cruel and unfair that he had to spend the little time he had on earth in such a lonely way.

agatha, despite all the mind tricks she plays on herself and on others, is simply too smart to not see that what she's doing is selfish, harmful to nicky, and ultimately futile. this is why she'd rather blame rio, and it's why she can't go to nicky in the afterlife: she can't face her own guilt.

(also, she's afraid she'll find a version of him that can now understand what she did and will hate her for it.) (and I imagine that a grown up nicholas would have had a hard time coming to terms with his childhood too.)

and still. and still. this whole mess of a person doing a terrible job at raising her son? she's also the daughter of an abusive mother who is trying to be better, she is trying to give him what she never had - love, support, knowledge. her selfish choices don't negate all the love and joy she gave him too.

and on top of everything else, nicky is about to freaking die! in modern times we'd say he has a terminal illness, she doesn't know how much time she has left with him. that is an impossible lot to navigate, especially for a person alone and carrying with her so much baggage and trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. keeping nicky so isolated is the only way she feels like she has an illusion of control over the inevitable.

agatha is not only denying nicky a coven, she's denying herself a community that would have helped her carry this burden, that would have taught and encouraged her to do better, that would have ultimately shared her pain in mourning. isn't that another tragedy within the tragedy? knowing what could have been?

agatha teaches him magic, even though he doesn't have any. maybe he was still too young, maybe he really was just a regular kid. still, she teaches him.

NOT THE DANDELION. i'm about to bite my screen in anguish

sure, sure, the time has come to go. I'm fine, I'm totally fine.

aaaaaand some more scamming!!!

agatha the ham is one of my favorite agathas. but wait, I'll make you sad again now! they're doing this shit because they don't have any money to eat. and nicky is clearly sick, and agatha is still making him do it. because they don't have any money to eat.

meanwhile witches everywhere are getting curious about the Ballad. (doesn't she look a bit like sadie sink?)

for the THIRD TIME a witch notices nicky coughing / how sick he is and offers her coven's help.

nicky looks agatha straight in the eyes and refuses to lure witches to their deaths. he stands up for himself. he disobeys.

and yes, the obvious double meaning: my other mother needs me home.

agatha forgets all her scheming and runs after him in a panic. she is losing control over him. she is losing him.

go to episode 9 part 4

[hyunsuks-beanie]

I Love You Too, Love

Bang Chan x reader; just some good ol' tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: My first attempt at writing a real scenario lmao. Do lmk how it was❤Also, it's funny how I'm an anti-romantic to the core, but it all goes out the window when it's Chan

Coming back home at night after a long day at uni/work, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle and watch a nice movie with Chan. Your best friend had been on tour with his group, Stray Kids, for the past three months, and the daily messages and FaceTime calls were not nearly enough to stop you from missing him like crazy. The teeny tiny (or so you insisted) crush that you had on him, didn't help either. You missed his voice, his tight hugs, the way he would always listen to rant about your day, the way he would always know what to say, the way his smile would light up your day, everything. While he did try to fill the gap by still listening to your rants on a daily basis on FaceTime, it just wasn't the same without him being there in person.

Sighing, you unlock your door, expecting to be met with pitch darkness. Instead, what you saw made you drop your bag to the floor, as tears welled up in your eyes. There, standing in the middle of your living room, was Chan, your best friend, who was supposed to be away for yet another month. Not able to believe your eyes, you pinch yourself, only to realize that he is indeed there, in the flesh, smiling at you as if you mean the world to him (unbeknownst to you, you most certainly do).

"Missed me?," he asks, and you suddenly find yourself running towards him at full speed, crashing into his chest and wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug ever. This causes Chan to slightly lose his balance, and makes him laugh heartily before placing a gentle kiss atop your head. "I missed you too, love. So so so much."

After staying like that for a solid two minutes, you finally break free, glaring up at him playfully. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?," You ask, trying your best to suppress your smile and appear angry. This causes him to chuckle before cheekily saying, "If I had told you, I wouldn't have been able to seen your true happiness at seeing me. If you already knew, you would probably have acted as if you're disgusted that I'm back, and we didn't want that now, did we?"

You shove his chest slightly, before finally turning your head towards the dining table, only to be met with the sight and aroma of all your favourite dishes, that Chan had apparently spent all evening trying to make. "You must be hungry. Freshen up and let's dig in, I'm starving," He says, pushing you lightly towards the bathroom. While getting changed, you finally register the fact that your heart is hammering in your chest, reminding you that the man standing in your living room means so much more to you than just your best friend.

Being away from Chan for months has made you realize that what you feel for him is much more than just a crush. You may very well be in love with him, but you're too scared to admit it because neither do you want to face rejection, nor can you bring yourself to put his career at risk. With these thoughts in mind, you finally exit the bathroom, sighing deeply to yourself.

You don't, however, notice that Chan too, is in a dilemma of his own. Before going on tour, he too, knew that he liked you. But being away from you made him realize that you are his home, and that he would much rather be with you than with anyone else. He has been planning to confess today, and has been trying to gauge your feelings ever since you came back home. Your sigh doesn't escape him, and, full of concern, he asks, "What's wrong, love? Got something on your mind? You know you can always tell me." Truth be told, he's worried and scared that you already know about his feelings, and don't reciprocate them. He fails to see your knees going week and a blush creeping up your cheeks at the nickname, and instead, all he notices is you giving him a small smile and saying, "Not at all Channie, I'm completely fine. Now let's eat up before the food goes cold."

Once you guys get a couple bites in, the awkward atmosphere starts easing once again. Chan tells you all about the tour and all the places he saw. "London was the best, but I wish you were there. You would have enjoyed the London Eye." "Well then, you'll have to take me there one day." You tell him about how life has been back in Seoul, ranting about your annoying professor/boss, and he tells you about all the small trinkets that he saw at souvenir shops that reminded him of you. "That charm bracelet was so you, I just had to buy it." "You didn't have to Chan. I don't need any gifts, having you back home is enough."

After dessert, you ask him if he'd stay the night, and he says that since he has the week off, the boys don't expect him to back at dorms until the following morning. "So.....you're staying?," You ask with a small smile tugging at your lips. He smiles back at you lovingly, and ruffles your hair before saying, "Yes love, I'm staying. Now let's watch a movie."

After picking the movie, you come back to sit on the couch next to Chan, throwing your legs across his lap. Now it's his turn to blush, but unlike him, you're not oblivious to his reddening cheeks. "Awww, is Channie blushing? Why? This isn't the first time I've thrown my legs over your lap," You chuckle, causing him to hide his face in his hands. "Yeah but, I've really missed this being away from you all this while," He smiles warmly.

The first half of the movie goes by with the both of you making random comments about it. At one particular scene where the characters are having nachos, Chan suddenly exclaims, "Salsa reminds me, the boys and I learnt a little Salsa during our time in Italy, and I really wanted to teach you some of the moves." "Me?," You ask, bewildered, causing Chan to become shy and start stuttering. "I-I m-mean if you w-want to. It's o-okay if y-you don't."

You're having a hard time trying not to melt into a puddle at his cuteness, as you force your mouth to open, and say, "No Chan, I'd love to." "Really?," He returns to his giggly self, as he gets up off the couch and extends his hand out for your to take. You smile and take his hand, and he brings you to the center of the room. "Just one sec," He says, pausing to pick the music on his phone. Once he's done, he places his phone on the table, and starts guiding you through the dance, one step at a time, with the movie being nothing more than a long-forgotten background noise. "Left foot forward, right foot backward. That's right, now dip, and come back. Now place your leg on my waist....," You both freeze at this, realizing what he just said. It's only then that you notice just how close you are to him, and the familiar feeling of your heart racing comes back. You both stare at each other, hypnotized, before your eyes flick to his lips and back up to his eyes. When he does the same, you timidly ask, "Can I kiss you?"

That's all it takes to break Chan out of his trance, as he crashes his lips onto yours, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You don't even notice that he is backing you up, until you feel your back hit the wall. His lips taste sweet and a little spicy, which you attribute to the food you had earlier. The kiss is soft but full of emotions, and even though it does seem a bit cliche, you can feel fireworks fly. The butterflies in your stomach every time you see Chan seem to have been replaced by a whole zoo, and you can't help but smile into the kiss. This causes Chan to break into a smile as well, before he gently lets go.

"I really want to keep kissing you because God have I been waiting to do that for years, but I feel like I need to get this off my chest first," He says, shy once again. "I like you, a hell lot. Actually no, screw that, I think I'm already in love with you. I've known this for a long time, but I was just scared to admit it. Being away from you during the tour made me realize that I want to be more than just 'best friends' with you. I want to call you 'mine,' and I want to be yours." "Oh Channie, you don't know how much I have wanted to hear you say that you love me too, this distance has been a wake-up call for me too, but I was just so scared of jeopardizing either our friendship, or your career. And I can't have either of those two." "Don't worry about my career, we'll find a way out love. Just say the word, say that you love me." To this, you gawk at him, before saying, "I gave you a speech on that just now, didn't I? Of course I love you." "Yeah but you didn't explicitly say that you love me, idiot. But now that you've said the right words, I legit feel like the happiest man on earth." You shove him slightly before wrapping your arms around his torso. "So, now that we've got our feelings sorted, what does that mean for us?" "Well, for starters, I think it means that my nickname for you just took on a literal meaning," Chan smirks. You pout at this, but then say, "I love you Channie." He places his chin in your head, and says, "I love you too, love."

[goodgirlofglory]

That which lingered on his mind / Chapter 1

Prologue - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+, Non-con, dub-con, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, smut, Graphic descriptions of violence, bondage (bound wrists), oral (f receiving), asphyxiation (choking), Cumplay, Some graphic descriptions of blood.

Chapter summary: Steve Rogers, Captain America and your former neighbor, used to harbour some secret feelings for you before he was turned into a Hydra asset. Now he’s come back to claim what he cannot rid himself of: his desire for you.

Author’s note: This one came to me a dark January night and hasn’t let me go since. This series will be about 7-8 chapters, so stay tuned! Not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine. My work is not to be distributed anywhere but my blog. Reblogs are welcome, though. And I so appreciate reading your replies and tags<3 hope you enjoy ;)

It started out as any other night. You had a cup of tea and scrolled through your phone for a while before a violent yawn told you it was time for bed. 

It was a normal night.

Until you stood face to face with Captain America. Or at least, who you thought was Captain America. America’s hero and your former neighbor. 

You had never really paid any attention to news about the Avengers or Mr. Rogers, and had never been one to socialize with neighbors. He lived across the hall from you and was quiet and polite, never drawing more attention to himself other than a smile and a curt greeting now and then.

That was until he disappeared off the grid about four months ago. It was all the news could talk about for a good three weeks. Gossip in the building also started flourishing. Where had he gone? What happened? Was he dead?

Apparently not, for there he stood, silent as the grave, inside your apartment, half shrouded in darkness, blocking your way to the bedroom. 

 You didn’t really know what his uniform used to look like either, but from what you could remember he used to have a star on his chest, and not the squid looking emblem he now bore. His face was also an unusual sight, jaw covered in a gruff beard, hair long and pushed back. But worse were the eyes; steely, cold and intent on you.

 Had it only been good ol’ Captain America standing uninvited in your home you would have been scared. But this. This chilled you to the bone.

 What the fuck was going on?

 Your body froze as you stared at the man, who made no effort to speak nor move. Finally you found your voice. 

“Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Please leave before I call the police.”

You tried to sound tough, but your voice shook slightly at the last word. He must have picked up on that, for his otherwise dead eyes gained a slight glimmer. 

 “Please do. Their deaths will be on your shoulders.”

A small gasp caught in your throat. You were starting to become terrified. This was absolutely not the Captain America you had seen on the news nor the Steve Rogers you had greeted in the hallway. 

“Actually, don’t bother, you’ll never reach your phone,” he continued, sounding far too nonchalant for the ominous aura he was putting off.

Your eyes widened when you remembered leaving your phone on the living room table, all the way across the room behind you. 

What should you do? Run for it anyways? Scream for help? You opted for a seemingly less provoking approach.

“What do you want?” you asked, tears starting to involuntarily form at the corners of your eyes.

His eyes seemed to darken somehow, setting themselves on you with deadly weight, piercing your soul.

“You.”

Your fight reflex kicked in before you could think, and you lunged for the front door across the living room behind you.

But you barely got a few steps in before a thick arm snaked around your waist and janked you back to hit painfully against a hard, unrelenting body. You managed to shriek in fear before a second hand, big enough to cover both your mouth and nose slammed down on your face and muffled your cries, knocking your lips against your teeth. You tasted blood.

You kicked, hit and scratched at your assailant's body, but gained only a mocking snicker in response. His mouth came down to whisper in your ear, sending ice cold shivers down your spine.

“Please, keep fighting, it only makes this more enjoyable.”

You sobbed into his coarse hand, tears springing free from your eyes, wetting the skin of his fingers. 

 He tsked

 “Cuing the waterworks. He wouldn’t like that,” he breathed into your ears and tightened his grip on your face, effectively cutting off your air supply. You squirmed against his arms in panic, new tears falling, not managing to move him even an inch. His grip remained as tight as iron. 

 As your vision blurred and you slipped into dark unconsciousness, you kept wondering what he meant by “he”.

 §

 You awoke groggily, feeling the muscles in your arms ache as they lay over your head. You usually woke up with your arms thrown over your head, so it took a few seconds to remember what had happened.

When you did, your body surged upwards, but was promptly janked back against the bed. Looking up, you registered for the first time that both of your wrists were bound to the bedpost above your head, using the bondage ropes you had gotten as a joke a few years back. Looking down you saw that you were still fully clothed, with your oversized UNI t-shirt and cotton shorts.

 The knot looked intricate and a few janks told you it was secure as well. 

 Your breathing started to race as you understood you were stuck, and a cry ripped itself from your lungs at the realization. 

 “Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a calm voice came from across the room.

“HELP,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, ignoring the man who sat in the chair in the corner. It felt good to defy him, if only for a split second. 

 He made no indication that your behaviour bothered him, his stare as even as ever. 

“I will kill anyone who enters this apartment,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to endanger any of your good neighbors' lives. That’s not who he perceived you to be. I, on the other hand, have no problem killing everyone in this building if it helps you understand what is happening here.”

 “And what the fuck is happening here exactly?” you snarled, still janking at the knot around your wrists, bound just a little too tightly.

He smirked at that.

“Feisty, just like I hoped. It’s more...fun if I can break you first,” he mused.

He got up from the chair and moved over to the bed. When he got close enough you kicked out at him, and you would have hit him right in the gut if he hadn’t caught your foot. Not that it would affect him, you bitterly thought after.

He looked almost amused before twisting your foot around until you shrieked in pain.

“Oh,” he cooed, “remember to be quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to come checking in on you, would we?”

He let go of your foot, and you recoiled in the pain that shot up through your body. A sob escaped your gritted teeth.

He snickered.

“Pathetic. But I do see the appeal.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your jaw in a harsh grip, making you look him in the eyes as he leaned in so close his breath brushed across your face. There was a slight hint of mint to it.

“What's happening here, sweetheart, is that I’m gonna get some things out of my system.”

His hand let go of your jaw and moved down to slightly encircle your throat, lingering like a taunting threat. Your throat constricted instinctively at the presence of his calloused hand. A smirk played at his lips as you squirmed under his light touch. 

“I’m going to fuck you, Y/N”.

 You thrashed at that, nausea setting in your stomach, your skin prickling as the words landed.  

 “No, no, no, please,” you started to mumble in your panicked state, janking  more desperately on the knot around your bound wrists.

 “Oh yes, and the more you fight, the worse it’ll be for you,” Steve smirked as he moved around the back of the bed and started to climb onto it, grabbing your kicking feet with ease, straddling your thighs.

Helpless to stop it, you watched as he took a fistful of your shirt in both his hands and ripped the fabric open, split down the middle, exposing your stomach and chest underneath. In the chilly night air your nipples hardened and goosebumps spread across your skin.

You saw the feral expression that grew behind his eyes. 

He only hummed in response to your desperate whine, before letting a hand flitter up your hip.

His fingers stroked lightly up your torso, following every dent and bump, and you shivered at how soft it was in contrast to his earlier brutality.

Your breath hitched in your throat and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low murmur, smugness shining in his eyes, mockery dripping from his voice.. 

You shut your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, tears welling in your eyes, trying to quell the impulse to scream. 

You had no doubt in your mind that no one in your building could overpower the super soldier, and you were terrified he would keep his word. 

You couldn’t let anyone else die. 

 A painful tweak of a hardened nipple brought you back to the room, and you cried out.

“Don’t disappear now, I need you present for this,” he instructed in a patient voice, almost like you were a disobedient child. 

 He bent down then, and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth while his hands landed on either side of your head, caging you in.

The sensation of his hot and wet mouth in contrast to the cold air of the room sent sparks flying through your body and, more horrifyingly, down between your legs. You bit your tongue out of shame, and tried to squirm away from his wanton mouth. It took only a single hand of his on your chest to effectively pin you down as he continued his ministrations on your nipple, sucking, licking and teasing with his teeth.

He radiated warmth hovering over you like that, his hand a searing presence on your skin, no doubt feeling how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage.

His smell filled your nose, musky, with hints of smoked wood and cedar, and something familiar and sweet - your own perfume. Did he go into your bathroom? Did he use your perfume on himself?

His mouth moved up your chest and to your neck, and he was so close, so overwhelming.

You squirmed slightly at his approach, but noticed that in this position, pinned under his thighs like you were, the fabric of your panties caught on your core, dragging along the awakened skin, and to your horror you could feel the slick starting to gather there. You stifled a whimper, face burning with dread and newly bloomed shame. 

His beard scratched your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“There’s that smell,” he murmured with a throaty sigh, “that smell he couldn’t get out of his head”.

What was he on about? Who was “he”? 

Your mind raced with questions as his tongue started to lap at your throat, leaving open mouthed and sloppy kisses to your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes and tried to resist, tried to fight your body’s reaction to his stimulation, but as his teeth nipped at a particularly sweet spot, your whole body shuddered involuntarily and a small gasp escaped your mouth. 

 His face snapped up from your neck, piercing blue eyes finding yours teary and terrified - and no doubt dilated.

He straightened after a second, and shimmied off from where he was still stradling your thighs. As soon as your legs were free, you started kicking out at him, rage and defiance surging, trying and failing to hit him in the chest as he effortlessly caught both your ankles and gathered them in one hand. 

He leaned forward, face smooth and emotionless, and landed an open handed slap across your face a second later.

Your head whipped to the side, and your breath left your body for a second as your head swam, a high pitched ringing filling your ears.

You gasped in shock, your whole body going stiff as pain spread from your cheek.

You had never been hit before, and especially not that hard. Tears sprang forth from your eyes as it dawned on you how utterly fucked you were. 

“Let that be a warning,” he said in a calm voice, seemingly not affected in the slightest by the violence he was so willingly dishing out.

The fight was out of you for now, and you could only breathe through the sharp pain that lingered on your face as he moved in between your thighs.

Sitting back on his haunches he started to remove the tactical suit on his torso, impatiently ripping at the fastenings as his eyes never left your face, red, swollen and wet from your tears. 

You averted your gaze, disgusted by him, disgusted by yourself, desperately trying not to reveal your body’s reaction to his.

When he was completely naked from the waist up, his hands turned to your sleeping shorts, removing them with deft haste and surprising softness before leaning back again, his touch leaving your body. 

Several seconds went by without any action, and your curiosity gained the better of you. Turning your eyes to him, you found him studying your body. His face was as blank as ever, but his eyes betrayed some sort of sentiment you hadn’t seen before.

“He used to dream about you,” he said after a while, seemingly more to himself. 

He bent forward once he realized you were watching him, caging you in again as he hovered over you, moving closer and closer.

Face still stinging from his slap, you didn’t dare move even a muscle as his lips found yours. It started slow, but soon he grew impatient, and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot, wet and dominating, moving languidly against your own. 

Breathless and reeling, a small whimper left your mouth, and the responding groan that emitted from his throat rumbled through you.

While still moving his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands reached down and you felt the distinct calloused warmth of his touch to the inside of your thigh. 

A small, panicked “no” croaked out of you, but he only swallowed it eagerly, not letting up his touch as it zeroed in on your core. 

You could feel his fingers touching the cotton covering you, and by the breathy laughter he huffed against your mouth, he no doubt felt how wet it was.

“Oh, doll, I don’t think you’ve been completely honest,” he mocked as he leaned back again and looked down at your ruined panties. 

You tried to hide your burning face in the nook of your elbow as he ripped your panties off before bunching them up in his hand and bringing them to his face. But his eyes caught yours in a steel grip as he inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a second before a pleased sigh left his lips.

You watched as his tongue swiped at the wet patch of the fabric before he put the panties in his pocket.

You thrashed at his obscene actions, nausea burning hot in the pit of your stomach, mixing with your undeniable arousal. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

As your mind raced against the reality of the situation, Steve laid down on the bed between your legs. His mouth attacked your pussy. 

A squeak escaped your mouth, hands janking at the knot around your wrists as he started devouring you, mouth moving between your clit and weeping wound with urgency, almost desperation. 

A full on groan left his mouth as he lapped at the juices that were steadily leaking from you. 

His hands found your breasts and started teasing your nipples, and you tried to squirm away.

You needed him to stop, you needed this assault on your senses to cease, because you could feel your resolve burning away as sweet, untainted pleasure started spreading through your body. 

Steve’s tongue swept up and swirled around your clit, and you tried inching away. One of his hands gave your breast a sharp slap before tweaking your nipple painfully again. Another warning. You headed it. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked, but in contrast to the last time it almost sounded like he cared.

You shook your head weakly. 

He chuckled against your mound and gave your breast another slap, sending jolts of pain through your chest. 

“Don’t lie,” he warned, but there was surprisingly little malice in his voice. “But nevermind. This pretty, swollen, soaked cunt tells me all I need to know,” he said almost fondly before giving your clit a few licks. 

“Give in, Y/N, I can feel how much you want to,” he taunted in between licks and all you could do was lay still and take it, new tears streaking from your eyes and wetting the hair at your temples as you squeezed them shut. 

He was right. You couldn’t deny the pleasure he was wringing from your body.

“I’m going to stay still now, and you move however you want,” he said then, before doing just that. 

Somehow, having him stop was more torture than what he had been doing, and your stubborn pride, your better judgement and the stinging feeling of violation that burned in your chest fought against your body’s sudden need for stimulation - for his stimulation. 

Something in you snapped, and you tentatively moved your hips so your clit could find his tongue, stretched out waiting for you. 

You shivered. 

It felt good. 

You rolled your hips again, more firmly this time, and the resulting swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bud of nerves had your breath leaving your body in a shaky exhale. 

His hands gave your breasts an encouraging squeeze, before resuming their attention on your nipples, and you moved your hips with more fervor. 

Before long you were grinding yourself on his mouth, breaths coming out in puffs as your eyes stayed shut, losing yourself in the hot feel of his tongue. 

Desperation grew as you could feel that distinct coil tighten in your abdomen, and every draw of breath fueled the build up. 

Not thinking anymore, you bucked your hips on him in repeated motion, lingering on the edge of the abyss, searching for that which would make the coil snap.

A desperate whimper left your mouth and as a response, a rumbling groan from his throat vibrated right through you and you fell head first into your orgasm, entire body shuddering violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream. 

He was on you as you came down, lapping up your release and groaning as you trembled at the overstimulation. He was frantically groping at your waist and hips, strong arms and hands grounding you as you floated on the aftershocks of your high.

The moment the orgasm faded from your foggy mind, it fell in on itself.

How could you let yourself give in like that? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind trying to escape the whole thing, if only for a moment, go far far away, go numb, go blank. 

You weren’t allowed more than a few seconds reprieve, however, as you faintly heard him rustling around before you felt pressure at your entrance.

Before you had time to protest, Steve pushed his cock into you, giving a pleased huff as your body squeezed instinctively, drawing him in even more. 

Your eyes shot open and met his - wild and pleased.

“There she is,” he said with dark glee as he breathed hard. 

You fought to draw breath as your body seared with pain of the intrusion. His girth was more than you could take. It was all you could do to handle the stretch of his cock bottoming out, pushed inside you to the hilt.

“Feel that? Feel how your willing cunt is swallowing me like that, inviting me in?” 

He started to move a second later, not giving you any time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that sent sparks of pain up through your body.

You cried out at the agony, nails digging into your own palms. 

Above you, Steve growled as he bared his teeth at you, slamming his hips against yours. 

His cock was rock hard as it speared you, and he only seemed to grow harder at your pained cries. 

Through the pain and your strained whimpering sounds, you faintly heard him mumble.

“- all those incessant thoughts about you….never like this….if he only fucking knew...ripe for the taking, and the bastard didn’t as much as ask you out...”

His hand seized your throat as he stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, inhaling fervently. Hitched breaths was the only thing that escaped you at this point, as he kept up his torturing pace, abusing your pussy without halt. 

“- That fucking smell in the hallway...never escaping it...fuck…gonna fuck those thoughts right out...”

 Was “he” Steve? Was he rambling about himself? Or at least, who he used to be?

The pain had slowly subsided as you’d listened to the man’s crazed rambling, and a deep onslaught of pleasure was starting to make itself known with each punch of Steve’s cock. Soon your body started to tremble, and you fought against the coil starting to build again. 

Steve shifted his hips to run his hands down your sides, and the new angle hit the spot deep within you that made your breathless.

Your mouth opened in a complete and utter moan, and Steve’s head snapped up from your neck, something akin to surprise in his eyes as he took in your face. 

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?” he asked, and his voice was thick with pleasure. 

You tried to avert your eyes, but his hand shot up and gripped your jaw, pulling your face so close that your breaths mingled. His stare locked yours in an iron grip. 

His thrusts slowed, and he rolled his hips, reaching deep, so deep inside you, and a pleasured sigh left your lips to fan across his lips as he found that spot again.  

“Look at you. Steve would never think of you like this - he respected you. Little did he know you were a cock hungry little masochist,” he husked, pupils deep pools of dark desire. Your cheeks burned as you clenched around him at his words.

He grunted, letting his eyes fall close for only a second, and you noticed how his long and beautiful eyelashes fanned across his cheek. 

“Let’s see how much you can enjoy this, huh?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as one of his hands reached down to where his body was rutting into yours, and his thumb found your clit. 

You cried out as he started an unrelenting circling of the sensitive bud, and he mouthed at your jaw as he hummed in response. 

In the back of your mind a small voice was telling you to fight, to gnaw and hit and thrash until he understood that you didn’t want this. Another voice was arguing that you would only be hurt further if you fought more. There was no getting away from his intent and no overpowering him.

A louder voice was whispering that it was okay to give in. Give in to the way he felt on your skin, the way he moved in you, the way he looked at you. Give in to the pleasure.

 Your orgasm washed over you like a warm wave, spasming through every muscle as they sung with exhilaration. A shuddering groan left your lips and your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cock. He growled as he crushed his lips to yours, and you opened yours willingly, moving your tongue against his in a wet and sloppy kiss. 

“Good,” he praised in a groan after breaking the kiss, and to your surprise, something akin to pride bloomed deep in your chest at his praise. 

You were completely lost in the pleasure now, in the drag of his cock against your trembling walls, his musky og smoky scent and those blue, lust-blown eyes piercing you. 

His pace quickened again, and you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that he was closing in on his own release.

“I can feel you fluttering, doll. Listen to the sounds this pretty pussy makes. Maybe I should keep you?” he mused darkly, a small wicked grin on his lips. 

For a moment terror flashed across your eyes. Keep you? In the back of your mind the pain of your still bound wrists alerted you of the implications of that notion. Your cheek was still burning hot from his earlier “warning”.

As if he read your mind, he sneered.

“Take what he never had. Continue to take what he never had. Make you mine, let you have my cock every time I want, keep this tight pussy on a leash”.

You heaved for breath as his thrusts grew frantic, and he raised himself to his haunches, hands a bruising grip on your hips as he looked down at you. 

Under the dim moonlight his muscles rippled, shining in a layer of sweat, his hair disheveled and falling into his face, and those eyes, forever shaking the bones in your body. 

Your name ghosted on his lips as his brows furrowed and your back arched as your third orgasm seized you by every muscle in your body, your head thrown back in a desperate, strangled whine.

 “Fucking shit,” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, and as your cunt pulsed around him, you drew his orgasm right out of his body. 

He gave a few stuttering thrusts before stilling, thrust to the hilt inside you. Through the blood coursing in your ears you heard his snarl as he emptied himself in you.

For a moment his face completely stilled, eyebrows raised, eyes fluttered shut, mouth slightly open. In that moment, you swore you recognised your former neighbor, Steve Rogers, Captain America in those features. 

But in a moment he was gone, and this Steve, whoever he was, was leaning forward to crush his mouth on yours. 

Still coming down from your high, you eagerly opened your mouth for him in a rather intimate kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of your face. 

You almost sighed at the softness of it all when his teeth caught your bottom lip and bit hard enough to draw blood. You yelped in pain as the iron taste filled your mouth and he let you wrench your way out of the kiss, snickering as he leaned back up and licked some of your blood off his lips. His eyes were wicked  as he pulled himself out of you.

The emptiness he left behind was both a relief and a disappointment, even as your lip stung. You licked at the cut, wondering just what brand of danger had forced himself into your bed. 

“God, what a sight,” he murmured above you, fingers dipping down to spread your nether lips apart as his cum dribbled out of you. 

Embarrassment burned your face as he looked on, perverted astonishment painting his features. 

Two fingers swiped your slit, gathering both of your releases on them before bringing them up to your mouth.

When you did nothing but stare at him, he simply whispered “open”.

You obeyed, holding his gaze, and he pushed his fingers slowly into your mouth. The mix of the iron of your blood, the salt of his cum and the tangy taste of yourself made your face scrunch up, and he hummed low in his chest.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, face emotionless but for the shining sin of his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, you nodded.

The corners of his mouth twitched up at that, approval coating his features.

“Oh, I’m gonna keep you, alright,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers down your torso.

As his fingers slowly caressed you, exhaustion drizzled over you, your vision blurred, and you fell into unconsciousness.

 §

 When you awoke, bright daylight was shining in through your window.

The soreness piercing your muscles was like nothing you had ever felt before, but the sleep had been even deeper, sitting like a pleasurable hum in your bones. 

You remembered immediately what had happened in the night and was relieved to find that your wrists were no longer bound. The bruises, purple and pink, would probably last for weeks. 

The ache deep in your core made your gut wrench in remembered dread, but somehow there was a feeling of anticipation there as well.

A quiet voice inside you whispered that you hoped he would stay true to his word, and come back. 

Author’s note: Christ. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a blood kink brewing inside me. 

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[egyptsblackrose]

Dancing with Strangers

This is by far the longest chapter, hopefully I’ve tied all the loose ends and come to a decent conclusion. Stay tuned fro more fics.

Part 1 - https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/648370506842701824/a-rose-by-any-other-name

Part 5 -https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/654891313044635648/dancing-with-strangers-there-will-be-one-more-part

Part 6- The end, enjoy!

It had been eight months since your first meeting with Gojo Satoru and Kakashi Hatake. This had been the longest relationship either men had ever had, both as a three or on their own. It was also painfully clear how absolutely in love both men were with you, and you with them. The change in the three of you was as clear as day, never had anyone seen each of you so happy - is what you constantly heard from everyone you knew, and when you ran into a friend or relative of theirs… with a few exceptions.

The truth had come out about a month in that Gojo was the one with all the money. A ‘representative of his household’ had come to the apartment to visit and go over ‘matters concerning the family’. Satoru had been so laid back through the whole thing, smirking mockingly at the clearly uncomfortable (stuck up) old butler. He’d grabbed your waist as you were walking towards the door to leave, pulling you down and into his lap. It became clear that he wanted to mess with the man opposite him, even Kakashi seemed in on it because he kissed you sweetly as he walked passed.

Gojo wasn’t able to hide his bitterness when the man finally left though, burying his head into your neck and hugging you tightly. His father had been a politician and his mother a CEO of a successful company, he still had connections because of them and shares that were doing incredibly well. Not to mention their life insurance had been enough to set anyone for life.

“It’s not like I was close to them to begin with.” He’d muttered in a bored manner when you’d teared up at the mention of a Satoru toddler being left alone, surrounded by people who wanted to use him for money, power and influence. The butler was a man hired by his fathers old political party and the other share holders at his mothers company. They apparently weren’t best pleased with him settling for being a small time policeman, had hoped to mould him into their puppet to keep both their money making schemes going.

To cheer the three of you up, Gojo had taken the three of you on a spontaneous trip to an Onsen that one of his friends owns, up in the middle of no where. The beautiful, traditional building with modern interior was nestled on the side of a frigging mountain that could only be reached through a thick, ancient forest.

You were the only three guests, and the workers were even excused for the evening, so it felt like you were the only three in the world with the next person been miles away. Which you were insanely grateful for. Because Kakashi and Gojo had made it a completion between them on who could make you scream the loudest.

Three months later, Kakashi had appeared out of no where behind you while you were cooking dinner, wrapping his arms round you gently and kissing your neck soothingly. “Would you join me for a day out tomorrow?”

“Of course I will,” You giggled, shivering as his lips ghosted over the marks on your neck and shoulders, drawing invisible lines like he was drawing constellations. “Where are we going?”

Hatake was silent for a moment before he squeezed you tighter. “I’m going to introduce you to my father.”

To say you were nervous was an understatement, you had agonised over the right outfit for hours the night before, asking both Miku and Sakura for their help. You should have known better, they had spent the majority of the time gushing over your boyfriends and how serious it was getting between you. After all, no one had ever heard of the two most wanted bachelors introducing their conquests to their family and friends, or even going on trips with their lovers, let alone keeping their interest this long.

Finally settling on one of your favourite outfits; something simple, comfortable and trendy, you kept your make-up light and as natural as possible and called yourself ready. Meeting at their apartment, you were surprised to see Kakashi in his policeman formal uniform. God the man looked dashing. Wearing white gloves, black dress shoes, a smart navy suit, light blue tie, hat tucked under his arm and a smirk on his handsome face.

“Enjoying the view baby?” He teased.

You nodded dumbly, bitting your lip to try hide your smirk. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome, you have to go devastate my heart like that.”

“Maybe me and Sato should wear these tonight then.” The suggestion had your thighs clenching, suddenly it was hard to swallow. Hatake chuckled lazily having seen your reaction. “Later baby girl, for now, we have somewhere to go.”

The cemetery was the LAST place you were expecting this day to take you. Kakashi stopped at his fathers tome stone and saluted. It was at least two decades since his fathers death. Kakashi Sakumo, Hatake’s father, had been a respected police detective, and his whole inspirational drive to become a policeman. When Hatake was young, his father had led a team in a drug bust against some of the biggest names in the Yakuza, but had chosen to save his men’s lives rather than capture the villains when things had gone wrong.

The ‘failure’ was a black mark against his name, and soon his was shunned by the media, his fellow detectives and the whole police force. The abuse became so bad, that he took his own life. From then on, Hatake had lived and grown up with Gojo who he was already inseparable with.

“For the longest time…I blamed him too.” Kakashi admitted quietly, holding onto your hand like a life line. “He had a duty to take those dangerous men off the streets, to make the city a safer place for the public, for kids who were in danger of either being hooked onto drugs or joining gangs. Instead he chose to save the lives of his team.” You were silent, what could you possibly say to ease his pain? “But now…” Hatake raised his head with a proud smile. “My views have changed. He didn’t want to chase glory, he just wanted to do the right thing and save lives. In that moment, they needed him, he saw that and did his best. He was willing to die for his men, he didn’t want to see all those family’s mourning for lives he could have spared. I can only hope that one day, I will be as brave as him.”

You are not ashamed to say you cried, standing there looking at the grave of the man who had made Hatake into the man he was. Into the man you loved. You bowed deeply and gave your thanks, promising out loud to take care of his son for as long as you were allowed. Kakashi’s own eyes watered at this as he pulled you close. You don’t know how long you stood there holding each other for, but it didn’t feel like long enough. Part of you thought it would never be enough when it came to the two amazing men who looked at you like you were their whole world.

After the visit, Kakashi had taken you to the old, more traditional part of town so you could go to his favourite restaurant. The two of you were the first to arrive and the last to leave, laughing so much to the point where you were both in tears. It was so light and care free, and you could see the weight just lift off of Hatake’s shoulders.

And when you both finally made it back to their apartment, Gojo was sat on the sofa waiting. Smirking. Also in uniform. That night, not one of you slept.

With your hands locked together in cuffs and blindfold around your eyes, you shook like a leaf in the wind as Kakashi took you from behind, Gojo at your front. If it had been anyone else trying to blindfold you and tie you up, you would have absolutely said no. As it was, Kakashi loved seeing you so vulnerable. So much so that he had stretched your arse as he’d enthusiastically eaten you out, and was now taking advantage of his VERY thorough prep work. He held a vibrator to your clit as he fucked your arse, Gojo keeping your mouth open and busy as he kissed you hungrily so they could hear your moans, squeezing and playing with your tits as he took your front just as roughly.

Not only did you squirt first time, your pretty sure you blacked out for a second. Not that the boys were deterred, they knew you’d tell them if it became too much. Besides, the sounds you were making; the moans, the wet squelching from how wet you were, it was the best yet. You couldn’t walk the next day though and had to ask Miku to record your lecture.

By the fifth month, Gojo and Kakashi had broached the idea of you moving in with them. It was a casual comment made in light conversation one Sunday morning, when they FIRST brought it up. Then it was Kakashi suggesting you keep more of your things with them, mostly because you would ask them to take you back to your apartment with the girls so you could get ready for the day, meaning you would leave earlier than they would like. Eventually Gojo decided they were being too subtle and would cling to you in the mornings, begging you to not leave and to stay with them.

“You guys remember that I’m living with two roommates already right? I can’t just up and leave them like that, they won’t be able to afford rent!”

“But beautifu~l! We want you here with us!”

“What our idiot means to say baby-”

“Hey!”

“Is that, you already spend so much time here, and we love having you with us. Our apartment is even closer to your Uni building! It makes sense surely, for you to move in with us. Or for us even to find a place together-”

“Wow, ok slow down there!” You butt in quickly, cheeks turning pink. Finally the boys had had enough of dancing around the subject and had sat you down to talk about it properly. Talking about moving into their lush apartment was one thing, but talking about a place together, was something else entirely!

Gojo pouted at you in annoyance. “What, you don’t want to live with us?”

“I’m not saying that!” You defended instantly, frowning at him. “I’m saying it’s a BIG step, and I get that you guys feel ready for it, but I don’t ok? For one, five months isn’t that much time dating someone, second, I don’t even have a job yet! And don’t tell me money isn’t an issue and I don’t have to pay rent cause God help me Satoru, I will get up and leave right now.” You threatened.

“Ok you two, lets take a deep breath and talk about this calmly ok?” Hatake soothed, squeezing both your hands. “Baby, if you don’t feel ready then that’s fine, we will not force you. But please know that when you ARE ready, we WANT you here. Ok?” Nodding in understanding, you started to relax. Gojo huffed and crossed his arms, but nodded in agreement. “And about you looking for a job and paying rent. We are not trying to baby you or the like, we just want to take care of you. We know you can take care of yourself but that wont stop us from WANTING to take care of you because you are YOURS. Understand? We love and cherish you, and if we can help you, we want to. If it was us in a difficult situation and you could help us, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, in a heartbeat.” You muttered with a slight pout.

Kakashi beamed. “It’s the same in our eyes.” And that had been the end of that…for the time being that is.

Just short of the six month mark, you had agreed to go out again with the girls for a night out. Kakashi and Gojo had encouraged you to go, promising that when they were done with their shift, they would come pick you up. They had even bought you a gift voucher for your birthday to buy a new outfit. You had been sure to send the boys a flattering pic of yourself all dolled up before you had left for the night, receiving such thirsty replies that no one would guess that you had spent the night before with them.

The night had been going perfectly, once again you were the most sober of the group, which you were now used to. You had a nice buzz going, there had already been so many laughs and the girls were excitedly giggling about the stories you shared on your boyfriends. (Of course the intimate, personal things you kept to yourself.) You had been to a few bars and your group agreed to end the night at the club you had met your boys in, ‘The Ninja Shrine’. Texting the two policemen still on shift, you let them know that you and your friends had arrived safely, were going to order your drinks and you would be eagerly waiting for them for a dance.

Gojo replied with multiple winky, smirky, and red with sweat drop faces. Kakashi was the only one to give you a verbal reply, promising to be there as soon as they could, and ‘ordering’ you to behave until they arrived. It made you smile, biting your lip. ‘No promises’ was your reply with a winky face, locking your phone and ignoring the bings that followed, knowing that would rile them up more than a reply.

Despite the clear teasing, you stayed against the bar, talking and laughing with your friends as you sipped at your drink. The girls did try convince you to dance with them at one point, but you were waiting a certain pair to join you. After all, dancing with the girls was fun, but it was even better when you had certain pairs of eyes on your body.

“Oh shit,” Miku cursed, suddenly grabbing your arm and turning you away from the door.

“What the hell-?”

“Don’t turn around!” Miku earned, holding onto your shoulders. “One of your boys’s old flings is here, and trust me you don’t want anything to do with her.” Looking subtly out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a pretty strawberry blonde with soft brown eyes and a confident smirk. You could clearly see her figure through her flashy outfit, her expensive designer shoes and handbag on show like she was on the Paris run way. “She was with them for four months, her names Claire Aoki, and she’s a psycho if you ask me.” Miku continued carefully.

Before you could react, the door opened once more and in came your two boyfriends, looking like sex on legs. Gojo wore a flashy designer get up with black jeans and dress shoes, a blue shirt and a leather jacket that you knew for a fact cost more than your joint rent with the girls. Kakashi was also in black dress shoes, black dress pants, a dark grey shirt and a lighter grey silk vest. Their eyes landed on you immediately and began smiling. You smiled back, beaming when they started heading your way.

They hadn’t made it two steps before they were stopped by Claire, her red manicured-nailed hands resting on their chests as she leaned in towards them, pressing her chest into their arms. Kakashi looked panicked, eyes widening as his eyes darted up towards you, then down to her and back. Gojo’s smile shrunk, it was still there, but it looked much more forced now as his blue eyes narrowed at the other woman.

Curious, and not worried at all, you leaned back against the bar. You turned to make yourself look as relaxed as possible, replicating the same look you had the night they had pulled you away from your friends to charm the pants off of you. Your head tilted and your smile grew as their eyes kept on drifting to you. Whatever Claire was saying clearly wasn’t keeping their attention.

Your smile turned to a smirk as Beast by Mia Martina started playing, slowly pushing off the bar as you headed to the dance floor, your friends following. Closing your eyes, you let the music take you away, body rolls moving slow, deliberate. You caught their eyes by dancing for yourself, but now you knew their weaknesses, the parts of you that they loved to tease and squeeze, you knew their bodies like you knew your own. And you fully intended to use that to your advantage.

“Keep your eyes on me,” You sang, looking both men dead in the eyes, smirking as their gazes struggled to meet yours, roaming your form hungrily like they hadn’t seen you in months. “Come here right now,” You continued, your hands reaching out to them, beckoning them to you. “Cause when the sun goes down the beast comes out,” Dropping to the floor, you straightened your legs so you were bent in half, slowly coming up and curving your back as you flipped your hair back gracefully.

“Take you down, down can you keep it up all night,” Smirking, you spun slowly as you exaggerated your hip swaying, making sure they got an eye full of your behind. “You all over my skin, I’m anxious, paint my body boy’s I’ll be your canvas.” Your head snapped back, showcasing all their bruises that they left from the night before.

Next thing you knew, two sets of hands were gripping you tight, one set on your hips and another on your upper thighs. “Da~nm Beautiful!” Gojo growled lowly into your ear, your grin stretching as you giggled, Kakashi ducking his head to bite your neck. “First you ignore us, then you go and put on a show like that for anyone to see. What are you trying to do, hu? You just want us to bend you over our knees don’t you?”

“Maybe I do,” You teased. “Or maybe I’m trying to prove a point to someone who was getting too handsy with what wasn’t theirs.”

“Oh? Someone was getting jealous? As sexy as you are ‘staking your claim’, doesn’t change the fact that your going to get your punishment when we get home, beautifu~l!” Satoru teased, his hand dragging up your body till his hand was at your neck, then he squeezed.

Kakashi let out a ragged breath at your moan. “I think we should get out of here.” Pressing himself harder into you, you could feel his impatience clearly through his pants.

You dared to look around you, eyes meeting with soft brown eyes glaring daggers at you with so much hatred. You would have been scared six months ago, you would have shrunk and shied away. But how could you now when Gojo and Kakashi were stood with you, hands all over you, demanding your love and attention, making you feel so treasured and powerful.

“Kiss me first.” You demanded. Satoru didn’t even hesitate for a second, pulling you into a searing kiss full of passion and desire. You faintly heard Miku and your friends cat call and wolf whistle somewhere near the bar, causing Gojo to pull away and chuckle. The opening was all Kakashi needed. His kiss was equally breathtaking, his movements slower and more controlled, but clearly as desperate to lay claim.

When Hatake pulled away, Gojo effortlessly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, smacking your arse when you struggled. So you smacked his right back. Again, you couldn’t walk the next day.

By the end of the eight first months, you had finally landed a job interview and was offered the job on the spot, starting small but promised promotions if your work was up to standard. Around the same time your lease on the shared apartment with your friends was up, and you had finally given into your boyfriends hints and agreed to look for a place you could all afford together. What’s more, your graduation was less than a month away. Things were finally falling into place.

You had yet to broach the subject of your relationship status with your parents, though you were pretty sure they had figured out that you were at least dating someone by this point. Admitting that you hadn’t mentioned anything to your parents, you were nervous how the boys would react. But they had simply shrugged, nodded in understanding and reminding you that if you needed their help they were here for you.

Most importantly, you had a job you were doing well in, you were moving into a beautiful home, your friends were happy and doing well in their own fields, and you had two men who loved you unconditionally. You were sure everything was going to work out just right. And with Gojo and Satoru by your side, you could over come anything.

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦  ღ  ◦∘  Harrison Osterfield - Quarantine  ∘◦  ღ  ◦∘

A/N - I wrote this during the first lockdown that Britain were in. ow we’re in the third, and almost a year later, I’m uploading this onto my Tumblr from my Wattpad. And yes, before everyone says it, I am fully aware that the Holland’s and Haz were isolating in two different houses and haven’t been living together for months, but this makes it more amusing, and as I say, it was written a while ago. I do not know Harrison, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - cursing, smut, detailed sex, cockwarming, oral, kinky names, mentions of sleeping around... you know the drill by now.

Summary - Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

YOU AREN’T SURE HOW, but in some strange twist of fate, you’ve ended up in self isolation with the Holland’s. But it doesn’t end there, no, not just the Holland’s, but Harrison and Tuwaine too.

You have a bed in the attic, the other side of Harrison’s room, but you’re hardly sleeping in it. Seeing as you’re the only girl among an entire collection of (ahem, horny) and barely adult boys, you were most certainly on their beckon call. You didn’t mind being called to Sam, Harry’s, even Tom’s rooms late at night; you simply wished that you'd be asked to sleep with the one you actually wanted. Harrison.

You and he had been friends as long as you could remember, neighbours from age 4 and friends ever since. Even through uni when you studied a double major and you had zero free time, he was still constant in your life. You’d met Tom and the boys, the twins being closer to your age, and gotten on with them all as well. It just so happened that you ended up on a job with Mr Holland, and that’s what brought all of you closer together with you being in their house often to work on this project it also just so happened that you’d been hanging around with them all when lockdown was announced, leaving you to be in trouble if you drove halfway across London to your own home, so they invited you to stay and had any and all necessary items mailed to you by your roommate. You were only trusted to stay with Harrison after your history together and nothing ever having come of you two, though Mrs Holland did not trust the other boys enough with you and therefore did a bed check every night and every morning to make sure you were alone, though it was always a deceitful check on everyone’s behalf. 

You didn’t thank Tom, Sam or Harry post-sex since you’d always have to return to your own cold bed, next to a sleeping Harrison, a sleeping Harrison who wouldn’t dare use you as a booty call like the other three did. It was safe to say that Harrison also had no idea of your truancies since he slept like a light and no one would discuss your actions at the dinner table to save your dignity, and their own necks.

Tonight though, you have other plans. Harrison has some papers to look through and will therefore be sitting at his desk, procrastinating before his computer for hours, only to be left to flick through the contract at an utterly ungodly hour, and he’d proceed to sleep tomorrow, all throughout the day. You were going to help him relax: maybe a massage, a cuddle, a blunt. Or you’d sit on his lap, watch to see whether he’d tense or relax beneath your bare legs, or whether he’d pick up on whose shirt you were to wear. That was the only tell: you’d steal a shirt from each brother to wear as a mark the next day, but you’d simply claim they were more comfortable than your own tight fitting button downs and crop tops. Harrison hadn’t noticed, not yet though as far as you knew, but each brother wore a slight smirk every day that you wore their shirt.

It hurt that Harrison wouldn’t be able to tell with his usual obliviousness, but you’d shower before seeing to him tonight, and wear one of his shirts so that when he got it back it might smell like you, a scent he claimed to enjoy.

As soon as dinner finishes, you leap away from the three boys all vying for your attention.

“I have work to do, and a shower to have. Plus, I’m tired.” You respond to all three on your journey up the stairs, hearing Harrison groan very loudly from the attic, followed by his head hitting the keyboard of his laptop. You smile sadly to yourself, a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement expelling from your body while the water lashes at your skin, soothing any pain or fear you may be feeling. You increase the heat, allowing the steam to fill your pores as you lean your head forwards to keep your hair dry, held in a messy bun.

You imagine his touch all over your bare body, his finger tracing your jaw, but a knock on the door and a yell to hurry up snaps you from your trance, making you turn off the water and wrap a soft towel (that you know to be Harrison’s) around yourself. You scowl at Harry on your way out, in response to which he sticks his tongue out childishly. 

You end up mostly dry after taking a longer than usual walk up the steps to the attic, lingering on each one until the balls of your feet become sore. You peek your head around the door, only to see Harrison in a hoodie and boxers, a grimace on his lips while attacking his keyboard with a ferocity that you’ve scarcely seen. His anger causes you to furrow your brows, silently wishing that you succeed in calming him instead of making him feel worse. 

You slip into a pair of panties and grab your favourite of his shirts off one of the hangers. You pull out your phone under a guise if he spots you, absentmindedly scrolling through your feed while eyeing Harrison. He slows his typing and begins clicking his mouse at the screen slowly, intently reading the reams of white on his laptop. 

It’s time, you tell yourself, standing up from the bed and walking behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, splaying your fingers and digging your thumbs in. Harrison’s body goes lax, his hands falling from the laptop to the desk, laying his hands flat on the wood. He lets out a groan and rolls his head back, falling right onto the pillow of your chest. You continue to rub his shoulders, enjoying the way he’s slowly relaxing under your therapeutic touch, that is until he swats you away with a small, sad smile. You sigh, having none of it, and crawl your hands down to the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone dripping with boredom. “I have this contract to read, you know I do.”

“Exactly.” You reply after thinking for a moment. You want to say the right thing, you want this to go seamlessly, so every word has to be perfect, not to mention every action.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t battle against your bid to remove his hoodie, and obligingly lifts his arms up over his head so that you can pull his jumper off. You toss it to the side and hear something fall to the floor, but that’s somehow the least of your concerns. You reward Harrison with a kiss to the soft, unblemished skin of his neck - but it won’t stay that way, not for much longer. 

You thread your fingers into his beautiful brown locks and tug a little, just to let him know that you mean business. His lips part as though intending to let out a groan of some kind, but it doesn’t come, so with disappointment you continue to play with his hair the way you love to. He doesn’t stop you, so that’s something, right?

When he hasn’t given you attention for too long, albeit about five minutes, you walk around in front of him. His eyes are forced to retrain from his screen to where your breasts show in his top. Apparently, going braless in one of his tops has its perks, not talking about your nipples.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair out and gestures for you to drape yourself over his legs and lap, which you do more than willingly while wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at the wonderfully soft curls at the nape.

“I know this isn’t ideal, you need to do proper work and be having contact with your girls, but I’ll get you out soon, I know the boys are a lot.”

You simply hum in acknowledgement, adjusting your seat on his bare legs. Skin on skin, electrifying in every sense of the word. 

“That is why you’re doing this, right?” He asks, nervously almost, and you instantly feel as though you’re molesting him, until he wraps his strong arms around your back. You could moan at the contact, his muscles tensing all around you, the feel of Harrison and his smell radiating around you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You move your hands to his shoulders and begin to massage again, just from the front this time, a feeble attempt to procrastinate against your goal. Harrison’s gone back to reading his screen, so while he’s still gathering what he’s reading, it’s your only shot.

You twist on his lap until you’re completely straddling him, your forehead pressed to his. The beautiful blue-green of his eyes sends you into a trance, melting your insides. You can swear that you see him nod a little, so you begin to move your hips. You grind and swirl on his lap, undulating your hips in a perfect figure of eight when you feel him harden beneath you.

With your ministrations paused momentarily, you take a sharp intake of breath and say, “This was never about attention because I’ve been stuck with the boys, this is because I want you.”

Harrison’s face instantly melts into an expression of relief, a goofy smile on his (what you hope to be) soft lips.

“I thought you didn’t want me because you were sleeping with the others,” he says, and you shake your head, tears of relief and happiness almost spilling from your eyes. You feel warm and fuzzy despite the guilt, shame and anger bubbling from your truancies with the Holland boys. 

“You knew then?”

“How couldn’t I?” He remarks, “you’re all they talk about when there’s no adults and no Paddy in the room. What they did to you, how many times they made you cry out their names, the marks they tried to leave on you until your own dominant side came out. Every conversation I had to excuse myself out of mainly respect from you, because what they said upset me but I just couldn’t say so, but then I just came up here and imagined what you’d be doing to me.” Your heart hitches in your throat, butterflies filling your stomach and travelling into your every limb, making your skin tingle. Your stomach rises in goosebumps, as does the skin of your thighs, and you notice that it’s because Harrison has his hands underneath your (his) shirt, and he’s skimming over your waist and legs, holding you and savouring the feel of your skin beneath him. He kisses your neck, once, twice, and it’s gone.

He turns back to his computer and continues his work, looking over your shoulder and letting his eyes train every tiny black line of script on his screen. Your neediness is at an all time high, one hand resting absently on your hip, just above your bum while his other hand clicks at his keyboard and mouse like it’s second nature. The speed of his fingers makes you even needier, craving for him to be inside you already, so you climb onto his bare thigh and trap it between your own. 

You dig your hips down into his leg, grinding and aching for friction, and you already know that you’re dripping onto his skin. The fine hair on his thighs gives a delicious amount of friction - not too much but not too little. As you go further, your mouth parts a little more, allowing you to let out a strangled whimper. Your thigh brushes Harrison’s cock through his boxers, and you feel his hand grip your waist tighter, almost painfully.

Your pussy starts throbbing, aching for more of him, while your hands rake his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Your head falls to the crook of Harrison’s neck as you approach your high, moving your hips more fervently and letting out moans is anticipation. You wonder if Harrison is even able to pay attention to his contract anymore with what you’re doing to him, but that thought is set to rest when you’re right on the edge, but both of his hands grip your hips and move you off his thigh, the skin glistening with your essence. 

For a minute, you think he’ll be angry, make you clean it up, but instead he just kisses you. His lips catch yours more desperately than you could’ve dreamt, immediately biting down on your lower lip, trapped inside his mouth. You let out the loudest moan you could in the moment, but Harrison finds it heavenly, delving his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss while his hands grip your ass. He pulls away, looking at you with those puppy eyes that he knows you can’t resist. 

“Sit on my cock? Just ‘til I finish this section, then I’ll take you as hard as you want.” 

You look sceptical, and Harrison can tell, you know because he kissed you again and moves his hands from your bum to wrap his arms around your whole body and keep you close to him. His lips pressed against your own is enough convincing, so you move your panties aside and accommodate while Harrison takes his boxers off.

When he does, you’re surprised at how big he is, bigger than any of the lads you’ve been with before. Long and substantial, you want to drool just looking at his dick standing proud against his stomach. Nervously, you slide down on him. His girth stretches your every wall and his tip hits new spots until finally you’re balls deep. He groans and exhales, eyes closed while trying to gather his bearings. 

“Fuck.” He says. “Your cunt bottomed out on my cock, keeping me warm and hard, you’re an angel.”

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and involuntarily clench around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, craving to have as much skin to skin contact as is possible. Your head lays on his chest to stay out of his way, and he seems thankful to be able to see the screen but also feel you. 

You stay seated on Harrison for no more than ten minutes as he taps away at his keyboard and scrolls through the pages. Occasionally he moves, stimulating you enough for you to gasp or tighten around him, and in those instances he kisses behind your ear. 

You listen to his heart, slowing or increasing its speed depending on your movements. The steady heave of his chest moving with his breathing is strangely calming, making you feel closer to him, more stimulated and comforted, something like love.

Suddenly, his laptop slams shut and he thrusts up into you. You yelp a little and snap your head up, nose nudging with his and your lips grazing. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy, and you’ve done it on purpose. Were you sleeping with the others to get my attention? Am I better than them already? Bigger?” You whimper, his words building a fire inside you. “You don’t have to answer, love, I can already tell by your body.”

You cling to him even tighter than before as he clears everything off his desk, breaking a pencil pot while he’s at it, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You choose a desk to fuck me on when we have two beds up here, both of which will make a lot less noise?” 

He looks downcast and releases a giggle. “Yeah, didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, cupping his jaw and caressing his stubbled cheek, “you can fuck me harder on this and let the boys know who I belong to tonight.”

He places you down beneath him on the desk, still hard inside you, but instead of attacking you again in a ferocious kiss, he looks down at you and marvels in your beauty just for a moment, his scrutiny surprisingly doesn’t phase you, it only makes you feel treasured, so as your eyes follow the movements of his rippling muscles, he smiles faintly and kisses you softly. 

“Fuck me Haz,” you whisper, those simple words being all the motivation needed, because he pulls out, leaving you whining at the emptiness of only his twitching tip inside your core, but within seconds he pushes all the way back in. 

He feels heavenly, your eyes rolling back into your head and a surprised moan leaving your lips. He smiles down at you before pulling out and thrusting back inside you, setting a steady pace. Every move feels like paradise, every jolt of his hips swindling shockwaves of pleasure through your craving body, having been desperate for him for a good while.

He feels heavenly inside you, his tip grazing that special spot inside you. “Harrison!” You cry, as quietly as you can. He leans down and pulls the neck of your (his) shirt down so that he can get access to your breast, immediately latching his lips onto your nipple, biting at it viciously while pressing his hands onto your spread thighs. You feel yourself approaching an edge, a timed coil curling inside your stomach as his ministrations continue. 

He’s so much better than the others - not that they weren’t good, they have a basic idea of what to do with you and how to use you, and they’re decently sized, but they can’t make you feel the way Harrison can. 

“I’m close...” you whisper between incoherent murmurs. He’s not too noisy, which may or may not be a blessing paired with the slamming and squeaking of the desk beneath your bodies, it’s mostly just breathy grunts and occasional curses.

“Me too, beautiful.” He dances his forefinger up your thigh and rubs circles around your wetness, allowing you to let go.

The coil within springs open, and you feel your body fall loose, vision blurring with stars in your eyes and core clenching around Harrison - it feels like heaven. Feeling this, he climaxes soon after you and to save from screaming, kisses you in a messy fight of teeth and tongues, half muffling the pornographic moans that would otherwise be bound to spill.

Harrison falls down onto you, chest heaving and breathless, but nonetheless he still places open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“I’ll wait for you to get your breath, shall I?” You tease while running your finger up and down his spine. He chuckles and climbs fully on top of you, cuddling you into his chest. “Well, now I can see why you don’t have a girlfriend yet. Can’t even go for one round without ending up flustered. Lucky that I’ll have you no matter.”

He hums into you, holding you and savouring the silence filled with only your breathing and a few sounds from downstairs, but soon the wood becomes too uncomfortable.

Harrison slips an arm beneath you and carries you across the room to his unmade bed, as opposed to your neatly tucked in one with your entire collection of clothes and makeup on top of the sheets, but his bed is probably comfier since he’s always in it. 

“Round two?”

Your heart rate increases, a burning blush rising to the tips of your ears as well as a shy smile snaking its way across your lips, still swollen from Harrison’s attack, not to mention the swollen parts of your skin where he paid a little more attention, leaving marks and memories for days to come.

“I’d like to see you try.” You tease, keeping your cool resolve despite feeling anxious straddling him, his eyes flitting between your chest, eyes and lips, unsure of what to do or how to use his mouth, a definite rarity for someone like him.

He seems desperate, putting his hands on your hips and thirstily jolting his hips upwards - if you’d been a few inches further down, he would’ve been straight back inside you, and maybe that’s what he was hoping for.

“Any hole’s a goal, isn’t that what Tom says?” 

He loves it when you tease him, that much you’re learnt over the years. Every girl he’s been with you’ve found a way to tease him about it, anything he says, anything he does, and he loves it since it usually ends in a play fight and him surrendering control of the tv remote to you. This time however, it ends in something far different.

He tugs the shirt up further and pulls you roughly so that your calves are either side of his neck, your once again dripping core hovering above his face and awaiting tongue. 

“Only if it’s yours.” He says, his breath sending shockwaves through your body straight from your core.

His tongue deftly finds its way through your folds and inside your tensing cavern, and it feels heavenly. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue laps up all around you, his lips working in tandem while his tongue dances inside you. The moans leaving your mouth are otherworldly noises that you’ve never quite made before, maybe because you’ve never sat on anyone’s face, never mind someone as experienced as Harrison, something that you’re now learning is far from a bad thing. 

“Harrison!” You cry when he delves a little deeper. His eyes remain between your own and the way your boobs bounce inside his shirt while you squirm on top of him. Every noise the pair of you make masks the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the attic, and muffle the sound of knocking on the door.

Harrison’s mouth continues its assault on your needy heat, your one hand weaving into his hair while the other massages your breast through your shirt, bringing stimulation to your nipple and bringing your climax closer and closer...

“Haz, we get that you hate work but you really don’t have to make so much noise- OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

You freeze, your recently shut eyes shooting open and darting over to the door, ajar with Tom standing just over the threshold, staring right at the two of you with a face of horror and disgust. Harrison however, bites down on your sensitive nub in his state of shock, and your second orgasm washes over you in such a state of unexpected euphoria that you lose all your bearings. 

You cry out Harrison’s name like a prayer, chanting it while he cleans you up, and it’s not for a solid minute after your climax ends that you realise Tom is still in the room with you, rendered speechless, mouth agape and dumbfounded. 

When you clock what’s happening, you grasp Harrison’s duvet and yank it up to cover you both while you climb off Harrison’s face, his lips still glistening with your cum. He seems lost for words, too, blanching more and more with every passing second. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. No one moves, except for Harrison’s cock twitching under the duvet.

“It’s not what it looks like...” you say, your words getting lost in the thick tension of the room, like a rubber band pulled so tightly that it could snap at any given moment.

“Really? Because it looks like Harrison was just eating you out!”

You can’t fault Tom's logic, it is exactly what it looks like, so you just blush and pull the duvet up to your chin while wishing for a black hole to swallow you up. 

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Harrison looks though, plump lips and that wonderful glint in his eyes, messy hair and no top. 

“Ok, so it’s exactly what it looks like, surprise?” You can’t figure out what to say to him in the current situation, but instantly feel relaxed when Harrison begins to rub his palm up and down your thigh beneath the duvet .

“What- oh, this is why you called?” Sam now makes an appearance, folding his arms and standing next to a resolute Tom. You can’t decipher if he’s angry, amused or something else. “Our plan worked!” He suddenly shouts, and within seconds, Harry arrives beside the pair, a smirk on his lips.

“Really? So shagging Y/N and talking about it in front of me was all a ploy to get us together? And if so, why does Mr Fancy Pants here look so angry?” Harrison asks, and you can feel him willing his boner to wilt while in the presence of the brothers.

“Yes!” Comes paddy’s voice from the doorway, swiftly standing in front of Tom. 

You smirk, but Harrison scowls, unable to accommodate this situation within his mind.

“He’s probably shocked because he walked in on you two... you know. But yeah, it was all a plan, sorry by the way.” Harry says, you just wave it off but Harrison’s grip on your leg tightens.

“Don’t be angry, it worked didn’t it?” Sam chimes in, patting Paddy on the back before making his way out.

Tom has to have the last word, you can see it on the settling lines on his forehead, so you brace yourself closer to Haz. “And don’t I bloody know that it worked!”

Maybe the drama was worth it for the laugh out of Tom’s reaction, though Harrison would argue with you there.

[subbykboys]

the bad boy’s secret | chanyeol

↳ pairing : badboy!chanyeol x reader

Genre ➞ bad boy AU, fwb AU, college AU, smut

Warnings ➞ sub!chanyeol, dom!reader, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), edging, unprotected sex, riding, mild dirty talk, mild degrading, creampie, face riding, cum eating [ sorry not sorry ], reader is in denial , overuse of the word please

Word Count ➞ 8.2k

chanyeol is a bad boy with a nasty reputation. he’s sexy, mysterious, and entirely untouchable. well... to most people, that is. to you, on the other hand-- he’s something else entirely.

posted ; 6.04.20

there was an angry chill in the air. it bit at your face and hands as you strode to the campus lot where your car was parked. all around you, brightly colored leaves fell to the earth as strong gusts of wind broke them free of the branches they so weakly clung to. they blanketed the ground in shades of vibrant reds, tempting oranges, and dull, blotchy browns. 

it was actually really beautiful. you'd always been a fan of the cool undertones of fall. especially the reds. ugh, red was such a gorgeous color. practically everything you owned was red, or some varying shade of it. it was just so sexy and dangerous and— 

"(y/n)!" you were snapped from your inner thoughts by a barking voice. 

quickly, you averted your eyes from the ground and onto the face of the girl walking beside you. her name is Mina, you're pretty sure. you grimaced at her irritated expression, realizing you must have zoned out again. getting lost in your thoughts at inappropriate times was a pretty frequent occurrence for you. 

"huh?" 

she scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing, "where's your head at? i've been talking for a solid five minutes and i'm pretty sure you stopped listening six minutes ago."

you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as an apologetic smile touched your lips, "sorry. i was just thinking about the leaves." 

"you're so weird." 

you didn't know why she felt comfortable saying that to you. you weren't even friends. at least, not by your standards. maybe acquaintances. maybe. 

and that was only because you happened to have the same afternoon photography class and just so happened to sit next to each other. you supposed in her pea sized brain that was enough to qualify for a friendship. but you had standards. and she was god damn rude. 

regardless, you didn't have the energy or patience to start any sort of altercation. so you shrug, head bobbing lazily in agreement. 

"i know."

that seemed to satisfy her as any remaining glimmer of annoyance was swept off her features with one last eye roll and replaced by a light grin, "whatever. hey, there's this party at my boyfriend's frat house tonight and you should totally come." 

"no thanks." was your swift, concise rejection. but of course, that was not enough to satisfy her. 

"what? why not?" her tone demanded an explanation that you really didn't feel like giving. 

sighing heavily, you kicked a pebble across the sidewalks. "parties aren't my thing." 

that was maybe half the truth. you actually did like parties. just not frat boy parties. they were like beacons for girls with low self esteem and insecure rich boys with superiority complexes. they were loud as fuck and made your head ache. not to mention they reeked. apparently, a lot of guys didn't learn in high school how to put on deodorant. your preference stood with more low key parties, with a more controlled number of attendees and some chill drinking. maybe getting a little baked if you were in that vibe. 

"you can be such a buzzkill," she groaned loudly, head rolling back as she stomped her foot childishly. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

"i know." 

"do you ever just let yourself have a good time? like ever? we're in the prime of our lives for god’s sake!" and there she goes again with the 'prime of our lives' bullshit. please. maybe this was the best life would ever be for her, but you had other plans. 

"i have to finish an essay for my business class." no you didn't. 

"but it's friday! you have all weekend to finish it!" why was she trying to argue with you? you'd already said no, so why was she still trying to convince you. spoiler, you weren't about to change your mind anytime soon. 

"i prefer not to put work off until the very last minute." also a lie. 

"(y/n)," she whined, "come on, i personally think it would be pretty healthy for you not to spend another friday night pent up in that little apartment of yours—" 

all at once she was cut off by the distinct roaring of an engine. both your gazes shifted towards the road ahead of you, watching as a flashy red motorcycle came tearing down the street. an excited gasp exploded from your–barely–acquaintance's mouth while a low groan escaped yours. 

fantastic. just what you needed. your daily dose of—

"Yeolie!"

you winced as she squealed his name, waving energetically. you silent prayed he'd just keep going. but of course, he didn't. his bike came to a gradual halt in front of the sidewalk you stood on. it purred as he planted his feet securely on the cement. 

now this next part you could almost see happening in slow motion. 

he reached up with his leather glove clad hands, pulling off his sleek black helmet to reveal a pair of thick, pink lips, a sharp, defined nose, charcoal black eyes, and a head of silver locks. you could practically feel Mina swooning as he swung his head to the side, effectively flipping his hair like some kind of wannabe fetus Justin Bieber. it took less than a moment for those dark eyes to fall on the pair of you, and a slow smirk to crawl across his face. 

Mina immediately rushed up to him (all too energetically for someone who already has a boyfriend, mind you), squeaking out sweet greetings as her touchy hands found purchase on the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

what was up with him and the leather anyway? it was only on shockingly rare occasions that you witnessed him donning something other than his signature black leather outfit, decorated with silver zippers and complimented by a thick chain around his neck and a single silver earring. how much cheesier could he get? 

you'd think after high school, people would be over the whole 'bad boys are so hot' thing. 

apparently not. 

because at your uni, Park Chanyeol was hot shit. every girl and every guy wanted to get their hands on him in one way or another. he was dangerous, sexy, mysterious, hard to get. he rode a blood red motorcycle and smoked blunts behind the main building for god's sake. 

he was the definition of a cliche. but it seemed you were the only person that could see through his whole charade. 

"(y/n), don't be rude! come say hi to Yeolie!" Mina suddenly whipped around, waving you over. 

this bitch— 

the corner of your lip twitched in a subtle sneer, but, ever the pacifist, you obliged, slowly moving to stand at her side. his irritating smirk widened upon your approach, tongue swinging over the corner of his lip as his eyes dropped to do a brief once over. 

"Chanyeol," you grunted with a less than enthusiastic tone. 

"(y/n)," was his swift reply, voice as deep and smooth as ever, "wonderful seeing you again. you look as happy-go-lucky as ever." 

the sarcasm was palpable. 

"yeah well, it seems i just can't contain myself with you around," you bit back with just as much satire, lips curling dryly. 

"i'm flattered," he all but cooed, head tilting downward as his teeth latched onto his bottom lip. 

he stared boldly into your eyes, and you stared right back with just as much fire. 

"um... do you guys, like... know each other?" 

"no."

"yes."

you both responded simultaneously.

confusion plastered itself across her face, eyes jumping back and forth from your face to his. a taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "we actually went to the same high school, isn't that right, (y/n)?" 

you huffed in annoyance, shoulders slumping, "yeah. we did." 

"and you never told me this because…?" 

because you weren't close in the least and you hadn't even told her when your birthday was let alone about your high school life. 

"didn't seem like important information." 

she gaped at you in disbelief, "anything regarding my Yeolie is important information!" 

was she trying to stroke his already colossal ego? if his head got any bigger, it might just explode.

Chanyeol’s grin broadened at her statement, and you silently groaned, knowing exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth, "yeah, (y/n). anything regarding me is important information. so why didn't you tell her? trying to keep me all for yourself? how greedy of you." 

"please." you scoffed.

Mina glared at you sharply before plastering an innocent smile across her face and twirling a strand of her platinum blonde dyed hair. "ignore her, Yeolie. i was actually wondering if i'd be seeing you at Jake's party tonight?" 

"wasn't planning on it," he admitted, and Mina pouted, lips puckering, over dramatically whining in protest. suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, that stupid smirk touching his features,  "but maybe if a certain buzzkill was attending... i'd be more tempted to make an appearance." 

buzzkill? oh, you. 

"i'm not—"

"of course (y/n)'s coming! wouldn't be a party without her!" Mina rushed to cut you off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and yanking you into her side with a grip tight enough to bruise. you looked at her like she was crazy, brows furrowed, eyes wide, lip raised in a disgusted sneer. but her hold was enough to squeeze the air out of your lungs and steal away your ability to refute. 

Chanyeol’s brows jumped in surprise, an amused grin spreading across his face, "really?"

"wait, no—"

"yes! i was surprised when she agreed, too! but guess she's finally breaking out of her shell!" you were going to kick her ass if she kept cutting you off. 

"well isn't that great to hear." there was a mischievous flicker in his dark eyes, a look you knew all too well. 

"so... you'll come?" she asked hopefully.

"sure." you were annoyed at how easily he agreed. he was still smirking smugly as he began pulling his helmet back down over his head. shooting you a wink and a two fingered wave, he spoke again, "see ya tonight." 

with that final word, he was speeding off down the road, tires kicking up dust and pebbles as they spun. 

as soon as Mina's grip loosened from around you, you were ten feet away, swiftly walking in the direction of your car. "(y/n)! wait!" she cried out, running after you in her five inch heels. you didn't slow down in the least. 

"i'm not going, Mina," you said sternly, not even bothering to look back at her. 

"b–but i told Chanyeol—" 

"no." 

"please?"

"not. happening." 

⋄⋆⋄

you ended up going. 

not because you wanted to, of course. but because Mina decided it was necessary to show up at your apartment and quite literally drag you out. she was surprisingly strong for such a small person, and fiercely persistent. she'd even gone the extra mile of forcefully applying makeup to your eyelids and lips. that's not to say you didn't put up one hell of a fight. but conflict was never your strong suite, and you eventually ended up going pliant under her ministrations. 

unsurprisingly, it was just as you expected it to be. loud. stinky. and filled to the brim with horny bastards looking for a quick fuck. you'd been there for all of ten minutes and you'd already gotten your ass grabbed six times. slimy assholes think it's acceptable to touch someone without permission. all the more reason you didn't want to stick around for long. 

not to mention, Mina had ditched you the minute you walked in the door to suck faces with her fuckboy boyfriend. since then you'd been gravitating from room to room, searching for the best place to sit without being squished by a horny couple practically dry humping against you. 

luckily, you found your solace upstairs in an empty bedroom. the music was muffled the moment you shut the door, the stuffy air that smelled of sweat and marijuana also clearing out. finally, you could breathe. 

you spotted a candle and lighter on the bedside table, and quickly moved to light it. the dull, soothing glow that filled the room, splashing light across the walls made the headache that had begun to swell at your temples ease up. exhaling softly, you fell back onto the neatly made bed, body relaxing into the soft duvet. 

but of course, your moment of tranquility was short lasting. 

because before you could so much as shut your eyes, the door was opening, and a painfully familiar voice was purring, "there you are~ i've been looking all over for you, (y/n), you sly girl." 

"fucking hell," you growled under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows to face him properly, "what do you want, Chanyeol?" 

he gently nudged the door shut behind him, before walking over to where you lay. "isn't it obvious?" he murmured, leaning forward to press his hands against the mattress on either side of your ankles. 

"spell it out for me." 

he chuckled softly, knees meeting the bedding as he began to crawl upwards, until his face was hovering over yours. even you couldn't deny how beautiful he looked up close, with those big, dark eyes, boyishly grinning lips, smooth, tan skin... 

"i," he began, nose nudging against your cheek, "want," his lips feathered over yours, "you." 

a dark chuckle rolled off your tongue as you met his hooded, lustful gaze. "you we're so greedy last time... and still... you couldn't get enough," you replied smoothly, voice deepening as your desire for him grew. 

"what can i say? i'm insatiable." 

you scoffed, the corners of your lips curling as you lifted your head slightly, leaving only the tiniest of spaces between your mouth, "i don't think you deserve it." your whisper caressed his lips all too temptingly. A chill rolled down his spine, eyes fluttering as he felt himself falter briefly. 

"maybe i don't... but i can earn it..." 

now that caught your interest. 

a smirk touched your features, "and how might you do that?" 

he bit his lip, trying his best to subdue a grin, "by doing whatever you ask of me." 

"you willing to take that risk? after that little stunt earlier? i might just decide not to go easy on you." your voice was taunting, but the challenge and threat were very real. 

"i can handle anything you give me." 

you raised a brow, amused by his naive confidence. then, in the blink of an eye, you had him underneath you, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. the action had been so sudden that he could only gasp in shock when his back collided with the bed. you stared down at him with dark eyes, the tip of your tongue sliding over the corner of your mouth. 

"you sure about that, big boy?" 

he inhaled deeply when your head lowered to the curve of his throat, lips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot. "most definitely." he let out breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he tilted his chin back, offering himself to you. something dark alighted in your eyes, a sinister gleam in your smirk as thoughts of how you could absolutely ruin him flooded your mind. 

"you're going to regret saying that." 

you didn’t offer him the opportunity to respond before your lips crashed down on his. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed beneath you, returning the kiss eagerly. 

see? you much preferred Chanyeol when he wasn’t running that big mouth of his. he was always so much more fun when he was choking on desperate moans and trembling uncontrollably under your touch. 

truth about the infamous Park Chanyeol? he was a bitch. 

in fact... he was your bitch. 

it started back in high school. when you were the chill girl who wasn't too well known by anyone outside of your friend group, and when he was the untouchable bad boy that everyone drooled over. 

to keep it to the point, you'd both attended a mutual friend's party your senior year, got wasted, and hooked up. 

but, it wasn't what you'd expected it to be. no, because you'd expect Chanyeol to be the kind of guy to pin a girl (or guy) down and dominate the fuck out of them. but the moment your voice took on an authoritative pitch, he was putty in your hands, whining and moaning and begging... it stirred something to life inside of you that you had no idea was there. 

and it was good. really good. so good, in fact, he came running back to you within the next week practically begging for more. and shit, you gave it to him. he was one of the first guys you'd dominated like that. it was empowering, controlling a guy as big as Chanyeol was. it was an addictive sensation. 

but you'd made it very clear from the beginning that it was going to be nothing more than sex. it wasn't romantic, you weren't friends, and you had no intention of getting to know him on a deeper level than his body. though, he seemed suspiciously intent on worming his way into your life one way or another. the boy was relentless. luckily, you were equally as stubborn. a match made in hell, aren’t you? what a spectacle. 

you drew away from the kiss at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips, a low whine following soon after. you scoffed softly at the sight of his pouting face, “so needy.” 

“you can only blame yourself.” he shot back easily, eyes already hooded and darkened with lust. excitement glimmered within them as you reached down between your bodies, fingers slowly undoing his belt. 

“is that right?” you murmured, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, a lazy smirk resting on your face. he swallowed, trembling pupils jumping noncommittally from your intense stare down to where you were making easy work of his belt buckle. 

“i— yes.” you don’t think he knew what he was saying yes to, his mind already becoming a muddled mess from the promise of what the night had in store for the two of you. his rationality had a nasty habit of hopping out the window whenever you got him in this position. 

“what are you hoping happens tonight, Chanyeol?” you asked softly, slowly pulling his belt from the first loop of his jeans. 

he swallowed thickly, head beginning to swing back and forth is slow swoops. “i– i don’t—” his voice broke off with a strangled whine as you allowed your fingertips to caress ever so gently over the ever growing tent in his pants. 

you raised a brow into a questioning arch, stifling a smirk of amusement at his already flustered state. “it’s a simple question.” 

his cheeks pinkened. “i just… want you.” it almost came out more as a question than a statement, words shy and hesitant. 

“want me to what?” you pressed. 

“to… to kiss me.” his gaze fell onto your lips, his own parting. 

“kiss you?” you repeated, tone on the verge of taunting. “asking for a lot there, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

you were teasing him, but he didn’t seem to mind, blinking slowly as he dragged his tongue over the pink swell of his thick lower lip. “want you to touch me…” his voice lowered an octave, deep, lustful eyes looking up at you intensely. 

“where?” 

“everywhere.” he replied without missing a beat. “anywhere. just— just want your hands. or your mouth. i’ll take anything that you give me… but you already know that.” 

you really loved the sound of his voice when he got like this. it was softer than cotton and smoother than silk, rumbling so deep in his chest that you could almost mistake it for purring. it spilled off his lips like the thickest, sweetest honey, so lush and lovely, dripping with shameless desire. something about it was so soothing. and the sounds he made were even better, his guttural groans and melodic moans were nothing short of symphonies. and you were the conductor. 

chuckling, you smirked down at him. “you’re right. i do already know that.” he gasped as you suddenly yanked his belt completely free. “now be a good little bitch and grab onto the headboard.” 

he eagerly complied, capturing his lip between his teeth as he watched you bind his wrists above his head. his eyes slowly dragged over your face, drifting over the length of your neck, following the smooths swells of your chest beneath your black tank top. a low groan slid from his lips as you pressed your hips forward slightly, just barely grinding against his growing erection. his eyes snapped up at the sound of your soft laughter. 

“my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” you hummed, pulling his belt taught before looping it around one of the vertical wooden bars. 

“and beautiful eyes they are.” he grinned up at you in that boyishly charming way, shooting you a playful wink. you scoffed, hands drifting down to rest on his firm chest before one raised to grip his jaw, tilting his head upward. lowering your own head, you allowed your lips to caress teasingly over his. 

“maybe i should gag you, too. keep that pretty mouth in check,” you mused, dragging your thumb slowly over his full lips, “but unfortunately i think i enjoy the sound of your voice almost as much as you do. especially when you're moaning my name. god it’s so hot.” 

you almost growled as he took your finger into his mouth, moaning softly around it. you swooped down, swiftly replacing your finger with your lips. the kiss was deep, rough, and hungry. distracted by your weaponized tongue, he didn’t process that you were unbuttoning his jeans until they were being pushed down his thighs and your hand was gripping his arousal through his thin black boxers. 

“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned deeply into your mouth, arms gently tugging against their restraints. you dragged your lips away from his, face lowering so that you could suck your mark onto the expanse of his neck. he sighed blissfully, hot breath rushing over your ear as he subtly rolled his hips, body temperature rising steadily. you bit down on his collarbone, hands pushing up under his shirt to feel at his toned, well built torso. he was so hard, muscles rigid and protruding, so warm to the touch. 

it was rather amazing. a guy as big as Chanyeol, as strong and as confident, could easily get the upper hand over you if he wanted. he could flip you over and pin you down without so much as breaking a sweat. but he didn’t. he let you pin him down, tie him up, dominate him, mind and body. he allowed himself to submit to you, to be taken by you: slowly, quickly, roughly, gently, he didn’t care, but dammit he enjoyed every second of it. and if that didn’t give you a rush of power, then you don’t know what could. 

goosebumps rose across his honeyed skin as you pushed his shirt up to fully expose his tight body to your ravenous eyes, a chill rolling down his spine when you lowered your mouth to latch onto the smooth swell of his pectoral. he moaned quietly, back arching as you peppered kisses down his abdomen, slowly shifting lower, lower, lower… until your face was level with his bulge. 

a sound of excitement flooded past his lips, his breathing becoming rapid and deep. “really?” he asked hopefully, voice breathless and light. a slow smirk crawled across your lips and you chuckled at the way he jolted with a moan when you pressed a slow kiss to his clothed arousal. 

“really.” you hummed in confirmation. “you said you wanted my mouth, didn’t you?” 

he frantically bobbed his head. “yes. yes, god yes. please.” you almost laughed at his shameless display of desperation. he let out a deep, strained groan as you flicked your tongue over his clothed erection, head falling back. 

“ah ah, eyes on me, baby.” you scolded mildly, squeezing his thighs in warning. he lifted his head without argument, face flushed and glistening with faint perspiration, lip caught in a tight grip between his teeth, brows furrowed. 

from your viewpoint, he looked rather beautiful: arms bound above his head, exposed chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath, messy silver hair falling flawlessly over his hooded, lustful eyes. 

and he in turn was also quite taken by how perfect you looked between his legs: smirking lips hovering right over where he needed them most, dark, penetrating gaze making his body tremble with an unspoken need. 

your fingers slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slowly easing them down his thighs until his length sprang free. “there he is,” you murmured, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you admired him, long and thick and swollen, precum spilling over his hot, red tip. he shuddered in delight as you traced your finger over a vein. 

“(y/n)…” his usually deep voice was pleading and airy, hands curling into tight fists above his head, “please.” 

you smiled up at him innocently before delivering a teasing kitten lick to his sensitive tip. he whined softly, hips twitching as his need for you increased tenfold. 

a slightly more sadistic side of you rather enjoyed watching him squirm. perhaps it was that hidden part of you that wanted nothing more than to tease him into oblivion with insubstantial caresses and borderline torturous kisses until he was writhing helplessly and there were tears spilling from those beautiful big brown eyes. 

however, a larger part of you craved the sight of his stunning, fucked out expression. the one where his face glistened with sweat, thick pink lips swollen and red from being ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked by those pearly whites, puppy dog eyes hooded and fluttering, fighting to remain open against his mind's desire to just melt completely into the pleasure coursing like hot lava through his veins. that was the face you wanted to see more than anything. 

a broken moan flooded from his gaping mouth as you fastened your lips around his tip, the taste of his salty precum immediately lathering your tongue. he trembled as you hummed lightly around him, mouth silently forming the words ‘oh god’ as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his body like static shock. 

“feels good, (y/n),” he whined weakly, stomach tensing, “feels so good.” 

your response was to thrust your head down and as much of him into your mouth as possible. he cried out, hips snapping up at the feeling of your gentle sucking. you were quick to pin them back down, a warning glare darkening your gaze. 

“‘m sorry—,” he slurred, panting heavily, “i’m sorry.” he was quick to submit, fighting against the painfully strong urge to fuck himself up into your warm mouth and forcing his quivering body to go pliant beneath your ministrations. satisfied for the time being, you dragged your tongue from his base to his weeping head, tracing slow, taunting circles over his most sensitive place. 

a broken moan was all he could manage as his cock twitched tellingly, precum spilling down his throbbing length. you fixed your lips back around his tip, sucking gently. his thighs trembled at the sensation it sent shooting through his veins, a breathless ‘oh’ pulsing from his pink-bitten lips. 

“(y/n)— (y/n), if you keep doing that—” the warning was clear, but you wanted to see just how close you could bring him to his release before stealing it away last second. it was always fun to watch how hard he came down from his high when he was denied of it. it was delicious, the way he gasped and trembled, shuddering hips desperately seeking out more frictions, but never receiving it. he was so cute when he got like that. 

“you gonna come, baby?” you cooed, replacing your mouth with your hand and shifting upwards so that you could look directly into his eyes. you wanted to be able to see the look in his pretty brown eyes when you stole away his release. he whimpered, head bobbing rapidly as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. 

“please.” 

you only offered a low, contemplative hum before a wicked smirk struck your features. “not yet.” 

a sob broke from his lips as you drew away from his throbbing dick, his high stolen only moments before it could come crashing down over him. his hips bucked, desperately seeking the friction you so cruelly denied him of, but finding nothing but empty air in place of your warm touch. his muscles trembled, broken pleas spilling from his quivering lips. 

“(y-y/n), no— please,” he gasped out, arms tugging against the sturdy binds, fingers aching to touch you, grab onto you, hold you. 

you hushed him with sweet words, pressing a soothing kiss to the cut of his jaw, hands massaging the bulk of his muscular thighs and holding still his stuttering hips. 

“fuck– i hate it when you do that.” he cursed weakly, glassy eyes peering up into yours. 

“no you don’t.” you chuckled softly, brushing his damp bangs out of his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. 

“you’re right, i don’t.” he relented easily, the corners of his lips curling subtly. 

a sudden silence fell over you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was looking at you with those eyes— the ones you knew all too well. the ones you’d told him plenty of times to drop. because those weren’t the kind of eyes you were supposed to look at a fuck buddy with. those weren’t the kind of eyes that just anybody could be on the receiving end of, most definitely not you. 

“don’t look at me like that.” you warned, hardening your expression. 

“i can’t help it.” he breathed. you felt your stomach twist. damnit. 

“then close ‘em, Park. before I decide to blindfold you, too.” 

it seemed your threat wasn’t very well received, as the smile adorning his features only expanded, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly. 

“that doesn’t sound too bad.” 

a dry laugh burst from your lips. “god, you’re so fucking submissive. how has nobody else untangled your little ruse, hm? acting all big and tough on the outside when all you really want is to be tied up and fucked like a horny little bitch. am i really the only one that’s got you figured out?” you hummed thoughtfully, tracing your fingers down his throat and caressing his collarbone. 

“you’re the only one, (y/n).” 

for some reason… you had a strange feeling that that sentence held more meaning than you were willing to decipher.  

“you tell all your little side fucks that?” you taunted, disguising the slight tremor in your chest with a dangerous smirk. 

he shook his head, gaze not wavering for a moment. “there’s no one else. only you.” 

fuck. you needed him to stop talking. so, you did the one thing that always did the trick: shoving your fingers down his throat. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the unexpected intrusion, a sound that easily melted into a low moan, his tongue immediately getting to work lapping at your digits. 

“you talk too much.” you murmured, taking him off guard and eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat as you ground yourself down on his naked length. “you came to get fucked, didn’t you, sweetheart?” 

he eagerly nodded his head, hips nudging up excitedly against your own. 

“thought so.” you chuckled. 

through wide, glassy eyes, Chanyeol watched you push yourself upright, straddling his thighs. just as he was about to ask what you were doing, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and peeled it off over your head, discarding it onto the floor, your pants fast to follow. 

“fuck. you’re so beautiful.” he groaned deeply, ravenous gaze raking over your nearly naked form. you smirked at him cockily. 

“i know.” 

a surprised laugh erupted from his lips at your blunt reply, eyes glinting with something akin to admiration. “as you should.” 

smiling to yourself, you swiftly climbed back on top of him, not wasting any time before grabbing hold of his throbbing dick. he let out a breath of appreciation at the contact, biting at the inside of his cheek. every muscle in his body tightened as you teasingly traced his tip over your clothed heat, his precum slickening the thin fabric. 

“are you wet?” he asked weakly, voice so airy and strained that you almost missed it. 

grinning devilishly, you toyed with the elastic. “do you wanna find out?” 

“yes,” he all but hissed out, muscular arms straining against their secure restraints, “fuck— yes, please.” 

“mmm, you sound so hot when you're desperate to get fucked.” you groaned softly, nudging your underwear to the side in order to slip his head through your hot arousal. he shuddered at the sensation, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched you tease not only him but yourself as well with fleeting caresses of his needy length against your burning core. 

“(y/n).” his deep voice had become little more than a breathless whimper singed with molten desire. you felt your pulse jump at the very sound of it, your own want for him swelling with every passing second. 

Chanyeol let out a broken gasp as you sunk down on him, cursing weakly as you took him in inch by inch. a low hum vibrated on your lips at the blissful stretch, hot tendrils of pleasure igniting throughout your body. 

“sometimes i forget just how good you feel inside of me.” you breathed out heavily, peering down at his already fucked out expression with a coy smirk. 

“i could never forget.” he moaned, roughly biting his lower lip. a slow, deep grind of your hips had his head of unruly silver locks tossed back into the plush pillows, an unsteady groan of your name filling the hot, heavy air surrounding you. 

“fuck, go faster.” 

he realized his mistake only when your fingers were pressing into the length of his throat, all motion ceased. “is that how you ask for things?” you asked, voice dangerously calm. 

he was quick to shake his head, eager to right his wrong. “please. please go faster.” 

“that’s better.” 

a rough sob is pulled from his flushed throat (which you’re almost certain will be raw tomorrow morning) as you fuck yourself down onto him. the pace was fast, hungry, rough. his back bowing off the mattress, hips pulsing upward, desperate to meet each thrust half way. 

“(y/n),” you almost moaned at the sight of his body rolling beneath yours, muscles flexed and trembling, toned arms straining against the tight hold of his belt, the leather biting pretty red marks into his wrists, “i wanna touch you— please let me touch you. let me feel you, baby. you know i can make you feel good.”

his begging caused a playful grin to draw itself across your face. “should i?” you murmured thoughtfully, rolling your hips in slow, controlled circles. a low, throaty moan vibrated in your chest as he thrust himself up inside of you, just barely brushing over that perfect little spot. 

“i can be so good for you. please… let me be good for you, (y/n).” 

“well when you say it like that…” you sighed, feeling any remaining resolve come crumbling down. 

excitement ignited in his dark eyes, and he watched with bated breath as you reached up, getting to work on freeing him from the binds. 

the very moment the belt fell slack, releasing his hands, they were on your skin, eager and impatient, tugging you down into a heated kiss. it was messy and rough, all biting teeth and lashing tongues. not that you minded much, it was always fun reminding him who was in charge, one way or another. 

his wandering hands eagerly explored the expanse of your body, squeezing, pressing, pulling. and you let him have his fun, let him push the limits, testing your boundaries with every curious prod and trembling caress. 

it was only when you felt his fingers pressing into the swells of your ass and begin guiding your movements that you drew the line. it took all of a few seconds for you to have his wrists pinned down on either side of his head. 

you pulled away from his lips was a disappointed sigh, tongue clicking. “still no restraint, i see? i’m disappointed. i thought you said you’d be good for me, yeolie? was that good?” he all but whimpered, his head, too muddled from pleasure to form coherent words, shaking remorsefully. “no… that was very bad. bad boy, yeolie.” 

his dick throbbed so hard inside of you that you could’ve sworn he’d almost just come. 

a scoff of both amazement and disbelief escaped your lips. “you like being called a bad boy?” 

how ironic. 

color flushed into his cheeks, embarrassment shining in his big, glassy eyes that were now refusing to meet your gaze. 

“look at me.” 

he gasped as you purposely clenched around him, thrusting your hips back until he was balls deep, successfully forcing his attention onto your face. you grabbed his chin securely between your thumb and forefinger, and lowered your head to the point where your lips were just barely brushing over his. his pupils were blown and trembling as they met yours. 

“you wanna be my bad boy, baby?” 

his jaw fell open, a thunderous moan breaking from his chest. 

“yes.” 

“say it.” you all but growled, tone leaving no room for argument. 

at this point, he was too lost in his own desire to feel any real shame. 

“i wanna be your bad boy.” 

a triumphant smirk curled onto your face, and you rewarded him with a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. “you gonna come for me, bad boy?” he was already bobbing his head frantically before you’d even fully gotten the question out. you chuckled sadistically at his unabashed desperation. “should i let you?” 

“(y/n), please— i don’t think i can— fuck.” he panted out, voice shuddering and breaking as you fucked yourself down on him at just the right pace to keep him teetering dangerously on the edge without completely throwing him over. you bit your lip, pleasure exploding like firecrackers in your veins as he thrusted into you. fuck, if he didn’t stop hitting that spot… 

his hands curled into tight fists where they were pinned to the mattress, dull nails biting smooth crescents into his palm. noticing this, you took it upon yourself to weave your fingers through his, holding his hands in an unexpectedly tender display. only because you didn’t want him to accidentally hurt himself… that was all. 

but, perhaps it was a mistake. 

because that look returned to his eyes with vengeance, his features melting into bursting admiration and unspoken emotion. this time, you ignored it, too gone in your own pleasure to spare it a second thought. that’s what you convinced yourself of, anyways. 

he was pulsing intensely against your slick walls, twitching cock threatening to erupt at any given second. you could tell he was fighting to hold himself back, the veins in his throat growing prominent from the strenuous effort. it was admirable in a way, how desperately he wanted to please you, even if it meant denying himself of the greatest pleasure of all. you’d encountered very few men with that kind of will power. so you couldn’t help but to respect it when you saw it in Chanyeol. 

“you look like you’re about to explode.” you taunted breathlessly, lips pulled into a lust hazed smirk. “it’d be cruel of me to tell you to hold it, wouldn’t it?” 

he whimpered helplessly, obviously not sure which answer would satisfy you and which would coax you into further torturing his already wrecked body. 

you offered a rasping chuckled. “you’re lucky that i’m feeling rather generous today.” 

something between a sob and a moan are thrown past his lips as you slam yourself down on him, purposefully squeezing your walls around him. he cries out your name desperately, imploringly. you know he can’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard he tries. his body was going to come whether he liked it or not. you felt in the way he throbbed and twitched inside of you, heard it in the way he groaned and sighed, saw it in the way his eyes rolled, body shuddering uncontrollably. 

“come.” 

and he fucking did. 

his body stalled, back arching off the bad, hips sputtering up in sharp, quick thrusts, the sound of skin on skin contact resonating through the room. you cooed, relishing in the way he quivered and keener beneath you, mouth gaping silently for a few moments before growling moans finally broke through, rumbling so deep in his chest you could have easily mistaken it for thunder. 

you let him fill you up, painting your walls with his release, knowing damn well your intentions once he was finished. 

“that’s it, baby…” you cooed, releasing one of his clenched fists to caress his feverish face, tracing the lower line of his plump lip, swollen and red from his relentless biting. 

“oh! look at that. you made a mess, sweetheart.” you purred, smirking wickedly as you watched his arousal drip out of you and onto his now half hard cock. he moaned at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I think it’s only right if you clean it up.” 

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, excitement immediately burning with his hazy, blown pupils. that was your boy… always eager to clean up after himself. especially if it meant he could put his tongue and lips to proper use. 

“fuck. ride my face. wanna taste you. wanna make you come.” he groaned breathlessly, freed hands reaching down to grip at your thighs, tugging at them impatiently. 

you chuckled at how eager he was, happily obliging. you climbed up, repositioning yourself to hover over his flushed face, caging his head between your thighs. his fingers pressed into your hips, pulling you down and into reach of his greedy tongue. you couldn’t help the sigh that slid from your lips at the first contact, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his tongue dragging hungrily through your come soaked folds. 

“that’s right. eat your come, baby. lick it up.” you breathed out heavily, fingers weaving through his damp silver locks. 

he moaned against you, the vibrations sending chills rolling down your spine. it was like white hot electricity in your veins when he rolled his flattened tongue cover your clit, a sharp moan erupting from your throat. 

“fuck, just like that. right there.” you panted, hips grinding down against his skilled tongue. “you’re so fucking good with your mouth, yeol.” his determination spiked at the praise, lips encircling your clit and sucking purposefully. 

pure euphoria rushed through your veins, head falling back as your grip on his hair tightened. his rapacious hands danced across your body, fingers pressing hotly into your skin, obviously not having learned his lesson the first time around. though, you weren’t too keen on correcting him. especially not with the fire his touch was igniting across your body. 

your hips stuttered as his tongue pressed inside of you, lapping at you hungrily. “tastes… so good…” he groaned brokenly against your arousal, hooded eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart above him. 

if there was one thing Park Chanyeol loved– it was being the cause of your pleasure. 

snagging your lip roughly between your teeth, you meet his searing gaze, your walls clenching around his invading tongue at the almost unbearable intensity of it. 

“you like it?” you moaned, feeling yourself begin to climb your way towards release. he nuzzled against you, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance. 

god… if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to suffocate himself. knowing Chanyeol, he’d probably consider it the perfect way to go. perhaps you would have laughed at the thought had it not been for the molten pleasure numbing your mind and senses.

“i’m gonna come.” 

at your breathless declaration, Chanyeol is quickly replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, fucking them up into you steadily while his mouth gets to work on your clit. it feels so good… you’re numb to pretty much everything else but the feeling of him, the sight of him. 

and you find it’s just that that finally sends you tumbling over that ledge: the sight of those beautiful brown eyes, dark and eager, burning with unspoken emotion, pooling with crimson seduction. he’s breathtaking. 

you shift off of his face carefully, a hazy, satisfied smirk settling across your face. 

“what a filthy boy.” you purr softly, more so to yourself than him, delighting in the sight of his face, glistening from a mixture of both his and your own release. his lips curl upwards at the corners, sinful tongue peeking out to drag over them and savor the lingering taste of you, a low hum of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest.  

his hands don’t leave your hips as you carefully lift yourself off of him, offering some much needed support for your still shaky legs. you flop down on the mattress beside him with a soft ‘oof’ and shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits. a few moments of silence pass, before your brow twitched in irritation. 

“stop staring before i smack you.” even with your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of your face. 

he chuckled unabashedly, not all too torn up about being caught. “sorry. i can’t help myself,” he paused, “you’re just so beautiful like this.” 

sighing, you roll your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “what’d i say about calling me beautiful?”  

he pouts, looking like a scolded puppy. “not to say it after sex.” 

“that’s right.”

“but it’s the truth!” 

“Chanyeol.” you groan, throwing an arm over your face. 

he huffs in annoyance rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his palm. “what’s so wrong with me saying that you're beautiful?” 

“you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” you grumble, shooting him a pointed glare, one he is quick to return. rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. “i’m too fucked out to try and argue with you right now so can you just drop it?”  

one of his arms snakes over your waist, and you inhaled sharply in surprise as he tugged you into his chest. 

“Chanyeol—”

he was quick to disregard your warning tone, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i like to cuddle.” 

“you know—” you began, scowling as he cut you off a second time. 

“i know what we agreed to but come on… a few minutes won’t kill you.” he grumbled, low voice raspy with exhaustion. 

the slight tightening of his hold around you told you that he had no intention of letting go any time soon. your features twisted into a scowl, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

but your resolve to remain unphased wavered. 

because, for a moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours, allowing yourself to melt into it. it was a strange sensation, the comfort it brought you… the security. perhaps it was the aftermath of your orgasm. or maybe the exhaustion from a stressful week. or maybe something else entirely… regardless, you found yourself relaxing into him, into his hold, into his warmth. it wasn’t something you could really control. and even if you could, you weren’t sure if you would do anything different. 

minutes passed. maybe two. maybe five. maybe twenty. you weren’t really sure. you could hear the muffled music still pumping through the speakers somewhere downstairs. dull footsteps and low voices passing outside the door every now and again. the soft glow from the still candle flickered soothingly over the pale walls. 

a strange sense of calm had settled over you at some point. you weren’t sure quite when. all you knew was that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the steady beating of Chanyeol’s heart. his breathing had become slow and heavy, warming the side of your face with every exhale. 

“are you…” you swallowed, throat unexpectedly dry, “are you asleep?” 

you were met with silence. 

sucking your lips into your mouth, you slowly turned your head. your heart faltered in your chest. “geez.” you muttered softly, a faint smile touching your lips. 

he was knocked out cold, cheek smooshed up against the pillow, lips parted and puckered out, hair cast across the white pillowcase, a few locks stuck on his eyelashes. you lifted your hand carefully, gently brushing the silver strands out of his face. your fingers lingered on his skin, caressing ever so lightly over his cheek and jaw. 

“beautiful.” 

it took you a moment to realize that that word had just come from your lips. you jerked away like you’d been stung, eyes wide, and heart suddenly racing. 

shit. 

you were so fucked.

[carminite-wyrm]

A Genshin Impact Hermitcraft AU Idea, God Help Me

Last year, on September 28, a particular gacha rpg game was released and I, occasionally regrettably, fell straight into playing it. In honour of the fact that this will mean I have lasted nearly a whole year (I got the game a week after bc uni) determinedly not spending any money on Genshin whilst also trying to roll good characters…here’s a bunch of Hermitcraft Genshin AU ideas that I initially came up with at roughly 2.40 am.

The general idea of this AU is that the Hermits end up in a new world that has Genshin-esque mechanics, on top of the usual Minecraft shenanigans. So, Visions and stuff. Also, we’re gonna just…briefly ignore the actual Genshin lore in regards to how Visions and Gnosises (Gnoses?) come about, for this one.

Post-S8, the Hermits are travelling to a new world, ready for another season.

The moment they arrive, it is clear to them all that…something is different. Something is vastly different with this world, for all that it appears much like the previous servers that they have lived in and travelled to. There is something of a…presence to it, in a sense.

When the Something Different doesn’t appear immediately, being the demigods/almost-deities that they are, they go about their days, setting up starter bases, gathering the basic resources and tools, the usual beginnings.

Things change when Doc wakes up one morning after a hard day at work building a new redstone machine, to find a small glowing chess piece lying next to his head, crackling with an ethereal purple light

Upon picking it up, he feels a burst of energy, almost like that one time in the previous world where he and Ren built a lightning-summoning tower

However, the changes it has wrought become apparent later that day when Scar comes out of nowhere with the recording of a creeper’s tell-tale hiss and explosion, and Doc sends him flying backwards with a startled blast of lightning

At first, they chalk it up to ‘Something Funky With Doc’s Current Project’, but after some tests, some experimentation to confirm if it was a one-off reaction…they end up confirming that they may have found out what the Weird Thing about this season’s world is

The duo go to Xisuma with their findings, and, to their collective surprise, X can’t find anything blatantly broken in the server’s code, but he does find a few interesting lines within.

By all appearances, this is not a glitch, but simply an intended feature of the server

Seven lucky hermits, designated as Archons in the server code, will receive a Gnosis, an artefact of elemental power that the server can assign, given to the ‘player who best suits the element’

The server notes speak of how the power granted (and represented through the chess-piece-shaped item) will grant the receiver the capability to shape the land around them

By random chance, other players on the server will also be gifted a Vision, a somewhat lesser artefact that will still grant them a form of elemental power

Given that the Hermits are practically gods in their own right, considering they are already capable of shaping the worlds they arrive in as they see fit…are more curious than worried, at this point

They agree to keep an eye out, to see how chaotic the sudden acquisition of elemental powers will turn out

The next person to receive a Gnosis is Grian, who delights in the bursts of wind he can use to buffer his flight, gliding across the server with naught but the turquoise magic the server has seen fit to grant him

After that, most of the Hermits soon receives some sort of Elemental power from the server

A Summary of Who Gets What (That I can think of so far):

Doc: [Electro Archon]

Can summon lightning, without need for a trident, a thunderstorm, or a machine that can generate an ongoing thunderstorm for as long as its activated

Can also generate an Electro shield, though it does require his active concentration to maintain for longer than a few seconds. This shield appears like a charged creeper’s aura, except purple

Capable of generating a thunderstorm at will, but rarely does it on account of mob spawning dangers

Has found that by channelling a low level of Electro energy, he can in fact power redstone machines just by tapping them/being in close proximity to them

This has proven to both be a blessing and a curse, considering that on occasion, when startled, he has short-circuited some of his machines

Grian: [Anemo Archon]

Generally, uses his powers as a free rocket boost for flying around the server

Upon finding out that he can use the Anemo energy to create pockets of energy that can boost flight, he takes to leaving them all over the server, in convenient locations to make flight that much more efficient

Yes, he absolutely sets up a fancy elytra course that makes use of his flight-boosters to send players rocketing around a course at breakneck paces (poor Scar experiences many instances of kinetic energy)

Bdubs: [Geo Archon]

Suddenly, making mountains and other works of major terraforming is a lot easier

Certainly, he still prefers to sculpt them and detail them by hand, but bringing the basic shape of the mountain forth by brandishing the power of Geo is something that he can do with ease, in this world

A new shop pops up in the shopping district rather quickly after this realisation: Bdub’s Landshaping Service, Now offering quick terraforming at a budget price! (it is, in fact, a service that makes him quite the amount of money)

And when he wants to sleep, without the other hermits breaking his bed? A glowing shield of steadfast golden magic takes care of that.

Gem: [Dendro Archon]

The patch of the server that Gem has claimed for herself quickly springs to life as plants of all varieties grow to surprising proportions, energised by the power that she now can radiate

The effect is most notable in and around her home, of course, but wherever she travels, the plants grow more vibrantly for days afterwards

Adding a forest of birch around her house takes little more than a thought, a fact she uses to prank some of her friends, those who in the last world were rather vocal about their dislike of non-stripped birch

Another power Gem finds herself with is the ability to summon vines even without a surface for them to initially grow upon, and thus it is not uncommon to see Gem building or resting in a hammock of woven vines

Cub: [Cryo] (cannot make up my mind if I think he’d be Archon material or not)

Gathering powdered snow has never been easier, as instead of waiting for a storm to form and last longer than it takes a Hermit to get into the nearest bed, he can simply clap his hands together and a lump of snow shoots out from just above his shoulder.

It does hurt, getting hit by the sudden snow barrage that Cub is now capable of, but except for the occasional snowball fight, his newfound snow-creation ability is used for making increasingly more insane mob farms and snowy building decoration

False: [Pyro]

The magic her Pyro Vision grants her doesn’t become apparent, not for a while, until she visits the Nether for the first time in this world

A mis-swing in a bastion, and suddenly a horde of piglins and hoglins are chasing after her, and there isn’t enough time to pillar away.

She readies her sword and shield, ready to fight, and suddenly her blade crackles to life with bright flames, unlike the fire aspect enchantment in that it actually is on fire.

Every attack she lands, whilst her sword is alight, seems to invigorate her, return strength and stamina that was lost when she had first tried to flee the enraged inhabitants of the bastion

Xisuma:

The admin is one of the few to not receive a Vision or a Gnosis

Quietly, he does admit to being relieved, considering his powers as an admin are already much greater than that of the other Hermits, for all that they are still his equals

And then, one day, whilst X is placing his diamonds to sign up to one of Grian’s newest competitions, he feels a rush of foreign magic, so unlike the familiar ordered pulses of server code

The blast of wind that comes with a swing of his sword, much later whilst he is mob-farming, is greatly surprising, if not unexpected.

The funny thing about all these new powers, granted by the server itself in the form of artefacts that can easily sit in one’s palm, is that for all they are miraculous on their own, the natural capabilities of the Hermits are already enough to rival them

In the hands of an ordinary person, an ordinary player, the powers from this world would bring them close to the near-omnipotence of Creative, could even be the driving force of server-wide conflict.

Powers such as these, while they can build great things, can so easily be used to destroy, to cause war and destruction, and in other realities, they have.

Perhaps whatever trick of fate that caused the server to be capable of granting these powers hoped to create that conflict, to see what would happen when only a few of their number were gifted such strengths.

Later, when the initial surprise and rush to test out the limits of the server’s granted magics dies down, Zedaph approaches Xisuma, one of the few to not possess an artefact of elemental magic, with an observation

Zedaph notes that, from his studies of the Hermits’ new powers, almost all of them are oriented vastly towards combat, whether they be summonable blades of frost, elemental shields, or even the ability to soothe aches and hurts

And even though the Hermits have all found ways to make those powers work in the ways that they wish them to, it does not take away from the fact that the likeliest original purpose of this server’s magic was for fighting

Any other server, any other group, Zedaph quietly says, and there would more than likely have been bloodshed, given the inequality in the range of power granted

At the end of the day however, unexpected gifts of power or not, the Hermits, at their core, are a group that creates and innovates, a band of friends that shape entire worlds with naught but their own ideas and willpower, and regardless of what powers they now possess in this particular realm, that will not change.

[pinkresin]

Writing about writing

So this is my first blog in what I hope will be one of many. Apparently you're not a real writer unless you have a blog and after a strange few months of soul searching I decided it's time to get serious. So here we are...

A little about me (I don't really know who reads these things but at least I'm writing, right). I'm 39, married to a lovely man called Gav. We have 3 children, 22, 18 and 14. Awful ages, teenagers are horrendous. Our oldest daughter has now left home and we now have a 2 year old granddaughter. Life for me has been done the opposite way around. We married and had children young and I am now in the position to be thinking about my career. I am about to start my 3rd year of a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing with the Open University. I have thoroughly enjoyed the creative writing side of the course not so much the literature, but I have learned a lot of valuable skills. I work 3 days a week in Asda as a home shopping picker. I hate it but it's paying the bills (almost!) until I finish my degree.

Last month we all got the dreaded Covid. We thought, after 2 years we had escaped it, but it caught up with us, big style. My husband and son (who also work at Asda) were told to go to work as normal. It is no longer necessary to isolate and they wouldn't be paid for doing so. They had to wear a mask and wash their hands regularly but were still required to work. We had mixed feelings about this, especially as my son has a medical condition, but there are four of us living at home and quite frankly, we couldn't afford to be without the income. I was really, really poorly and spent almost a fortnight in bed. At one point I googled funeral directors as I thought this was surely the end, I have never felt so ill! After 2 and a half weeks off work, I finally started to feel more human again thankfully; but found that the longer I was off work, the less I wanted to return. This was only ever supposed to be a temporary job for a couple of months anyway. The plan was to apply for writing jobs/ internships where I could gain some work experience and then leave. Nine months later and I am no further on- so it was time for a kick up the proverbial arse.

I signed up with a careers program and a lovely man called Roger is now my coach. We have gone back to basics and he suggested that a blog is the place to start while we look into options. I am leaning towards screenwriting and even considering this as a Masters when I have finished at uni. I have completed a short, 2 week course in screenwriting as part of the careers coaching and have compiled my years of scribbled notes, emails and texts to myself with writing prompts, into material I can write about. I have also been to the library and borrowed some books on this. I forgot how much I love the library. We live out in the sticks so it is only a small branch but still just as magical. One of my favourite childhood memories is when we used to live in Bradford and my siblings and I would visit their huge library over the summer holidays. Nothing is more satisfying than shelves upon shelves of books- and you can borrow them for free! Sadly, where we live now they are so under used. People look at me almost confused when I say I'm going, it no longer seems to be 'the norm' which is sad.

Reflecting on my childhood and considering my future made me realise that things became stagnant for a while. Life seemed to get in the way of what I wanted from life. I suppose this is common, but it made me sad to think about how many people don't follow their dreams. This is what I want to do, what I've always wanted to do. Only I can make it happen so here I am, step one in a very long journey of making things happen.

Am I a writer yet...?

[railroad-migraine]

Oh babe, do I have tea for you. This is fully a rant so by all means feel free to ignore/delete.

But man oh man

Context: my friends roommate got a crush on me (a very obvious one) and we went to a party during which I held his (and my other friends) hand as to not get lost in the crowd. That apparently translated to me "leading him on" when I, the next day, gently rejected him by saying I'm not looking for a relationship. My closet irl friend took his side, was off with me for weeks, only for me to find out not even three days after the party the same guy who's "heart I broke" was flirting and trying to get with my own roommate (which I didn't mind since ofc I didn't like him, which is why I rejected him, but he still made a big deal over it?? Even tho he clearly wasn't as "depressed" about it as he claimed??). When I decided to talk it out, I was made out to be the bad guy too!

I'm mostly mad, kinda sad, and just missing my CR boys because comfort characters, who can't you be real 😭 (tl;dr I hate my university sometimes)

"Not all men" You're right Dorian Storm, Ashton Greymoore and Mollymauk Tealeaf would never

- 🌸

OMG 🌸 Ty for sharing with me, I love uni gossip. Long ass reply incoming, lemme dissect this scalding hot tea and provide some of my own ☕:

First off, I'm sorry that you had to go through the miscommunication and drama. People can suck and make you feel sucky, but you're amazing and you handled the situation well!! You didn't lead anyone on; some folks romanticise people/actions in their heads and think simple platonic acts are romantic. You didn't give into pressure and stood up for your feelings which is something I only started to do in the last couple years. You deserve someone who's easy to read and who gets you, and who doesn't make you feel uncomfy or make you out to be the "bad guy."

You're doing great lovely, I hope things get better asap xx

Second, oh my gosh what is it with university??

Like, as of right now, I haven't had too much experience with relationships honhonhon because I wanted to look after myself and my studies. Pre uni, I had been flirted with and been on "not dates" that were in fact dates, but I only realised it after going on them lol #oblivious. But ever since I joined college, people who I have no interest in have misjudged my friendliness and mistaken it for flirting. And I'm just here like "🧍 I don't know what my type is, but it's not you lol."

I met this one dude on the first day, and we hit it off cuz he also watches Critical Role (I don't have any critter friends irl so I was thrilled!), but I ruled him off my potential suitor list because he mentioned that he was looking forward to getting black out drunk at his fast approaching prom(?) (it's not called that where I'm from but it's a universal word for a dance after your final year of high school before going to college idk idk), and I'm not really into that as a lifestyle but I was happy being a friend of his :)

I didn't hear from him for like a month cuz we're in different courses, but he randomly hit me up TWO DAYS BEFORE HIS PROM asking me to be his date and I replied "bro idk how to tell you this but I didn't even go to my OWN prom I have nothing to wear XD" (I celebrated my highschool graduation with my closest friends privately instead) But like, imagine if I had said yes. He would've gotten so drunk, possibly pass out, and I would be basically by myself, with no one who I knew around, for like five hours, at a venue two hours away from where I live. Basically in the middle of nowhere. Like no thank you: I'd be miserable x

Honestly I've experienced so much in my first year of uni life, but I'm hoping to be more active in clubs and all next year and maybe take a dip in the dating pool (and pursue someone I actually like) if I manage to scramble together some confidence 💜

Also I completely agree: the CR babes would treat you right, absolutely, 1,000% 👌

[doorsclosingslowly]

This Is the Time of Our Great Undoing

“Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?” Jesper whispers, more to distract Inej from what’s on the screen than anything else, but still—the idea won’t leave Kaz alone.

5.8k | modern AU | Kaz[/&]Jesper, part of a polycule

content note: despite the premise this is about cuddling, gambling addiction and existing during climate change

It starts the way most things used to start: with all of them piled onto ancient couches on the fifth floor of an otherwise empty building on the edge of Amsterdam, also called the Slat. These days, it’s harder and harder to get everyone together. Nina and Matthias are both in Rotterdam now, doing associate degrees that Kaz doesn’t care about. Wylan’s got room and board and a plan for the future and a social worker, and she already disapproves of Jesper as a bad influence so it’s not worth it, generally, for Wylan to come back to his old squat and hang out with the whole gang of ex- and current reprobates.

And Inej—fuck, Kaz wishes she was just a little less righteous, less concerned with how the world’s going to shit. She’s faced off against more cops now than he has, probably. Water cannons and charging horses and riot shields. She knows criminals all over the country, Europe, probably the world—but they’re the kind of criminals with morals and worthless targets, with bandanas and badly sewn patches, who will talk about Federici and sea levels and the Invisible Committee and use value if you don’t leave quickly enough. The kind that live on trees, as Inej’s going to do in a few days. The kind that don’t make any money. The kind that have even less of a chance of making it out of a job alive and free than Kaz does—and with the enemies she’s talking about, politicians, banks, Shell, he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to extort her out of jail next time.

For now, though, they’re all together in the big room, watching some ancient movie on the massive 8k screen with mood lighting, etc, the works, that’s in the Slat courtesy of some MediaMarkt manager desperate enough to save her marriage to bribe Kaz into silence, but not so desperate she wouldn’t fuck two other women in the breakroom.

It’s impossible to know whose fault it is that they’re currently watching Pulp Fiction.

Kaz is inclined to blame Jesper, because most things are his fault in some way or another, and he’s supplying the login data for an old uni flatmate’s streaming accounts, which is where they found that film, front and centre, paid to rent until tomorrow. Who even pays for films? If that’s the calibre of people they send to university these days, it’s no wonder the planet’s going to the dogs. Jesper, though, swears he wanted to watch some goofy horror flick, so he’s splitting the blame with Nina and Matthias: Matthias, for growing up in a cult and having never heard of what’s apparently a film classic and mentioning that to Nina, who of course cooed over her boyfriend and insisted on it, even though actually none of them have watched it before either so it’s not like it’s an important cinematic milestone. Or just not b horror, crime, some weird arthouse thing with complicated morality… It’s weird and has crime but there is nothing to figure out, so Kaz is bored. It’s Inej’s fault, because instead of vetoing it she said yes, just because she has a heart-shaped soft spot for Nina. Wylan could have done his oh I’m still an innocent barely-two-years not a minor this looks bloody thing, and Kaz might not even have mocked him this time if he'd insisted on Jesper’s pick instead just so he could hide in Jesper’s arms for the most minor decapitations.

Jesper’s been talking through the whole film. Kaz got used to that a long time ago: the landing and failing of small non-sequitur jokes like rain against the window, whispered to Wylan who’s cuddled into his side on the left, or to Inej who’s burrowing under Jesper’s outstretched right arm. Sometimes Jesper thinks a quip will land better with Nina, so he shouts it over to the futon where she and Matthias are always just shy of engaging in heavy petting, and the really mean and bleak jokes he saves for when he’s made eye contact with Kaz.

Now, though: in this scene Mr Motorcycle and the gang boss are captured in a pawnshop and dragged into the basement, and Gang Boss gets raped. Inej’s hand is white-knuckled on Jesper’s arm, and Jesper’s talking non-stop. He’s talking about the flooding, and asking whether Inej thinks Doggerland will happen again but here, soon, you can never know when the scientists are so wrong about the speed of climate change, and apparently it all flooded in a day because something broke off Norway, and then he abruptly pivots to some demo where he bashed in a shop window and got new shoes, and then if she’s got dates for more street fights because then he’s in but please, don’t trick me into another book club, I don’t care about why the cops are bad I already know I just want to hit them—not topics Kaz would have chosen, exactly, but he’s rooted in his red leather armchair off to the side, not even able to hold her for comfort, not like Jes does now, and why didn’t they think to look up the content beforehand, why did they assume it was tame just because it’s an old film—and then, long after it’s over, Jesper idly asks, “Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?”

Wylan groans. Kaz wishes a sound existed that could express his own current emotion.

“You saw the guy, right?” Jesper turns over to Wylan, while still stroking Inej’s hair. “There was no skin on him. All leather. And that’s the trigger, so—might solve all our problems. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“I don’t see a huge difference,” Nina snipes. “Kaz is already in all-black, with gloves. Though I guess, that hood would hide his atrocious haircut…”

“Stop being so mean to Kaz, Jesper,” Matthias mumbles. “Although he does deserve it.”

Kaz downs his entire glass of vodka. When he tops his drink up for the second time—he exed the first refill right in the kitchen—he brings the bottle and some maracuja juice over and refills Jesper’s, too, because Jesper’s been anxiously glancing over at him, every moment he thinks Kaz has turned his head away, since he shot his stupid mouth off and actually, it’s—Kaz isn’t thinking about it now but it just might—maybe it could work—well, he fills up the glass to stop Jesper from worrying himself into yet another mental crisis and also so he can bend over Jesper’s ear and whisper lovingly, “I’m going to make the leather for the suit out of your skin.”

“We should look for an Ed Gein film next!” Jesper laughs, much more brightly than the joke warrants, and Kaz refuses to interpret the look on his face.

+

By the time Kaz gets back to the Slat, on a day roughly three months later, it’s long past two in the morning. He’s in a foul mood: of course Haskell won’t even reimburse him for the taxi he had to take because he missed the last metro. Of course he just told Kaz to take a night bus. Haskell won’t even apologize for the last minute details he wants included in his casino’s tax returns. The old man’s not even mentally capable of understanding the extra work he caused. Yes, Kaz is good at filing taxes creatively, exactly tailored for the business to pay nothing whatsoever and meticulous enough to never arouse any suspicion, but that takes work. Things have to balance. Haskell thinks Kaz just has to press a button, and that he’s paying Kaz so he doesn’t have to press the button himself, and that it’s only worth it because he doesn’t want to sully his mind with ‘the Spreadsheet Program’. Which is also why he’s loaning Kaz out to a friend of his, which he just remembered to mention today, for that guy’s mattress store slash money laundering business, so that’s even more work for nowhere near enough money.

Sometimes, Kaz amuses himself with the idea of sneaking in small ‘mistakes’. Enough for even the stupidest tax official to unravel the whole sordid scheme and land Haskell in prison for tax fraud, whereupon he’ll also be discovered to be involved with drug smuggling, blackmail, murder, … none of which will ever trace back to Kaz. But the one time he was livid enough to try, nothing happened. He’ll never manage to plunge the true depths of stupidity of an average bureaucrat, apparently, and is thus doomed to failure.

And anyway, it’s good regular money for little work. Usually. He can’t really complain. Especially not to his friends, because three are going legit, Inej will just rant about the uselessness of defrauding the Belastingdienst for a few measly million euros a year when the world’s being set on fire every day, and Jesper’ll tell him to quit, again, because they live in a squat after all. It’s not like they’re paying rent. Jesper’s never heard of forethought, or gratitude. He doesn’t know how many of his bills Kaz has paid off.

Kaz’s leg aches after the climb to the third story. Two more to go. As usual, right at this point he remembers the joke Jesper made eight months ago about fooling someone into installing a stair lift, and as usual, he dismisses it in disgust after two more steps. Stomps harder on the next flight of stairs, with grim satisfaction at the shooting pains in his knee. He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need to move to a house with a working lift, and he doesn’t need a stair lift, either. Fuck you, Jesper. I’m the actual functional adult with a job in this household. I don’t need a stair lift.

That’s what he would throw at Jesper’s head, but it’s nearly three o’clock, and Jesper’s probably out. Over at Wylan’s, if he knows what’s good for him, but given how evasive he’s been all week, how manic… Inej’s still camping high up in some forest to save the frogs or something, but no news there is supposed to be good news. If the cops had chucked her off a tree house, it would have been on tv. About everything else, he can worry after he’s slept.

He doesn’t bother with the lights in his room. The streetlight coming in through his open curtains is more than enough, and anyway, he found the empty tenement he turned into the Slat five years ago, fully moved down here three years ago when he met Jesper, and he knows every single thing in his room by heart. The antique dresser he made Jesper and Matthias carry up with the threat of cutting off a finger for every scratch it received is next to the door, the place where he leaves his gloves and wallet and phone and cane. The coat rack beside it, where the hangers for his suit are, then the hamper, and at the foot of his bed the long black linen nightgown that Jesper’s never, ever allowed to see, and—

There’s a black shape on top of his bedcovers, Kaz realizes when he’s pulled on his nightgown.

Kaz takes his cane back. He hasn’t made any new enemies recently as far as he’s aware—none who know his name—but he was careless, brutal, desperate when he was a lone kid getting by on the streets, and those victims had gangs, families, business partners. Just because no-one’s ever traced little Kazzie the bastard rabid dog back to the Slat-that-wasn’t-then doesn’t mean a thing. The fact that the friends he started collecting press-ganged him into doing more behind-the-scenes embezzlement and fewer turf wars because ‘they’re watching us, they have all our faces and fingers and DNA on file and cameras everywhere and did you hear about that informer having kids with the activist he spied on?’ or the more pragmatic, ‘If you don’t stop fucking up your leg on purpose I’m going to send you to a kink party you fucking masochist’…

None of it means safety, not really, and Kaz is glad he’s alone now. They’ve all moved on, and even Jes… well, if he’d been here tonight then the whole squat would be trashed because Jesper doesn’t come quietly. And now, if he comes back to find Kaz gone or his throat slit… Jesper’s going to fucking collapse. He’s been one phone call away from going hysteric all week. Who knows, though—he has Wylan now, and maybe it’ll be the push he needed, the path none of them could ever find, to get his life back on a solid track.

All of that is presupposing that Kaz loses, of course.

And he does not intend to.

The weird black ninja on Kaz’ bed hasn’t reacted yet. They’re curled into a foetal position and they’re snuffling, quietly, because they’re asleep.

Not even assassins dressed up as b movie henchmen expect the toll taken by Per Haskell’s technical naïveté and utter disrespect for Kaz’ work-life balance, apparently. He got back home so late he missed his own murder. Well, then. Kaz hasn’t tortured anyone in two years and he may be out of practice, but the films he’s been forced to watch in the meantime have, if anything, made him more creative. He’ll teach them not to underestimate the brutality of Kaz Brekker, even when he’s moved up a few rungs in the ladder of Amsterdam’s underworld and landed a desk job.

He’ll—but Kaz hasn’t had to stalk silently towards his prey in two years, either. He’s underestimated the extent to which his lame leg’s gotten worse.

Also, someone’s pulled a box out from under his bed.

Kaz stumbles, and in the split-second before he catches himself on the edge of the mattress he wonders—will they have a gun? I can still bash them in the head before they fire, I haven’t gone that soft—and then the would-be assassin stretches out their lanky body as they wake up.

With their arms raised over their head, Kaz can see the bright white light of the street lanterns outside reflect off the gleaming black PVC fabric they’re wearing. Sleek and skin-tight, no ornamentation except a few steel buttons glinting at the crotch, and a full-cover leather hood over their face adorned with one-euro-sized rivets at the jaw, the forehead, the bridge of the nose, the large buckle around the neck. More buckles, at the back of the head and hanging off the right side at eye-height. The open silver zipper at the mouth reflects the streetlight, too, as does the padlock that hangs off it.

Oh no. Kaz knows that mask. Not even shoving it all the way back to the furthest corner under his bed allowed him to forget the way it looks.

Oh no.

Jesper yawns loudly. “Morning, boss. Evening. One of those. I thought you were finishing work early?”

“Haskell had some last-minute revisions to his tax returns.” Kaz sighs. “Don’t cook tomorrow. I’ll be out late for the whole next week—don’t expect me before three am. New client. I need to create a whole year’s documentations from scratch.”

“Just fuck him over, boss. He doesn’t appreciate you, and you don’t need the money. We live in a fucking squat.”

Sweet, financially illiterate nuisance Jesper, who probably doesn’t even know what that awful mistake he’s dressed in right now cost. The thing he’s dressed in. Which was hidden under Kaz’ bed. In Kaz’ room. Which they are inside right now. “You broke into my room,” Kaz rasps. “Again.”

“You know, Kaz,” Jesper replies with poorly feigned innocence, ”this thing is a little big for you. Fits me pretty well, though.”

“I told you I don’t keep cash under my bed. I told you that, the last time you tried to steal from me to pay off your gambling debts. I like my room organized as it is, and so I don’t keep any money here. Not under the bed, not in the wardrobe. And you won’t find any of my actual caches, because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’ve lied to me before.”

“You’ve stolen from me before. Remember last year? Remember you made Inej cry? I though you were clean. I thought you promised Wylan, when you asked him out, that you were done gambling. Maybe we all had too much trust in you.”

Jesper pulls his PVC-clad shoulders up to his en-leathered ears: a ridiculous sight, and Kaz doesn’t know what’s worse. That a bondage sex slave could actually look this dejected and humiliated and alone, or that Jesper does. He’s almost ready to call off the assault. It took a while to figure out, but as usual Inej was probably right, because she’s been researching and discussing the mental health industrial complex in general, and the traumatizing nature of modern life, with her comrades. Even though Kaz is neither the kind of person to touch people with kid gloves, and nor does he like thinking of Jesper as someone who needs that kind of handling—when Jesper’s in a shame spiral this deep then any criticism will drive him even deeper into the arms of the next casino. So the adrenaline and dopamine can wipe out everything else, or to feed his self-loathing even more by being exactly the person he’s terrified people think he is—Jes couldn’t quite explain it himself during the Intervention, except that everything is too much sometimes, even more too much and faster than usual.

He’s a pitiful creature. Kaz almost has pity. Then, though—

“It’s not working, boss. I know why you’re reminding me I fucking relapsed, again, and tried to steal from my best friend, again, and that I’m going to beg you to lie to Wy, again, but I still haven’t forgotten I’m wearing a bondage suit that you’ve been keeping under your bed for—two months now, is it?”

It’s just one month, actually. The manufacture and shipping took six whole weeks.

Two can play that game. Kaz might be very slightly embarrassed, but Jesper’s relapsed into the combination of addiction, theft and deceit that destroyed his life three years ago, and nearly did so again, two-and-a-half years ago and one year ago. “Careful. I haven’t even yet agreed to lie to Wylan, Jesper. About your problem. That you promised you’d tell him about.”

“Also, I notice it fits me, not Inej. Not Nina. Not Matthias. Not even Haskell, I bet. Me. Almost like it was made for me.”

Kaz ignores his insinuations. The answer’s obvious, anyway: yes, he did take clothes from the main washing pile in Jesper’s room and measured them. Yes, he used the measurements when he ordered a bondage suit. Yes, that’s creepy. Yes, a decent person would have asked. No, he’s not sorry. Jesper knew who Kaz was when he moved in with him. And it’s not like Kaz is the one who’s really at fault here. If Jesper just stopped gambling, he’d never have found out.

“Even attempted theft is illegal, Jesper. Completed robbery is worse. I cover my tracks, but you… you should be careful what you say now. They’re still looking for whoever robbed that jeweller last year.”

“Inej’s gonna cut off your head if you try. It’s like you never read her hoodies. All cats are beautiful, et cetera, Kaz. Thirteen-twelve. Keep up.”

Sometimes, the only thing that keeps Kaz from tossing Jesper out of the Slat is that Inej hates landlords and landlord-adjacents just as much as the pigs. If only he’d known back when he let the drunk penniless fancy uni boy who jumped into a fight to defend Kaz from some thugs—a fight Kaz would have won regardless—if only he’d known, before he let Jesper crash on his floor for a night or two, where all of this would end. “I’ll never mention anything about tonight again if you don’t either. Forget it. It was a bad idea. A failed plan. That’s all.”

“Without even trying it?”

“I will zip your mouth shut,” Kaz rasps. “I’ll lock it. I’ll throw the key into the harbour. Fuck you.”

Jesper, though, somehow got even mouthier when he put the bondage suit on. Less respectful. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “Come on, Kaz,” he wheedles. “I put it on, right? So I’m fine with it, if you’re worried. Aren’t you curious? If our places had been reversed—well, if you’d found it in my room you’d have murdered me, so we’re not exactly identical, but still. Come on, sit down next to me. This is—PVC right? Good job choosing me. Inej would hate it. So much plastic.”

“It’s less like skin than leather.”

“Not complaining, Kaz. I have some juice with a straw over there to keep me hydrated in case I sweat like a pig, but I haven’t, yet. I can probably camp out in this for a few more hours.” He tries a patented Jesper I’m flirting in an over the top way to make you laugh which is my flirting style for when I’m genuinely worried about the reaction because this way I can pass off exasperation and mockery as the response I intended look, probably with fluttering eyes, but since Kaz can barely make them out through those open zippers and the rest of his face is a complete mystery, it falls flat. It looks ridiculous, though, so it also works, and Jesper has the nerve of complaining about Kaz’ eight-dimensional chess plans. He’s worse. He’s worse, and animated by Jesper’s ridiculous, familiar movements the bondage suit doesn’t look like a pathetic attempt anymore. Not like the desperation of an emotional cripple. It just looks like Jesper, with an extra layer on his skin. Jesper, probably making a duckface, purring, “Don’t you think I’m sexy?”

Kaz looks away. “Are you serious right now?”

“Of course,” Jesper replies instantly, as if there was never any reason to doubt him. As if he doesn’t blame Kaz for doubting, simultaneously. As if Kaz is allowed to try. To fail. To fuck up, risk hurting him. There is a reason why Kaz never even considered someone else for the suit. “Come on, get on the bed.”

“We have to talk with Inej first. And with Wylan.”

“One-track mind,” Jesper replies, and just like that Kaz is ready to murder him again. “We’re not fucking. We’re not doing more than normal, except maybe touch. We don’t even know yet whether this helps you. I’m not risking it. We’ll just try touching, and if you think it’s triggering, we stop. We’ve got all the time in the world to work up to more. Until this city sinks into the ocean and the grid collapses from heat, which might be tomorrow, so. Or the fascists win.”

“You’ve been listening to Inej.”

“I do try to keep up.”

“Well, stop. Or listen more carefully, until the end, when she gets to the doomerism is the opiate of the masses part.”

“Just get on the bed, Kaz.”

Kaz puts his bent good knee onto the mattress and pulls himself over to Jesper. The fabric of his linen smock rubs against his heated skin: not like corpses, not like that, not like Jordie and he won’t even think about him or this will be over but—it just feels like his own familiar coarse age-softened nightgown that Jesper hasn’t even made fun of yet, his thin nightgown that in a second will be one of only two layers between him and Jesper.

He rolls over so he can sit down next to Jesper, at first. Daringly, he leans an arm against his best—well, they’ll figure that out later.

“Okay?” Jesper asks. He has to crane his head a lot to look through the thin eye slits of his bondage mask at Kaz’ face, and even then he’s probably mostly seeing the gleaming teeth of the eyehole zippers. And still he leans forward forty-five degrees and twists his torso and neck so he can look up into Kaz’ face, carefully keeping the arm that’s touching Kaz as motionless as possible, because he’s being careful with Kaz. Kaz has told him a thousand times he hates being coddled. He’s not a poor little abused dog, he’s a vicious murderer who destroyed his leg and his ability to be close to people while he was murdering, that’s all he ever told Jesper. That lie. And yet—even if he’s only fooling himself because this scene is so patently ridiculous, and the psych ward he got sent to once for the crime of rough sleeping while underage would stamp every single thing about what they’re doing as deeply unhealthy, and he can’t see Jesper’s soft concerned expression under the hood… Whatever it is, Kaz feels warm all over. He feels good. Safe.

Jesper can tell, apparently. “Want to touch my chest? Or climb into my lap?”

Kaz moves over, carefully smoothing down his nightgown before he sits down on Jesper, angled so he can lean with his left arm pressed against Jesper’s chest. It’s safer, somehow, than giving him the back, but perhaps someday…

Jesper loosely wraps his arms around Kaz. They’re just there, barely touching, the hands lax on top of Kaz’ right knee. You can leave at any time, they say, I’ll let go as soon as you’re uncomfortable, and Kaz would have known that regardless. Jesper’s never usually this still, unless he’s lost in concentration: and Kaz, who’s seen how gambling can destroy someone’s life, how it is currently destroying someone’s life, would still bet everything he has ever owned that Jesper’s concentrating on every single aspect of Kaz’ body language right now.

It’s not necessary, though. Those hands are gleaming black PVC. They don’t look or feel anything like Kaz’ memories.

He drops his own naked right hand onto Jesper’s gloved one. Joins them. Anchors Jesper. “How much do you owe this time, Jes?”

A beat. Jesper’s face drops down towards Kaz’ lap. Trying to hide his shame, and he’s forgotten that he’s wearing a full bondage mask, that Kaz can barely make out his eyes through the slits of the zippers. If he’s trying to deny everything, Kaz will just beat it out of him. He’s done it before. A year ago, when it was bad, but Jesper promised he got it under control. But Jesper’s promises were never worth much, not for this. If they were, they’d never have met.

“Four grand.”

“To?”

“Tom Geels. One of Big Bol’s old friends—”

“So he put you up to—”

“I was already playing when he walked up to me, Kaz,” Jesper grinds out. Aware that he could save himself from at least a little of Kaz’ disappointment by casting Bollinger as the tempter. Simultaneously aware that Kaz promised to feed Bollinger to a marine propeller last year if he ever took Jesper gambling again. Noble, to try and save Bollinger’s life—or to save Kaz from committing another murder—not that either of them deserves his loyalty. “I’ll pay you back, Kaz. I’ll have the money. Give me—give me half a year, Da’s still sending me—sending me rent money, Christ, he’s—I’ll save it. No, you’ll get it straight as soon as I get it, and in six months, you’re paid back in full. I promise.”

“We’ll figure it out. I have some jobs I could use you on. Nothing big. Intimidation, mostly. Some breaking, some entering. Boring stuff, not even worth mentioning to Wylan I should think.”

“Thank you.” Jesper’s forgotten all his restraint. He’s kissing Kaz’ forehead, or rather kissing the inside of his mask that’s pressed against Kaz’ forehead. He’s wrapped Kaz tightly in his long bondage arms too, painfully twisting Kaz’ shoulder and elbow and wrist because Kaz is still holding onto his hand. It’s that welcome pain, and the texture of the bondage suit that Kaz still isn’t completely used to, that keeps him from breaking Jesper’s nose. Keeps him—he isn’t back in the North Sea. He isn’t with Jordie. He should be, but he isn’t, and even if it comes…

Inej taught him about grounding. None of them trust the system as far as they can throw it, so she didn’t send him to a shrink when they started dating, unlike he feared, but—she said they helped her, those grounding exercises she found on the internet, and so Kaz has been diligently practicing breathing techniques and focusing his awareness on details of the present moment. Five things he can see: well, it’s dark, but the way what little streetlight gets through reflects off the folds of the suit on Jesper’s bowed stomach is quite interesting. His own knees. His hand, still clutching Jesper’s. The cane, on the floor. The floor. Five things he can hear: early morning traffic, Jesper’s breath, Jesper trying not to sob out loud in relief or shame or a mixture of both, the rustling of fabric, the squeaking of fabric. Five things he can feel: The old ache of his leg, always. Jesper’s hand. Jesper’s thighs. The hard buttons at the flap over Jesper’s crotch, digging into his side.

Somehow, Jesper’s noticed his shift in focus. At least he’s stopped crying now. “You know, you could have just asked how big I am if you wanted a suit with a dick pouch,” he teases in a voice that almost manages to sound happy. “I wouldn’t even have been suspicious.”

“Just because you have no boundaries, Jes, doesn’t mean I have to sink down to meet you at your level.”

Jesper takes a big breath. To forestall the whole Who bought this bondage suit argument Kaz elbows him in the stomach, hard. Once Jesper’s done coughing—a wriggling movement against Kaz’ side that he’s never even felt before—he mumbles something else, though. “I texted Da my new number. He called last week. Wanted to know how I was doing,” and oh. That makes sense. That’s what did it. “Apparently I’m graduating in seven months, according to that fake schedule you made me so I could keep my lies straight. He wants to come to the graduation. He asked me whether I have a job lined up.”

“I could hire somebody to fake you a degree,” Kaz offers. This should be Inej’s job. She shouldn’t be off somewhere, saving grasshoppers. She should be here. She’s the one who tried to talk Jesper into coming clean to his father, last year. All Kaz knows, all he has ever done, is to keep digging, and it’s worked for him. So far. “It’s all the rage now I hear. Cheap, too. No-one will find out. Just don’t become a politician in Germany.”

Jesper sighs. The air kisses the back of Kaz’ neck. “I don’t even care anymore. I could have a degree, or not, it all doesn’t matter. Universities are a scam to regulate economic class relations anyway. I don’t know that I can keep lying forever, or get a job, just so I don’t have to tell Da I betrayed him. Because nothing matters anyway. We’re collectively throwing the future down the drain. It’s not like anyone needs another mechanical engineer when we hit four degrees. I don’t know what we need. I just know everything I know is pointless.”

“I’m sure Inej can hook you up, if you want to blow up a coal power plant.”

“But what about you, then? What would you do?”

“I could have you kidnapped,” Kaz says. That’s not what Jesper meant. Kaz refuses to think about what Jesper meant. “Fake your death. Colm will be so relieved when they find you that he won’t even care you failed all your studies so you could become a live-in human blow-up doll.”

“That’ll only keep Da happy for a year at most and you know it.”

“Well, then Colm’s just going to have to get used to it. Get used to you, like we did. Real, annoying, good-for-nothing directionless screw-up Jesper.”

Jesper rubs his leathered cheek against the crown of Kaz’ head. “Fuck you. Thanks.”

Kaz runs his fingers over the squeaky PVC on Jesper’s forearms, steeling himself before he whispers idly against Jesper’s neck, “If Inej’s right about the warming and the sea level over the next decades, it won’t just be refugees from the south we’re letting drown, people it’s easy to lock out. Maybe you’re right about the Doggerland thing, and we all get flooded.” He swallows. The words are high up in his throat, trying to spew out. “Then it won’t just be one stupid child with a stupid family going out boating in the North Sea when there’s a storm coming. Not just that one kid thrown out of a sinking boat nearly drowning and clinging to his brother’s corpse. Your blow-up doll skills will be in high demand if everyone else gets triggered by skin contact too.”

Jesper, miraculously, reveals a talent Kaz didn’t even know he possessed: he shuts up. He ghosts his gloved hands over Kaz’ shoulders, and then he starts carding his fingers through Kaz’ hair. Kaz can feel the static electricity building up, the crackles and the safety, and then he realizes his eyes have drifted shut. He realizes he doesn’t know how long Jesper’s been petting him.

“Take off your hood,” he mumbles.

“Kaz?”

“Take it off. Scuttle over so your head’s on the pillow.”

Jesper obeys, like Kaz always knew he would. He looks up at Kaz with something that might be confusion but might also be—trust and deep joy and more, something Kaz can’t quite admit anymore now he’s in his bed, and Kaz puts his head down on his chest. His legs will still fit, and this way, he has the squeaky PVC right where he needs it. Squeaky, rhythmically rising warm dry plastic under him. The exact opposite of a waterlogged corpse.

“I don’t have time to call you an ambulance when you get into a bondage suit erotic asphyxiation incident, just so you know. I have a full schedule for today, remember. I’ll be at Haskell’s until after midnight. I have to break Bollinger’s thumbs. My alarm is at seven. Turn it off and I’ll send you to Colm in bite-sized pieces,” Kaz rasps, and then, with a movement that no-one would call timid if they wanted to keep their tongue attached, wraps his arms around Jesper. “You’ve kept me awake for two hours, so be a good pillow. If I kick you off the bed while I’m dozing, remember. This is your fault.”

[melissa-kenobi]

Singing without him by Christina Grimmie while doing karaoke at the moshi bar while thinking about fives.

A/N: Hii 💕 sorry this has taken so long, I've been so busy with work and uni, but here it is! So I didn't know the song so I did some research and did change a few bits of the request to make it fit but hopefully you like it xx

Summary: Singing without him while thinking about Fives.

Word Count:

Coruscant

Working a night shift at the Moshi bar was one of the worst things ever - Keera was off sick, supposedly had come down with something, so you had been called in to cover her. Now covering someone you didn't mind, but Keera had been doing this for the past two weeks and it was really starting to get on your nerves. The credits you got were decent, but the hours were exhausting. All you ever wanted was to lay in bed and sleep.

Well more like dream about something.

Or someone.

You've come up with the conclusion that Keera was doing this because of your boyfriend, whom you missed him so much. He was currently off world, a handsome ARC Trooper that worked for the GAR. One of the finest men you had ever come across and also the love of your life.

Fives.

Oh how you missed him. His little smirk that always appeared on his face whenever he visited you at the bar. The constant eye contact form across the room, he'd always make sure you knew he was eyeing you up and down, that you were his. Fives loved to flirt with you whenever you served his table, and I mean it - that man would really lay it on thick, the words just fluttering out his mouth as he pretended he didn't know you, but his brothers certainly knew different.

"Y/N!"

You were pulled out your trance as you picked up the glasses and made your way behind the bar, finding your boss packing up her stuff, apparently getting ready to leave. "Ahh you're here. Y/N, I'm terrible sorry to dump this on you but I've had an emergency and I need you to make sure everything runs smoothly. Feel free to change what up what you want, we still need the credits rolling in!"

You boss gave you a small salute before leaving out the back end of the bar and into a hovercab - off to god knows where. Why was everything being dumped on you today? All you wanted was to go home and have a holocall with your boyfriend.

It was a quite night to perfectly honest - most probably a good idea to open up the karaoke stage and get the credits rolling in. Should be easy enough to control with only a few people in here.

"Sta'ci, set up the karaoke!" You directed your girls. No later than 10 minutes, it was all set up, customers lining up to have a go, a small crowd had gathered around the stage, cheering and singing along with the songs before Sta'ci called you over, offering you the mic and setting up the songs on shuffle.

Right from the start he lured me in

Took me to places I've never been

I think I'm in love

I think I'm in love

Your mind already thinking of him, Fives taking you to places you'd never been before. The journeys you had taken together, Felucia, Naboo, Corellia and many more. Although your favourite was Aldeeran, Fives had teased that you were obviously looking for the high and rich life, one that he couldn't provide you with - but had tried his damn hardest too.

Now am I crazy? Why can no one understand

That I'll never find a better man

Oh no

Fives was a one of a kind man. Always had been, depsite being a clone, you didn't care. There was no other man that could ever make you feel the way Fives did. The soft kisses he'd give you whenever he'd return from a mission, the passionate sex you two would share whenever someone at work annoyed you, or Fives had been sat there sending you teasing looks, and biting his lip, making you blush.

I'm just imagining a life without my baby

And I know, I know

This life ain't meant to be lived without him

Without him

I know, I know

This life ain't meant to be lived without him

Without him

This life ain't meant to be lived without him

Without him, I know

The song becoming too much for you as you ended the song early, dragging out he last note as you dropped the mic on the ground and rushing outside. Hurriedly breathing in the cool crisp air, you blinked back tears, taking in your surroundings - bounty hunters making their way to a random individual, asking about information, teenagers and younglings drunk out thier minds as they tried to call a hovercab. A young child ran up to you, tugging on your skirt as you looked down at her, her small green hand pointing to something in the darkness before she ran off.

Your eyes made contact with a man stood in the shadows, that little smirk instantly drawing your attention - already knowing who it was, you made your way towards him. Your heart pounding with excitement as you neared the dusty alleyway.

"Hey..." You smiled breathlessly as you admired your handsome boyfriend. His body adorned in his armour as he leaned proudly against the wall, eyes teasing you.

"Hi cyar'ika..." Fives placed a hand on your cheek, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your bottom lip as his eyes softened at your surprised look. "Wanna get out of here?"

Your eyes closed in pleasure as you relished in his touch. Fives disappeared from before your eyes, the soldier no longer stood there, the warmth of his hand on your cheek leaving you cold and bitter as you sighed - a figure of your own imagination.

Because your Fives was gone. Taken from this world in such a cruel way, in one you wished would never have happened to him at all.

And without Fives, what was life?

***